Very few believed in miracles,
Be it in a form of a saviour to bring their nation to victory,
Be it a sudden notion of motivation from their own people,
But miracles can be a surprise of itself,
When your hope lies on a man…
From the skies, where parachutes had yet to exist…
... ... ...
By: Outlaw02 Extreme
Everything Too Sudden
Faint rattling within the plane was heard ever so clearly as the well-equipped British soldiers of the 21st Army Group awaits eagerly for the jump for Operation Market Garden; by far they believe as a big assignment. Faint lighting prevented much activity; at most they could do was a short spew of chit-chatter. Obviously, such a big operation would only make soldiers feel doubtful if it was possible to pull it off. Many would agree that war is a bloody useless form of conflict, and participating one was just as bad. Not so for the plucky Brit called Chris Boyles. The 26 year old Corporal was actually eager about this operation. The reason behind it was not even known to him, yet he was looking forward to it. His fit body structure was in British Army overalls, which was obviously clad in green, though his short brown hair with fringe parted by the middle was seen, until he donned on the helmet. Eyes were of deep green while the weapons he had were a bit different from the rest.
Instead of the Lee-Enfield bolt action rifle and a Sten sub-machine gun, what he had were the Nazi's weapons. Chris favoured the Gewehr 43 semi-automatic rifle and the Mauser C96 712 Schnellfeuer handgun he got back at Operation Overlord. The Gewehr could be used as a sniper rifle with the scopes he had in this inventory, while the handgun was to Chris, a small sized sub-machinegun. While Chris has about 140 rounds of spare ammunition for his 10 round rifle, he had a mind-blowing 300 for the 20 round Mauser. What amused most of the other soldiers was the fact that that bloody Brit did not mind the weight disadvantage he has, including the 10 Gammon grenades at disposal.
"Oy, Chris," one of his fellow colleagues called. "You think you can run with that much weight? Looks bloody heavy."
"You call this heavy?" the eager Corporal responded. "I could wank and carry this much mass at the same time. It only takes a wrinkly tart to whine at such a minute disadvantage."
"I swear you've been drinking too much of that gin two days ago. I guess your hang over is still making you go bonkers about the Operation."
"You'll never know, you know. Maybe I am bonkers at this point of time-."
"Oy, shut it! Get ready! Once you hit ground, advance to the rendezvous point. Your superiors will have further orders from there," one of the co-pilots announced as he opened the jump door. "The Corporal, you first, since you're keen to be in the assignment."
Chris donned and strapped his helmet as he readies for the jump. But nothing can be too perfect as the plane immediately entered a fog; a situation even Chris himself was confused. Weather forecast had claimed no fog over the region… Even the co-pilot was holding onto the Corporal; a signal that he should wait until the plane gets out of the fog, or goes lower in altitude. That was when the brunette shook off the grip.
"I won't wait to jump for some bad weather! All I saw before the fog was a clear plain just up ahead. I'll jump ahead before these pikers," he remarked, obviously towards the rest in the platoon, and leaped off the plane.
Faint yelling from the co-pilot did little to catch his attention as he deployed his parachute within the fog. That alone made him comment.
"Bloody fog. Get out of my view! You're as annoying as a persistent dog trying to hump a poodle that didn't want to."
It only took him almost half a minute before Chris was out in the clear. Only one thing caught his attention. Other than Chris himself, there was no one parachuting down in the region. That boggled his mind. Had the brunette strayed that far from the landing area? Was he in enemy territory, or on the allies' side? All he saw was a large plain up ahead, while a town was to the west-.
"What's going on over there? I see 2 colours fighting like mad-." his thoughts were cut off when a stray bullet barely misses him. "Bloody hell, a war down there? And the colours are just so prominent. Why red and navy blue?"
Realising that it would be a while, possibly about 30 seconds before he lands from such a height, Chris directed his parachute towards the town. That was when he took a good look at the town's profile. A clock tower was situated at the heart of the settlement, while two major road paths separate the place into 4 quarters. From what he noticed, the red side had advanced almost two-thirds of the place, while the blue were retreating for a defensive position to the west, but lacked tanks as back up. A sense of urgency was felt within him, yet he felt that there was no need for him to interfere with the conflict. He knew nothing of the battle going on, nor did he know whose side were the defenders. Even if he decide to assist as a lone third party back up…
Second thoughts began to brew up in his mind. Would not be a possibility that either side sees the brunette as an intruder? In fact, there might be a chance that he could be captured as prisoner of war from both sides-.
