If Ash was honest with himself, he was always scared. Fearful of being wounded, of dying, of stepping on a mine, or missing a shot. Yet in all of it he was more afraid of letting this small group of men, this wayward sorry ass band of brothers, down. Even the new recruits, the FNG’s. A fine sentiment. A noble one even, he chuckled to himself…But today was different.

Today, that f#$ing idiot butter bar wet behind the ears , God Damn Lt Dike was in charge. Lt Michael had been promoted. Shit like that always happened. Ash muttered out loud ‘We kept these guys alive, taught them, accepted them,’ and Winters… damn he was another. Winter makes him Lt Michael his executive officer. It just did not seem fair. Dike, was arrogant, stupid and lead from the front, but hide from the lead kind a guy, thought Ash. First to take cover.

His BAR was cold to the touch, his mitten covered hands shook against the stock and around the barrel. But it was not the cold. Not this time. This time it was fear, raw, and hungry. He was gunna die. He knew it. F$%k he thought. I dont wanna die. Not really. Not today.

“Listen up, we have been watching these guys for 24 hours. They have arty, maybe even a tank situated in the village of Foy, H company and I company are looping around, to draw off the German defenders. Our job its to clear the village. Advancing by leaping bounds, get in close quick to prevent that arty hitting you and clear the town. You got that Dike? “Sir, Yes Sir” Said Dike. Wan smiles spread around the rough and tumble barn that served as HQ. “Easy there” said Winters, ” Lets get those boots dirty and drop the gun ho, move carefully and move quickly. There is a lot of open ground, so the mortars and MG will try and provide some cover.”

[Hidden Germans, the opposition chooses who and when to deploy, set against minimum deployment]

The big surprise will be where is the 88mm?

They stepped off through the woods in a checkerboard pattern, sliding around trees, keeping within 10 feet of each other, snow began to fall drifting slowly right to left. Lt Dike was way up front, cradling his Tommy gun. As they approached the edge of the woods, he waved an arm forward and screamed “Lets Go!”

They sprinted the distance, racing from hole to hole and were aiming for a set of craters midway through the open ground, so the MG’s could get set up and pour some supporting fire on. All was silence. Then from arched broken windows came the fire, the quick ugly flame of tracers and muzzle burst. A torrent of staccato sound chopped at Dike and his men, mortars rained down. Heavy dark soil exploded and blended with the snow, tearing it all anew.

Lt Dike hit the deck ordering his men to seek cover. ” stay down, stay down.” …Fear dilated his pupils, and shook him more than the shock of the over blasts.

He curled into a ball.

Back on the rise, Dick Winters could see it all unfolding, unraveling. “Too soon. And too big a job fresh from OCS.”….Lt Michael, get you arse down there and relieve Dike, and take control. Clear those damn buildings.”

Michaels nodded once, and sprinted into the maelstrom. It would be good to be back with the men he thought. The recent fighting had seasoned him, faster than any school. If he can rally the men, they will push through!

Ash could see men, going down, some wounded, others faltering. Too much open ground what was Dike doing. Why did he stop?

Crack, Sarge hits the ground, as a soldier right next to him falls limply. “Suppressing fire!!”

Men plop down, and fire randomly, where had the shot come from? “Range? Range?” Where… where.splat…another solder drops.

The sound of an MG 42 will haunt these men that survive for ever. Its cyclic rate in good hands will tear apart a platoon in no time. Lt Plassmann knew that, and applied it to good effect. Stalling the American attack.

On his left Ash could see Lt Michael running into the fray, on the right he had noticed Sgt Hill’s men take cover.

That left him and a squad in the center. The shaking had stopped at least. The fear sat like a lead ball in his gut however. A few 100 yards out another squad of Germans opened up. This time on Ash and his boys. He propped up and fired back quickly, and yelled at the men, “move, move – get to those craters!”

He was up and moving, sprinting, forward, breath rasped out, hard cold air sucked in, in huge gulps. He dove to cover. Safe.

Well guys said Ash. We gotta make it just a few more yards. You Jenkins, get your fireteam ready to pour it on. Me and the rest of the team are going to make for the building.

US mortar teams and the 50 cal battered at the stone buildings, and defenders hiding within. As they zero’d in bracketing the building with fire Lt Michael had his hands full rallying the men quickly, wounded are moved to the rear, and the toll mounts. They are stuck in open ground however and pressure mounts.

Cpl Medrow and his men, rally up and push forward. The threat from the house in front either suppressed or dead, they race forward. As they enter the back of the build they see an 88mm gun rotating in their direction!

“Cover. Incoming”

At such short range the round barely has time for the fuse to ignite before it passes through, showering Medlaw in debris.

His men race across the open ground and dispatch the Germans efficiently, capturing the 88mm and spiking it quickly.

Meanwhile Lt Michael is under duress. The ’42 is keeping his lads down, and no one seems to be able to stop the stream of fire.

Ash and his squad fire, and then Ash sends a runner back to the 81MM team.

Their fire rains down on the heavy stone building.

Further afield, Cpl Medrow engages a half squad, bullets dig into the dirt, they whistle by, but today is not his day to die. But it will be someones.

Fire slackens off but not before Ash witnesses Lt Michael attempt to rouse the men once more, and taking a shot. Blood sprays and he falls from sight.

The 50 cal team see the plight of the team and pour bloody hell upon the building. The two mgs spit at each other like angry dragons. One falls silent.

Ash senses an opening. It was now or never. The fear susbisdes for the moment. Maybe today will be ok! He bolts over open ground, looking left and right, bullets scatter his team, two drop with minor wounds, and then he is alone, racing toward the enemy.

On the run he tosses a grenade and enters the dark shambles of a building on the side. Lungs on fire, he steadies and rolls into the room, he can hear some Nazi ass screaming schnell, schnell !! Cool, maybe they have not seen him yet. He steps forward into the room, applying 2.5 pounds of pressure on the trigger as he does.

The Germans are not stunned, nor are they unaware. They return fire.

Moving now, he dodges behind a stone wall as splinters and chips fly. Squatting low he rolls on the balls of his feet into the room, firing, as he rounds the corner. They shoot high, he shoots low. Knees explode, ankles shatter and men die. Some do not. They writhe in agony, others more stoic, arch arms and backs to bring barrels to bear.

Silence.

Meanwhile, the rest of Easy company is closing in on three sides where the last building holds a handful of squads. Men on both sides drop like flies. Broken bodies warm the cold hard ground, men cry out, others crawl to cover, dragging damaged bodies.

As the tension fades. Easy company takes stock. They round up wounder on both sides. Ash is curious, he saw Michael take a shot. Is he ok? That damn guy, jumped in and helped get Easy company rookies moving, and bore the brunt of German fire.

Finally Ash sees him. Or rather sees his cold hand and wedding band flopped off the side of the stretcher. He drops to a knee. Picks up the cold hand and squeezes his eyes shut. The Medic says; “Sorry Ash, he took a ’42 round to the shoulder and it tore him up bad. A bastard of a way to go.” Ash sighed, shoulders heaving, he drew in a long cold deep breath.

His body had made it. But would his soul? Would his mind? He stood. Dropped the hand. Cracked his neck. “F#$k this business..F#4k this war.

Foy is cleared. But the men of Easy company, the ever fewer, those band of brothers, are reduced, dead. dying broke, worn bone thin.

Friends, FNG’s and good officers die taking the town.

How much more can they take?