Before the Storm

Eight dark figures shifted across the hill, silhouetted by the moon. They were hunched over, worryingly exposed in the harsh light of the full moon. A rattling of machinegun fire punctured the night, but the band of brothers carried on regardless. The mission was to rendezvous with the other squads that had parachuted down into France the night before the D-Day invasion. However, for these eight men, the mission had become more difficult. A lot more difficult…

“Come on men, we’ve gotta hurry up, this place will be crawling with Krauts by tomorrow morning.” whispered the unit leader to his seven subordinates as they stealthily moved through a copse upon an exposed hill. The leader of this band was a sharp witted, fast thinking and fast firing man called Ross Atherton. His second in command was a strong and charismatic man named Mark Donald. The group progressed slowly down the hill side into a wide open plain, covered in a patchwork of fields; they carried on for a short while through the fields, marching single file as they went, keeping their tracks as covered as they could, scanning around with their eyes and their ears. But they all knew that no matter how cautious they were, they would still find the enemy, or even worse. The enemy would find them.

“Halt.” said Atherton, waving his hand accordingly in the air. “Peterson boys, you take the right and provide coving fire, behind that wall. Samson and Donald you take the left side, over by the gate and take them out, the rest of you, stay low and behind me.”

The squad moved silently and efficiently into position. They had come across a farm house, the house looked deserted, and it had a stale and weak look about it. The cobblestone walls looked like they were about to collapse and the windows were scratched and had cobwebs forming in their corners. However, in the centre of the farmyard a fire was burning brightly illuminating the dreary buildings in a warm glow. Sitting around the fire were three men, they were German soldiers, eating an early morning meal, warming their hands.

The Peterson brothers, Daniel and James were from Indiana. They were twin brothers, they were far from Identical, but they looked similar, a slim build and thick round glasses. They had signed up unknowing of each other. They both wanted to go to war to get away from the other, now they were stuck together, and forced to work as a team. They loathed each other; they were the exact opposite of brotherly love. They were mortal enemies, forced to forge a ceasefire between them so that their anger could rain down upon their new enemy, the German army. Commander Atherton had often had to bark at them the proverb. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” But Atherton knew they were far more likely to kill each other than any German.

“Shut the hell up Daniel.” whispered James angrily. “You’ll get us both shot you asshole.”

“I never said anything, now stop talking or I’ll shoot you myself.” Whispered Daniel in reply. James scowled at his brother, and was about to reply when the German soldiers began to shout as Samson and Donald moved in for a brief slaughter. Before the German men could even reach for their weapons they were dead, a brief volley of rifle fire ripped through the fresh early morning air, and all was silent again.

“Well done men!” said Atherton. “Let’s move on outta here.”

“Commander, shouldn’t we do something about the bodies?” asked a voice. It was Rick Evans, the squad’s sniper and runt of the group. He had had no combat experience; he should not even be a sniper, but in war compromises had to be made.

“No Evans, by this time tomorrow we will own this place!” Said Atherton. Several of the group whooped and cheered briefly, Atherton acknowledged the cheers, but said to his men. “We should not cheer yet, we are behind enemy lines, lost from contact our supplies are limited and our ammo is low.”

“Way to ruin the mood commander.” said Tom Samson. Tom was an engineer and a decent rifleman.

“Now, are we all done?” asked Atherton. Several of the group nodded in reply. “Good then we’re going.”

The squad travelled without difficulty all morning, and by lunchtime they had left the large open farming plains and were travelling through thick woodland.

“Aww, jeez commander, can’t we stop? I’m hungry.” moaned Evans.

“No, we can't, we’ve gotta keep going, we should be careful in these woods.” shouted Atherton, and he continued to walk forward, Donald strode up next to him and spoke.

“I’m starving as well, let the guys eat.” He pleaded.

“I’m damn hungry as well, but we can’t stop here, I have a really bad feeling about this place.” whispered Atherton and he began to continue walking. “Follow me guys, we are not stopping here.”

“An army marches on its stomach Commander, you said so before.” Said a voice from behind Atherton. He turned around, angry that someone still fought his decision. His anger subsided slightly when he saw the speaker. It was Robert Sheldrake who was the group’s medic. Standing next to him was his best friend David Sharman a rifleman. They both rarely spoke, they were the strong and silent type.

