by Alexa Kang
"Captain…" A moment passed before Anthony understood what Callahan meant. "Thank you, sir." He shook the colonel's hand.
"You earned it. Captain Harding gave you a glowing recommendation."
"He did?" Anthony found that hard to believe considering their strained relationship.
"We had several candidates under consideration. Major Harding thought you'd be the best choice."
While Anthony tried to take in the news, Lt. Dennison knocked on the door. Dennison was Company H's second lieutenant who had been held up with them back in the caves at Anzio. When they could not remain at the caves any longer, Anthony had put him in charge of leading the injured troops and Harding out of the caves and back to the army hospital.
Callahan invited Dennison to enter. "Captain Ardley, meet your new first lieutenant."
"Lee Dennison reporting for duty, sir," Dennison said to Anthony.
Anthony couldn't be more pleased. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."
Aboard the U.S.S. Boyle, Anthony took a walk through the decks to check on his men. The military vessel was sailing away from Italy. Rome was becoming a distant memory. The battle of Anzio was all behind him.
Operation Anvil was in full gear with all their battleships steaming ahead. In less than three hours, the Third Division would land in Saint-Tropez. The paratroopers had already taken off, targeting to launch the first wave of attacks to prevent a German counter-offensive from inland when the Allied infantry units landed on the southern coast of France. A battalion of military ships followed, ready and loaded with canons set to blast away the enemy before the infantry units set foot on shore.
On the upper deck, Anthony came upon two young privates talking quietly to themselves by the rails. Although he faced the same dangers in their missions, he always found it hard to look at the new recruits. They looked like stranded orphans, left on their own to fend for themselves in violent situations they could never have imagined. Worse, the recruits transitioned in and out so fast as the casualties mounted, he could never fully identify and account for everyone in his own company.
The two recruits quickly stood at attention when they saw Anthony coming toward them.
"At ease," Anthony said. One of the boys' faces looked familiar. "Ed? Edmond Ferris?"
"Anthony Ardley?" Edmond Ferris blurted out before noticing the silver bars on Anthony's uniform. "Sorry. I mean, Captain Ardley."
Anthony remembered now. He and Edmond had gone to the same academy back in Chicago, except Edmond was three years younger. Edmond was on the school's swim team too. They didn't know each other well back then because Edmond was only a sophomore and Anthony was already a senior. Afterward, Anthony went to college, and they hadn't seen each other since. "When did you get here?" Anthony asked.
"Three weeks ago," Edmond said. "I was shipped straight here from Camp Dover. Him too." He pointed to the recruit next to him.
"What's your name?" Anthony asked.
"Ross, sir," the other recruit said, clearly nervous. "My name's Percy Ross."
Anthony smiled to put him at ease. "Ed and I went to the same high school," he said, more fondly than he should. Seeing someone from back home, he momentarily reverted to his civilian self. "How are your parents?" he asked Edmond. He had met both of Edmond's parents at past swimming competitions.
"They're good," Edmond said. "Thanks for asking."
He would have to write and tell his parents about this, Anthony thought. Edmond's mother served on several charity committees with his own mother, and their fathers had occasional business dealings together.
"Captain Ardley and I were on the swim team together," Edmond said to Percy, "He was captain back then too."
Yes. Captain. Captain of the swim team. Anthony could remember the day they won the state championship. That former life felt so far away. His role as captain here required him to carry a much greater burden.
A new thought occurred to him. These two boys had no battle experience. What responsibility did he have to prepare them for the horrors they were about to see?
He recalled the time when he himself had arrived as a fresh recruit. Back then, Harding had sent him to lead a dangerous mission, even though Anthony had never fought a real battle. Trusting, naive, and eager to prove himself, he was ready to do whatever anyone asked. Until Wesley explained it to him, he didn't realize that Harding had considered a fresh, inexperienced recruit like Anthony as dispensable, and had planned to use him as a human shield and to distract the enemy.