"Don't let the Royalists take control of this town! This is the last line of defence, there's no turning back!" a commanding voice from the blue side was heard. "We're the only ones left guarding the town of Cassern. Do it for our nation; Wisternberg!"
It had been a while Chris had heard such motivational, yet patriotic sensation ever since Operation Overlord. Though to the Brit, it did feel a bit medieval-ish. The brunette was often easily swayed by such words, hence it was no wonder he came up with a decision just seconds before landing at the far west of the town.
"Screw this! I'll assist the blue army! I'll explain all this crap later on! They better not shoot me first as well," he thought as he took of the parachute, collected it, and stuffed onto a nearby tree.
It was only then the soldiers from Wisternberg aimed fingers at Chris, much to the brunette's dismay.
"Intruder!" one warned about the Brit's presence after landing.
"Oh bullshit!" Chris responded; knowing that he was obviously mistaken for siding with the Royalists. "I knew this is going to happen."
Just as the Corporal got hold of his Gewehr 43 rifle, and releasing the safety lock, as expected, due to the close distance he was with one of the two Wistern soldiers, they charged towards him, raising their rifles. Obviously using the firm wooden butt stocks, Chris had to back away a few steps back; he needed space should there was a need to subdue one before countering the second Wistern soldier- green eyes caught attention of men in red flanking from the right.
"The hell with it," thought the Brit as he opened fire to the 5 flanking Royalists, of which one of the 5 bullets he shot managed to mortally wound one through the upper torso.
Luck was not on his side unfortunately. A heavy butt stock struck the back of his scalp, causing Chris to stumble. Another assault came through, yet the Brit was able to counter it when he gave a firm left back hand into the attacking Wistern soldier's face. That, amusingly, had the said man in blue stunned by the counter; never had he been retaliated with a back hand in a close combat. Green eyes leered at him.
"What's fucking wrong with you, douche bag?" countered the Corporal, shaking his head, trying to rid off the blurry vision while aiming an index finger at the other 4 men in red seeking cover behind a wooden fence. "Your God damn Royalists just flanked from the right, pie hole! Ever thought of that bloody possibility, bloody idiot?"
A moment of silence ensued. There were the two Wistern soldiers, literally confused on what to do. While there was a need to fire at the flanking Royalists, they were doubtful on the man in green's stand in the battle. There was a possibility that he could be a spy-.
"You two counter the flanking reds!" the same commanding voice was heard from before, to his left, though sounding rather feminine this time round. "I need two more to assist them! Another three, flank from the left! I'll deal with this foreigner."
Chris' vision had not recovered fully when he noticed a figure, possibly a female, pacing towards him. That was not his main worry; the instant he heard the pumping action of a firearm, he flinched. Never had he thought that weapon would be used in combat, with the exception of the Americans, who did use it in combat. He had not uttered a word when he noticed the barrel of the firearm aimed right for his face.
"What's your reason in this battle? You have ten seconds before I pull the trigger," she threatened.
The Corporal was just too speechless at that point of time- a wail of agony was heard from the right flank; a Wistern soldier found himself shot at his midriff. Chris' instincts kicked in even though there was a weapon aimed for his face. Using the iron sights of the Gewehr, with 2 swift triggers, he was able to down a Royalist that was just about to throw a grenade. Chris held his breath for a few seconds till the grenade went off with a deafening boom, taking another Royalist's live with its shrapnel. Only one left standing on the far right, behind the wall instead of the fence. Even though there was 3 more bullets in the magazine, his left hand dug into one of the 3 sling bags he had, pulling out a fresh clip. That was when he realised the singular man in red hiding behind the wall was aiming for him.
"Shit!" he thought, only to hear the familiar, deep burst of a shotgun behind him.
His eyes widened. Chris was able to reload just before the bellow of the firearm, but he never knew it would be that fast- the hiding Royalist slumped to the ground, exposing his torso that was ridden with the shotgun's ball bearings.
