Night of the Nazi Zombies

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Why did you grab that thing?” asked Gardner. “They had plenty of other weapons we could use.”

  “I don’t need other weapons, I’ve got me Bren and now I’ve got me launcher,” laughed Archer.

  “But what the hell are you going to use it against?” added Private Gardner.

  “When I see Jerry, I’ll show you what,” Archer answered sarcastically.

  They continued their cautious but steady march, each man checking his flank for anything suspicious.

  Lieutenant Harvey inspected his map to double-check on their progress. They had landed too far behind their original landing zone. In the original position they would be too far behind enemy lines to be linked up to the ground forces due to arrive by landing craft later that day. From what he could see they were roughly six miles away from the bridge and their chance to get back into the fight proper. It was further than he’d hoped but at least they could possibly be there within two hours, even at this slower rate in the night. It was absolutely critical that they regroup with the rest of their forces at the bridge sites.

  The Lieutenant was looked agitated, not helped by the briefing he’d attended just hours before, prior to leaving England. All the senior officers had been shown their various objectives and Harvey had been told, in no uncertain terms, that the safety of the Allied ground forces was in his hands. If he did not take his bridge objectives on time they could quite well find their beachhead contained and possibly even be forced back to the sea.

  Lieutenant Harvey turned to Smith.

  “Sergeant, can we quicken the pace? We need to get there faster if we’re going to achieve our objectives.”

  Without stopping Smith explained whilst trying to not sound disrespectful.

  “We’re going as fast as we can without exposing ourselves to the enemy, Sir. By going this way we’re taking a direct route. Any quicker and we could easily walk into a trap, and in this light we wouldn’t see them until we were right on top of them.”

  They continued moving. Smith thought to himself about the training incident with the Lieutenant back in England and shuddered at the thought of what could happen. The idea of marching at full speed into an armed unit of German soldiers was something he would like to avoid at any cost. He muttered under his breath.

  * * *

  Above the landing zones the drone of aircraft could be heard. Though the residents of France might be used to fighters and bombers circling over their skies, these aircraft were different. The 6th of June heralded the start of the massive campaign involving aircraft of all shapes and sizes. Right now these were waves of Douglas C-47 Skytrain military transport aircraft, also known by the British as the Dakota. These reliable aircraft delivered their cargos of paratroopers and equipment to other units across the drop zones throughout occupied Europe. The impressive aircraft had originally been built as passenger and cargo transport planes but their great range, durability and payload capacity made them ideal for use as a military transport. The C-47 differed from the civilian DC-3 in being fitted with a cargo door and strengthened floor. Alongside these aircraft were additional heavy bombers pulling more gliders, bringing in the extra waves of elite paratroopers from many Allied nations to participate in the first few hours of the invasion of Europe. One group in particular carried members of the elite, 101st Airborne Division, the United States premier unit of airborne infantry, also known as the Screaming Eagles. This would be their first ever action in enemy territory and every one of them was ready to make his mark.

  * * *

  The British soldiers were forced to make a detour a short distance away from the river due to the rough terrain. Even though it was now far from the water Sergeant Smith and Jones made sure that they kept sight of the riverbank to their right. Both knew how easy it was to drift away from a particular route, especially when it was this dark. They were now about a hundred yards parallel with the water and making their way through a lightly wooded area. As they reached the centre their visibility was cut drastically, luckily the sound of the river to their flanks kept them on track. Upon reaching the tree line the unit spread out, each man keeping low and watching the open ground for signs of movement. There was nothing other than the occasional sound of aircraft overhead that would be the bombers and C-47 transports bringing the reinforcements. In the distance about three hundred yards out into the open was a small wooded area and what looked like an outbuilding, perhaps a storage area for farm equipment or animal feed. Between the river and the building was a rough ridge, quite shallow but tall enough for a man to keep hidden if he kept himself very low. The ground all around this area was open apart from the side facing the river with the low ridge.

  “Why are we waiting Sergeant? It looks clear to me,” asked the Lieutenant.

  Sergeant Smith was stood next to a tree, carefully searching the skyline for any useful information. Something caught his eye and the officer tried to follow his gaze. After a few seconds he gave up, seeing nothing but dark shapes in the distance. Smith, noticing the growing frustration of the Lieutenant, turned to him.

  “Look , Sir,” he pointed to the outbuilding.

  The Lieutenant looked out towards a small number of trees with some kind of structure nearby.

  “Yes, I see the building, what of it?” said an exasperated Harvey.

  “Look in front of the building, see the open area, next to the barrels,” added Sergeant Smith.

  Lieutenant Harvey was starting to look angry at the forced lecture from a mere sergeant. There was no sign of movement, no vehicles and no obvious threat. He looked for a few more seconds, eventually spotting something small in the direction Smith had pointed out.

  “Ok, a dark object. I still don’t see why we have stopped.”

  “Look again, to the side of the shape,” whispered Smith.

  Harvey looked again; it looked like a there was something moving next to the shape. The movement betrayed it as some light fabric due to the way it blew freely in the wind. As it moved it was clear that the fabric was attached to the dark object on the ground.