What would Mr. and Mrs. Ferris think if they knew Edmond was under his command? Would they trust him with their son's life? The gravity of his responsibility as their captain struck him hard.
"Who's your platoon leader?" Anthony asked Edmond.
"Sergeant Oliver, sir."
That was good to know. "You're with me too then. Sergeant Oliver and I will be bringing the first wave of men on shore. When we get to the beach, try to follow me and stay close to me. Get across the beach as fast as you can and stay alert. You too, Percy."
"Yes, sir," they answered.
"Get some rest while you can. We'll be landing soon." Anthony started to leave.
"Captain," Edmond called out after him. Anthony looked back.
"It's good to see you again," Edmond said.
Anthony acknowledged him and walked on. He hoped both of those boys would make it out okay. He hoped he could be the captain worthy enough for them to follow his command and to risk their lives.
Arriving near the shores of Saint-Tropez, Anthony led his company in climbing off the ship into the LCTs. Their reconnaissance planes had returned, and the locations of the enemy outposts had been transmitted to the naval command. The amphibious attack was about to begin.
Furious roars of American naval cannons sounded all around them. The blasts were soon joined by the rocket boats showering missiles across the stretch of beach. The missiles detonated the mines lurking under the sand, curtailing the dangers the enemy had planned for the infantry, but also reminding them of the peril that awaited them.
The LCT that carried Anthony and his troops sailed forward. Standing close to the front, Anthony made every effort to keep his mind alert. From the outside, he looked every bit the officer in control. No one except him knew the rapid pumping of his heart, or the beads of sweat dripping down his scalp underneath his helmet. His tension rose with the choppy bumps of the LCT cutting through the wakes.
Not too far from him, Ed Ferris and Percy Ross huddled on the landing craft's floor. Ed's face was as white as a sheet. Percy was throwing up, either from seasickness or terror, or both.
"Stay close to me." Anthony put his hand on Ed's shoulder. Too stressed to speak, Ed stared at him with his mouth agape.
Oddly, the enemy on land still did not return fire.
The LCT came to a stop. Anthony stepped into the water. Back when he landed in Anzio, they had gone into the attack at the height of winter. At least this time, the water was not freezing cold.
As with Anzio, their landing seemed unobstructed. Only random cracks of gunfire greeted them. The enemy defense appeared to be non-existent.
Could they be this lucky again? Had they caught the Germans by surprise?
Anthony shouted for his men to rush forward. They had gone only a few steps onto the shore when the explosions swelled up from the ground. Their naval rockets had not been able to clear out all the mines, and now, their infantry soldiers were setting them off.
Between the blasts, Anthony heard the howl of a familiar voice. He turned around just in time to see Ollie step onto a mine. The explosion thrust Ollie's body up into the air. He flopped down onto the ground with blood streaking all over his face. Only stumps remained where his legs used to be. The sergeant had breathed his last breath.
With no time to give thoughts to the dead, Anthony turned his attention away from Ollie's body and scanned the land ahead. The beach ran inland to a field. He could not see any spot where the enemy could conceal their gun post
s. His biggest threats were the mines. The blasts of mine explosions continued, and he knew more of his men were being killed.
Still, they could not remain in place to avoid the mines. They would be standing targets if they didn't move. And they had to secure the beach, fast.
He took a step forward, tiptoeing lightly even though he knew it would not do any good. The mines would detonate with just a few pounds of weight. With each step, he took a deep breath, hoping his next step would not be his last. This was worse than walking on eggshells. His heartbeat went into overdrive. His uniform was soaked in sweat.
Finally, he reached the green field at the end of the beach. He leapt into a drainage ditch for cover. Ed and Percy jumped in after him. They had stayed close to him, just like he had told them when they were on the ship.
Still catching his breath in relief, Anthony signaled the men behind him to head toward the farmhouses beyond the fields.
"Those farmhouses may be enemy strongholds," he said to Ed and Percy. "If they shoot at you, you put them down before they put you down. You have your guns. Use them."
