Strike Force Red

by C T Glatte

  Hank whispered, “Keep your damned voice down. Quick? You’ve been asleep for the past six hours.”

  Jimmy could only see his darkened silhouette. “Six hours? Really? Whoa, that was weird.”

  “You feel any better?”

  Jimmy evaluated his body and realized he felt better than he ever remembered feeling before. He nodded, “yeah, I feel good…great in fact.”

  Hank slapped his shoulder. “Well thank God for minor miracles. I thought you’d gone bonkers the way you were carrying on.”

  Jimmy had a dim recollection of the barrage and the excruciating pain he’d felt in his head during it. Now it was like a bad dream. His head was clear and his body felt normal again. “I’m fine now. Holy shit though, that was awful. What happened? Thought the commies were gonna attack.”

  Hank shrugged in the darkness. “Shelled the shit out of us, but they never attacked. Lieutenant Little thinks they’re going to come at us hard at first light though.” He looked at the luminescent dials of his watch, “which will be in another two hours. That’s why I woke you, in case you wanted some food or had to take a shit or something.”

  Jimmy suddenly felt empty. “Come to think of it, I’m starving.” Then he remembered, “Oh crap, I remember throwing up all over.” He lifted his boots trying to see if he were stepping in it.

  Hank said, “Yeah, I took care of it. Don’t worry about it, I shoveled it out of here.”

  “Jesus Hank, I’m sorry.”

  Hank guffawed, “Like I said, don’t worry about it. It took my mind off the damned Russians.”

  Jimmy worked open a K-ration and piled food into his mouth, barely tasting it. “Easy does it, you’ll make yourself sick again.”

  Jimmy forced himself to slow, knowing Hank was right. He finished eating then drained his canteen. He shook it and Hank handed him another. Jimmy didn’t open it, but stowed it in the hole for later. He leaned against the back wall and looked between the wood slats above. “Wow, I feel a lot better. One hundred times better.”

  Hank laughed, “you ate that so fast, you’ll probably have to take a crap soon.”

  Jimmy was about to respond when there was the screeching whoosh of outgoing artillery fire. For an instant he thought it was incoming and he flinched. “That’s ours. Are they coming early?” Hank didn’t respond but pushed on the ceiling and propped up each forward corner with pieces of wood. Jimmy nodded in appreciation. “You fashion that while I was out?” Hank grunted and nodded. “I’m impressed. We can still have cover while we’re shooting.”

  Hank muttered, “That’s the idea.”

  Jimmy clutched his M1 and made sure it was ready to go. He stood and leaned against the forward ledge. The clouds were skittering across the sky masking and unmasking the moon. It reminded Jimmy of Halloween nights back home. “Hey Hank, you remember smashing all the neighborhood pumpkins on Halloween?”

  Hank nodded, “I’d sooner forget.”

  “What do you mean? It was fun sneaking around at night.”

  “Yeah, but I always felt bad about it. It was a mean thing to do. Think of the kids who came back and saw their pumpkins smashed.” He shook his head. “Probably broke their hearts.”

  Jimmy’s smile faded. “Damn. I guess I never thought past the fun of it.” He grew silent. The friendly artillery lit up the woods and valley below with bright flashes of fire and metal. He knew what the poor bastards were going through but he couldn’t make himself feel bad for them. He felt worse for the kid’s whose pumpkins he’d destroyed in highschool. “Sons of bitches getting what they deserve.”

  Enemy artillery arced overhead heading toward the friendly mobile artillery batteries. It was a constant game of cat and mouse; battery fire and counter-battery fire. Jimmy hoped the friendly arty guys had left their firing positions or they’d be dead within seconds. More friendly fire crisscrossed the enemy artillery, firing their own counter-battery, and on and on it went.

  There was still another hour before daylight and there was a definite chill in the air. In the darkness, Jimmy heard a new sound and identified it, “Enemy mortar fire.”

  Hank lowered his head. “Yep, I hear it. Get down.”

  Jimmy shook his head, “sounds different, like they’re short or something.” Hank put his head back up. There was a soft explosion a quarter of the way up the ridge and Jimmy thought it was about where the abandoned OP hole was. “Shooting at the OP?”