"Thank me later for saving your ass," she replied while inserting a shell into the shotgun. "I don't know what's with you being present in the heat of battle, nor do I know which side you belong to. I'm still suspicious of you, but here's our current status; the Royalists have pushed us where we're at the verge of losing a vital town used for scouting those bastards. You'll explain your situation after we're out of this mess. We need to drive them out of the town. At least give me your name for now."
Chris had not have time to even have a good look at the commanding officer at the moment. He had been too pre-occupied by the constant firings from both sides, and the explanation from the female officer. All he responded was a salute and his name.
"Corporal Chris Boyle."
"Very well, Chris. Don't you dare die on us!" she replied before yelling to her troops. "Soldiers, the Corporal in green is on our side! He's our only back up for the time being! Don't let up, this is it! Save Cassern from the Royalists!"
"As if I would want to die, sir!" A wide grin formed on the Corporal's face as he dashed towards the defensive line, getting hyped and probably too enthusiastic until he saw the battle in action. "Damn! Royalists' all over the place!"
His remark was already enough for the Wisternberg side to feel puzzled by Chris' presence, let alone assisting as well. The 26 year old, after taking cover behind a pile of crates, finally he decided to observe the situation he was in. The rows of houses on both sides of the main road were in a wreck, yet sturdy foundations kept them standing. One thing that puzzled him was the fact that the Wisternberg soldiers did not use the environment to their advantage. Since weather had been sunny, sniping might be one of the better solutions to take the kills quickly. His eyes turned to an open door where he noticed a flight of steps to the second floor. Only problem was that it was located on the other side of the road. The brunette had to use something as a form of diversion.
"Let's see how they react with my babies," he thought, grabbing one of the empty Gammon grenades while loading it with plastic explosive and few shrapnel found lying around him. "Dang it, that took a while."
Chris took a moment to calm his hyper attitude down while he got into a running position. His eyes were fixed to the destination he needed to go. However, bring the only sniper in the area might not be enough the instant he took a peek at the amount of Royalists that were battering down the Wisternberg troops. With the ratio of almost 3 to 1, the Corporal knew he needed at least another sniper to assist. His eyes turned attention to the nearest soldier.
"You there," Chris called. "Know anyone in the group who is a sniper?"
"None at the moment!" he responded, taking cover while reloading his semi-automatic rifle next to the Brit. "But you can get Tessa to be one. She's the one with long, deep orange hair just on the other side of where we are. She might not be a sniper, but her sharp shooting skills are top notch. Anyway, you should get shooting if you're helping us damn it!"
"Then be glad when I taunt those buggers," grinned the Brit as he stood up, making a mockery out of the Royalists as he uncapped the screw of the Gammon grenade, still holding onto the lead weight. "Hey Royalist bastards! How about wiping your filthy animal face with a handkerchief?"
For a moment it stunned the opposing forces for a split second, allowing Chris to toss the said grenade towards the Royalists. The lead weight of the grenade began to unwrap the linen tape, pulling out a retaining pin from the fuse mechanism. Green eyes watched eagerly as the grenade came into contact to the ground, near one of the 2 tanks they have at disposal. By then, Chris was grinning to his delight as he dashed towards the said woman- he heard and felt the Gammon grenade explode. The overwhelming boom had both sides shaken by the earth trembling sensation while the unsuspected Royalists found themselves having their men down by 5, though the tank was not affected.
"What kind of grenade was that?" Chris heard a question from one of the Wistern soldiers.
The Corporal never replied. Instead, he was already tapping the said woman's right shoulder; none other than Tessa.
"You, follow me. We'll snipe from the second floor. We're being a liability down here," requested the brunette as he went ahead into the said house while fixing the scope onto the Gewehr 43 rifle. "Your name is Tessa, am I right?"
"Yes," was the firm answer from the said woman.
That reply was enough to make the outsider wonder if she cared about having a third party assistance suggesting a position change. No matter, there was no time for him to even think of such thoughts other than gunning the Royalists down. His attention turned to the redhead woman the moment they got to the second floor. It was then he started to notice Tessa. Her sharp-looking eyes were of sky blue while her long wavy hair was of striking auburn while her fringe was combed centre parted to prevent her hair from covering her eyes. What amused him most was the fact she was about the same height as Chris; 1.75 metres. And judging by age, he assumed that the woman was in her twenties-the redhead gave a suggestion.
