Bloody Bastogne

by Len Levinson

  The retreating American paratroopers saw what Mahoney was doing, and realized they had a chance against the Germans after all. They stopped running, took cover, and fired back at the Germans. Their sergeants and officers reestablished order and moved the men forward, utilizing the principles of fire and maneuver. Machine guns and bazookas were put into position.

  Atop the ruined personnel carrier, Mahoney fired the machine gun until he came to the end of the belt, and it flew off into the air. Bending down, he opened the second crate of ammunition and fed the fresh belt into the chamber. As he was standing, a German anti-tank shell hit the personnel carrier, and once again he was thrown to the side by the explosion.

  He regained consciousness with a terrible headache and blood oozing out of a cut on his forehead. Staggering to his feet, he heard tank engines, and turned to see one of General McAuliffe’s roving tank units tearing down the street. The American paratroopers made way, and the tanks passed Mahoney, charging toward the German soldiers, who scattered in all directions and ran to safety. The tanks fired their cannons and machine guns at the Germans, and when they caught up with them, they knocked them to the ground and rolled over them.

  The American paratroopers shouted and bellowed as they brandished their rifles and ran to mop up what remained of the Germans. Mahoney slung his rifle over his shoulder and climbed down from the ruined personnel carrier. Standing beside it, he lit a cigarette and wondered where to go for breakfast. Then he remembered Madeleine at the hospital. He looked at his watch. It was eight o’clock in the morning. Maybe she was on duty now!

  Mahoney oriented himself and set off in the direction of the hospital, thinking of Madeleine and her frail beauty. He yearned to gather her into his arms and kiss her curvaceous lips, but after that, he couldn’t imagine what he’d do. He thought that to screw such a creature would be like a violation of the pure food act. There was something pristine and wonderful about her despite her profession. She only did that to stay alive, but he knew she was no whore at heart. He believed that despite all the soldiers she’d been to bed with, the essential part of her remained pure and always would be pure. He saw her face before him and began to run. Paratroopers moving about on the streets saw him and figured he was carrying a message of the utmost importance.

  Finally, he came to the civilian hospital, which had been hit by several more shells since he had seen it last. He went inside, and it was more crowded than before, with wounded people stacked like sardines in the reception room and corridors. Mahoney stepped over their bodies as he made his way to the children’s ward.

  It too had become more crowded, and the chubby woman with big boobs was on duty. Some of the children noticed Mahoney, and their big eyes widened.

  “Hey GI,” one of them said. “You got candy for me?”

  Mahoney felt embarrassed because he knew he should have brought something for the children, but he’d been thinking only of Madeleine.

  “Sorry kiddo,” Mahoney said cheerily. “Next time I come, I’ll have some candy for everybody.”

  As the words left his mouth, he wondered where he was going to get candy for all these kids. The chubby woman saw him and walked toward him in the narrow space between the beds.

  “Hello,” she said with a smile. “You’ve come to see Madeleine?”

  “Yes, is she around?”

  “She’s in the pharmacy. I’ll go get her for you.”

  The woman walked away. Mahoney took off his helmet and tried to think of something clever to say to Madeleine when she showed up. He racked his brain for a suitable line, but nothing came to him. I guess I’ll just say hello, he thought. I’ll ask her how she’s been doing.

  He began to worry that she wouldn’t remember him. Maybe she hadn’t even liked him and had been friendly because that was her job. She might not even be in this hospital. It might be another Madeleine, and his Madeleine might have left Bastogne before it was surrounded.

  He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. His heart sank as he saw a brunette around Madeleine’s height, but it wasn’t Madeleine. Oh shit, he thought, I knew it all was too good to be true. This is a different Madeleine.

  The woman wore a wrinkled dress and looked exhausted, but she tried to smile. “May I help you?” she asked.

  “No, that’s all right,” Mahoney replied, shuffling toward the door.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes ma’am. Thanks anyway.”