  Hank shook his head and exclaimed, “Smoke. They’re shooting smoke.” He brought his rifle to his shoulder and aimed down the hill. “Only one reason they’d do that.”

  “Yeah, to cover an attack.”

  Sergeant Collins yelled from somewhere behind them. “Get ready. Don’t fire until the machine gun nests do.”

  The white smoke was thick. In combination with the darkness there could’ve been an entire division coming at them and they wouldn’t see it. The smoke drifted up the hill and more shells landed along the front with soft ‘pops.’

  Hank and Jimmy were in the middle of Charlie Company defending the ridge. Behind them, spread all the way to both flanks was a platoon of M4 Sherman tanks. Mixed with them were six anti-tank guns, aiming down the hill from carefully concealed positions. The foxholes were laid out with plenty of space between them for the Shermans to bypass, but Jimmy didn’t like the idea of a tank coming from behind and accidentally rolling over his hole.

  Through the smoke and darkness the ominous sound of many engines roaring to life filled the night. The artillery continued from both sides, but it was mostly counter-battery. Jimmy was glad he wasn’t having to sit through another barrage. His headache was a distant memory, but he thought it wouldn’t take much for it to return.

  The smoke barrage stopped and the roaring of engines seemed to come from everywhere. Jimmy heard the Sherman’s engines start, readying to maneuver if necessary. The very early signs of dawn were visible in the east but it was over the other side of the ridge from Jimmy’s hole. He sensed the slight lightening in the sky. He tore his eyes from the smoked area and looked up when he heard a new, but familiar engine sound. “Shit, planes.”

  Hank lifted the rim of his helmet and looked up, “Theres or ours?”

  The answer came soon enough when there was a ripping sound like a buzzsaw and the sky suddenly erupted with tracer fire. It looked otherworldly, like a fantastical gun the Scalps would use, but it was simply every fifth round spewing from the wings of the Russian fighter/bombers on strafing runs. The tracers were aimed behind them, hitting the main force beyond the road.

  They heard the screeching airplane engines as they streaked past, but couldn’t see them in the dark sky. Great explosions filled the night as the planes dropped their bombs. streaking tracers arced up, searching out the enemy fighters but far too late.

  Hank clutched Jimmy’s arm and pointed, “Look.”

  Jimmy brought his eyes front and saw the outline of a Russian plane in the lightening sky. It seemed to be coming directly at their hole. More planes appeared on either side of the leader. Jimmy put his rifle to his shoulder and aimed down the barrel, it seemed so close and he was about to fire, but he’d been ordered to hold fire until the Brownings opened up. Hank ducked down, pulling Jimmy with him.

  There was a buzzsaw sound and the lower ridge erupted as though it had been laid for demolition. The sound was intense and the earth shook with the multiple impacts of hundreds of bullets. The planes swept past and Jimmy could clearly see the red star and Korth emblem on the wings and one dull gray bomb hanging from each wing. They were gone and Jimmy heard the shrieking as the bombs left the wings and sliced through space toward the main trench line, followed immediately with the heavy thumping explosion.

  Jimmy put his head up and looked down the hill, it smoked from the heavy impacts, and the smoke screen swirled where the bullets had sliced through. “I think they missed us.”

  Hank rose up and pointed down the hill, “Look. Here they come.”

  The smoke was
still thick, but the darkness was receding with the coming sunrise and they could see shapes moving in the smoke. Soldiers were coming. Jimmy looked to the right trying to get the attention of Private Jantz and Cugle, but he could hardly see them through the gloom. He heard Sergeant Collins’ deep baritone voice, “Steady. Steady now.”

  Jimmy pulled clips of M1 ammunition from his satchel and placed them within easy reach on his right side, then sighted down his rifle and found a hazy shape of a soldier. Most of the ridge had been denuded from any sizable trees but there was still plenty of shrubs and even more craters. Russian soldiers moved up, then would drop out of sight as they took cover. Jimmy moved from one target to another, then he saw the first T34 muzzle through the smoke. It looked immense and he felt his breath catch in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered.

