by C T Glatte
Kentworthy yelled, “Dismount,” but it was already happening. Jimmy leaped off, rolled and was on his feet. He sprinted away from the tank, the Staff Sergeant’s words still fresh in his mind. The thought of being ground to hamburger beneath the M4’s massive treads made him nauseous.
Kentworthy yelled, “Third squad, form up with the rest of the platoon.”
Jimmy looked around at the others and was momentarily panicked when he didn’t see the other members of his platoon. He saw Corporal Kentworthy running to the right, so he followed. There was a roar and he flinched and threw himself to the grassy ground. A GI slapped his back as he ran by and yelled, “Come on.” It was Private First Class Penny.
Jimmy got to his feet and looked toward the sound. There was a plume of white smoke, which the M4 he’d just abandoned drove through. Jimmy realized the sound was the tank’s 75mm cannon firing. He saw the angle of the gun was skewed upward, shooting high. As he ran, he looked to the ridge about a mile ahead and to the left. There was a series of explosions erupting from the low ridge and he figured it must be where the tanker was aiming.
Jimmy kept PFC Penny in sight. He had his M1 ready and ran hunched over. Jimmy’s helmet bounced on his head and he cursed himself for forgetting to strap it down. He looked behind him and saw other members of his unit keeping pace. He searched for Hank, but didn’t see him. He nearly stopped, wanting to find his friend, but the sudden impact of a mortar shell made him dive for cover.
He bounced back to his feet when he saw the tanks were the targets. He sprinted, making up the lost ground quickly. The meadow grass was knee high and every time he went down, he lost sight of his unit. He found the back of PFC Penny again and ran up beside him. “Where we going?” He panted.
Penny ignored him but waved his arm forward and continued running in a crouch. Jimmy looked ahead and saw a large churned-up area. He realized he was looking at bomb craters, big ones.
Soon they were upon them and he followed Penny into one. Jimmy slid down the steep slope to the bottom. He noticed Hank was already there. The overpowering smell of sulfur assaulted his senses. More men streamed in. Corporal Kentworthy was last. He slid to the bottom and addressed third squad. “Get to the lip and watch the ridges while I link up with Sergeant Collins.” The squad members got to their feet and scrambled up the slope on their knees. Kentworthy grabbed Jimmy’s arm as he was about to follow. “I need you to come with me.”
Jimmy gave a quick glance back to Hank who gave him a nod. Hank went up the slope to the lip of the crater, nestling in beside the other squad members. Jimmy nodded, “Ready when you are, Corporal.”
Before moving off, Kentworthy addressed the Browning Automatic Rifleman. He pointed to the left of the crater. “Get up there and set up your BAR.” Private Ricks, the ammunition man and Waddell, the gunner nodded and scrambled up the slope. The heavy BAR slowed Waddell, but he finally got to the top, put out the bipod and scanned the area.
Kentworthy waited until they were ready, then slapped Jimmy’s shoulder. “Follow me.” Jimmy nodded and they moved up the right side of the crater. When they were at the top, Kentworthy got to his feet and ran across the open ground. Jimmy waited until he was a few feet out then followed. After the relative safety of the crater he felt exposed and vulnerable.
Jimmy ran hard. He looked to the left and noticed sandbagged structures poking from the churned ground in the distance. There were grass clumps here and there, but the war had changed the landscape noticeably. He could hear the chatter of machine guns, the popping of rifles and the occasional explosion.
Kentworthy disappeared into the next crater and Jimmy followed. Many sets of wide eyes stared at him as he slid to the bottom. Despite the short sprint, he was breathing hard. He nodded at familiar faces, glad to be amongst the men of Charlie Company.
Kentworthy found Sergeant Collins on the radio, with his radioman, Private Dilson crouched beside him looking scared. Kentworthy waited until collins signed off then reported. “Third squad’s all accounted for. We’re in the next hole over,” he gestured the way they’d come.
