Strike Force Black

by C T Glatte

  When the last aircraft passed, Jimmy got to his feet and ran toward land. Lodmont followed him. When Jimmy passed Sergeant Gooding and Captain Stewart, Gooding yelled, “Stay in cover! Where you think you’re going?”

  Jimmy paused long enough to say, “Those planes are carrying bombs, they’re lining up on us as we speak. I’m getting off the bridge!” He didn’t wait for confirmation, but kept running.

  Once off the slippery bridge he found his footing and sprinted toward a depression off the road. He slid down the hard ground, stopped at the bottom and tucked himself against the side of a small concrete tunnel. Lodmont, along with other GIs followed him to cover.

  There was a sudden hammering of heavy machine-gun fire. The Bridge Defense Brigade’s guns were finally joining the fray. Jimmy crawled a few feet up and looked back at the bridge. The bunkers had many firing ports, some aiming down the road itself, others pointing skyward. He saw large caliber muzzles aiming upward, sending out streaks of tracer fire, which lit up the early morning sky.

  He followed the tracer rounds and saw the six planes flying parallel to the bridge a couple hundred feet up, over the water. They were making micro-adjustments, lining up to drop their bombs.

  The Brigade’s guns were off target, shooting too high. Jimmy put his M1 to his shoulder and aimed, he knew he had little chance of hitting anything, but he’d rather do something and feel he were fighting back.

  The lead plane got closer and closer and he realized they weren’t trying to bomb the bridge but the bridge defenses. He fired four shots then saw the 109 shudder slightly as something dark and small detached from the undercarriage.

  He threw himself back down the slope and yelled, “Incoming! Get down!”

  The bomb whistled as it dropped. Jimmy pulled himself into a ball and tried to shove himself inside the concrete gutter. The ground shook and he opened his mouth as the air suddenly seemed devoid of oxygen.

  Each bomb shook the ground. Jimmy could hear screaming all around him as the GIs took the beating. Finally, the last bomb dropped and Jimmy uncurled. Dirt fell off his helmet brim and got in his eyes. He spit, shook himself and squinted through falling debris. The others were covered in dirt and clumps of grass. Suddenly it started raining hard, but it wasn’t rain. It was bay-water coming down after a German bomb fell short. The dirt on his wool coat turned to mud and he felt it getting heavy.

  He climbed the slippery slope and peaked over the side. The bunkers were still intact but were no longer firing. He hoped the soldiers inside were just shaken up and not out of commission permanently. He had a feeling they’d need the firepower soon.

  12

  Jimmy watched the enemy planes race away, following the bay water back toward the sea. He shook the dirt off and stepped from the culvert along with the other shaken GIs. He saw a few soldiers in the concrete trenches behind the bridge bunkers. They had dazed looks on their faces.

  Jimmy walked to the edge of the trench, “You guys okay?” Off to his right there was a smoking crater, a near miss.

  A soldier who’d lost his helmet squinted up at him and nodded. “Guess — guess so. That was close.”

  The other soldiers pulled themselves together. A sergeant went to the back of the nearest bunker and peeled back the heavy steel door. It squeaked in protest. “You guys okay in there?” he asked.

  Jimmy could hear a smattering of replies. A pale face appeared in the doorway. The soldier came into the daylight and peered at the sky as though it might reach out and bite him.

  Captain Stewart and Sergeant Gooding walked up evaluating the damage. They stood beside Jimmy. Stewart looked him up and down, “PFC Crandall, right?” Jimmy nodded. “Start digging in. There’s only one reason I can think of for that attack: they want this bridge.” Jimmy nodded his agreement. Stewart pointed, “Spread out along the road, use the rock outcroppings and whatever cover you can find. Two men per hole.”

  Sergeant Gooding nodded and barked, “All right men, we’re digging in.”

  The pale faced soldier from the bunker saluted the captain. Before Turning to dig foxholes, Jimmy heard him report. “Captain, I’m in command of this unit, First Lieutenant Yance.” He hesitated then continued, “We — we took a beating, but we’re still operational. Some cuts, bruises and ringing ears, but no casualties.”