  Almost at the same instant the six .30 caliber Browning machine guns opened up. Jimmy had been following a soldier with his sights and when he heard the signal, he fired twice and saw his target simply drop out of sight. He heard Hank firing but ignored him and moved his muzzle to the right and fired again, but this target dove for cover at the same instant. He sent another round into the foliage he’d gone for and searched for another target.

  There were fewer to choose from as they found cover. He put his muzzle on the climbing T34 and sent a round pinging off it’s thick, sloped front armor. He kept his gaze on the tank and it seemed to sparkle with other bullet hits. He watched the turret swing then stop and fire. The driver didn’t stop and the tank hit a gulley at the same instant it fired and the shell lanced into the ground only a few yards in front. Jimmy saw the remains of an enemy soldier flying through the air.

  The tank churned forward and reacquired its target, but this time it lurched to a halt and fired. The shell blew up near a sandbagged bunker sending shrapnel in all directions but the .30 caliber machine gun crew was unfazed and kept sweeping the Russian soldiers seeking cover behind the tank. They dropped as the heavy slugs slammed into their bodies, red blood mixing with white smoke. The tank adjusted aim, but before it could fire, a rocket lanced from a well hidden foxhole and slammed into the tank’s left tread.

  Jimmy watched the tank struggling to move, but it drove off its track and its 26 tons sank into the ground and stuck. Jimmy saw soldiers hunched behind the tank. They’d shied to his side, away from the deadly machine gun. Jimmy nudged Hank and said, “Behind the tank.” He didn’t wait but put his sights on the nearest man and fired. His target dropped, flinging his arms and dropping his machine gun. Jimmy smoothly moved to the next target and fired twice before his clip ‘pinged.’

  He heard Hank firing at the same group. Jimmy’s wrist still hurt from firing his .45 pistol earlier, but he finally was able to load the new clip. By the time he sighted down the barrel the men behind the tank were down, unmoving. “Nice shooting,” he shouted, but Hank was working on reloading his own clip and didn’t respond.

  The tank was immobile but not out of the fight. It’s 76mm main gun lifted slightly and fired. The chattering from one of the machine gun nests stopped. A second later there was another rocket from a different hole and this time it hit where the turret meets the main body and there was a great plume of fire as the turret separated upward then slammed back down and tilted into the ground burying the muzzle. Flames erupted from the main hull and Jimmy wondered how many men the tank held.

  He didn’t dwell on it. The smoke was dissipating and along with the growing light he could see enemy soldiers everywhere. He fired into them, dropping most and missing few. A bullet whizzed past his ear and thunked into the back of the hole. It was the first close shot since the shooting started. Does someone have me in their sights or was it a random round? He had no way of knowing, so he continued to fire, careful to make every shot count.

  More tanks churned out of the smoke and climbed toward him. He counted at least ten. They were spread out firing as they moved. He heard the heavy roar of a Sherman firing behind him and he thought he could see the 75mm shell racing toward the enemy tanks. The shell exploded between two T34s, and heavy dirt covered them, but they continued to climb, unimpeded. Both their heavy guns rotated toward the white plume of smoke that pinpointed the Sherman. The T34s fired simultaneously and Jimmy screamed, “Down!”

  They dropped into the hole and felt the shock wave of the passing shells then the heavy thump of their explosions, followed immediately by dirt and debris raining down and sifting through the wood slats.

  They waited a few seconds then popped up and looked behind them through the wood slats. The Sherman was buried in dirt, but the .30 caliber machine gun still spat fire. The howitzer fired again and this time the T34 to the right lurched and spewed smoke from every crevice and crease. The hatches opened and Jimmy watched tankers dressed in brown coveralls emerge. He placed his sights on the soldier coming from the top turret and watched as his .30 caliber bullet entered his chest and the tanker dropped back into the tank. Another tanker tried coming out a front hatch and Hank shot him twice. Despite the wounds the tanker continued struggling, finally falling to the ground in front of the smoking hull.

  Smoke obscured the dead tank and Jimmy shifted his sights to a group of soldiers running past the hulk. He fired repeatedly dropping two more, until his clip ‘pinged.’ He grimaced through the pain in his wrist and loaded another eight-round clip. The tanks continued to churn forward. He searched for the remaining soldiers but they’d made it to the crater they were sprinting towards. He saw one poke his helmeted head over and level his machine gun and fire. Bullets zinged and snapped around him like angry hornets. He dropped down, pulling Hank with him.