Sergeant Collins nodded, “Good. Just spoke with Lieutenant Little. Wants us to move up to the trench-line.” He pulled a map from his cargo pant pocket and found the town marked Willow, then ran his finger south. “We’re here. The Lieutenant says the Russkies are on this ridge here. They can see every move we make. They have artillery somewhere in this region,” he ran his finger over lines indicating steep terrain and ridges. He looked at his watch. “A covering barrage from our newly arrived artillery will strike in ten-minutes, that’s when we move. The line’s about five-hundred yards west. Once we start, don’t stop moving. The barrage will only last a couple minutes. Apparently the Russian counter-batteries are deadly accurate. A gift from those fucking Scalps, no doubt.”
Corporal Kentworthy nodded, “Understood.”
“Good, get it done.” He noticed Jimmy. “Private Crandall.”
Jimmy startled, “Yes, Sarge?”
“Why don’t you have a sniper rifle? You qualified expert didn’t you?”
Jimmy looked confused, “I did, but never got the word.”
Collins shook his head, “Typical. When we get to the line, find a Springfield. You’ll find plenty of targets.”
Jimmy nodded but felt he might vomit. Can I pull the trigger and end someone’s life? Despite the constant talk of the evil of their enemies, deep down Jimmy still knew they were human beings, not much different from himself. Maybe I’ll find an alien.
Kentworthy checked his watch. Then motioned Jimmy to follow and they scrambled up the embankment. Once at the top they looked toward the ridge then hopped up and took off toward their hole. Jimmy thought he’d be hit any second but they both made it unscathed.
Kentworthy relayed the orders and looked at his watch. “We move in seven minutes. Make sure everything’s tight and your muzzles are clear.”
Jimmy searched the lip and saw Hank lying on his stomach, peering over the crater’s lip. Jimmy scrambled up the loose dirt sides and plopped beside him. He pulled himself up until his eyes were just over the lip. “How’s it look?”
Hank didn’t look at him, “Looks like a long run.”
“Well, don’t worry. The artillery’s gonna keep their heads down.” Hank nodded.
The time seemed to fly by. Kentworthy yelled from the bottom of the hole, “Get ready. Wait for my signal.” They heard the screeching of artillery shells overhead. “That’s the signal. Go! Go! Go!”
Despite the fear he felt, Jimmy reacted to the order without question. He lunged forward and ran as fast as he could, leaping over the uneven ground. The GIs instinctively spread out. Jimmy watched the ridge suddenly erupt with great geysers of dirt and smoke as the 105mm Howitzer shells impacted. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as the Russians received the same treatment they’d doled out.
He sensed the rest of the company running with him, but he didn’t dare look for fear of tripping. He concentrated on the next step. He glanced up, searching for their destination. He could see the sandbagged structures, they looked no closer. He put his head down and ran harder. His lungs burned and his shoulders ached as his pack dug in with each jolt, but he kept at it, determined to keep up.
He forced himself to keep his head down and when he finally looked up, the trench-line was closer. They were making progress. The ridge beyond was still erupting with explosions. Through his heavy breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears, he heard the stutter of a machine gun. He lowered himself and kept running.
He felt something snap past his ear. He wondered about it but kept going. The ground directly in front of him suddenly erupted, as if someone set off a string of firecrackers. He could feel the impacts through the soles of his boots, but he kept charging forward but veered right. He heard a scream behind him and he looked back. A GI was crumpling to the ground, not diving for cover, simply crumpling like a rag doll.
Jimmy felt his bowels loosen a
nd he barely kept from shitting himself as he understood what was happening. He dove to the ground, grinding in heavily. He felt a rock dig into his knee and he winced in pain. He spit out grime and looked toward the ridge. The artillery still sent plumes of dirt and smoke skying, but he could also see the subtle winking of muzzle flashes dotting the dark hillside. Shit, they’re shooting at me. The thought renewed his fear and for a moment he was frozen in place. There was an impact of bullets tearing up the ground to his right and he realized he was lying out in the open. He could hear yelling but couldn’t understand a word.