  Stewart replied. “That’s good, Lieutenant. I’m not sure what’s coming, but we need to hold this bridge. Are you in contact with the other side?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well get ‘em on the horn. I want to know their status too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “My men are digging in along the road. We’ve got two bazooka teams and a lot of small arms. You got any extra machine guns? If there’s a push, it’d be nice to have something heavier than M1s.”

  Yance answered. “Yeah, I have two reserve Brownings. You need crews too?”

  “Yeah, have ‘em report to Sergeant Gooding, he’ll make sure they’re placed correctly.”

  Two hours later, Jimmy put down his shovel and evaluated his hole. Jimmy had done most of the digging. Private Lodmont would start then stop and pick at the blisters forming on his hands. Jimmy browbeat him, making him work but he dragged his feet and complained the entire time.

  Despite the cold day, Jimmy wiped his sweaty brow. The hole was fifteen yards off the road, tucked into the brush. He’d cut and stacked more brush in front and it was well concealed from the air and ground.

  One of the .30 caliber machine gun positions was closer to the road and forward a couple yards from his hole. Sergeant Gooding wanted Jimmy’s hole back a little so he could cover their flank and be a fallback position if need be. Jimmy had made his hole big enough to accommodate the crew, just in case.

  Once the hole was finished, Lodmont didn’t waste any time getting comfy. He scrunched his back against the dirt wall and hugged himself. “Cold out here.”

  Jimmy put his wool coat back on, despite his head still steaming from being overheated. He knew his sweat would turn to ice once he stopped working. “You wouldn’t be cold if you worked.”

  Lodmont scowled. “I did work.”

  Jimmy shook his head, “Bullshit. I don’t know how you made it through boot camp. You’re a lazy son-of-a-bitch.” Lodmont tucked his chin inside his coat and muttered something Jimmy didn’t catch. “Look, if the Germans come, it’s gonna get dicey out here. You gonna be able to function?”

  Through the thick fabric of his wool coat, he answered bitterly, “I’ll do what I have to.”

  Jimmy shook his head, “Yeah, and nothing extra. I think I’ll call you, Mini, short for minimum.” He laughed at his own joke and adjusted the Springfield and M1 rifles.

  The sound of distant battle ebbed and flowed from the East, dependent on which way the wind blew. There were still civilians arriving at the bridge and they complained bitterly when told they weren’t allowed to cross and were directed north or back the way they’d come.

  Jimmy opened a K-rat and cherry picked the crackers and jelly. Suddenly the guns from both bunkers opened up sending tracers nearly straight up. Jimmy heard a terrifying screaming sound and looked up to see black dots over them, peeling one by one into steep dives. Someone yelled, “Stuka attack!”

  Jimmy hunkered into the bottom of the hole and watched them come. The closer they got the louder the scream. They were diving nearly straight down and Jimmy thought they might simply crash, but at the last instant they pulled up and shot over the bridge. There was an explosion, sending up great geysers of water and dirt.

  The tracer fire continued and Jimmy saw a plane still in formation suddenly start smoking. It dipped from the organized flight and turned east. Jimmy hoped it crashed. Another explosion, more screaming planes. The ground shook as the bombs exploded in the hard ground. He looked at Lodmont, he was quivering and shaking, jolting with each new explosion. The Stukas were targeting the bunkers which were a couple hundred yards away. Jimmy felt relatively safe, but Lodmont look
ed petrified. “Relax, Mini. They’re after the bunkers. Don’t piss yourself.”

  Lodmont looked at him with wide eyes. “Fuck — fuck you.”

  The Stukas disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived. Jimmy poked his head up and looked at the bunkers. The furthest one was smoking. Men were rushing toward it, some staggered away. “Looks like they hit the far bunker.”

  Lodmont got to his feet and lifted his chin to see over the edge. “Holy shit. Thank God I wasn’t over there.”

  Jimmy was about to tell him what a piece of shit he was again, but there was yelling coming from up the road that caught his attention. He focused his attention and saw a group of civilians sprinting on the road, waving their hands and yelling. Jimmy put the binoculars to his eyes and quickly adjusted the focus. He watched the civilians running and gesturing behind, like something was chasing them.

  Suddenly three of them stumbled and dropped and a second later Jimmy heard the popping of gunfire and saw the ground erupting in geysers. “Shit, something’s coming up the road.” He put his hand to his mouth and called back to where he knew Captain Stewart and Sergeant Gooding were, “Enemy troops on the road!”

