by C T Glatte
Three hours passed and both Hank and Jimmy were stiff. The hole was big enough to sit comfortably but they couldn’t stand up or they’d push the camouflage cover up. The only way to stretch their legs was to stay hunched over while they extended their legs one at a time.
The Russians were relatively quiet. They’d checked in by radio every hour with nothing new to report. Their relief was due in another hour and Jimmy looked forward to moving his legs and taking a piss.
Hank had the binoculars and he suddenly tensed. Jimmy noticed immediately and asked, “What? See something?” Hank continued to strain, but didn’t answer. “Dammit, what do you see?”
Hank whispered, “They’re coming. Not all of ‘em but a squad I think.” He handed the binoculars over and said, “See the big dead snag? Look just to the right of it.”
Jimmy adjusted the focus and found the snag. He saw movement, gray shapes moving out of the forest. “Shit, yeah. I see ‘em.” He leaned forward, “I think you’re right, a small force. I don’t see any tanks or anything.” He licked his lips, “Call it in. Tell ‘em we’ve got a small probing force coming our way.”
Hank got on the radio and whispered the information to the CP. He listened for a reply and was told to hold for Lt. Little. Hank stiffened slightly when he heard the officer’s voice. He relayed the message again and listened to Little’s response. He nodded and said, “understood. Out.” He replaced the radio and whispered to Jimmy who was still watching the troops. “He wants us to stay put and give him progress reports. He’s sending a counter force down the gully to set up an ambush.”
Jimmy whispered back, “Hope they don’t shoot us in the backs.” Hank didn’t reply. A few seconds later Jimmy said, “They’re crossing the road two by two. I count ten troops.”
“I’ll let ‘em know…”
Jimmy interrupted, “wait a sec and I’ll know if they’re coming up our gully or not.” Hank stood by with the radio receiver in one hand, the other ready to press the transmit button. Long seconds passed. Finally Jimmy whispered, “Yeah, they’re moving into the gully all right. They’re gonna pass real damned close.” Hank took a deep breath and relayed the information. He got a curt acknowledgment in reply.
Jimmy put the binoculars down and leaned toward Hank. “They’re on our side, in the gully. I can’t see ‘em anymore.” Hank grabbed his rifle, it seemed long and unwieldy in the confines of the hole. Jimmy smacked his arm and pointed to Hank’s sidearm while pulling his own from his holster. He checked it was loaded and carefully pulled back the slide and released it forward with a slight ‘snick’ sound.
They strained to hear the nearby troops but the slight rustling of trees as a light wind whipped through was all they could hear. They gazed intently through the foliage seeking out any movement, but it was as if the gully had swallowed the enemy squad.
They both saw the soldier emerge from the gully at the same instant. He was dressed in gray and white camouflage and seemed to appear from thin air. He was crouched, searching side to side slowly, swinging his PPSH-41 with the drum magazine from side to side.
Jimmy had to force himself to breathe. He could feel the tension in Hank and hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like fire his weapon. The Russian looked to his right toward the gully and gave a slight nod, as if receiving an order. He stayed crouched but moved forward. He was twenty yards from their hole and coming straight at them. They were in the most obvious route the soldier would take. Jimmy felt his heart would explode out his mouth. He took a deep breath and let it out slow, then reached out and touched Hank’s shoulder. He could feel Hank’s slight shiver, but Hank looked at Jimmy. Jimmy saw the fear in his eyes and knew he probably looked the same.
Jimmy held his gaze and mouthed the word, ‘knife.’ Hank shut his eyes but nodded slightly in understanding. Jimmy held his pistol in his left hand and reached across and pulled his six-inch blade from the leather scabbard on his hip. The slight sound of the blade leaving the leather sounded like a gunshot, but was actually barely noticeable.
As the Russian got closer, Jimmy placed his pistol on the ledge, careful to keep his fingers off the trigger. The matte black blade felt heavy. He gripped it tight, his knuckles showing white. His mind raced, can I stab a man to death? The thought made him almost physically ill. They’d trained in hand-to-hand combat, but he never thought he’d actually have to use it. He remembered how Hank had excelled at it, but he could tell he wasn’t up to the task. He looked ready to bolt from the hole at any moment.