“Well, Sheldrake, you have finally opened your mouth for a change.” Said Atherton, as he began to give in. “Ok, you can rest for fifteen, but no more, and no one goes off.” The group were delighted and immediately began to relax.

“Sheldrake, Sharman, I’m gonna need you to help first, your coming on a recon mission with me.” Said Atherton. Disappointed about having to wait even longer for lunch, Sheldrake and Sharman grudgingly obeyed.

The clattering of hooves in the mud filled the air around the road side. The horse kicked up mud from the wet dirt track as it cantered through the woodland, its rider was moving cautiously, fully aware of the risk that could be surrounding him. But still no level of caution is foolproof. The rider scanned the trees around the path, one hand gripped tightly to the reigns of his mount; the other gripped the handle of his sidearm that was holstered around his waist. At one point his horse paused, thrashing its head slightly, he urged his horse on, and the horse obeyed.

“Freeze Kraut!” Shouted Atherton as he moved out from behind a tree, his Thomson fixed on the rider. The rider drew his pistol and aimed back at Atherton, preparing to fire before Atherton did.

“Don’t try anything.” Said another voice. Sharman appeared from behind a tree on the other side of the road. The rider’s eyes widened with fear.

“Dismount you asshole!” Shouted Atherton. Indicating with his weapon. The rider seemed to understand. He threw his pistol to the ground and dismounted.

“What rank is he Commander?”

“He’s an officer, that’s all I can tell.” Said Atherton as he approached the officer, preparing to capture him.

Sharman was standing behind the officer, watching Atherton approach cautiously. He glanced down at the officers hands; they were fumbling around behind him, reaching for something.

“Hey stop that!” Shouted Sharman. The officer seemed to obey, lifting his hands slightly in the air to his sides. Sharman was still suspicious however, he strode up the officer, he knew something was up.

“Keep your hands up!” He shouted as he drew right up behind the man. “Commander, step back, he may be armed!”

Sharman was right, the officer was armed. But it was too late. In a brief moment a hand raised bearing a knife, and the hand fell, the knife piercing flesh and entering the body with a brutal, life ending force. The blade struck Sharman’s heart; the officer pulled it out again and bought it down once more before his own life was ended by a bullet from Sheldrake’s rifle.

“You bastard!” shouted Sheldrake as he ran towards the officer, he fired two more shots, tears welling up in his eyes. Both his friend and the officer lay in the mud of the path. The horse had become alarmed and was galloping away, desperately trying to escape the conflict.

“You damned bastard!” shouted Sheldrake again, firing his rifle into the dead mans body. He then stood still, tears beginning to run down his face. Atherton walked up to him, grabbed the rifle from his seemingly frozen hands.
”He’s dead! Don’t waste your ammo, you’ll need it.” He said softly to Sheldrake.

“B...b…but he killed Davie, Atherton. He shot my best friend!” stammered Sheldrake.

“Shar… I mean David, is gone.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Of course I do, he just saved my life, and I’ll always owe him for that, but here, now. There is nothing we can do for him except dig a shallow grave to stop Fritz finding him.”

“Ok.”

“Hey you lot, what’s happening?” shouted a voice. Atherton recognized the voice as Donalds’s. He turned around to see the rest of the group approach.

“Oh shit.” muttered James.

“What the hell happened here?” asked Evans.

“He killed David.” stammered Sheldrake, managing to hold back tears, but his voice was croaky and his breathing difficult.

Atherton bent down and inspected the officer’s body, there was nothing of interest. He got up, aware that the whole group was watching him. He then picked up the officers pistol and investigated it.

“It’s a Luger, its in good condition.” He said out loud. “Hey Sheldrake you want this?”

Sheldrake shook his head. “Why the hell would I want that?”

“Well you killed him; don’t you want the trophy for it?”

“No!”

“Suit yourself, I’ll have it.”

They continued through the woodland for a few hours until they reached a hamlet. A cluster of five houses was now a German outpost. The cluster of houses was on the edge of the woods, beyond a small stream lay more farming land, and behind the group was the forest they had just come out from. The team moved into position, preparing to assault.