  The machine-gun crew were already hunkered and Jimmy saw the muzzle lower and aim down the road. Jimmy propped his M1 along the side of the hole and pulled the Springfield to his shoulder and looked through the sniper scope. He found the marker he’d put out beside the road at fifty yards. He clicked and adjusted the scope and watched. “Get the binocs tell me when you see anything.” When there was no response he raised his voice in anger. “Do it, Mini. Now.” Still nothing. He took his eye from the scope and looked at Lodmont who seemed almost catatonic. Jimmy reached out and shook him. “Snap out of it, damn you. If you want to live, do exactly what I say.”

  Lodmont shook his head slightly and his eyes came back into focus. He gave Jimmy a quick nod, leaned against the leading edge of the foxhole and pulled the binoculars to his eyes with shaking hands.

  After a tense minute, Lodmont stuttered, “Oh shit. I — I see them. Soldiers. They’re — they’re coming.”

  Jimmy swept slowly but still didn’t see them. “Where, dammit?”

  “Uh — uh, just past those dead civilians. To the right of the road, in the ditch.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Yes, good. I see them.” He adjusted his sights slightly, settled into the stock and slowed his breathing. The lead soldier stopped and the others stacked behind and disappeared. Jimmy kept the reticle on the lead soldier who lifted his head to get a better look. Jimmy squeezed the trigger and the sudden sound was loud in the foxhole. Jimmy saw the soldier’s head snap back, spraying blood and dropping out of sight.

  Lodmont’s horror was evident. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you — you shot him.”

  Jimmy kept scanning and grumbled, “That’s the idea, asshole.” He spotted discoloration further back in the ditch. He centered on it and pressured the trigger until the rifle bucked again. A flash of movement, he adjusted and fired again.

  Lodmont’s voice was more controlled now. “I — I think you got him. Not sure but I think so.”

  “Find me another target,” he growled. Before Lodmont could answer, Jimmy saw winking flashes and heard bullets snapping through the air. “They don’t see us yet, probing fire.”

  The sound of faint popping made Jimmy pull his eye from the scope and look up. “Shit, mortars. Get down.”

  They both dropped to the bottom of the hole. There was another pop, but not from a high explosive round. Jimmy knew what it meant. “Smoke. They’re firing smoke.” He got back into firing position slapping Lodmont’s arm. “Come on, Mini. Find me another target before it gets too dense.”

  The smoke shells landed to their right and slightly behind. The Germans had miscalculated, thinking they were farther back. The air was smoky, but they could still see fine. Lodmont’s excited voice. “They’re up, coming forward. See ‘em?”

  Jimmy did. He put the reticle on the nearest man’s chest as he ran hunched over. He pulled the trigger and the soldier dropped out of sight. Soldiers near the stricken soldier dove out of sight. Lodmont touched Jimmy’s shoulder. “I see another. Twenty yards back from your last shot. See him?”

  Jimmy smoothly swung the rifle, keeping his eye in the scope. He stopped when he saw a soldier on his belly looking behind and waving men forward. His mouth was moving but from this distance, Jimmy couldn’t hear him. He centered, breathed out smoothly and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the soldier’s neck and Jimmy could see a fountain of blood coming out his back as he fell onto his face. “Target down. That might be an officer. Good spotting.”

  There wasn’t time for celebration, the Germans opened fire. The air around Jimmy came alive and he dropped into the hole pulling Lodmont with him. “Must’ve seen my muzzle flash. Stay down.”

  There were more popping smoke shells, this time in front of their position. Jimmy poked his head up and the smoke was thick and blowing across their hole. He could see the machine gun crew ready to open fire. The sound of small arms fire from the Germans continued, but they were firing blindly hoping to keep heads down. Jimmy said, “Forget the binoculars, they’ll be coming through the smoke. Get your rifle ready.”

  The soft popping of smoke rounds changed to the heavier thud of high explosives. Jimmy swapped rifles, carefully placing the Springfield against the dirt wall. The barrel still smoked. He aimed over the M1’s sights. The white smoke was thick. He breathed out a sigh and his white breath mixed seamlessly.