He felt someone grab his pack and lift him off the ground, pulling him forward. Jimmy wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but instead saw the angry eyes of PFC Penny and he reacted like he’d been trained. He got his feet beneath him and followed. More bullets snapped around him and he felt the buzz as they passed close. Penny was yelling, “Keep moving, keep moving.”
Jimmy couldn’t feel his legs, they seemed to be acting on their own, carrying him forward to certain death. There was a loud bang from the left and he saw the outline of a Sherman tank’s turret firing from a dug-in position. He saw a staggered line of turrets and wondered how he’d missed them before. Their 75mm shells plowed into the ridge and the angry buzzing of enemy bullets subsided.
He could see the trench-line ahead and he redoubled his effort and passed PFC Penny like he were standing still. He got to the lip and saw GIs on the far wall, firing toward the ridge-line. He tried to stop, but his momentum carried him over the lip and he fell into the bottom of the trench and landed on his butt. Pain lanced through his back, but he was safe from bullets for the moment.
More GIs poured into the trench and Jimmy searched for Hank. He felt shame when he realized he’d left his buddy without a thought when the bullets started flying. He searched faces, recognizing men from his company. He felt panic welling in his gut with each passing second. Where’s Hank? As the volume of soldiers coming into the trench slowed to a trickle, he went to the wall and put his boot on a step and peered back the way they’d come. He could see a few soldiers still running his way, but none of them was Hank.
He yelled, “Hank, Hank.” He thought about the soldier he’d seen crumple. Was that him? He shook his head, sure it wasn’t. Other crumpled forms dotted the field.
He startled when he felt a slap on his shoulder. He spun and his fear melted away when he saw his friend. “H - Hank.” He smiled and stepped down. “There you are.”
“Worried?”
Jimmy shook his head, “Nah, just didn’t know where your slow ass went.” He let out a long breath. “That was,” he looked down, “that was some run, huh?”
“Like stealing second base only the catcher wasn’t throwing a baseball, but bullets.”
Jimmy grinned and slapped Hank’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it. Holy crap, I nearly shit myself when the bullets started flying.”
Hank peered down at his backside, “Are you sure you didn’t? Or is that your normal stink?”
Jimmy punched Hank’s shoulder, “Fuck you, buddy.”
After the dash across the field, Charlie Company was in disarray. Captain Pugliac, the company commander quickly got control, ordering his officers and NCOs to shuffle the men to the left flank.
The firing had died down, with only occasional mortar fire coming from the ridge. Hank and Jimmy moved along the trench behind the GIs they’d come to reinforce. They looked grizzled and tired, like they’d been on the line for months. They barely acknowledged the new soldiers glancing back occasionally with scowls. Jimmy whispered to Hank, “These guys look like they’ve been through the wringer.”
Hank nodded. “Guess we’ll look that way too after a while.”
The trench-line spread out like a spider’s web the further west they went with the occasional intersection darting forward or back. They stayed with the main line until they reached a sandbag covered structure dug into the ground.
Lieutenant Little entered the structure alongside other junior officers and Captain Pugliac. Hank and Jimmy found a quiet spot and hunkered down waiting for orders. The occasional rifle shot made them flinch, but they were getting used to the sounds of combat. Jimmy pulled an oily rag from his pack and started rubbing down his M1. “Sergeant Collins wants me to find a sniper rifle.”
Hank took off his helmet and ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “Sniper?” He shook his head, “Not sure I could do that.”
Jimmy didn’t look at him, “Not sure I can either.”
“You’re the best shot in the company, course you can.”
Jimmy looked around then leaned into his friend, “I mean, I’m not sure I wanna shoot someone like that, you know?”
Hank put his helmet back on. “Just think about what they’ve done. This is American soil we’re fighting on. They’re invaders, puppets to the damned Scalps.” He shook his head. “Just think about those guys they turned to hamburger back in Bellingham. Or the guys still out in the field back there. Wish I was a better shot, I’d like to get my licks in.”
Jimmy concentrated on his weapon. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just seems so,” he shrugged, “personal, I guess.”