  Mahoney turned to walk away, feeling sick and demoralized.

  “Hey GI!” yelled one of the kids. “Don’t forget the candy next time!”

  “I won’t!” Mahoney replied.

  Mahoney shuffled sadly through the hospital, thinking that Madeleine had slipped through his fingers, and he’d never see her again. But at least he could get some candy for the kids. I think she would have wanted me to do that, he thought.

  ~*~

  The hospital’s pharmacy was located in its basement, and the chubby woman, whose name was Jeanette, found the Madeleine that Mahoney had been looking for in the long line.

  “Madeleine!” said Jeanette. “That big soldier I told you about is up in the ward looking for you!”

  Madeleine’s eyes lit with joy. “Right now?”

  “Yes! I’ll take your place in line! Go up, and see him!”

  Smiling happily, Madeleine ran from the pharmacy and headed for the stairs. When she’d learned that Mahoney had come looking for her yesterday, she’d thought it marvelous because he’d been on her mind ever since that night in the cafe in Clervaux. She’d thought him extraordinarily handsome, resembling the American actor John Garfield somewhat, and he’d been so sweet and charming, not vulgar like most of the other GIs. He’d fought for her honor, on top of everything else. No man ever had done that for her before. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

  She flew up the staircase, wondering what to say to him. At first she thought of saying, “Hiya—I see you’ve come back for your five dollars’ worth,” or something else clever like that, but no, that would be a whore’s remark, and she didn’t want to be a whore anymore. She’d felt useful since she’d been working in the hospital and intended to continue there as long as they’d let her.

  She reached the main floor of the hospital and raced toward the children’s ward. I’ll just be honest with him, she thought. I’ll say, “Hello—I’m glad to see you again.” That ought to do it. He’s a man and he’ll be able to take it from there.

  As she neared the children’s ward, her heart beat like a drum. She felt a mad tickle in her stomach, and her mouth was dry with anxiety. She charged into the children’s ward, looked around, and saw only Annette with the children.

  “Where is he?” Madeleine asked Annette.

  Annette was washing the face of a little girl. “Where’s who?”

  Madeleine’s brown eyes darted all over the ward. “The American soldier who was just here!”

  “Oh him? He left.”

  “He left!” screamed Madeleine.

  Annette looked at Madeleine. “Yes, he left. What’s wrong?”

  “Where did he go?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Didn’t he say anything?”

  “I asked if I could help him, and he said he was sorry, and walked away.”

  “What!”

  Annette narrowed her eyes at Madeleine. “What’s wrong with you, dear?”

  Madeleine sighed, closed her eyes, and pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, wondering why Mahoney had walked away and whether or not he’d ever return.

  ~*~

  Mahoney was melancholy and had lost his appetite. Wearily he climbed the steps to General McAuliffe’s headquarters and entered the building. He made his way through the corridors and finally arrived at the conference room.

  General McAuliffe stood around the table with his top commanders and aides. Mahoney joined them silently and soon learned that the situation had become perilous in Bastogne. The 101st Airborne wa
s low on artillery ammunition, and some cannons only had one or two shells left to fire. There was also a shortage of regular ammunition, and not much food was left.

  “Sir,” said an officer at the table, “we simply can’t hold out much longer.”

  “Baloney!” said General McAuliffe. “We’ll hold out even if we have to throw snowballs at the bastards.”

  “If only the weather would clear,” somebody said. “Then we could be resupplied by air.”

  “Well,” replied McAuliffe, “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you. This weather we’re having looks like it’s going to continue for quite some time.”

  “Sir,” said a major, “maybe a few men in trucks could break out of here at night, get some supplies, and come back.”

  McAuliffe shook his head. “Too risky.”

  “We wouldn’t be risking much, sir, and if we succeeded, our situation here would be considerably improved. I could ask for volunteers.”