  “A parachute,” Harvey finally replied.

  Smith looked wearily as he rechecked the skyline.

  “The question is though, what is on the end of it, a man or equipment? If it’s the latter then we can make use of the supplies, if it is a man though we have a problem.”

  “I agree,” said Harvey, “if we have a dead man on the ground it could mean this area is compromised.”

  Stepping back into the darkness of the trees, Harvey continued.

  “Send a group to check the parachute, I’ll stay here with the rest in case they need assistance.”

  Smith nodded, trying to hide his look of contempt for the Lieutenant. Smith checked his gear, making sure his Sten was in place and ready to be used. He then moved to the others in the group and signalled to Corporals Chard and Humphreys as well as Private Gardner. The small group of men gathered around him.

  “Right, it looks like we might have a man down, out near the building,” he pointed to the location.

  “I want you three to scout ahead and check the area. We need to know more. Don’t touch anything and if you see anything you don’t like get back here.”

  “Where will you be, Sarge?” asked Chard.

  “I’ll be taking Trent and move in along the ridge near the river,” Smith’s hand traced the outline of the ridge.

  “We’ll be watching your right flank, if you get into trouble make sure you watch us to your right and the Lieutenant behind you.”

  “The Lieutenant is watching the rear, huh?” said Chard sardonically.

  “Watch that, Corporal!” barked Sergeant Smith.

  “Sorry, Sarge,” he replied, looking downwards sheepishly.

  Smith continued, “We’ll move out at the same time, ready?”

  The men nodded. Each man checked his weapon and gear to ensure they were completely ready for whatever lay ahead. There was nothing worse than being surprised only to find your
weapon unloaded or inaccessible. With the men set to go they moved to the edge of the woodland. Smith turned to Harvey, checking he was ready. The Lieutenant nodded. Sergeant Smith and Private Trent moved off at a pace. Both men kept low and rushed for the ridge to the right of their position. Smith carried his Sten submachine gun whilst Trent still carried the units Enfield No.4T sniper rifle. As soon as the men were about halfway to the ridge the second group moved forwards towards the building and the parachute. This group carried Stens and Enfield bolt-action rifles, a good mixture for facing off against all manner of enemies at both close or long range.

  Chard, Humphreys and Gardner had no cover to make use of so simply ran and ran fast. As they had practiced many times before they zigzagged, making it difficult to track them in case anybody had them in their gun sites. The men carried their weapons low and at the ready. As they reached the parachute they hit the ground, going prone and making them as difficult as possible to hit. Waiting low to the ground the only sound was the heavy breathing of the men that had just completed their dash. Humphreys and Gardner lifted their bolt-action rifles to their shoulders, scanning the cover ahead down the rifle barrels. Chard, carrying his Sten looked first to his left, then right, spotting movement where he expected to see Sergeant Smith. Good, that meant their flank was being covered. He looked back behind him towards Lieutenant Harvey, there was no sign of them. All looked good so far. With one last check he lifted himself up quietly and slipped forwards towards the parachute.

  Back at the tree line, Lieutenant Harvey and the rest of the men watched the unfolding reconnaissance unfold in front of them. Archer was lying prone, his Bren gun cocked and aimed directly at the building. The Bren was a modified version of a Czechoslovak-designed light machine gun, the ZB vz. 26. The British version of the weapon featured a distinctive curved box magazine, conical flash hider and quick change barrel and had proved to be an accurate and effective light machine gun. Three of the men were also in prone positions, each man watching the horizon with their Enfield rifles. The remainder watched their flanks and rear. The Lieutenant lifted his field glasses, watching the scouting party as they approached the parachute.

  Chard was now at the parachute. It was pretty clear that the dark object that was attached was simply a dead soldier. What surprised Chard more than anything though was that the dead man was not British but American. Searching the body, but being careful not to move it, Chard spotted the shape of the Screaming Eagle. He sighed, these men were his American equivalent and it saddened him to see the body. He signalled to Corporal Humphreys who crept over to check the body. Humphreys took the man’s dog tags and his weapons and then checked for any obvious injuries. The man’s legs were in an awkward angle and this gave him a good idea as to what might have happened.

  “Looks like he broke his neck in the fall, he definitely came down hard, look,” said Humphreys as he gestured to the dead man’s legs.

  The broken legs was a sure fire way of telling the man had hit the ground too fast. Whilst looking at the body a strange, creaking sound came from the trees a short distance away. Humphreys and Chard glanced at each other and then back to the sound. There was a metallic click. Without hesitation the two men rolled back towards Gardner. The quiet night was interrupted by the clatter of semi-automatic rifle fire. Luckily the reactions of the two men had saved them from the initial rounds. They kept their heads down in what cover they could find in the open field.

  Lieutenant Harvey snapped into action as soon as the fire started. Calling out to the men he ordered covering fire. Archer opened up with the powerful .303 inch Bren gun, firing short burst of four to five bullets at a time. His companion riflemen put a handful of rounds into the building and trees nearby. Whilst the overwatch unit kept up the covering fire the three men caught out in the open field made their way back to the Lieutenant. By the time the Bren gun had expended another magazine of thirty rounds they were back into the cover of the trees.

