My Honor Flight

by McCurrigan, Dan

  “It’s McIntire’s. I’ve got it now.” Duncan opened his coat and tucked away the square.

  Everyone looked dazed. We all fell to the ground, sitting in a big circle around the body. O’Halloran was a good egg, just like the rest of us. To see him lying there, I knew that it could have been any of us. When was it going to be my turn?

  “He was a good man,” said Cap, walking around our circle. “You boys remember him. You remember this moment. Because as sad as it is, a lot more of us are going to end up like O’Halloran. We need to stick together, and fight for each other. No matter how bad it gets, you keep fighting. You don’t give up. Ever!”

  The words felt hollow, like he was scolding us. I didn’t like hearing it. I didn’t like seeing O’Halloran lying there. That could be me. That WOULD be me, soon.

  Cap looked around at us. He didn’t look supportive or understanding. He looked disgusted, frowning and piercing each of us with a hard gaze. “So you boys can sit here crying like schoolchildren,” Cap said in his quiet, calm voice. Then his voice shifted to a loud, angry shout. “Or you can take the hurt to those fucking krauts! Because if you don’t snap out of it and remember your training, you’ll be dead in a few minutes!” We started nodding and looking at each other. We wiped away tears. I felt a hatred well up inside me that I had never felt before. There were men just on the other side of that hill who had killed a friend of mine. And they were going to kill us all, if we didn’t kill them first. It was... animalistic. We heard rustling back in the direction toward the beach, and about a dozen of us swung our guns in that direction. Paul Taylor came running into the hollow, bent over and holding his helmet on.

  “I got them!” he said through gasps. “A full company! Three hundred men!”

  We didn’t cheer or say anything. There was no noise at all, except for the clicking and snapping of our weapons as we pounded in clips and affixed bayonets. We were grim. Some guys’ dirty cheeks were streaked white from where there had been tears. Paul’s smile faded as he looked around at us, then he looked down at O’Halloran’s body. He sagged. He looked at us in bewilderment, like he didn’t recognize us. We had changed. We weren’t scared new soldiers. We wanted to kill.

  The ensuing battle was a blowout. There were some three hundred and thirty of us versus about fifty Germans. The battle only took a few minutes. I killed my first enemy in that battle. About a hundred of us charged out of the hollow while the rest provided cover fire. We charged toward the trees, firing while we ran. I took aim at a German who was lying on the ground, tucked up next to a tree trunk. All I could see was one side of his face, part of his helmet, and his shoulder. My first shot caught him in the shoulder. He collapsed down a little, and that exposed more of his face. I shot him right in the nose. I didn’t throw up that time. I was mad as hell about O’Halloran.

  And then it was over. I didn’t have to take another shot, because we had overwhelmed them so much.

  “Cease fire!” men were calling.

  I stood next to the man I had killed. Curiosity got the best of me. I rolled him over. His dead eyes looked right at me. He was a boy, no older than me. He had sandy hair and bright blue eyes. Cap must have seen me looking at him, and he walked up and stood next to me.

  “He ain’t your friend. He ain’t just like you. He doesn’t have a girlfriend just like you. He isn’t doing what he’s told. He was here to kill you. And if you didn’t kill him, you would be dead. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, but didn’t stop looking into the guy’s eyes. Cap punched me in the shoulder, in a friendly way.

  “Get moving. You don’t need any doubts. And that’s all you’ll get if you think about it. All you need to think about is staying alive. Move.”

  Two men from Buzz Company were wounded bad enough to get pulled from duty. That took us to thirty-two men.

  Chapter 5 - Fight #2

  Our next battle wasn’t so lopsided, and it wasn’t so easy. We worked our way through the country to a pretty good-sized French town. I don’t remember the name of it. But the Germans were holed up tight. Our assignment was to flush them out. They were hunkered down and they had sandbags surrounding the buildings. We didn’t have tanks. So, we’d shoot at them when they looked out their windows. But any time we tried to take shots at them, they’d duck out of sight, and we’d waste our ammo.

