Briefing tent January 2nd 1945:
Officers were huddled around a map, and receiving instructions for the next big push to wind back the Germans.
‘We are putting a company strength element through the woods to clear and protect the flank for the main thrust. 101st Airborne 506th 2nd Battalion will be tasked with that job. Captain Winters, are your former boys in E Company ready for the job?’
‘Yes Sir, better to be attacking than defending. Any word on winter gear for the men or more rations?’
‘Winters, supply is behind the 8 ball, ransack the depot, steal what you need from Pattons tankers, get what you need. But protect that flank, we think SS forces will be present, remember they die with a bullet just as well as any German! Make sure that the rest of your Battalion is taken care of ok Winters?’
‘Yes Sir.’
Earl Mc Clung, was out front as 1st scout again. But for the first time he was nervous. This was no Indian reservation romp, hunting whitetail. The woods were muffled and silent, snow fell gently in wafting wavy sheets. He was stalking SS this time. A new animal…an unknown.
Not tier 2 like ..wow, was it really 11 days already. ..? hmm he thought, shivering in his boots. I’m getting distracted by the cold again. But 11 days ago the new guy Lt Michael had nearly got them all killed…now he was solid and accepted.
Funny how killing a man and surviving the exercise made you “ok”. Mc Clung shrugged and drifted silently through the trees, looking for sign of the enemy.
A muffled unnatural muted clink sound bounced thru the trees, followed by a louder voice in German. He crept closer, they were sloppy, he sighed in relief. Just another soldier in different uniforms. Maybe they would be no big deal.
Blazing the tree, he moved on, seeking more of the 9th SS …he melted into the blinding snow.
In the center of the line. Hill, saw the blaze from Earl, damn, despite the odd last name, he knew that the ½ Indian scout was good, but holy cow. He had spotted, and marked and moved on preventing an ambush of his squads. The fanned out, and quietly circled the German squad.
Attacking from a distance and on the run they came at them from 3 directions. The snow working to Hill’s team’s advantage. Savage, and final. He looked around they had been no mercy, and none expected. His teams had taken casualties, and they were quickly triaged, and sent back to the LOD. This meant he was down almost a full squad however. At this rate they would be hard pressed to not need reinforcement.
Up ahead an MG 34 chattered its special song. The sound echoed around them.
On the far right of E Companies formation, Ash found himself fulfilling a scouts role, and combined flank guard duty. The ground was pretty open, here, he flitted from tree to tree, and awaited gusts of snow to cover his movement in the open.
He had adopted the BAR as his personal weapon of choice, preferring its punch and rapid fire. He paused listening to the fighting off to his left. He rubbed at his stiches. Eleven days was probably too soon to be back on the line, but sitting in a slit trench was colder than being out here. He stepped out towards the next clump of trees, just as the wind gusted and allowed him to see the 50 m of open space ahead. He saw the muzzle flash, and was already diving, as the round struck his shoulder, he spun and collapsed behind a snow covered fallen rotting tree trunk. “ahh shit…sniper” he said to no one. Staying low his inspected the wound. A glancing strike on the fleshy part of his deltoid. It burned, it hurt like shit, but he was alive. “you missed you bastard” he yelled. CRACK, another round fired, and it passed through the rotting log, and sent a shower of splinters his way. “oops..shut up Ash and move.” But now he knew where his enemy was.
‘Sarge, how many are out here? It seems like every tree has a kraut behind it? ‘ Said Cobb. ‘Jesus, said Hill, ‘Shut up and keep your eyes peeled. You whine more than the old LT Sobel. Just shoot first…and ‘They all stopped, all hearing the distinctive whistle of incoming death. “Incoming!!, Christ that’s our stuff. Cover, Cover. ”
Men dove for cover, arty rounds burst branches, and snow in all directions, the distinctive whistle of 155’s and their devastating crump upon arrival were terrifying. Nobody wanted to die from their own arty.
Ash, stopped crawling, and hid under another log holding his helmet close with one hand, mouth open for over pressure. Wow, these are close. Way close. “Hey Fritz.. how you liking that arty? You meat sack! He roared.