"Looks like the bedroom have the best view for sniping. You get the ones on the left. I'll do the right. When in doubt, toss them with grenades. How does that sound?"
That was by far the most monotonous voice Chris has ever heard. Never once he would meet anyone saying the suggestion with a straight face and a bland tone. He was stumped, literally. However, the idea she suggested was actually brilliant to him, especially when she mentioned using grenades when in doubt-.
"Man down! Officer Jeanette!" a holler from the Wistern side was heard, which heightened the urgency of taking out the Royalists in red.
"Keep on firing! I'll back you up! Advance when you see them bastards backing away!" the same commanding voice was heard before a faint pump-action cocking.
As the duo dashed into the bedroom and getting into positions on one of 5 windows, Tessa took the ones overlooking her comrades while Chris towards the Clock Tower. The dreary look of the room was already starting to demoralise the Brit; tattered bed, peeling paint, wrecked furniture due to the tanks' shelling, and the broken roof overhead. Without any form of aid to take down the 2 tanks, it was only up to Chris' Gammon grenades to do the job. Thank God he had brought a small supply of explosives in case there was a need to blow up, or at least immobilise those armoured fighting vehicles. His attention turned to Tessa, who had already begun gunning down the soldiers in red.
"Tessa, cover my sector for a brief moment. I need to fill the grenades with explosives first. At least these can immobilise the 2 tanks," the Corporal reminded.
"Consider it done, and hurry up! I'm running low on ammunition," the redhead's voice started to sound a little frantic.
"Use my rifle if you run out of ammo. There are 140 spare rounds on mine," he paused, carefully filling the elasticized stockinet bag with explosives. "I'll use my handgun instead."
Tessa did not bother questioning on how that foreign man would be able to snipe with a handgun. Instead, she went on aiming at the Royalists with the iron sights of her 15 round rifle and squeezed the trigger ever so swiftly before aiming for another soldier. It was then the redhead hand signalled to one of her fellow comrade to get to the second floor of the house on the other side of the road. This time round, they might be able to pull through- a deafening screech had Tessa backing away from the metal framed broken window as she gasped. She had not taken notice of a Royalist aiming right for her, and suffered only a moderate bruise to her left arm. But that did not deter the 25 year old lass from countering with a swift shot into the forehead before the dreaded clang caught her attention. She was down to her last magazine for her rifle and soon enough she might need to use an unfamiliar rifle from that foreign man-.
"Where did he go?" she thought before crate breaking on the first floor was heard.
"Tessa, my rifle's magazines are in the sling bag on the bed!" Chris' voice caught the redhead's attention from the bedroom above. "I'll flank them from the left and cross the road to the clock tower. Provide covering fire while I dash there. The stone fence surrounding the tower will cover me when I'm there."
"Right!" was the lass' only response as she grabbed the ammunition and the odd rifle closer to the window she was shooting from.
… … …
"Bloody hell," thought the Corporal. "What the heck was I thinking? Flanking from the left and make a dash towards the clock tower's stone fence. I'll be in the open for crying out loud! Damn you, my enthusiasm!"
With his back literally leaning against the stack of wooden crates, Chris was now only armed with the Mauser handgun, and the remaining 9 Gammon grenades, of which he had loaded 2 with pure explosives and 2 with Composition C. He glanced at the wooden holster. No doubt, such a situation would be useful for the damned portable sub-machine gun. Assembling the wooden holster as a butt stock, he cocked the handgun, making sure it was set to full-automatic, making full use of dumping all 20 bullets in a short span of time. Having an immense 300 rounds for this handgun at his disposal was more than enough for Chris. He had to be calm should he need to do anything risky, especially when dashing across the road with two tanks within sight. His attention turned to Tessa, who had already begun using the Gewehr 43 rifle, though fumbling about with the reloading. The Corporal had to make a move…
"Now!" he thought as he emerged from the stack of crates.