Nervously, Ed clutched his rifle. Percy looked like he wanted to vomit again.
"Move!" Anthony shouted. He jumped out of the ditch and sprinted ahead. As soon as they began to run across the field, a sniper began shooting at them from a second-story window of the farmhouse closest to them. Quickly, Anthony dashed behind a large pile of wood and aimed. Ed and Percy followed. Before Anthony pulled the trigger, Ed stood up, exposing himself in the open, and shot down the gunman behind the window. The kill surprised even Ed himself.
"A lucky shot, sir," Ed said.
Next to Ed, Percy sat on the ground, trembling with his rifle in his hands.
Popping sounds came from the farmhouse again. Another sniper had taken over and replaced the fallen German soldier. Anthony ignored Percy, aimed again and fired. The rest of their men joined in. The scant number of enemy troops could not defend themselves and were soon subdued.
Leaving behind a group of soldiers to take over the farmhouse, Anthony led his troops toward the next house. This time, the enemy soldiers did not put up a fight. Their leader exited the house holding a piece of white cloth. The rest surrendered with their arms raised above their heads.
Anthony could not believe how easy this had been. Within hours, they had raided all the houses and barns in the area, and cleared their target sector. They had captured more than eighty German prisoners. Their swift victory exceeded all expectations.
When the battle was over, Anthony went to the old barn where Ed and Percy's platoon had chosen to bunk for the night.
"You doing all right?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Ed said.
Percy was not doing so well. He sat on the floor, disoriented.
"Is he okay?" Anthony asked Ed.
"He's frazzled, I guess…"
Anthony understood. He felt sorry for Percy, but at least Ed was taking everything in stride. "Get some rest. We'll be moving again tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," Ed said, his eyes full of admiration. Anthony did not know how to handle being admired. Of course, he wanted his men to respect him. In fact, their respect was necessary for him to carry out his duty to command. But admiration? He felt flattered, yet overwhelmed. He felt an urge to live up to what Edmond saw in him. "Ed," he said, "it'll all be okay. We got your six."
"I know." Ed showed not a trace of doubt. "Thank you, Captain."
Anthony returned to the farmhouse where his company had set up its temporary command post. There, Lee Dennison had already accounted for all of their casualties. Fox, their reliable young sharpshooter, came in with a stack of K-rations.
"Have you seen Jonesy?" Anthony asked.
"I saw him go off back toward the beach," Dennison said.
"Does he know about Ollie yet?" Anthony had to ask. His own spirit dropped as he remembered the sight of Ollie's corpse after the mine blew up.
"Yeah," Dennison said. "He didn't take the news very well…"
Anthony was afraid of that. The news must be killing Jonesy. "Does anyone know where he is?"
"I do," Fox said, his ashen face revealing the sadness they all felt. "He's in one of the decoy pillboxes behind the beach."
Anthony knew what he had to do. He took a bottle of water and one of the dinner rations Fox had brought in, and went out to look for Jonesy.
In a pillbox, Jonesy sat on the ground, listless. Ollie's rucksack lay beside him. He remained slumped even when Anthony entered and made no attempt to get up.
Anthony came closer. Jonesy was crying. He had never seen Jonesy cry before.
Ollie...
There was nothing Anthony could say that would make Jonesy feel better. Ollie and Jonesy were close like brothers. They had fought together for over a year. In war, nothing was tougher than seeing your friend killed. Anthony felt horrible himself. Ollie was a good soldier, and he didn't begrudge Anthony for being an inexperienced officer back when they were in Sicily. It was such a waste, for Ollie to live through Anzio only to die here. Watching Jonesy, Anthony wanted to sit down and mourn too. But he couldn't. A full company of men depended on him. And right now, he had to get Jonesy back to a functioning state. He pushed his own sentiments aside and squatted down next to Jonesy. "You okay?"
Jonesy didn't answer. He looked utterly drained and defeated.
"You gonna spend the rest of the night here?"
Jonesy stared into space with bloodshot eyes. Tears continued to roll down his face.