Over by Medlow they too were under heavy arty fire. Both sides dove for cover mid attack!
Mc Clung had paused to let the squads close up. He felt the enemy before he saw them, rolling away he dodged and fired. Snap shotting back. He moved quickly towards his squad mates. More fire erupted to his left, that was Hill and his men, taking out the last fireteam he had blazed for them. Good he had help nearby. But where was Lt Michael? Shots cracked about his head, and shoulders, as he dodged and weaved through the dense woods.
“stay down Earl, stay down, we got ya! Lt Michael called, his men were in an inverse wedge leading to the enemy, they opened up! Shots bracketed the Germans. Who attacked towards the Yanks!
Mc Clung was moments away from being over run. He turned to shoot dropping to one knee, cracking off two rounds. Click empty, rolling aside he reloaded, automatically and popped up again. Firing to supress. Then they were on him. From the side, a white snow suited figure dove into him, flattening him with his weight.
Hot pain pierced Mc Clung side. We writhed, to get away, fingers clawing for purchase on the man. The heat went deeper. His struggle waned. “die American.” said the blurring face….the guys breath was awful Earl thought. But the pain was ebbing. Ahh he realized, I’m dying.
Shots rang out, the weight fell from Earl. But he would not notice. The long hiltq of the SS blade protruded from his ribcage.
More Germans opened up to flank of Hill and his men!
Col Wagner watched the cautious Americans advance. So wily, so much more adaptable than the Russians.
He waited until they closed range and casually gave the signal to fire. Heat, muzzle flash and cordite tore the wafting snow flakes to one side.
Ever careful the Americans hit the snow as one. He stood. Contemptuous of their fear, more so of the fire and taking careful aim with his Luger he shot one of the enemy….that stirred them up!
They began firing back. One of them popped up and actually fired a bazooka….how charming he thought.
His MG 34 team flailed lead all across their ranks. Wagner turned his back on the fight, waving at the men to follow. It was time to drop back to the secondary line before he was flanked. Stupid Americans, they slowly rose up and realized the enemy had drifted back into the snow….gone.
Over near McClung’s inert body Lt Michael, looked down at his dead scout. ‘wrap him up fellas, blaze the tree, we will come back for him I promise, we need every gun up front. Lets get the bastards that started this.’ He growled.
The German Mg chattered at and spat at Michael and his men, they moved quickly, bounding forward, covering and shooting back, with rapid 2 round bursts. Some fell behind, others kept pace. The Lt wanted blood. He could see that smart arse German Colonel now, he fired, once , twice, missing. The Germans faded again into the woods. The Lt closed, but knew enough know a trap when he saw it. 1st squad on me, 2nd squad, flank left, we will keep them occupied and push up. You form the L and lets box this shit off now. Go , go.
End turn:
Everyone took a knee. The flanking move had worked. The smug German Colonel..was not so smug anymore. He was in small pieces. This time they beat the Germans to punch and regained the momentum, forcing them to react. They cut the enemy down, none made a move to surrender and none was offered. Lt Michael surveyed the scene, counted the cost and lent hard against a tree, staring vacantly at the torn bodies, blood red snow and death all around.
Medlow was pushing hard..arty from both sides was hammering friend and foe alike. They saw a fox hole and defence, and flanked, only to roll hastily into an ambush. The SS opened up on their flank.
Bullets whistled by, men cried out ‘Medic’…his men.
He had failed them.
They hugged the ground.
Bullets hammered them all.
Ash had surprised the sniper who was dazed and bloodied, but recovering. He knelt little more than 15 feet away and fire a single round. The bastard never saw it. The snipers face went directly into the snow, shoulders slumped. Dead. Ash looked around. In the distance was that more troops or the wind and snow playing with his sight? He slapped a fresh magazine in, grimaced in pain and moved slowly and quietly forward to investigate.
US 155mm shells pounded the area again! This time the Germans suffered with the MG 42 squad being taking off line. Hunkered down and covering up.
‘They are retreating, but they keep popping up and nailing us Sarge,’ said Lt Michael he continued . ‘At this rate we wont clear the flank ever. What do you think we should do?’