  Breathing hard, Jimmy said, “They’ve spotted our hole.”

  Bullets continued to shred the wood cover. It splintered and shook but held. Hank answered, “No shit.”

  Jimmy pulled a grenade off his utility belt and held it in his right hand. “I know where they are. When I give the word lift the cover and I’ll send this pineapple their way.” Hank looked up, it seemed the impacts were less and he hoped they were reloading. He nodded. Jimmy adjusted his stance. He didn’t have a lot of room, but he only had to throw the grenade twenty yards or so. He visualized where he’d throw it then nodded, “One, two, three.” Hank stood up, pivoting the top open at the same time Jimmy stood and hurled the live grenade.

  They both dropped down, and the cover landed on the front supports and settled. They reached for their M1s and through the chaos of noise and heard the thump of the grenade. Jimmy lunged to his firing position and saw the crater but didn’t see any Russians spitting fire at them. He kept his rifle aimed at the ledge. He was about to shift his fire to other targets when he saw an enemy soldier’s head emerge. His helmet was gone. Jimmy pulled the trigger and saw the soldier’s head snap back then thump forward.

  The Russians were taking heavy losses but continued to churn forward. The tanks loomed like huge hell monsters spewing death from their front machine guns and deadly 76mm cannons. A close explosion from behind their hole erupted and Jimmy knew the Sherman had just died. “We can’t hold them off, we’ll be overrun!” He yelled.

  Hank didn’t respond but kept firing. A tank turned, maneuvering around a crater and came straight at their hole. They both noticed it simultaneously and moved their rifles toward it. A rocket from a foxhole to the right lanced into the side of the tank but bounced off like a tennis ball. From his low vantage point, Jimmy could see past the underbelly of the tank. There were enemy soldiers bunched behind it. He could only see their legs. He fired through the gap and saw his bullets shred legs and watched soldiers buckle and fall then writhe with more bullet hits. Hank had seen it too and together they decimated them.

  The front machine gunner of the T34 spotted them shooting and Jimmy watched the muzzle angle down toward them. “Down!” He yelled and they both went into the bottom of the hole. The cover splintered as the DP-27 machine gun’s 7.62mm bullets filled the space. They were both curled tight at the bottom of the hole,
knowing they were about to die.

  The barrage stopped and Jimmy reached out and shook Hank. “You okay?”

  They were both covered in splintered wood and Hank was whimpering, but stopped when he heard Jimmy. Hank looked up with wide eyes and muttered, “Yeah, think so.” The ground rumbled and the foxhole’s walls sloughed off. The morning light suddenly went dark and Jimmy could see the undercarriage of the T34 churning slowly by. The treads were on either side of the hole and the sheer weight collapsed the hole onto itself. Jimmy and Hank were buried up to their waists with loamy dirt.

  Jimmy struggled to move his legs. “We’ve gotta get outta here!” As more dirt filled in, Jimmy could feel the panic starting to rise from his belly. He pulled his right leg up and it finally broke free. He pumped his left leg and it broke free too. Hank was doing the same and soon they were both getting to the top of the dirt. They stayed below the shredded wood cover. Hank was the first to realize the tank was still above them, stopped. There was great boom as the main tank gun fired again. The tank rocked slightly.

  Hank pushed the wood cover and shoved it behind their hole. The smell of gasoline, churned up dirt and engine grease was thick. The closeness of the tank made them both pause. The tankers were only feet away, a thin layer of steel separating them.

  Jimmy looked down the hill and saw more soldiers running toward the back of the tank. He doubted they could see them in the shadows. Jimmy reached for his last grenade. He wiped the dirt and found the pin. He nudged Hank who saw what he planned and nodded, while he gathered his M1 and aimed down the hill. There were four soldiers coming. They were dressed in gray camouflage and looked menacing. They ran right up against the hull and kneeled. They started peeking around the tank and firing up the hill.

  Jimmy held up three fingers and started counting down. Hank ducked beneath the lip of the hole and waited. Jimmy released the lever arming the grenade. He shovel-passed it past the tank’s underbelly and watched it plop between the men. He ducked, hoping he was covered enough.