  We were getting really pissed off about it. It was one-sided. They had free shots at us, but we couldn’t see them or shoot at them.

  Finally Cap pulled us back around five o’clock in the afternoon. He gave us a mess break and told us to try to get some sleep because we were going to take the town at night. We had a decent meal and lay around trying to get comfortable. But with those long summer days, only a few of us could actually sleep in the evening daylight. A few groups of us got together and quietly played cards. Remember, we’d only been in France for a few days, so we were still green. By the end of our tour, we could sleep on command. But we weren’t battle-hardened yet. I was getting butterflies, just like when I was on the landing craft during D-Day.

  I joined in a game of rummy with Calvin Porter, Tom Duncan, and Mike Franklin. Anything to take my mind off what was coming that night. I think they were nervous because there were no jokes, no chatter. I remember that Duncan looked grim as he stared at his cards. He wasn’t concentrating on the game. He’d just stare off into space, and we’d have to tell him it was his turn every time. I don’t think any of us were paying much attention to the cards. We weren’t playing for money. Finally, Duncan started talking.

  “When do you guys think you’re going to die?” he asked.

  “When I’m a hundred,” said Franklin.

  “We’re not going to make it that long,” Duncan said, shaking his head, “We’re not going to make it at all.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “There’s killing everywhere. Since we landed here, it’s all about killing. It’s not one-sided. They’re going to kill us too.”

  “Nah,” said Porter. “We can take ’em. With our smarts, and our supplies, and a little luck... We can do this.”

  Duncan shook his head. “I don’t like relying on luck just to stay alive. The odds are too stacked against us. We’re not going to make it.”

  It was unusual to hear Duncan talk like that. He was one of the funnest guys in the platoon. With his circus background, he was one of our best entertainers. He told us all the gimmicks in the carnival games, where people would fork over big money to win a doll. He even carried a twenty-foot length so that he could practice his rope walking. He was a lot of fun to watch. But there wasn’t any fun that night.

  “Man, a daredevil like you is scared to die?” asked Porter.

  “It’s all about risk and practice. I can walk a rope between two buildings. Because I’ve done it my whole life. But there is never someone trying to kill me when I’m on the rope. I tell you, the odds are against us here, fellas.”

  We didn’t say anything for a long time. We just sat there and looked down. I couldn’t argue with him. I also started to think this was a suicide run. Us against the whole damn German army. They had the advantage of position, and knowledge of the land. They looked well-supplied. They were meaner than us. It was scary. Any time I thought about it, I just wanted to go hide somewhere. Just curl up in a ball in the woods and hide. I know I wasn’t the only one that felt that way. Despite all of our posturing as being Buzz Company, there were times when guys in the platoon showed their fear. Hell, by the time the war was over, we’d all broken down at one time or another. Nobody made fun of anyone when that happened. We all had doubts and fears, but we didn’t think they were weaknesses. Our claim to fame was that we would go into the battle and get the job done, no matter how bad it was.

  For me, I had a constant weight on my mind that I had to kill other men or be killed by them. And I didn’t like either alternative. All I wanted was to survive until I could go home. Not just me. I wanted all of us to make it. Don’
t get me wrong, I was there to help win the war. It’s like what they say about making sausage—you don’t want to know how it gets done, you just want the end result.

  Cap called everyone together. Each platoon of Buzz Company had a different objective that night. The objectives were far enough apart that we wouldn’t kill each other with friendly fire. Our platoon was going to take a big farm just east of town. There were several buildings, and Command figured that there were probably twenty or more krauts holed up there.

  We left the camp, which was on the west side of town. We had to avoid the town so we didn’t get shot at, so we had to haul ass south, then east, then north. It figured we would have the longest hike! Seems that always happened to us. About a half mile east of town, we spotted a light in the farmhouse. We split up into six groups of about five each. The plan was to form a semicircle in the woods around the farm, and lay into the krauts when we saw their gun flares. Cap gave us specific instructions—do NOT shoot at anything except the buildings, unless you were damn sure that you were shooting at a German.