“Evans, how many do you count?” Asked

“I got four in the centre of the hamlet, two MG42’s in the buildings on the far right and left.” Replied Evans

“Ok, Evans you take out the MG42 guys first, no one move until he’s fired the first shot.”

“Commander!” said James Peterson

“What?”

“I can see some guys over the other side of the river, it think they are ours!”

“Wait, whe…”

Atherton could not finish his sentence, a hail of machine gun and rifle fire began, he and the rest of his squad ducked, believing the fire was coming upon them. James Peterson was brave enough to raise his head out of the ditch they were lying in and look across the river.

“Holy shit, those guys are getting slaughtered.”

“Now is our chance, Samson, Peterson boys you take the building on the left. Donald, Sheldrake, you go right. Evans, stick with me and see if you can get any of those machine gunners.

Evans squinted down the scope of his rifle, positioning it on one of the machine gunners who was opening fire on the other squad. Evans could clearly see the other squad; they were hiding in whatever cover they could find as bullets came down like rain. He could feel his heart pounding. As he put his aim back on the machine gunner. He could hear Atherton shouting in his ear.

“Shoot them now goddam it!”

“I can’t!” He murmured to himself. “I just can’t kill that guy.”

“Jesus Christ, they’re being massacred, shoot now Evans!”

He was torn, he could see the life being drained out of the other squad, and he could see the looks of terror on their faces as they cowered from the attack. Some were caught out in the open as they tried to cross the stream only to be killed by the hail of bullets. “I just can’t” Thought Evans, his finger quivering on the trigger. His mind focusing, he was fighting with his conscious, his heart was pounding like mad, he shut his eyes. He wanted to vomit. No, he wanted to die, right there. He fired.

When Evans looked back up at the window there was no one there. He could just see blood smeared on the wall behind the gun. He gulped. Another figure appeared in the window. It was Donalds. He gripped the machine gun and began to fire on the German soldiers in the middle of the several buildings.

“Eat this!” He shouted as he let round after round fly from the gun.

After a brief fire fight the hamlet was quiet again. The sun was beginning to set as they inspected the other squad they had come across. Only one member remained alive out of the nine that had arrived on the other side of the stream.

Evans stood watching the dying man, he felt so guilty. If he had not hesitated he could have probably saved this man, as well as some of the others. They had taken the man inside one of the houses to try and treat him. Sheldrake was trying desperately to suppress the blood flowing rapidly from the man’s wounds. Evans stared into the man's eyes; he could see the man was silently crying. He began to imagine that the man was trying to lash out at him, trying to get revenge for Evans not acting sooner.

“ We landed last night as well.” explained the man in a croaky and broken voice. “We were heading to the rendezvous point 4 miles from here.”

“Where exactly is the rendezvous point?” asked Donalds

“It’s a large open plain down stream. There will markers there.” The man coughed violently. He lent over the side of the bed, coughing again, blood spattered on the floor. “There is a map in my pack, it’s marked on there.” He added, pointing to a dirt covered rucksack lying next to the bed.

“Is there anything else we should know?” asked Atherton as he retrieved the map from the man's rucksack.

“Yes, give me the map.” Atherton laid the map out beside the man. Trying not to get in the way of Sheldrake’s operating.

“Careful commander.” said Sheldrake, still trying to operate.

“There is a large force of Germans coming up here.” Said the man as he traced with his finger a path on the map. “We are here, and the rendezvous is here. Our guys are coming in from here, along with the other airborne squads.”

“Oh crap!” said Sheldrake under his breath, staring at the wound he was trying to treat.

“What’s up Sheldrake?” asked Donalds, hearing what he had said.
”I dunno captain, the blood wont stop. He keeps coughing it up as well.”

“Shit! What can we do?”

“Not much captain.”

“Oh, god!” moaned the man, he coughed up blood again. “Just go you guys! The Germans will be all over here by early morning.”

Atherton began to bark orders to his men. “Donalds, Samson, Evans, you come with me! We’re going on a quick recon. Sheldrake, Peterson boys. You’re staying with this guy. If Sheldrake wants you to help him then you do so, ok?”

“Yes sir.” They both said.

“Good and no fighting.” said Atherton as he departed.

“What the hell is he doing? Making us stay here?” Asked James angrily after several minutes of silence.

