Screaming Eagles (The Front, Book 1) by David Moody, Craig DiLouie, Timothy W. Long Page A

to get us closer. You keep an eye out, and if you see Krauts, call them. We can’t afford to let these supplies fall into the wrong hands.”
    “You got it, Captain. I’ll shoot anyone that looks at us cross,” Wayne assured him.
    They poked through the woods, following the remains of a trail that had been here long before the Allies had arrived. More rounds exploded in the near distance. A bullet whizzed by, but it was too high to judge if anyone was actually shooting at them or if it was just an errant round.
    “Christ. That was close,” Wayne said.
    “We’re almost there,” Captain Taylor assured the man.
    They rounded a small hill that was covered in branches and a dusting of snow. Trees hung over this area, making the fog even harder to navigate. Taylor had to slow to a crawl or risk ramming into a tree.
    A pair of men came into view. One had an arm draped over the other. Behind them, a few GIs fell back but covered the pair.
    “Shit, we’re here,” Taylor said.
    He snatched up his own Thompson sub-machine gun and dropped out of the jeep.
    The injured man was Sergeant Pierce, a tough but fair soldier that Taylor had very little time with. The Sergeant was at home with leading his men into dangerous situations, and had become Taylor’s go-to when a special mission needed to be performed.
    He’d had to disperse his men along a thinly-stretched line, and this was one of the points they’d expected resistance to come from.
    True to form, the man was strutting out of the woods, wounded. He still managed to shout orders, even though he was plainly in a lot of pain.
    “Wayne, see if you can help. I’ll check on the Sergeant.”
    “No problem, sir,” Wayne said, like he was spitting stones.
    Captain Taylor moved to Pierce's side and got the man’s other arm over his shoulder.
    “How many?”
    “Not sure, sir, but they’re in force. Came out of the mist like demons. We dropped a few, but they hit us hard. Some of the damn Krauts are acting weird. Like they're running away from their own army. We got 'em caught between us and their own guys. Maybe they’re out of ammo and want to engage in hand-to-hand. Problem is, we got guns.”
    “Looks like they’re shooting back,” Taylor said.
    “They are, sir, some of them. Others are just running at our lines. Damned if I understand it. Saw two Krauts take bullets to the chest, get back up, and keep on coming,” Pierce said.
    “Where are you hit?”
    “Leg, sir. Below the knee. I don’t think it’s too bad.”
    “Got a jeep here, I’ll take you back to an aid station.
    Wayne dropped behind a stump and opened fire. He emptied a magazine in slow, measured spurts, then reloaded.
    Bullets whizzed around the men as Taylor got Pierce to the jeep. The kid who had been assisting Pierce helped move boxes of ammo around.
    “Some of that’s for the company. Do you have time to distribute?”
    From the front line came the screams of men, and more small arms fire. The mortars had fallen silent, but that didn’t mean they were done falling on this location. Captain Taylor lowered himself next to the jeep and peered over the hood. Steam rose into the morning air where hints of snow fell on the metal.
    What had been a small assault was turning into something larger. Figures moved in the mist--a lot of figures.
    An American machine gun squad got situated at his three o’clock and started hammering the oncoming German forces.
    A mortar round landed twenty feet from the jeep and threw a man into the air. Another landed fifty feet away and shattered a tree. Pieces of wood flew at high velocity and caused more screams from his men.
    Taylor dropped next to the jeep and broke out his map.
    “What’s your name, Private?”
    “I’m Grillo, sir. Just got here a few days ago,” the guy called back.
    Private Grillo didn’t cower like some of the green recruits he’d seen over the last few days. He unslung a Thompson, took cover next to the jeep, and started returning