Twenty minutes later the junior officers came out of the headquarters and found their platoons. Lieutenant Little addressed the men of the 4th Platoon. “Okay men, listen up. We’re tasked with defending the left flank of this line. The enemy is on the far ridge as you no doubt noticed, but it’s thought to be a forward probing unit. The full brunt is still west, but they’re making their way here and it’s estimated they’ll arrive sometime tonight. The engineers mined the roads and it’s slowing them down. The rest of the 45th Division is spread out behind and northeast of us. The Russians are pushing for Anchorage. They’ve been rolling through our forces for weeks, but this is where we stop them. This valley funnels them into us, they can’t go around us.” He left the alternative unspoken. “You’re all well trained and ready for this. Keep your cool and listen to the NCOs. We can stop these bastards.”
Sergeant Collins asked, “Do we know what’s coming, sir?”
Little nodded, “Air recon says it’s at least two armored divisions. We’ve learned a lot about their capabilities since they landed in Nome. Their weapons fire faster and have better range and accuracy. That’s why they’ve had such success thus far, but they haven’t come up against a large, dug-in force yet. They’re not invincible. They’re human and they die just the same.”
Corporal Kentworthy asked, “Any word on the aliens, sir?”
Little shook his head, “So far, it’s only been Russians, but I think we can assume there are Scalp advisers amongst them. If you see one, take them out. That’s a priority.” He snapped his fingers. “We need to outfit our snipers. You’ll have the best chance of spotting and killing them.” The words made Jimmy queasy. “All right men, the NCOs will assign guard duties. Let’s get it done.”
Ten
Ensign Rex Crandall pored over the grainy, black and white photos from the gun cameras of various aircraft involved in the attack on the Russian carrier group. They’d identified the various vessels and estimated the effectiveness of the strike. Rex was due to brief Lieutenant Commander LaVoy, who’d pass the information along to Admiral Childreth.
Going through the photos was like reading an action comic book. The photos captured harrowing scenes of close passes over ships and intense scenes of dogfights. With the best images in hand he stood and addressed Ensign Pako, “I’m off to brief LaVoy.”
Pako sat on the far side of the large round table. Neither man had taken a break since the morning raid ended and photos and film started being processed in multiple darkrooms. Pako stood and stretched his back. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke despite the constant hum of the ventilators which shuttled the foul air the 100 feet to the surface. “Give ‘em hell, buddy.” He lifted his chin toward the exit. There was a stark metal desk, manned by a female naval
officer whose nameplate said, ‘Cork.’ She was tall and stout and looked as though she could snap a man’s neck with ease. “Tell Cork she can bob in my pool whenever she likes.” He said it loud enough for her to hear her name. She looked up from her list of naval personnel allowed into the intelligence section and scowled at him through her thick, bushy uni-brow.
Rex smiled, “I’ll leave that up to you, Pako.”
After updating LaVoy, Rex found himself in the briefing room again with the big brass. Rex thought he’d brief LaVoy then be off the hook but the lieutenant commander wanted him close in case there were questions he couldn’t answer himself. Rex took that to mean, he would be used as a scapegoat if things got out of hand.
Rex sat in a nondescript chair directly behind LaVoy’s more lavish one. He felt like a lapdog begging for scraps. He wasn’t used to being this low on the chain, and he resented it. He missed how people looked at him with respect and even awe in his old job. He’d lived in a small town, but he was the lead dog there. Here, he was at the bottom.
He watched the briefing progress, wondering if he’d soon be ordered to deliver coffee and donuts. Perhaps that was the real reason he was here. When it was LaVoy’s turn he stood and adjusted his stacks of photos from the battle. He cleared his throat. “Sir, these are the photos from the gun cameras of 4th Squadron. Their mission was fighter suppression. Essentially there to keep the Russian fighters off our bombers and torpedo planes.”
Admiral Childreth smiled, “how’d our girls do?”
LaVoy looked blankly back. “Sir?”
Childreth looked around the room at the other blank stares. “If I’m not mistaken the 4th Squadron is made up of female fighter pilots.” There were stunned looks exchanged. “These ladies must be the first to have faced the enemy. Truly historic. Now, how’d they do?”