Jimmy’s entire focus returned to the approaching soldier. He was bigger than either of them and looked older. Jimmy could clearly see the lines around the soldier’s eyes, telling him he’d spent a lot of time outdoors. He looked deadly.
When he was ten yards away, he stopped and crouched again, surveying the way forward. He seemed to be looking beyond them. Jimmy remembered how he’d never seen the camouflaged hole until Jantz had spoken. He knew they were well camouflaged, but it wouldn’t matter if the soldier stepped on top of them. Please go around, please go around, please go around.
The soldier looked to his right again and nodded. He turned forward and took another step, he would be on top of them in a moment. Jimmy clutched the knife and tried to picture how he’d do it without the man yelling out. should I throw back the netting?
The Russian was only feet away when he suddenly froze, like he sensed or saw something out of the ordinary. He was so close, Jimmy was staring at his mud-encrusted boots. He thought sure his banging heart would give away their position.
Suddenly Hank ripped the corner of the netting back and lunged forward like a snake striking an unwary victim. The Russian lurched back, but not before Hank grabbed his bulky arm and pulled him hard toward the hole. Jimmy saw the Russian’s eyes light up with fear as he hit the bottom of the hole and Jimmy lunged down with the knife. The adrenalin coursed through his body and overcame his disgust at what he was about to do. He punched the blade into the soldier’s gut and felt the sickening give and puncture of the skin then the organs and bones beneath. The Russian’s eyes blazed with pain and he opened his mouth to yell, but Hank lunged and covered his mouth as Jimmy pulled the blade out and plunged it back into his body.
The dying Russian’s finger mashed the trigger of his machine gun and the hole was suddenly filled with the hammering sound. Hank grasped the barrel and yelped as it burned his hand, but yanked it free from the Russian’s grip and stood up and fired into the soldier’s head with his pistol.
Bullets suddenly ripped overhead and slammed into the dirt, sending up geysers. Hank leveled the pistol toward the gully and fired as fast as he could pull the trigger, then dropped back to cover. Jimmy cussed as hot bullet casings found their way to exposed skin. More bullets zipped overhead. Hank swapped his pistol for the Russian’s machine gun but Jimmy held him down. “Stay down, dammit.” Hank looked at him with wild eyes. The dead soldier took up most of the space and Jimmy tried to push him out of the hole. “Help me get this son-of-a-bitch out of here. I can’t move.”
Hank dropped the smoking machine gun and helped push but it was deadweight and they couldn’t move the big man. “It’s no use, grab your rifle, they must be moving on us.”
Jimmy grabbed his .45 pistol off the lip of the hole and held it over his head and fired. He immediately regretted it when he felt his wrist bend unnaturally back and the pistol shot out of his hand. He clutched his wrist. It felt sprained but he didn’t have time to do anything about it.
Hank yelled, “Grenade.” Jimmy saw it and was reminded of a baseball as it hit the far lip and rolled along the edge. He could clearly see the ridges that would soon explode and shred his body with shrapnel.
Hank reacted quickly, striking out with his right hand and punching the orb like he were hitting a punching bag. The grenade flew a few feet and Hank had just enough time to duck.
The explosion immediately closed off Jimmy’s hearing and he felt light-headed as the concussion swept over him. H
e had no idea if he were alive or dead, but time seemed to standstill as the world turned to black. He tried to hang on, but the blackness was so inviting. He nearly succumbed before Hank gripped his shoulders and shook him hard. Jimmy could see his mouth moving but no words came out.
He watched as if from a distance as Hank put the Russian machine gun to his shoulder and stood and fired a long stream of bullets. Jimmy could see the flames shooting from the muzzle and see the individual spent casings raining down on him as if in slow motion. He tried to move his body, tried to come back to reality, but he couldn’t seem to make his limbs work, as if there was a disconnect between his brain and his extremities.
He watched Hank duck down again and say something, but he still couldn’t hear anything but a dull tone in his head. He wondered if he’d blown out his eardrums. I’m deaf. The realization didn’t bother him, it was matter-of-fact, like reading an uninteresting headline from a newspaper, ‘Private Crandall goes deaf.’ He grinned at the absurdity of it.