“I guess he wants you two to get along.” explained Sheldrake. “He wants us all to trust each other, so he makes you two work together to try and stop your fighting.”

“Yeah, well he’s doing a shit job of it.” replied Daniel. “Can’t anyone see I don’t wanna be around him?”

“Yeah well I hardly want to be glued to you!” shouted James. Within seconds they had erupted into argument, a like a tiny spark setting off a huge explosion.

“Guys.” said Sheldrake quietly. “You Guys!” He said louder.

“Stay out of this Sheldrake!” exclaimed James. “This is between me and the murderer.”

“You calling me a murderer?” asked Daniel angrily. “You’ve killed more than me in this war.”

“You two quit it.” shouted Sheldrake, trying to intervene but at the same time trying to help the badly wounded man who by now was lingering on the verge of life.

“I said stay outta this Sheldrake!” roared James.

“Why are you calling me a murderer?” asked Daniel.

“It’s your fault mom died!” Said James, his hands shaking as he spoke. His eyes focused on his brothers. There was a long pause after he spoke. Anger was boiling up inside Daniel. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Without warning he drew his pistol, and aimed it at his brother. He was trembling badly and he waved the gun around as he tried to aim it.

“You say that again!” screamed Daniel. I’ll shoot you, I will!”

A sly look appeared on James’s face, a look of evil and treachery. “But it is your fault; you wanted to go out on the lake that day in the summer.” He said quietly

“S…Shu…Shut up!”

“I wouldn’t go with you, neither would dad.”

“You shut up, now!”

“Daniel stop!” said Sheldrake, trying to intervene again. “You’ll be court marshalled.”

“Stay the hell out of this!”

“You pestered and pestered her. She gave in. You knew the weather was bad, you knew that she was a poor swimmer, but still she came out in the boat with you.”

“Shut up!” screamed Daniel, tears streaming down his face.

“She died because of you!” continued James, he was also beginning to cry.

It was in that moment that Sheldrake belived Daniel was going to shoot his brother. His finger wavered around the trigger, his eyes firmly placed on his brothers. But it was in that moment of uncertainty that Daniel realized the truth, the lies he had told himself since the incident. He turned the pistol away from his brother's head, and placed it next to his own. He felt its cold metal barrel pushing against his head. It was all his fault, his brother was right. Before anyone could act, he pulled the trigger and ended his own life. As his brother fell James realized what he had just done, the result of nineteen years of conflict had come to an end, only now did he realize that he loved his brother. But it was too late.

“Shit, shit, shit!” exclaimed Sheldrake as he rushed to Daniel’s body. He knew there was nothing he could do. He did not know what he could and should do. He cursed and cursed again under his breath. Staring at the dead man in front of him, and James standing in silence, looking at his brother’s body. Sheldrake turned around to find another dead man behind him. The solider lying on the bed had died; blood was flowing gently from his mouth. Sheldrake felt so confused, three men had died before him today, and he was the only one with skills to save them. He felt weak and powerless. He collapsed next to the bed, resting his back on the side. He fumbled in his pocket for a lighter and a single cigarette; he lit it and began to smoke.

“I was trying to give these up.” He explained to James. “All these doctors are starting to say they kill people, but I bought it along just in case I needed it.” Sheldrake laughed loudly. “Well I guess I do now.”

It was almost half an hour until the rest of the squad returned to the house. Donalds was the first person to enter the room he reacted with one word.

“Shit.” The others had similar reactions. Two men lay dead, Sheldrake lay asleep propped up against the side of the bed, a cigarette butt on the floor next to him. James sat clutching his rifle in one corner, his eyes open and staring at his brother.

“What in gods name happened here?” asked Atherton upon entering the room.

“H…he.” mumbled James

“He’s fucking dead.” said Sheldrake. Who had been woken as Atherton spoke.

“Who killed him?”

“He killed himself.”

“Shit, why?”

“Ask James.”

Donalds approached James. He placed his Thomson on the wall next to him and lowered himself to James’s level. He looked James straight in the eye as he spoke.

“What happened here?” He asked, as if he was a teacher speaking to a misbehaving child. A firm but sympathetic voice.

“I made him kill himself.” stammered James, diverting his eyes away from Donalds.

“What did you say?”