"Do you need anything?"
The first sergeant remained silent.
As much as Anthony wanted to let him grieve, there wasn't much time for that. He needed Jonesy to recover. Having lost Ollie, he needed Jonesy more than ever. Their lives depended on it.
"You can stay here for the night." Anthony put down the water and the box of rations he had brought with him. "Do what you have to and get it all out of your system. Tomorrow, we got jobs to do. I need you to get your act together, all right?"
Jonesy's face twisted as if he was in agony.
"You have to pull yourself together," Anthony said, as sympathetically as he could but remaining firm at the same time. "I expect you and your platoon to be ready and prepared when we move out tomorrow. You got that, First Sergeant?"
Jonesy turned his head and looked away.
"Report to me at 0800. That's an order." Anthony got up. The best thing he could do for Jonesy now was to give him things to do. Keep him busy and divert his attention to something else. Otherwise, his grief would only grow. It would eat at him and make him more depressed.
Anthony left the pillbox. Good thing Jonesy didn't see how Ollie had died. Anthony himself would not get much sleep tonight. Not with the sight of Ollie's dismembered body and blood-soaked face still vivid in his mind.
13
When Anthony arrived at the regiment headquarters, he had expected to see Colonel Callahan for another briefing. Operation Anvil had gotten off to a good start. The Seventh Army had taken over the beach of Saint-Tropez in just one day. Casualties were minimal. Their mission's success had boosted the troops' morale, and they had all the momentum to win.
Whether they would win remained to be seen. Back in Anzio, their landing had been equally successful. No one could have foreseen the long, drawn-out battle that followed. If Anzio had taught Anthony anything, it was that a perfect landing was not a battle won. Not yet.
He entered the headquarters' main meeting room and found, to his great surprise, the person waiting for him was not Colonel Callahan. "General Castile."
General Castile stood tall with his arms behind his back, his commanding air of authority as indomitable as ever. Still, Anthony was happy to see him. General Castile was the one who had driven him to excel back when he was still at training camp. Later on, the general had made it possible for Tessa to join him in Italy.
Anthony couldn't believe the general was here and had summoned him. The last time he saw General Castile, Anthon
y hadn't even been deployed.
"It's been a while, Captain," General Castile greeted him and made a point of noticing the silver bars pinned on Anthony's uniform. "You've done well."
"Thank you, sir." Anthony tried to keep his expression straight and respectful, but he couldn't help letting a smile escape. It was hard not to be flattered by a compliment coming from General Castile.
"I'll get right to business," General Castile said. "Operation Anvil's going as well as command had hoped. The Germans are in a state of flux. Their communications and defense here are broken. We think up north is where the heavy fighting will be."
Anthony was glad to hear that. While he sympathized with the troops in northern France, he did not want his own men to suffer again what they had experienced in Anzio.
"But we aren't taking any chances. The Seventh Army will continue to drive its way up." General Castile walked over to the map on the desk. "We won't make the same mistake we did in Anzio. We won't give the Germans any chance to mobilize and throw another counter-attack. The Seventh Army troops will drive west immediately to Toulon and Marseille, then onward to Montélimar. We're going to take the entire southern region." He circled his pen around the region the Allied forces planned to occupy. "The Free French Army has already moved into Toulon and Marseille. Their guerrilla attacks are taking a toll on the Germans. When our boys arrive, we should be enough to drive the Germans out."
"That's good news, sir," Anthony said. "My company and I are ready. What do you need us to do?"
Castile opened a folder on the table and showed him several photos. Anthony recognized one of the men in the photos right away. Klaus.
What did the army want with Klaus?
"Do you recognize this man?" General Castile asked.
"Yes, sir. Major Heinrich Klaus. Wehrmacht star commanding officer." Anthony remembered his last encounter with the man, when Klaus had gotten away in Cisterna. "We've had several confrontations with him."
General Castile nodded. "I want you to lead a strike team to pursue Klaus. Capture him."