From his view towards the clock tower stone fence, he caught attention of 4 Royalists armed with bulkier rifles that had longer magazines. The two tanks on the other hand were very much off his sight, thanks to the stone fence of the clock tower. The 1st of the 4 Royalists caught attention of Chris' movements. The Brit reacted swiftly as he took aim with the iron sights, and depressed the trigger ever so quickly. He might not be aiming for the head, but raining a torrent of bullets into the upper part of the torso was very much enough to either wound mortally, or kill him. But one thing the brunette had to take note. The reloading time might be another factor he had to consider. Just well over 7 bullets pierced through the 1st Royalist and already the 2nd, just a few steps behind was taking aim of Chris-. The familiar raspy bellow of the Gewehr 43 was heard as the single bullet drove its way into the opponent's skull. That allowed him to advance towards the 3rd- immense impact was felt to his left arm.
"Oh shit!" he thought before noticing the visible red patch on his biceps getting seemingly bigger; he aimed the automatic handgun at the next soldier in red.
Not a word left his mouth; all of a sudden he turned serious about the matter. He knew when to fool around, but his enthusiasm would get the better of him. 12 bullets was what it took to down that bastard that took a shot at his arm, and now he was down to the last bullet in the current magazine; the 4th was already dashing towards Chris, obviously taking advantage of the Corporal's injury. He knew that aiming for a specific part of the body was no longer possible. His left arm might be wounded, but at least he could move at a limited distance. The last Royalist raised his rifle, using the butt of his weapon to beat the Brit down, expecting a direct strike to the skull. Green eyes saw it, and responded the instant his Mauser handgun was within firing range. He squeezed the trigger. The last bullet drove its way into the soldier's midriff. A split second later, Chris swung his left arm, of which his hand had been holding onto a gravity knife. The Brit let out a faint wince as the bladed part of the knife dug its way into the upper torso of the Royalist. Chris had not known where he had scored onto the damned soldier, but he knew that he killed him. Using his right hand to heave the body to the side, the Corporal dashed for the clock tower's stone fence for cover. It was then he took notice of the wound on his left arm.
"Freaking hell. What kind of bullets were they using?" he thought. "Damn bullet literally drove straight through. Now I have a hole on my left bicep."
Chris would have bandaged the wound up if he had the chance, but the fact that the two tanks were still active concerned him. Taking this chance to reload the handgun, he then glanced at the two Gammon grenades with explosives.
"If only I can find the weak point of those two tanks, other than immobilising the tracks," he thought. "Damn this. Immobilising the damn tanks is already good enough!"
He took a peek around the corner. Tessa was already faring well with his rifle, while the rest of the Wistern soldiers have advanced slightly. The tanks were still the main source of trouble. It was then he heard the commanding officer again.
"Corporal! The tanks! We're being a liability over here-," her words were cut off when a tank shell hit one of the nearby stone fences where she was standing.
Frustration kicked in for Chris. With haste, he uncapped one of the Gammon grenades, and tossed it towards one of the tanks that fired the shot; just a straight throw to his north. By chance, the instant the cloth part of the grenade touched one of the tank's tracks, another deafening boom ensued while dust kicked up, this time bringing down a wall portion of what possibly be a bakery. Faint clatters were heard from the said direction. The Brit held his breath. The Wistern troops were too busy pushing the Royalists eastwards- the brunette announced as a signal.
"The tank's immobilised! Someone drop a grenade into that damn tank's hatch! Just be careful of the turret! I'll immobilise the other one!"
"You heard him!" the officer responded, before calling 2 of her soldiers to do so. "Tessa, keep a look out for those two."
"Consider that done, sir!" the redhead responded, using the Gewehr 43's scope to keep a close watch.
That firm response from Tessa was enough to make the officer and comrades alike stumped. Never once they would see such a reply from a mute sharp shooter-. Another bellow from the other tank was heard before its shell pierced through a portion of the stone fence where Chris was.
"Oh screw you!" remarked the brunette before grabbing the Mauser in his left hand, while the right holding another Gammon grenade just waiting to be thrown. "Looks like I'll have to go nearer towards the other tank. Bring it closer would only cause injury to the others. All the tank would take is a straight shot to the west."
"1st tank destroyed!" Tessa's voice was heard before a deafening explosion ensued towards where the 1st tank was.