  “Well,” said McAuliffe, “I want you to make it clear to the volunteers that the mission is a real long shot.”

  “I’ll do that sir, and I’ll lead it myself.”

  McAuliffe looked at the map. “Let’s see what the best direction would be for you to go.”

  All the officers looked down at the map and pondered the matter.

  “I’d say,” said McAuliffe, “that your best chance would be on a road heading south.”

  Mahoney cleared his throat. “I was on that road yesterday, sir, and there were Germans all over it.”

  “Can we go north?” asked McAuliffe.

  “Too many Germans to the north, sir,” said a colonel. “That’s where the bulk of their forces are.”

  “How about to the east?”

  “That’s no good either,” said a captain. “Eighth Corps reports that there’s a wall of Germans between them and us.”

  “Hmmm,” said the major, looking at the map. “You said you were on that southern road yesterday, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir. In the morning.”

  The major looked at General McAuliffe. “The picture on that road might have changed drastically since yesterday morning, sir. Patton is attacking from the south, and it’s highly possible that troops have been pulled off that road and moved farther south to fight him.”

  “You might be right, Johnny,” McAuliffe said. “If you want to try it, you have my permission, but don’t take more than three trucks and six men.”

  “Thank you sir,” the major said, and then turned to Mahoney. “Since you were on that road yesterday, you must know it pretty well. Care to come along and help us out?”

  Fucked again, Mahoney thought, but he smiled and said, “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was one o’clock in the morning, and three deuce and a half trucks rolled through Bastogne. In the lead truck was Mahoney, with Pfc Steven Ball of Casper, Wyoming, behind the wheel. The paratrooper major, whose name was Strickland, rode in the second truck.

  The three trucks headed toward the south of town. The plan was to leave not by the road but over the frozen fields to the woods and then through the woods for a few miles until they thought they’d passed the main German lines. Then they’d head for the road and try to break through to the south.

  Each of them was armed with a Thompson submachine gun, and each had been issued a map of the area and a compass in case there was trouble and they had to split up.

  They reached the edge of the town, and all was silent except for an occasional artillery shell or machine gun burst. The night was pitch black, but if they headed due south, they’d hit the woods before long. They drove off the road and onto the frozen crust of the field, moving along slowly in low gear so they wouldn’t make too much noise.

  The trucks rolled across the field, and Mahoney hoped they wouldn’t hit a weak spot in the snow and fall through. But the temperature was twenty-five degrees, and the snow held. Mahoney and the paratroopers looked around for signs of Germans and expected to draw German fire at any moment, but suddenly trees loomed up in front of them, and they knew they’d made it to the woods.

  Mahoney got out of the lead truck and walked in front of it to guide the trucks through the trees, which were tall and spaced far apart. Major Strickland replaced Mahoney in the front seat of the lead truck, and Mahoney moved through the forest, holding his submachine gun ready and walking slowly enough so that Pfc Ball could see him.

  The forest was dark and eerie. Mahoney’s sharp eyes picked out the black forms of trees against the gray snow and he threaded his way among them, listening for odd sounds and straining to see the shape of a German helmet or the gleam of a German button.

  A bird leapt into the air a few yards away from Mahoney, and Mahoney almost fired a burst at it but realized in time that it was only a partridge or quail flapping its wings and trying to escape from the weird caravan. Adrenaline pumped through Mahoney’s arteries, and his mouth was dry even though the bird could be heard no more. He stooped down, picked up a chunk of snow from a bush, and put it into his mouth.

  Fifteen minutes passed, and Mahoney gradually became more confident. He thought it might actually be possible for them to get around the main body of Germans and then roll onto the road when suddenly he heard a crack to his front, the sound a foot makes when it comes down on a branch and breaks it.

  Mahoney held up his hand, and the trucks stopped. He moved his hand to the side in a cutting motion, and the drivers turned off their engines. Straining his ears, he listened for sounds and wondered if the wood had snapped because of the intense cold or whether someone was out there.