Hank brought the weapon up again and fired, moving the muzzle side to side then quickly dropping down. His face was inches from Jimmy’s, he was yelling, but making no sound. Jimmy felt the stinging slap. His eyes focused and he concentrated on the pain. Hank slapped him again and Jimmy felt anger welling inside. The world came rushing back to him, his ears ringing, but letting other sounds in. He finally could make out Hank’s words. “Grab your weapon, Get your shit together soldier.”
It was like waking from a brutal dream and into a nightmare. The sounds of gunfire blasted the air and he frantically clutched for his M1. He found it still propped along the dirt wall. He clutched it and felt pain course through his wrist and arm. He winced but internalized the pain as much as possible and looked at the weapon like he’d never seen it before. For an instant he had no idea how to use it, then it came flooding back. He flicked off the safety and was about to rise up and fire.
Hank grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down, yelling in his ear, “Stay down. Help’s coming.”
Jimmy looked at him in confusion, “Help?”
Hank nodded, “Listen. Hear that?” Jimmy shook his head, his hearing not back to anywhere near normal. “The ambush. They’re coming. Our guys are coming, stay down.”
Jimmy resisted, trying to push his way up, but Hank kept him down and Jimmy felt as weak as a baby. He desperately wanted to fire his weapon, now that he remembered how to use it. Hank yelled at him, “Stay down, dammit. Let them do it you stupid bastard.”
Jimmy finally relaxed and found himself staring at the dead Russian soldier. For the life of him he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there and he asked Hank, “Who’s that guy? What happened?”
Hank stared into Jimmy’s eyes and shook his head. “It’s okay, buddy. You’ve got a concussion. Just stay here and I’ll explain it later.”
Jimmy looked at him through dilated pupils, “Explain what? What happened? Who’s he?”
“Shit,” uttered Hank.
Seventeen
The medic at the forward aid station on the ridge finished evaluating Private Crandall. He left him sitting on a dirty cot rubbing his head. Corporal Wilcox saw Private Gugliani and a few others from Jimmy’s squad, including Jantz and Cugle. As Wilcox emerged from the sandbagged hole Gugliani asked, “How is he? A concussion right?”
Corporal Wilcox nodded, “Yeah, far as I can tell. He’ll be fine, he’s already coming out of his confusion. He stopped asking what happened every few seconds. It’s down to about every five minutes.” He looked back at Jimmy who was now on his back looking at the low-slung ceiling. “There’s nothing I can do, he just needs time to get his head back together.”
Sergeant Collins walked up and the men straightened slightly. He peered past Wilcox and shook his head. Wilcox said, “Crandall’s got a concussion. Any chance we can send him back down the hill? He just needs a day of rest.”
Sergeant Collins’ mouth turned down at the corners and he shook his head. “We need every man that can fire a weapon. Even back there, he won’t be out of it. Is he operational?”
Wilcox snorted, “You make him sound like a piece of equipment, Sarge.”
Collins grabbed the corporal by the lapel and pulled him nose to nose. “Don’t be a smartass. Is he able to fight or not?”
Wilcox blanched and nodded quickly. “Yes, as long as someone shows him which way to shoot, he should be fine.”
Collins released him and looked to the gaggle of GIs gawking at him. “You men, keep him close to you. We’ve got a shit storm brewing down there. The Russians didn’t take kindly to us taking down their little foray up the gully. The new OP says they can hear every tank and troop transport getting ready to move. They’re coming any second and I need you men on the line.” He pointed into the gloom of the bunker, “And that includes Crandall.”
Gugliani stepped forward and nodded, “We’ll take care of him, Sergeant.”
Collins looked him up and down then his gaze softened, “Good job down there today. Thought you two were goners.”
Gugliani nodded, “Me too.”
“Make sure you have plenty of ammo and water.” Without waiting for a reply he stalked off to see to another hundred tasks that needed to be done.
Hank ducked into the gloomy room and sat on Jimmy’s bunk. Jimmy looked up through half-closed eyes. Hank asked, “How you feeling buddy?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a high and tight fastball fifty times.”
“Your head clearing up?”
Jimmy went onto his elbow. “I guess. I’m still blurry and I can’t quite remember what the hell happened, just know we almost died.”
