asked to delay the Krauts for as long as possible. He was afraid that would only be a few hours at best.
Lines collapsed all around him, and he feared that he’d be surrounded, so with too many casualties, he’d made the hard decision to withdraw and regroup. Captain Taylor would understand. The man trusted his company commanders to make calls like this.
Something punched Pierce in the leg and made him stumble. He recovered and kept going, even though inside he was screaming that he needed to get to cover. He spun and fired again, then stumbled on his bad leg. Robinson hung around his neck and didn’t let go.
“You hit Sarge?” Robinson asked.
“You worry about you. Keep your hand on that wound and I’ll get us out of here.” Pierce replied.
Something was wrong-- very wrong.
His limb wasn’t responding the way it should, but he didn’t have time to inspect the wound. Just press on, keep going, shoot back, and for god’s sake, don’t stop running and don’t let go of Robinson.
They were everywhere!
White and black clothed figures swarmed out of the woods and came at them. A BAR fired to his left and dropped some of the Krauts, but was quickly silenced.
Then it boomed again, from a new location.
The Germans weren’t even firing. They were just coming en masse.
----
Twenty-One
Taylor
C aptain Taylor whipped the jeep around a bend in the road, and settled onto something that passed as a comfortable ride over the potholes, ice and snow. Betsy wasn’t much to look at, but she kept all four wheels on the road when he called for it. The fog hadn’t let up; it seemed to be increasing. He had to slow down to pick out landmarks and signs.
He’d asked Wayne to accompany him to his next visit, and was glad for the company. Wayne had an easy way about him, but smoked cigarette after cigarette.
The back of the jeep was loaded with a few boxes of ammo and Krations. Taylor had made a stop at a supply depot and used his rank to bully some goods for his companies. The officer had been a pain in the ass, but Taylor had been just as much of a pain. After a near-shouting match, the man had handed over a few crates like he was taking money out of his own pocket.
“How many of our guys bought it at Malmade, sir?” Wayne asked.
The wind whistled cold and bitter over the front of the jeep.
“I don’t know, but one is too many,” Captain Taylor replied.
Wayne shifted in his seat and went over his Thompson again. He’d checked his magazines several times now. It seemed to be a nervous habit. Maybe he expected them to run into a German battalion, and wanted to take it on by himself.
“Way I see it sir, we can’t kill enough of them. They broke the rules. We break the rules.”
Taylor sighed, because this was how the rest of the battalions were going to see things before much longer.
“You married, Wayne?” Taylor asked, trying to change the subject.
“No sir, but I got a sweetheart back home. Her name's Macy and she’s cute as a button. Got a letter from her the other day. She said that we should get married when she gets back. Kinda forward of her, but I’m all for it. How about you, sir?”
“Married, kids, the works. Miss them like crazy.”
“They been saying the war's going to be over any day now, but it don’t seem like it. Been saying that since I got here. Now Hitler’s marching right back into Belgium. What’s it going to take to get this guy to give up?”
“His painful death, I’d imagine," Taylor said wistfully. Drop the 101st right into Berlin after flattening it with bombs. That’d take care of things fast… or get them all killed.
Taylor slid the jeep to a halt. There was gunfire in the distance.
He was still a few hundred yards out, and while not impassable, the road was about to become a big problem. Trees had fallen over it, creating a natural roadblock, and the snow was piling up quickly.
More shots, followed by mortars making impact.
“This is the place. I’ll try
Lines collapsed all around him, and he feared that he’d be surrounded, so with too many casualties, he’d made the hard decision to withdraw and regroup. Captain Taylor would understand. The man trusted his company commanders to make calls like this.
Something punched Pierce in the leg and made him stumble. He recovered and kept going, even though inside he was screaming that he needed to get to cover. He spun and fired again, then stumbled on his bad leg. Robinson hung around his neck and didn’t let go.
“You hit Sarge?” Robinson asked.
“You worry about you. Keep your hand on that wound and I’ll get us out of here.” Pierce replied.
Something was wrong-- very wrong.
His limb wasn’t responding the way it should, but he didn’t have time to inspect the wound. Just press on, keep going, shoot back, and for god’s sake, don’t stop running and don’t let go of Robinson.
They were everywhere!
White and black clothed figures swarmed out of the woods and came at them. A BAR fired to his left and dropped some of the Krauts, but was quickly silenced.
Then it boomed again, from a new location.
The Germans weren’t even firing. They were just coming en masse.
----
Twenty-One
Taylor
C aptain Taylor whipped the jeep around a bend in the road, and settled onto something that passed as a comfortable ride over the potholes, ice and snow. Betsy wasn’t much to look at, but she kept all four wheels on the road when he called for it. The fog hadn’t let up; it seemed to be increasing. He had to slow down to pick out landmarks and signs.
He’d asked Wayne to accompany him to his next visit, and was glad for the company. Wayne had an easy way about him, but smoked cigarette after cigarette.
The back of the jeep was loaded with a few boxes of ammo and Krations. Taylor had made a stop at a supply depot and used his rank to bully some goods for his companies. The officer had been a pain in the ass, but Taylor had been just as much of a pain. After a near-shouting match, the man had handed over a few crates like he was taking money out of his own pocket.
“How many of our guys bought it at Malmade, sir?” Wayne asked.
The wind whistled cold and bitter over the front of the jeep.
“I don’t know, but one is too many,” Captain Taylor replied.
Wayne shifted in his seat and went over his Thompson again. He’d checked his magazines several times now. It seemed to be a nervous habit. Maybe he expected them to run into a German battalion, and wanted to take it on by himself.
“Way I see it sir, we can’t kill enough of them. They broke the rules. We break the rules.”
Taylor sighed, because this was how the rest of the battalions were going to see things before much longer.
“You married, Wayne?” Taylor asked, trying to change the subject.
“No sir, but I got a sweetheart back home. Her name's Macy and she’s cute as a button. Got a letter from her the other day. She said that we should get married when she gets back. Kinda forward of her, but I’m all for it. How about you, sir?”
“Married, kids, the works. Miss them like crazy.”
“They been saying the war's going to be over any day now, but it don’t seem like it. Been saying that since I got here. Now Hitler’s marching right back into Belgium. What’s it going to take to get this guy to give up?”
“His painful death, I’d imagine," Taylor said wistfully. Drop the 101st right into Berlin after flattening it with bombs. That’d take care of things fast… or get them all killed.
Taylor slid the jeep to a halt. There was gunfire in the distance.
He was still a few hundred yards out, and while not impassable, the road was about to become a big problem. Trees had fallen over it, creating a natural roadblock, and the snow was piling up quickly.
More shots, followed by mortars making impact.
“This is the place. I’ll try
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