  Jimmy noticed the machine-gun crew stiffen. They opened fire with a long burst then quickly settled into short bursts. Jimmy still couldn’t see any targets. He strained. A slight wind off the bay pushed the smoke and he saw shapes and forms. Lodmont sucked in a quick gasp and fired quickly until his clip pinged. Jimmy saw his target dive for cover. He was on their side of the road along the edge of the swampy field. Jimmy aimed where he’d seen him dive and fired twice.

  Another form appeared behind and Jimmy adjusted and fired three rounds. The German was only thirty yards away. He dropped out of sight. “They’re trying to flank the machine-gun.” He heard Lodmont cursing. Jimmy urged, “Hurry up and reload, Mini.”

  Lodmont continued to curse. “I — I can’t do it, I can’t get it to go. My hands are numb.”

  Jimmy fired at another shape in the fog then looked at Lodmont in disgust. He had the eight-round clip backwards. “Christ, Mini, you’ve got it backwards. Pointy end forward.” Lodmont cursed and fumbled the clip, dropping it into the bottom of the hole. “Get a fresh one, that’ll jam.”

  Lodmont pulled another clip, shoved it into the receiver and yowled as the breech slammed onto his thumb. Jimmy knew what happened but didn’t have time to tease him. Another shape in the smoke. He fired until his clip pinged. Lodmont was back in action and he fired through his rounds before Jimmy was done reloading. “Slow down, aim carefully. You’re burning through ammo too quick.”

  The other machine gun crew opened up on the other side of the road. The smoke was thinning quickly. The Germans were using cover and leapfrogging forward, but were taking casualties. Jimmy ducked as bullets smacked through the brambles he’d placed in front of his hole. Lodmont did too. “Holy shit, holy shit, that was close.”

  Jimmy looked at him. He had his back to the wall and was clutching his M1 like it was his momma. “You hit?” Lodmont shook his head and licked his lips. The bullets continued to snap over the edge of the hole. “They’re trying to flank the machine-gun. I’m gonna throw a few grenades at ‘em. When you hear them blow, lay some fire on ‘em.” Lodmont continued staring straight ahead. “You hear me, Mini?”

  Lodmont looked at him angrily but nodded his head. Jimmy pulled two grenades and placed one on the ground at his feet. He pulled the pin on the first, yelled, “Grenade,” and hurled it. He grabbed the second and threw it too, then clutched his rifle.

  There was a muted explosion then another. Lodmont didn’t move. Jimmy kicked him, “Now.�
� They both went up. Jimmy fired at movement in the weeds. He saw a hand fly up and he fired toward it but saw something arcing their way. “Grenade, down!”

  Lodmont had just gotten into firing position. He pulled the trigger twice before the German stick grenade exploded only feet away. His helmet flew off and he was flung backward, slamming into the back wall. Jimmy had his back against the front wall. He saw Lodmont’s shocked, white face and thought he was seeing his last moments on Earth.

  Jimmy lunged forward and clutched his shoulders and shook him. “Dammit.” Lodmont’s eyes focused on Jimmy’s face and Jimmy saw sudden recognition. “You okay?” he asked while scanning his body for wounds. Lodmont’s forehead was bleeding excessively but when Jimmy ran his thumb across the source, he guffawed. “You’re one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Mini. Just a scratch.”

  He heard another explosion and came up with his rifle ready. He saw shapes rushing the side of the machine-gun crew, which looked to be reeling from a grenade attack.

  Jimmy fired walking his rounds through the Germans, knocking down all three. The machine-gun wasn’t firing, the barrel aiming to the sky. “Machine-gun’s knocked out. We gotta get up there or they’ll roll right through us.” Lodmont still looked woozy, his eyes unfocused. Jimmy clutched a wad of his coat and lifted him off the ground, thrusting him toward the lip of the hole. “Move!”

  They ran for the machine-gun nest. Bullets snapped and buzzed past them, thick as hornets. Jimmy dove and his shoulder slammed into the dirt berm. He quickly got to his knees and surveyed the scene. Two of the three soldiers from the Bridge Defense Brigade were obviously dead, their bodies torn and their eyes staring. The third was writhing back and forth, his hands covering his face. He grunted and moaned in pain.

  Lodmont rolled into the hole, his eyes bugging out. He kept muttering over and over, “holyshit, holyshit, holyshit.”