Ash closed on the area he last saw the movement. But found nothing. Empty foxholes.
He moved towards the sound of gunfire watching for more snipers and hoping to reconnect to the primary teams.
Bach was no hero. Not in the truest Wagnerian sense. He was a survivor. Cut off from his squad, he knew that to live alone was eventual court martial, but if he could let the Americans bypass him, maybe he could scavenge and ransack a dead body, to make it look like he had tried.
This war was finished. This last push a joke. Hitler.. even he knew that hitler was mad.. crazy. Scheisse…
He could here the fanatics he fought alongside firing nearby. He hugged the ground.
Medlow was hit… Crap..ahhh… that hurts he thought.
‘Men, listen up. Those of you that can, rally up.. we got to know out that squad. Hill is under pressure so is Lt. I’ll follow when I get bandaged up. Get me medic!.’
The two squads, formed up, Cpl tipper and Penkala leading the men. The two squads quickly lost contact as snow began to fall more heavily around them. They were right on top of the germans when they opened fire. Through the snow, muzzle flashes seemed to brightly flare then disappear only to re appears a few yards away. The men of Easy Company, fired back at ghosts.
Medlows men stalled and hugged the ground , firing back sporadically
Lt Micheal heard the fire ahead, and could see through the now gusting wind, troops in front left and right. It seemed that he had the Germans penned in. But his boys were flagging quickly. Where was Hill and Medlow?
Ash, was winded, he had given up on stealth. He needed to get reconnected with the teams. Then heard German voices. Skidding to a halt, he plopped down to listen. Damn. A lot of guys. The he heard Sgt Hill. Roaring at his men “get up damn it, fire back, you rookies aint gunna get me killed. Shoot back. ” So Ash now knew he was close. But at least half a dozen Germans stood between him and the relative safety of the squad. None of the enemy were checking their six. Seemingly confident that they had secured their rear.
He belly crawled closer, to within grenade range.
Sgt Hill, was unaware of where Ash was or that he still had SS troopers in his back yard, clearly intent on finishing him off! He moved quickly with his remaining squad to rally his men and get them up and at the enemy to his front.
‘Come on, lets move, fellas, you cant live for ever!’ Hill emptied a Tommy gun clip of 45 caliber slugs at the Germans. They reciprocated firing back.
Hill was down. His men under a torrent of fire. They were pinned!!
Ash was closer now. He threw a grenade from the prone position, and then was up charging oblique to the enemy. They turned, 4 of them were taken by the blast. One staggered back to his feet face bloodied, smock drenched and fired wildly in Ash’s direction. Damn these pricks die hard.
The rounds kicked in all directions, peppering where he was and where he was headed. Clang, thwack, he grunted and took a knee. Hurting, he rolled away, and tried to come up on his left leg. No good! He had no strength in it. He fired from the ground, the big calibre BAR, recoiling into his shoulder as a painful reminder of wounds already sustained. A grim satisfaction crossed his face as he saw the BAR rounds tear into the enemy. 2 more dropped and stayed down. He quickly looked at the leg…shit another hit. Yet again lucky [FATE point for reroll of German dice!]. He swapped out a his last mag on the BAR. He waited. They would need to come to him, he grimaced and tried to hold onto consciousness.
Lt Michael and his men closed in from the rear of the Germans who were pinning Sgt Hill down. Seeking to get up close and personal and let weight of numbers and lead decide.
Bach, saw them too late. He sighed. Dropped his weapon and began putting his hands up. Three rifles cracked almost as one, as his hands went up. Bach crumpled to the ground with one arm raised. Like a student about to ask a pointless question. He died as he lived, seeking to escape the consequences of his actions.
Silence settled across the woods. Was it for just a moment, or longer? It was hard to tell. Ears were ringing, breath came in ragged fearful, post adrenal gasps. Hands shook, eyes scanned trees, and snowy embankments, flitting quickly past dismembered friend and foe alike. Avoiding what the mind would never forget. Some lit a cigarette others began the grisly task of collecting dog tags and bringing dead friends to a collection point. Sound returned to the woods.
In the distance a voice was heard “Medic”. It was Ash.