Hank grinned and nodded, “Probably best not to remember. Look, Sergeant Collins says the Russkies are going to attack any second. We need to get to our foxhole before that happens or we’ll be caught in the open. I know you feel like shit, but you’re gonna have to suck it up.”
Jimmy sat the rest of the way up. “Any second? Shit, let’s get the hell outta here.” He grabbed his pack and slung it onto his back, then placed his dented helmet onto his head and cinched the strap beneath his chin. He stood and wavered for a second. He clutched Hank’s shoulder until he was steady then nodded, “Lead the way. I’m ready.”
Hank pointed to his rifle still leaning against the cot. “You’re gonna need that.” Jimmy didn’t reply but reached across and snatched up his M1. “You sure you’re up for this? You could stay here and wait it out.”
“Hell no, but I’m sure as shit not staying here. We’re partners, remember?”
Hank nodded and led the way out the entrance. Jantz and Cugle waited, fidgeting and checking their weapons. Jantz waved to hurry them up. Jimmy smiled at him then leaned over and threw up a greenish brown stream of partially digested K-rations and water. Jantz jumped back and looked disgusted. “Dammit, man. That reeks.”
Hank pushed him and they stumbled away along the ridge toward their foxholes. They were nearly there when the first salvo of artillery slammed into the frontside of the hill. The GIs hurled themselves to the ground, feeling the deep pounding in their bones. They didn’t linger but popped up and continued their low slung sprint to their holes. The screeching of more incoming shells pushed them to run harder. Hank led Jimmy to the nearest hole, letting him slide in first then coming in right behind him. Jantz and Cugle sprinted past them and slid into the hole ten yards further along.
Hank reached back and pulled the heavy wood cover over the hole, pulling dirt and brush along with it. Jimmy cursed as the dirt spilled off his helmet and went down the back of his shirt. Hank asked between heavy gasps, “You okay?”
Jimmy nodded, “I feel like shit.”
The shells walked up the ridge like a heavy hailstorm of lead. Each explosion was closer than the last. They were hitting amongst the foxholes to their front and between the ear-splitting blasts they could hear men yelling.
Soon the shells were landing near them. Jimmy’s head hurt so bad he thought it might explode.
He’d never had a headache anything close to this. He was convinced a piece of wood from the overhead cover had penetrated his skull and was working it’s way from the back to the front, scrambling his brains in the process. He felt bile rise in his throat and had no choice but to spew vomit onto the foxhole wall. He closed his eyes, slumped to the bottom and curled into the fetal position. He could feel his body shutting down and there was nothing he could do about it.
The shells continued past their hole, and worked the top of the ridge. Jimmy felt Hank’s hands on him, shaking him and yelling, “You okay? You hit?”
Jimmy opened his eyes. They felt dry, like almonds and he could hardly open them, let alone focus. He tried to utter he was okay, but it came out in a garbled groan. He tasted vomit and spit, but his mouth was dry as the desert and just as gritty. With a monumental effort he pulled himself from the bottom of the hole and clutched the dirt wall. His mouth hung open and he wondered if he were dripping vomit. “F - Fine,” he finally uttered. The pain in his head was making him nauseous and he thought he’d be happy if someone simply cut it from his shoulders.
Hank shook his head, “you don’t look fine, partner.” He went to his haunches and pushed the cover up slightly with his helmeted head, peering down the hill. The churned up ground looked like a freshly plowed field. A thick layer of smoke and dust hung in the air. There were men screaming in agony, some calling for medics. Artillery shells continued to rain down, but beyond the ridge toward the main line. “Hope those tankers hold the road or we’ll be cut off up here.”
Jimmy’s head throbbed, but it was subsiding as the barrage moved away. He understood Hank’s words but they didn’t make sense. “T - tankers?”
Hank gave him a sympathetic glance. “You stay down until I tell you it’s time to fight or run. Got it?” Jimmy lifted a thumb, the effort exhausting him.
What seemed like only seconds later, Jimmy felt Hank nudging him hard. He suddenly remembered the situation. His eyes shot open and he was confused by the darkness surrounding him. “What? What the hell? That was quick.”