  Lieutenant Harvey was the first to speak.

  “Okay Corporal, what did you find?”

  “It’s a paratrooper, Sir. Here,” Chard handed the dog tags to the officer.

  “The man was a private in the 101st Airborne,” he added.

  The unit kept up light fire but there was no sign of life from the building or the small wooded area. With a simple hand signal the men ceased fire, each one carefully watching for signs of the enemy.

  “Who is that, Sir?” asked one of the riflemen, pointing out to their right flank.

  Lieutenant Harvey gasped, then realised he was looking at Sergeant Smith who was making swift progress across the field towards the body. There was no sign of Trent, presumably he was covering Smith. As Smith rushed over the field he kept his head low but did his best to maintain his speed. He needed to reach the body, but more importantly, he needed to keep close enough to speak to whoever had been shooting at the soldiers. Just feet before he reached his target a stream of bullets forced him to the ground. The sound was definitely the same as before and simply confirmed to Smith what he had been thinking for the past two minutes. That weapon was not German!

  Back in England, Sergeant Smith and the other men had been introduced to all manner of equipment on top of the weapons they normally trained with. Unlike the regular infantry, the airborne soldiers could only make use of the equipment and ammunition that they took with them. Once behind enemy lines they would have to face an unknown number of enemies at any time. Because of this it was imperative that they knew how to use foreign equipment and also to make use of ammunition that they could strip from them or their supplies. Because of this Smith had practiced with the German Kar98 bolt-action rifle, various 9mm submachine guns like the MP40 and an array of pistols and machineguns. His personal favourite had been the captured MG42 machinegun, a weapon that spat out bullets at a prodigious rate. What really got Smith’s attention though, as he lay prone in this field in Northern France, was that the report from this weapon sounded nothing like the British or German weapons he had experimented with. This sounded just like the M1 carbine that fired a distinctive, reduced-power .30 cartridge. What was even more interesting though was that this carbine was widely issued to infantry officers, and American paratroopers. It was certainly not a weapon he would expect to find in this part of the country. Not yet anyway.

  Smith decided to take a chance and called out to the building.

  “Sergeant Smith here of the British 6th Airborne Division.”

  There was silence, perhaps the man inside had simply taken the dead man’s weapon and had turned it on the British soldiers.

  “Oh shit!” exclaimed Smith to himself at this realisation, he might have just made a big mistake.

  He was in an exposed position right here and was a sitting duck if whoever was inside decided he was not somebody to have a chat with. Before he could dwell on his decision any longer a voice answered him.

  “Oh yeah, sonny?”

  There was a pause for a few seconds, neither of the men prepared to go any further till they knew a little more.

  The voice continued, “Flash?”

  The manner was sarcastic, not the serious and direct tone he was used to. He thought for a brief moment before smiling to himself, “An American, of course!” thought Smith. Luckily for Smith the British Airborne forces had been informed of the Americans’ passwords and vice versa prior to the operation, as it was assumed some troops would end up mixed in the first hours of the mission.

  Smith replied, “Thunder”, but didn’t get up.

  There was still one more part and without it he was not going to move from his position.

  After a delay that seemed like hours the man inside finally spoke.

  “Welcome buddy!”

  The door to the building swung open yet nobody came out. Smith lifted himself to a crouching position and signalled first to Trent who was providing overwatch and then to Lieutenant Harvey to ensure they didn’t fire. After receiving confirmation by hand signal he turned
back to the building.

  “It’s okay, you can come out, we’re on the same side,” spoke Smith.

  A shape appeared through the doorway, the man glanced around and then stepped out towards Smith and the dead paratrooper. He signalled to Smith, beckoning him to come closer. Smith did so and moved to the American. The two men went inside, using the building and the darkness it provided to give them cover in their exposed position in the middle of the field.

  The American spoke first, “Captain Bradley Scott, 101st Airborne, and you are Sergeant Smith?”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered the Sergeant, “Sergeant Smith of the 6th Airborne Division, 2nd Battalion Oxford & Buckingham Light infantry. What happened to you, Sir?”

  “I got my ass shot off, that’s what happened to me, Sergeant. My unit was supposed to drop together but we hit flak and ended up all over this area.”

  “Your man outside?” asked Smith.

  “Yeah, that’s Polanski, he was dead when I found him here. I was checking his body when you guys arrived. It looks like he had chute problems, bad way to go. How about you guys?”

  “We hit trouble of our own. Our glider was hit on the way down and we had to ditch short of the bridges. We came down right on a Jerry position, on top of the bloody AA gun!”

  “Oh shit!”

  “We’re down to fourteen men and all the equipment we could carry.”

  “Well, I might as well tag along with you guys for now, at least until I can find more of my unit.”

  Smith nodded in agreement, “Come with me, I’ll introduce you to my CO, Lieutenant Harvey.”