Lt Michael, had not slept in 2, or was it three days? He was not sure. Stepping in as replacement was never easy, especially when you were right out of OCS.

They had told him the 506^th PIR was going to get some down time. He was supposed to have time to earn the trust of the men, but more importantly his sergeant. Things were not going well. He sucked hard on his cold coffee, and harder still on his fifth smoke for the morning. Well he couldn’t f#$k up a quick patrol. With the snow falling heavily but gently they probably would not need to go too far. He would lead from the front and build some trust.

Twenty minutes later he strode confidently up to some of the men from his platoon, huddled around a weak fire, they looked as tired and worn as he felt, but they had orders. Gear up for a short patrol, Cpl Medrow police your men and get kit on, get your camo on he said with a rueful smile. The men groaned, and laughed at the same time. Villagers had given them white sheets to cover up. It was better than nothing. Michaels, turned away, crunching and squeaking away in his new boots, as he did the complaints began.

Michaels smiled, it they didn’t complain he would have worried. What a great day to be in the 101^st!

Two hours later:

They were lost. Well and truly f%^ked. The snow had picked up, a little wind too. No one could tell where they hell they were in the Boi Jacques. They were looking for a trail that led about a mile out, then they could loop around and be back before dark. Instead his scout was out in the deep woods, looking while his men were way too scattered to mutually support each other. One minute they were bunched up the next too spread out. Shit he thought, I cant even see 10 feet let alone ten yards. “Sarge, we better consolidate, and stick together no more than 10 paces apart.” “Excellent idea Lt, how would you like me to call the men back sir? As they are now all over Gods green…err white earth”. “Fu#@k…make it happen Sarge, find a way right or do I need to do it for you?”

Lt Michael took a squad North Eastwards. The wind had started to gust, clearing their vision every so often. “Come on men lets do, this might be the trail, lets move, move. ”

As he turned back to lean into the wind he bent forward, passing by a thick pine the trunk at his head height explodes!! The Lt dives for cover, shaking violently….” I got to breathe…I got to breathe..no panic, no panic”.. A soldier runs up and plops down near him, looks the Lt over. “Damn you a lucky son a son of a bitch Sir. That is as close as you get without dying.” He was then up and off, moving as the rest of the squad gave blanket covering fire. Lt Michaels laughed out loud, “Hold your damn fire, we can’t see squat.” He gathered his sheet, straightened his helmet and gave a hand signal to move up. He was going to be ok, he could do this!

He quickly rose to one knee, looking through his binoculars for anything, a sign, but the german sniper was well hidden and the snow was closing in again. They angled into the trees trudged through deeper snow in between huge old pine, and spruce, slower now, laden down. He tried to run from tree to tree, but snow clung and dragged at his boots, slowing forward momentum. He breath came hard.

They spread out in a loose wedge, a man on point, and he was too close he knew it, but he had to see, had to prove himself to these warriors.

A fist went up, every one took a knee, he was just a little slower, looking, wondering then suddenly as he began to kneel, something smashed violently into him and spun around crashing to the ground. Bright red blood spray across the pristine snow, melting it in its violent heat. “Lt’s hit, medic, medic, take cover. Covering fire now damn it!!” Shouted a soldier.

Michaels grimaced, feeling his face, it was on fire, his helmet was no where to be seen….Shit am I dying he thought? His hand came away bloodied…then blackness.

A few hundred yards away, 1^st scout Earl McClung was wishing again for the fourth time in the last hour that he was dead. Despite growing up with cold weather on the reservation in Colville. He had never experienced a winter like this. The wrong kit, the worst weather and people trying to kill you before you killed them. He had one advantage, he was almost silent in the woods in any conditions. He was point, his ‘guys’ were in a loose wedge behind him, but scattered all to hell. He normally did not get this far out front, but the LT had them lost. ‘click’..metal on metal a 100 and some yards away. Now he circled, left, then back across his trail to the east. Yeah. 3 nests of bad guys. All waiting for us to blunder into the shit. Not today.

Start T2

He ran silently back to the squads and conferred with them, leading them around and eastwards to where they could avoid any ambush. Then he heard thru the muffling snow the sounds of men approaching. Crap, more of them. He spread the word.

Michael came to, head throbbing, he smiled weakly at the medic, “hey Mack, got a smoke?” The Medic smiled, yeah Lt I got a smoke, I have you on some pain stuff, but LT you are protected by someone or something, that shot put a hole in your helmet, you bled like a stuck pig, but we got you bandaged up and ready to head back. You probably got a concussion at least if not a cracked head!”

“Well Mack” he said as his shaky hands lit the pro offered cigarette “I ain’t going back. I’m staying with the boys, lets go find that son of a bitch that shot me.”

He sent a half squad left and took the rest around right in a refused echelon while the rest of the men lit up the bases of the trees. They closed in. There! Movement, Lt Michael raised his tommy gun and blasted away, saw the blood and knew he had killed his first man.

Deeper in the woods the Germans were dug in and covered up. Baumann saw the troopers fix and flank Gruber. With a taciturn grunt, he called in mortars.

The whump, womp, made everyone run for cover. Lt Michael and his men hugged the ground, some used the foxhole with the body of the dead German.

Private Ash, off to the trailing end of the combat line had not seen much of anything but now he swore he heard German voices through the billowing snow, the sound would carry, then be muted, clear and distinct, then entirely muffled. Distance was hard to judge. The snow closed in, he lost contact with his line…Well head towards the enemy he figured.

He flitted from tree to tree. Listening, moving with an even pace, so lightly he seemed to float across the snow. The German Sgt Baumann saw him approaching from the corner of his eye, the white sheet billowing caught his eye. They were being flanked!! “Achtung, Achtung… Feuer, he pointed. As one they turned, and blasted away with the MG 34, trailing Ash’s path.