“I reminded him of what he did. It’s his fault our mom died.”

“Sheldrake, why didn’t you do something?” Asked atherton.”

“I tried.” moaned Sheldrake. “But I was trying to keep this guy alive.”

“Is he still alive?” asked Evans.

“No, he dead as well.” said Sheldrake. He laughed quietly to himself.

“What’s so funny private?” asked Atherton Enraged.

“Well I guess you kinda fucked up Commander. Leaving these guys here together. You should know by now that they can’t be made to work together.”

The squad spent a tense night in the hamlet. The deaths of two squad members in one day did come as a shock. They all understood what war would be like, but still the deaths of Daniel and Sharman weighed on the minds of everyone. Evans however was also worried about the machine gunner he had killed earlier that day. He was on patrol with Sheldrake that night when he asked him.

“Ya know when we stormed those houses.”

“Yep.”

“The machine gunner in the building you took, who killed him?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I don’t want to think that I did it.”

“You must have known what war involves before you signed up?”

“Well, yeah I did.”

“Well you should have paid more thought to your decision.”

They continued to walk in silence for a few minutes until Sheldrake spoke again.

“But did you see who killed the machine gunner?”
”Yeah, Donalds did.”

“Phew, thank god.”
”Although you did scare Donalds shitless. Your shot hit the wall as he went up to the gun. I’ve never seen that man jump so high.” said Sheldrake. They both laughed.e

“I guess it’s been a bad day for you, huh.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

They continued the patrol in silence…

Donalds was walking point through thick woodland, they were on the way to the rendezvous. The squad walked quietly behind him, waiting on his every command. Somewhere nearby the enemy was waiting. He felt that each step he took further forward was one step closer to their doom. He could see the field set up for rendezvous in the distance through the trees. Eventually he reached the field. He stared up at the sun bearing down upon his face, he smiled. He could hear a low gentle rattling sound in the distance. He turned around. Gunshots filled the air. He could hear his men scream and run for cover as tanks and soldiers came pouring from the woods. He began to fire on the enemy, trying desperately to find cover in this large open field. Desperately running and firing, trying to find what little protection he could. He could see a large ditch out of the corner of his eye, the best spot he could find. He began to make his way there. Shouting for his men to follow. He ran straight for the ditch, bullets zipped past his head, they were flying into the ground around his feet. He was almost there, so close…

Donalds woke up with a start, his breathing was rapid and his heart was thumping wildly. He darted his eyes around, trying to adjust to the darkness. The only light source was the ominous looking moon. He heard the sound of anti-aircraft gun fire in the distance. A deafening rattle close up, but at a distance a gentle popping sound. In the foreboding silence of the night it was the only comfort Donalds had. He moved his hand over his forehead, he was sweating badly. After several silent minutes the weight on his eyelids increased and he began to sleep soundly again.

The squad was rallied at the crack of dawn. All the remaining six paid their respects to the two who had passed away that night. They then set off to the rendezvous point. Although their journey was a short one it was made very difficult by strong winds and driving rain. The mud slowed their walking speed, and the rain lowered their morale. Eventually the rains stopped as they drew close to the rendezvous. Donalds however felt a great feeling of dread that had lingered in his mind since morning. As the squad approached the area the wounded solider had indicated on the map however, his fear subsided. He had dreamed of a field of wasteland. Rough grass and weeds growing everywhere. This field however was a field of thick wheat. They had come through woods, and on the other side of this field were more woods. To the sides a farming plain opened up.

“Is this the right field?” asked Donalds

“Must be, or that guy was wrong.” replied Atherton.

“I don’t see any markers.” added James. “Or any other guys.”

“We had better not have come all this…” Began Samson

“Shhh.” Said Donalds. “Listen.”

He could hear the sound approaching, a gentle rattling and creaking sound in the distance; it was coming from the direction they had approached from.

“Tanks.” said Donalds.

“Are they ours?” asked Evans

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do?”

“Find cover. Now!”

Donalds began to run across the field towards the woods on the other side, the field sloped gently downwards and near the woods he could see the field of short grass and weeds ended, and a small stretch of long grass lay around a wide shallow ditch followed. It was the only safe place in this area.

“Over here, follow me!” He shouted.