"Cover the Corporal, Sharp Shooter," the officer suggested, knowing what the redhead would do, and then turned to her soldiers. "All right, once Corporal Chris immobilises the other tank, I want four of you to dash for him. From there, two from the four will proceed dropping the grenade into the hatch-."
"Royalists, 4-no, 8 of them!" a comrade responded. "Up where the last tank is!"
That information had Tessa moving her position down to the first floor and onto the defensive line. The view past the clock tower was very much blocked off. In a crouching position, using the scope, the redhead aimed for the Royalists nearest to the green clad Corporal, right for the head. She held her breath. This was a first for her snipe the enemy with an ally within sight in the scope. She hammered the trigger, twice. A moment of silence ensued. The soldiers in red were fixed on ridding of Chris first, then the Wistern troops. Two dropped to the ground dead just metres away from where the brunette was.
"Holy crap, Tessa. You almost made me wee in my pants," commented the Brit before he sought cover behind a building. "I've yet to even do that kind of sniping as well. There are 6 more soldiers- but the damn tank!"
Haste caused Chris to do the unthinkable. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw the other Gammon grenade straight for the tank's tracks, even with the presence of enemy troops keen on gunning him down. He did not utter a word soon after. He knew that when they feel the explosion of the grenade, they would be very much shaken and confused. Much to the brunette's predictions, it did. Although the grenade did not hit square onto the track, the powerful blast did much to immobilise the tank. That was the cue for the Brit to go all out firing on the shaken Royalists, though the high rate of fire of the Mauser C96 did little to comfort Chris.
"Oh shit!" he thought. "Out of ammunition in this magazine already?"
"Corporal Chris, stay behind the building!" the officer ordered, and advancing with 4 other Wistern soldiers, including Tessa.
It was finally then the brunette was able to get a glimpse of the commanding officer. Her eyes were of dull purple, while her pale skin complexion was a vast difference compared to Tessa's lightly tanned look. Hair was of long raven black with fringe that covers most of her forehead, but did little to cover her eyes. Her slender body was perfectly matched with a respectable height of 1.8 metres, yet her arms showed signs of toned muscles.
"Take a rest, Corporal. We'll deal with the rest. Looks like I owe you a favour, hmm? Tessa, see to his wound," she ordered before adding on. "Anyway, I'm Jeanette Wilkinson, Sergeant of the Wisternberg 15th Army Division."
"Chris Boyles, Corporal of the British, 21st Army Group," the Brit responded, green eyes fixed to purple ones.
"That itself is confusing me. I never heard of a place or term called British."
"It is for me. British is a term to call a person's nationality, like me. Actual name of the nation is Great Britain, also known as the United Kingdom," Chris explained the term to Jeanette when the 2nd tank from within went off with a boom; very much so, without tanks as back up, the Royalists would have to retreat.
"This is getting more puzzling than I thought,"
Tessa, who was pre-occupied dressing up the bandage for Chris' wound, did not feel bothered. Instead, when she was done with the bandaging, all the redhead replied were these few words before handing back the scoped Gewehr 43 and a sling bag of its magazines.
"Your rifle, it feels different. More controllable to be specific," were the response from Tessa before she paced her way back to the defensive line, whereas the rest has stormed ahead drive the Royalists out of the town.
Chris turned his attention to the aggressive advancements the Wistern troops were initiating towards the enemy, "So… how am I going to explain all these when I don't even know where the freaking hell am I? What's Wisternberg? Who are the Royalists? Why were they in the offensive? Looks like we have a lot of explaining to do, Sergeant."
"And most probably we won't even believe your story on how you get here to begin with. What's that thing you've been gliding till you touched ground without getting injured?" the tall woman asked, obviously a trick question.
"That's a parachute," replied the Corporal, falling for it.
"What's a parachute?"
"I see what you mean," the Brit sighed, planting his face onto his right palm. "If I can be ever so vulgar in my situation at this point of time, would you allow it, Jeanette?"
"Yes, for now."
"Bloody hell! I'm bloody fucked beyond fuck!" was his response before calming down, turning to the tall brunette. "Thank you."
"Please let this be a 'FUBAR' situation for me," thought the Corporal. "Let it be Fucked Up, But All Right…"