  It was a mostly cloudy night, so it was pretty dark. We were in heavy woods, so it was even darker. A kraut could walk right up to me and shoot me in the head, and no one would take him out, because people would think it was just me shooting into the farm. I didn’t like this setup one bit. I kept glancing behind me. If I were the krauts, once the fighting started, I’d send a bunch of guys around behind us. It’d be real easy to take us out. This was the only time during the whole war that I thought Cap made a bad call.

  I was crouched down next to Tinpan Jones. I don’t know how Jones got the name Tinpan. I don’t remember his real name. Hell, I don’t think I ever heard his real name. Everyone called him Tinpan, or Tin.

  “This ain’t good,” drawled Tinpan. He was from Oklahoma. “Cain’t see shit. All them damn krauts gotta do is hold their fire. Hell, they could walk right up and git us.”

  I agreed. “Anyone seen Cap?” I whispered as loud as I could.

  “Shh!” came a reply. “Shut the fuck up!”

  “It’s Mackinack. I need to talk to Cap. Pass it on.”

  I heard some whispering, and it worked its way down both sides of the chain. Then I heard some rustling to my left.

  “What the hell is it, Mack?” It was Cap.

  “We don’t like this, Cap—”

  “I don’t give a shit if you like it or not!” he said. “You got something important for me, or are you just wasting my time and risking the lives of everyone here?”

  I’d really pissed him off.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  I hesitated. I was about to tell my CO that I disagreed with him, and I thought I had a better idea. I didn’t know how he would react. But I had been eyeballing the farm yard. There was a good-sized barn on the right, and the house was on the left. There were some smaller outbuildings, but I figured they were too small to hold any Germans. A chicken coop. A tool shed. I think maybe a small barn for sheep or pigs.

  “Me and Tin have been talking here. We can’t see shit. But that means the Germans can’t see shit either. But all they have to do is hold their fire, and we can’t see them.”

  “So?” whispered Cap.

  “So we’re only covering one side of the farm. Those assholes could circle around and get us.”

  Cap didn’t say anything. I couldn’t see his facial expression in the dark.

  “So,” I continued, “I think some of us should take the barn. If we can do that, we got ’em from two sides.”

  Cap was still silent. He was thinking.

  “That’s a good call, Mack,” he said. “Goddamn, you might make Captain someday yourself. Who’s in your group?”

  “Uhh...,” I said, “Uhh, it’s me and Tinpan, Porter, Peters, and Taft.”

  “All right,” said Cap. “You and Torgeson’s group are going to take the barn.”

  I was kicking myself hard. I just volunteered to give up the safety of the woods for a gunfight to get into a secured building. I was silent.

  “You scared?” he asked.

  “Hell yes,” I whispered.

  He leaned close and whispered to me.

  “Good. Then I’ve got the right man in charge.”

  That filled me with pride. Cap was giving me a vote of confidence. But the pride wasn’t enough to overcome the fear.

  “Work your way through the woods, so that the barn is between you and the house. Then real quiet, get across the clearing. I don’t know what’s on that side. You may need to shoot through windows, doors, whatever. But don’t bunch up, and leave Peters and Pearson in the woods. Tell them to snipe anyone in windows until you get in the building. Then they need to hold their fire into the barn. You get me, soldier?”

  “Yes sir,” I said. I was running through the picture of the attack in my head.

  Cap slapped me on the chest and said, “What the hell you waiting for? Get going. We won’t open fire on the house until you start shooting from the barn.”

  “Cap?” I said.

  “What is it?”

  “What if we can’t take the barn?”

  Cap hesitated. “One of three things is going to happen. You’re going to take the barn, you’re going to die trying to take the barn, or you’re going to encounter heavy resistance. If there’s just no way to take the barn, attack from the trees on that side just like we are going to do here. But watch your asses for an attack from the north.”

  “Yes sir,” I said, and turned to leave. He grabbed my arm.

  “Mack,” he said.

  “Yes sir?”

  “There’s a lot of men here. Your plan gives us all a better chance of getting through this night.”