They were drawing nearer to the ditch when the sound of gunfire could be heard from behind. Donalds glanced around to see a pair of tanks alongside at least thirty infantry.

“Shit.” screamed Donalds. The squad was less than 20 meters from the ditch when the tanks began to fire. Explosions blasted holes in the ground left and right. Chucking mud and stones at the running men, who were mere moving targets to the barrage of bullets and the hail of explosions. Samson was the slowest member of the squad, he ran wildly, panting loudly. The rest of the squad had thrown themselves into the available cover.

“Samson, hurry.” shouted Atherton. Samson was only meters from safety when he was hit. A bullet ripped through his arm, and another through his leg. He fell in the field, the German forces closing in from behind. He tried to get back up, but all he could do was feebly raise his hand at his allies, he was only ten meters from safety.

“James, Sheldrake. Cover me!” shouted Atherton. “I’ve got to get him.”

“Shit commander, that’s suicide.” exclaimed Donalds.

“I don’t care; we’ve got a guy alive out there.” replied Atherton. Without any further challenges he lept from the ditch, weapon at the ready, the rest of the squad began to fire on the advancing force as Atherton picked Samson up, flung him in a fireman’s life over his shoulder and began to ran back, he felt a searing pain in the back of his left leg, but he carried on the last few meters.

The squad carried on defending themselves from the onslaught. The German infantry were firing from the top of the slope and the tanks were moving into position, poised to fire. Sheldrake made his way over to Samson who was lying still on the ground. He hurriedly opened his medical kit.

“N…no, Sheld…rake. It’s to… too late for that.”

“No its not, I am not loosing you as well.”

“Y…ou should be fightin.”

“Shit, you’re loosing loads of blood.” exclaimed Sheldrake, staring down into his equipment, trying to find the right tools. “I gotta stop it.” He turned back to Samson only to find blood gently flowing down his face and neck, a bullet in his head.

“Shit, no, no!” moaned Sheldrake.

“Get your damn head down Sheldrake.” screamed Donalds. “They’re coming closer.”

Sheldrake had had enough of this, four men dead before him, he was the medic, and he was the one who was supposed to save people. He had failed. He reached down and picked up Samson’s Thompson, he gripped it tightly in his hands. He stood up exposing himself to the enemy. He began to run forward, the world moving slowly around him. He stepped up out of the ditch and began to fire.

“Eat this you dirty bastards!” He screamed. He fired as he ran. Explosions were going off all around him, but he still charged. Stumbling over bumps and rocks in the field as he went. He fired at every enemy he saw; it was only when the clip ran out that he realized his dilemma, bullets ripped through his flesh, killing him before he had even realized what had happened.

“Oh god.” shouted Evans. “They’ve got Sheldrake.”

“What the hell was he thinking?” asked James to Atherton.

“I don’t know! Just keep firing!”

“I can’t commander, I’m out.” said James.

“Me too.” added Evans.

“Damn.” said Atherton. “What are we going to do?”

“I think now is the time we pray for a miracle.” Explained Atherton. “That’s the only thing that will save us now.” He fired out of the ditch several more times. As he glanced over the edge of the ditch he saw the cannons fire.

“Shells incoming!” He Screamed. Flattening him to the ground, placing his hand firmly on his helmet, futilely trying to protect himself. Silently waiting along with the rest of his men for the impending doom. They all heard the shells land, but they were not dead. Donalds heard the now familiar rumbling of tank tracks. He poked his head back up and looked to the woods behind him. He could see tanks and infantry, he recognized them instantly.

“ It’s our boys!” he shouted. “We’re saved.” Troops began to pour from the woods into the fields. Some lept into the ditch and continued to fight from there. It was a surreal moment for the remaining members of the squad, they were saved, as their allies advanced and their adversaries retreated across the field they remained in the ditch. Bewildered by the unfolding event.

Atherton closed his eyes and felt the midday sun warm his face. The injury in his arm remained, but the pain had been thwarted by the sheer happiness of the moment. He heard voices shouting around him.

“Are you guys ok?”

“Hey, this guys hit, get a medic!”

For them their two days in hell were over, but the war was not. The fighting would continue for a long while to come. Many more men would die; there would be victories and defeats. But for our squad. The war was over…