He was quick, he was sick of being shot at, and he was tired of friends dying. This dumbass LT would no doubt cost us lives and be the death of all of them. He dropped into a hollow depression, kneed deep in snow. Back tracking now, low and quiet. Shuffling through the snow to minimise the squeaking scrunch of boots compressing the flakes. The MG was the key, kill the gunner. Maybe then the rest of the boys would figure on closing up to help. Peeking under a fallen log, he sees the gunner scanning in the wrong direction. Calmly he pulled out a grenade from his kit, and sat it on the log next to his left hand.

Slowly he drew a bead on the gunner, breathed out, squeezed, absorbing the recoil and pasted that bastards head all across the ugly prick who was in charge. One shot. Then down. He grabbed the ‘nade, pulled the pin, cooking it off and then hefting it back like a javelin throw he let launch with it. It exploded above the men clustered around the dead gunner. Screams, shouts….’shut the hell up’ he thought… shut up. He moved again, circling now around to the rear. Two men were tentatively holding their rifles, bloodied and clearly in agony, but more afraid of a bullet than the shrapnel wounds they had sustained.

The prick, the leader, he was wiping blood and brains from his face and trying to tighten a tourniquet around a wound that was soaking his pants and the ground nearby. He would be dead shortly, a bleed out for sure. The others, they need a bullet. He gave it to them both. Crack!, Crack!.. The leader fumbled for his pistol. But his movement was sluggish, weak, and disorientated. He pitched forward, passing out from loss of blood.

Lt Michael was giving orders to the squads on how he wanted to approach the fox holes they had seen. After giving the order to move out, he saw, ‘hmm what was his name…Hird, that’s right’, moving too fast on the right flank. He was past the pointman!

Then the snow whited out everything. “move, move, Hird is gunna run into them before we are in position!” he hissed at his men, and signalled the advance. Too late, shots were being fired, a grenade, Lt stood up and moved in, his helmet sending sharp pain through his head with each jarring step as it bounced against his head wound.

‘Attack, now go, go”. They closed the distance, just as the Germans turned from dispatching Hird. Both sides open fire at point blank range. Bark flies, snow churns, men drop. Others fall flat faced and lifeless. Sound echoes off the snow and the massive trunks of trees. All is chaos.

Silence.

The snow begins to fall more heavily, with no wind, already covering the blood and horror they had caused. Muting the scene. Single shots ring out here and there as enemy wounded are killed. Its against regulations…he knows. But rumours are already racing through the locals and the forces about Germans executing prisoners. Screw them Michael sighs, and walks away.

Standing stock still, Earl saw the soldier, and the barrel pointed right at him, how had he snuck up on him! He dove for cover, rolling and came up shooting. An MG 34 opened up, tearing into the fireteam, the rest of the squad returned fire. They were in a cross fire. Too wrapped up in the sounds of the other battle the Germans had the drop on them!

Ash, had reconnected with the squad, and was linking them back up to Lt Michael when he saw the muzzle flash and heard the staccato report of a MG34 to his left rear. Damn these bastards were everywhere he thought to himself. Cautiously, he headed back towards the Earl and the squad. The occasional m1 report could be heard, in between controlled bursts of the Germans machinegun.

Snow gusted, adding the volume from the trees turning it into a blinding white haze. Now! He jumped up and raced directly towards the 2 man fireteam. Skidding to a halt less then ten metres away. With his back pressed into the cold Spruce, he checked his ammo, waited for the MG to fire, then spun around on one knee, and fired, once, shit…he missed, standing now he side stepped to his right, just as the 2^nd kraut rotated left. He would be on Ash in a second. Ash shifted aim as his step brought the rising German into his sights. Crack, crack, this time he hit, centre mass, viscera exploded out onto the gunner, whose feet were entangled now with the falling German. Yet the gunner deftly rolled clear, scrambling and dragging the weight of the ’34 around. The muzzle moved fast! This guy was strong. Ash dove for cover, rolling to the right again, then up and onto a knee, using a tree as cover and a gun rest.

The gunners fire arced up and away. Ash could see casings fly, almost feel the heat from the muzzle, or was that blood racing to his head as fear jacked his sense? His first shot kicked into the snow left of the now kneeling fighter, who did not flinch, nor waver. He saw Ash, smiled and brought his barrel under control with a downward sweep.

Ash fired twice more in rapid succession. The first shot smashed into the Germans left shoulder, that arm dropped away, useless. Now one handed, and desperate the enemy pointed a wildly swinging muzzle Ash’s way, blasting the last of his ammo at him. Hoping that the volume would make up for lack of accuracy. The second round from Ash’s Carbine found its mark however. The firing stopped…the MG 34’s howl ceased. Muzzle crashing down into the snow causing steam to rise from the hot muzzle break. The hefty German leaned on it, taking one last shuddering breath before gently rolling off onto his back arms splayed, snow falling gently into his mouth like a baptismal blessing.

Ash, sagged down, swapped mags and shouted “all clear, all clear.” Screw these Germans, how many are there he wondered.

A few minutes later the Lt strode up, face mostly purple on one side and bloodied all the hell. “Good work Ash, you saved a lotta men just now. We got work to do though, lets go.” he stretched out a hand and Ash took it. Ash thought, maybe this LT wont be so bad after all.

End of Turn 5.

Victory for Easy Company.

In this series of scenarios, we will follow the hero Ash, and watch him progress on a campaign track over 3 battles. Lets root for the guy! At the end of this Scenario he earns the Deadly Skill Card.