  I swallowed hard. It was bad enough that I’d stumbled into volunteer duty. Now he was putting the weight of the platoon on me.

  Me and Torgeson had the two right-most groups in the trees. So we worked our way around until we were straight east of the barn. We could see the glow of light from two windows, but there were no doors on the east side of the barn. There were only doors on the north and south side. I cussed to myself. That meant we were going to have to expose ourselves to a second side of the barn to get in through a door. Since the house had more visibility to the south side of the barn, we figured we’d take it from the north door. The only thing with visibility to the barn’s north side were the outbuildings, which would be empty.

  Peters and Pearson split up so that they could each have a view of one end of the barn and one of the windows. I felt a lot better having those fellas on my back. They were two of the best shooters I’d ever met. Torgeson’s group was going to approach the barn windows and shoot like hell into the barn. My group was going to swing around to the north door, and catch the krauts in a crossfire. No one was going to enter the barn until both groups yelled that it was clear. Then we’d get in the barn and assess our situation. We figured by the time we got in the barn, we’d be taking heavy fire from the farmhouse, so we’d have to move fast to support the rest of the platoon in the trees.

  We ran out into the clearing and up against the barn wall. The glow of the light from the windows helped, because we could see each other. I saw that Torgeson had men on each window, and they were peering in and then looking at my group. Torgeson caught my attention and signaled with his left hand—five, five, four. There were fourteen men in the barn! I gripped my temples. Jesus Christ, we were eight against fourteen, unless Peters and Pearson could get clear shots. I made a fist and pretended it was like a grenade, pulling the pin with my teeth and throwing it. I held up four fingers. Torgeson understood. I watched as the four men each pulled a grenade. That meant that they would not be firing into the barn right away. And it also meant that if we charged the barn before those grenades blew, we could get hit by friendly fire. I crouched down to the men.

  “They’re throwin’ grenades,” I whispered. “When they blow, we take the door.”

  Jones, Porter, a
nd Taft all looked at me and nodded. Their eyes were wide. Taft’s lip trembled a little. I looked back to Torgeson and made a motion like I was throwing a grenade. He nodded, and looked back into the window. We waited.

  “Now!” called Torgeson. The sound of his voice startled me, because it had been so quiet. I was worried that it would warn the Germans. All four of the men threw grenades, and then ducked below the window sills. But they held their rifles over their heads, shooting blindly into the barn. That was one of the longest ten seconds I had in the war. Even with rifles firing and the Germans yelling in the barn, we waited and waited for those grenades to blow. I heard the Germans calling “Grenate! Grenate!” Then the grenades exploded in short sequence, sounding like one long blast instead of four individual ones.

  “Now!” I yelled over the gunfire. We charged around the barn corner, right into direct gunfire. Guns flared from the outbuildings. They weren’t empty! Bullets ripped the barn boards by my head and stuck splinters in my cheek and neck. Porter fell to the ground.

  “Fall back!” I yelled. We dragged Porter back around the barn’s corner. Taft took a flesh wound to his shoulder.

  I was drenched in sweat and breathing hard, like I’d just got done running a few miles. Like they say in emergencies, everything went into slow motion. I looked at Torgeson’s group at the windows. They still crouched, fanning their rifles over the window sills into the barn, guns flaring like flash bulbs. I panned to the treeline, and could see the gun flares from our snipers. I couldn’t tell where they were shooting. As I continued panning, I looked at the corner of the barn. Pieces of wood were splintering as bullets continued to pound the wood.

  Then I looked down at Porter. He lay on his back, his dead eyes staring up at the sky. He’d been cut down by multiple shots. I thought back to our conversation at the card game only a couple of hours before. And I thought of Duncan saying we were all going to die. Time froze right then as I stared into those dead eyes. It was probably only five seconds, but it felt like an hour. I was in a bubble of silence, oblivious to the world erupting around me. A scream brought me back to the battle. Howie Dale collapsed at one of the windows. The Germans in the barn were shooting through the wooden planks. The rest of Torgeson’s men dived to avoid getting shot through the wood. We were screwed.