J.P. Odle

Mrs. Cholis

English

Final Paper

Fire and Steel

I sprinted to the shallow water-logged trench, zig-zagging to avoid the small fountains of dirt. The bullets whizzed by my head, some tearing through my clothing. Diving into the trench, I hugged the ground, gurgling in the shallow murk as I tried to breathe. I cautiously crawled up to the nearest soldier, ducking every time a bullet zipped over my head. Not wanting to startle the man, I gently nudged his mud splattered boots. Nothing. I crawled up further, lying right next to him and shook him. No response, dead. I cursed under my breath. I was exhausted, pinned down by two machineguns in an open field. I took a deep breath and turned over to my back. I stared at the black clouds rolling in from the south. Rain was inevitable. It had rained for the past two days, on and off, why would it not rain today?

“Ames! Ames! The captain wants you!” I looked up to see Bernard flailing his arms, running to me.

As he came closer, I asked “What do they want?” I shielded my eyes from the glaring sun, peaking in and out of the clouds.

Bernard shrugged “I dunno, they just told me to get you.”

I looked at him with suspicion, folding my arms across my muddy uniform “They?”

Bernard stuttered and stalled “Err, um,” he tried to smile, “sorry, it’s just that I have been a runner all day and kinda get things messed up ya know?”

“Okay,” I glared at him “just don’t get my orders mixed up; I don’t want to get killed.” I stormed off. I muttered “Third time today, what do they want?”

I peered over the ditch and was greeted by a hail of lead. One hundred yards separated me from my maker. I could see, outlined in the dusk sky, every detail, from the cold black steel of the machineguns to the neat creases on the German’s uniforms. The beige sandbags sagged from use and frayed at the edges. I slid down the embankment back into the murky water. “I’ll have to wait for night.” I sighed. I looked back at the menacing sky. A clap of thunder announced the storm’s arrival. I took a deep breath, smelling the damp summer air.

I was separated from my unit. Simple tasks, get to the woods, eliminate and encountered resistance, establish a base of operations on the eastern edge of the wood. We were given those orders four hours ago. I was alone by the second. The twisted bushes and tree limited our line of sight severely. To make matters worse, the wood was intersected with multiple ravines, all deep and narrow. Perfect ambush sites. My squad consisted of eight men, withered down from twenty eight months ago. Placed at the extreme left of the advance, we were completely exposed, with no way of calling for reinforcements.

“Sergeant Ames, welcome,” Captain Sawyer saluted me on my entrance to his tent. He was in his late fifties, silver white hair, neatly combed back. Though youth had long left his face, his eyes still twinkled, reminding one of better days. I returned the salute. Looking around the tent, there were two men, one a general, the other a colonel; leaning over the table, muttering, pointing to a map, nodding to each other. “Oh, Sgt. Ames, this is General Matthew Bragg and Colonel Arnold Jenckes.” I saluted them.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but you called me, again.” I quickly blurted out before a line of generals to greet me suddenly appeared.

Cpt. Sawyer welcomed me to the table “Yes, I did and this is why.” He explained that a substantial number of Germans still remained in a pocket of pine forest that nearly cut our lines in half. “If we do not get them out of there, pardon the pun, but, they will be quite a thorn in our side.” He smiled. I did not. The smile faded as soon as it came. He cleared his throat and continued, “Ames, you will take your squad on the extreme left and do not worry about any resistance. All the latest reconnaissance says they are mostly located in the western side of the forest. Gentlemen,” He said, looking at the three of us, “I believe if we take this wood, we will break the German’s back and crush their line.” It would do no such thing.

The soft but steady rain calmed me for the moment. The warm ground steamed, blanketing the earth in a thick mist. I decided to make my move. I scrambled up the bank opposite the machinegun and went prone to listen if the gunners heard me. I got up and ran for my life. My beating heart kept pace with my racing feet. As the distance from the ditch grew farther and farther, I began to notice a white farmhouse in the distance. I leaned up against a tree to catch my breath and surveyed my surroundings. The pattering of the rain obscured the sounds of skirmishes further in the woods. I looked back at the house. White planks, light streaming from the windows. I trudged on, wary, but hopeful. I readied my rifle.

The foray into the woods was a disaster from the start. Late start times pushed our launch time back half an hour. We went in, not all at once as you should, but piecemeal. My squad led the echelon. Half a mile into the woods, we came to a ravine, having no choice but to cross. As we did, shots rang out, dropping two of my men. The remaining dove for cover and returned fire with potshots. After 

fifteen minutes of senseless shooting, the Germans melted back into the woods. I looked at the two bodies “Get them out of here!” I kept on walking.

“Sir,” Bernard calmly asked “what now?”

“I don’t know.” I took a deep breath, “We keep going” and exhaled.

I came to the farmhouse window and peered inside. I did not see anything suspicious. I crept up to the front door and slowly opened it. Looking inside, the rooms were lavishly furnished with red and gold, mirrors, sofas, tables, ornate chandeliers. “All this,” I was dumbfounded “in the middle of a war?” I was amazed by the elegance of the house. I ran my grimy fingers over the cherry wood tables and went upstairs. I heard music softly playing. It sounded like Dvorak, though I never could tell. I went to a closed door at the top of the step. I placed my hand on the glass knob before hearing a floorboard creak. I spun to see who it was. I instantly grabbed my gun as I recognized the hat, one belonging to a German officer. And a quick one at that. I fired but missed just over his shoulder. He dove for the corner closest to the stairs and leaned out to take a shot.

Now with two men in my squad, two dead, two tending to the dead, I was more hurt than help. But we went on. We made it our mission to round up stragglers and hopefully create a cohesive fighting unit before the battle was over. For two hours we searched. Nothing. We came to a large open field. I knelt down at the edge of the forest, thinking of what to do when I saw them. Four of them. Four bodies lay face first, dead, on the ground not twenty feet from me. It was the same two men I sent to dispose of the bodies. I ran out to them, blinded by grief in my mistake. Bernard and Andrew followed me. Andrew, being somewhat of a klutz tripped and on impact with the ground, discharged his gun. The shot rang out, scattering the birds in the woods around us. I looked back at him “You fool!” I hoarsely yelled. It was my second mistake of the day. As Andrew picked himself up, a burp from a machinegun put him 

down. I instantly recognized it as an mg42. Nasty little things when you are in front of the barrel. I quickly went prone as did Bernard. We stared at each other for a few tense seconds before I motioned for him and me to run for the other side of the field. He nodded and we bolted. I sprinted with what energy was left in me. I looked back at Bernard who lagged behind. I looked back one last time when I saw another burst from the mg42 bring him down. He slowed down, lifted his arm as if to point and fell to his side. I stopped in my tracks nearly tripping. My trance was ended with another burst of the machinegun zipping past me. I ran for the trench, zig-zagging the whole way.

The officer had hit me, square in the chest. The wind was knocked out of me, leaving my hoarse gasps to fill the air. I fell to my knees, my guns sliding off to the side. I breathed deeply and looked at the light fixtures which surrounded me. I was at peace, at last, peace. I put my hand on my pistol holster and undid the latch. Gripping tightly, I staggered to my feet, coughed, took one last breath and went on the hunt.