  He heard footsteps on the snow somewhere to his front, and his blood turned to ice. Then he heard something moving past a bush. He held out his arms like Christ on the cross, and the paratroopers silently climbed down from the trucks.

  Major Strickland eased toward Mahoney. “What’s up?” he whispered.

  “Somebody’s out there,” Mahoney whispered back.

  “Are you sure?”

  A machine gun opened fire in front of them, and Major Strickland’s question was answered. Bullets zipped through the air, clanging against the trucks, and everybody dropped to the ground. One of the paratroopers was hit in the neck, and the impact of the bullet nearly tore his head off before he landed.

  Mahoney raised his submachine gun to his shoulder and prepared to fire back, but Major Strickland slapped down the barrel of the gun.

  “Don’t fire!” Strickland said. “You’ll give away our position!”

  “You think they don’t know our position?”

  “They’ll know it a damn sight better if you give them a muzzle blast to zero in on.”

  Another German machine gun opened fire, and then numerous rifles joined in. The air above Mahoney’s head became thick with bullets, and he knew that the mission had failed already, that it had been a harebrained idea to begin with and now they had to get out of there.

  The other paratroopers crawled toward Mahoney and Strickland. Mahoney peered ahead at the muzzle blasts of the German weapons and thought a few bursts of submachine gun fire might quiet them down for awhile.

  “Sir,” said Mahoney, “they’re going to rush us before long. I think we’d better get out of here.”

  “I’m trying to figure out whether we should split up or try to go back together.”

  “I think we should split up, sir. We’ll make too much noise together.”

  Machine gun bullets kicked up snow in front of Mahoney and the paratroopers.

  “Let’s go, sir!” Mahoney said with urgency. “Make up your mind!”

  “All right men!” Strickland replied. “We’re going back in two groups.” He explained that Mahoney would leave with Pfc Ball, and he’d go with the other two paratroopers. “We’ll throw some hand grenades to cover our movements. All right now—get ready.”

  They took out hand grenades and pulled the pins, looking at Strickland for the command to throw them.

  “NOW!”
he yelled.

  They all hurled their hand grenades toward the muzzle blasts of the German guns, and seconds later the night was torn apart by fiery orange explosions. Trees crashed to the ground, Germans screamed, and Major Strickland yelled, “MOVE OUT!”

  Mahoney and the paratroopers jumped up and ran toward Bastogne. The Germans recovered from the grenade attack and sprayed the woods with machine gun bullets. Mahoney ran beside Pfc Ball and suddenly Ball screamed and tumbled to the ground. Mahoney dived head first into some bushes, but there was a tree behind them, and he crashed into it head first. If he hadn’t had his helmet on, he would have split his head open, but instead he only knocked himself out for a few seconds.

  He opened his eyes and realized he was lying on the snow. Pfc Ball lay moaning and bleeding only a few feet away. German bullets whistled through the woods, and Mahoney crawled to Ball, who lay on his stomach, his back a mass of blood. Ball’s eyes were closed, and he was unconscious but moaning softly anyway.

  Mahoney realized he couldn’t do anything for Ball but maybe he could save his own ass. He slithered away as quickly as he could, hearing the German bullets crackle over his head and wham into trees nearby. He continued crawling, came to a little gully, and dropped into it.

  The Germans stopped firing suddenly, and he heard a German order that his men advance cautiously. Seconds later Mahoney heard footsteps and the rustling of bushes, which he thought might cover his own escape. Crouching low, he held his submachine gun tightly and moved north, bringing his feet down silently, and being careful not to brush against any branches. He heard the Germans talking and learned that they’d found some bodies. Mahoney wondered if Major Strickland had gotten away.

  Mahoney continued walking cautiously through the woods. Every ten steps, he’d stop and listen for several seconds and then move out again. The German voices behind him sounded farther away, and after a while, he could barely hear them.