by J. F. Holmes
The giant roared and slammed down his other foot, stamping on Thorson’s combat boot, crushing the bones underneath. The world turned grey, but he swung again, this time delivering a cut that spilled a loop of entrail. Then he rolled to one side as the bellowing troll turned and swung at him, getting up on one knee and holding the blade in front of him.
“WARRIOR!” bellowed the troll in Norse, and somehow Sven understood him. “I shall rip your head from your worthless carcass!”
“Rassragr,” he replied calmly, insulting it again despite the screaming pain, “come take it!” He took a step back, held the machete over his shoulder like a baseball bat, and prepared to take the thing’s full charge.
****
“Goddamn, that kid has some balls,” muttered Gunny McCoy from thirty yards away.
“No shit,” replied Miller, but he’d seen what the steel machete had done. A line of black blood mixed with the dark coppery red on the bridge, and he could see it favoring one leg. “Cold steel,” he muttered to himself, then shouted, “FIX BAYONETS!”
At that moment, the German half-track opened up from its position on the ridge above the far side of the bridge, scattering machine gun rounds in a long burst. Miller fell, shot through the stomach as he worked to place the bayonet on the end of his Garand. McCoy fired back, uselessly, and dove behind a large stone. Seeing Miller down, he cursed and darted back out, grabbing the officer by his combat harness, and pulling him behind the outcrop. He looked around, and saw the rest of the Marines were pinned down, one lying lifelessly in the dirt. He heard the booming of the anti-tank gun firing at the half track, and the ripping, buzzsaw return of MG-42 fire.
****
“A thousand years ago I followed your people from the cold, icy north to this warm, soft land,” said the troll, starring with luminous eyes at the Marine. “This has become my home, and you will destroy MY BRIDGE?” The last was a roar that seemed to echo, even over the gunfire.
“You know, my grandfather told me your people always talked too much,” replied Thorson. As the Fae swung its massive claw at him, he wielded the machete like he was slamming for a home run on the ballfield back in Minnesota. His knife met the outstretched claw and severed it cleanly, the blade shattering into a dozen pieces, and Thorson’s arm went numb.
The troll shrank back, howling and staring at its missing limb. Even as it screamed, a new hand started to bud from the stump. The man made his decision, clawing at the Colt pistol in its shoulder holster. He managed to get it out, cock the hammer, and point it at the now exposed plastic explosives.
“Leave or I blow it to hell!” he yelled in English.
The troll looked at him and stood straight up, a strange look on its ugly face. “Then I shall see you in Valhalla, warrior,” it replied, also in English, and bowed its massive head. “The Germani I will fight after I have defeated you, but even I cannot beat all of their weapons. But I will have my bridge.”
Thorson risked a quick glance behind him and saw three German tanks, sprockets clanking and tracks squealing, moving in a line abreast toward the bridge approach. He looked back at the troll and saw…respect. Then it leaned forward, preparing to charge and grind him into the pavement.
“’Til Valhalla then,” said the Marine. “SEMPER FI!” And he pulled the trigger.
Epilogue 1
Gunny McCoy stood at the edge of the destroyed bridge, looking down at the waters of the river, placid, though dust still filled the air, searching to see if there were any bodies. Behind him the three surviving Task Force men were creating an improvised stretcher for the grievously wounded Captain Miller.
Fifty yards away, across the gap, a black clad figure loomed up, barely visible through the haze. “American!” yelled the Nazi commander, waving a bit of white cloth.
“What the hell do you want, shitbag?” he yelled back.
There was a pause, and then a reply. “Just to see if das Ungeheuer is todt.” In the clearing smoke, McCoy saw the SS officer lean over to look at the water.
“You knew about this? And did nothing?”
“On the contrary, whenever we needed to use this road, we would sacrifice one of these stupid French villagers. A small price to pay, I assure you. And you have but delayed us for only a few hours.”
McCoy said nothing to that, though he was tempted to shoot the man where he stood. Instead he gave him the finger and turned his back on him. The Nazi had to have the last word, though.
“You haven’t seen the last of them, you know! The führer has taken a special interest in the occult, and we shall have more than enough help to throw your mongrel Army back into the—”
McCoy’s bullet caught him in the chest, hurling the black-clad figure backward in a spray of blood. The West Virginian ran like a coal mine was collapsing around him.
“Hey, Gunny,” said Giuliani as the sergeant skidded back behind the rocks around the bend in the road, “what was that all about?”
“Some people talk too much,” he muttered, then said, “Let’s go, Marines! We’ve got miles to cover to get back to the beach, and Uncle Sam ain’t paying you to sit on your asses!”
Congressional Medal of Honor citation
Thorson, Sven Lars
Rank and organization: Private, U.S. Marine Corps, On Detached Duty, Task Force (CLASSIFIED) Operation Overlord.
Place: Normandy, France
Entered service at: Minnesota
Other awards: Purple Heart (posthumous)
Citation: For conspicuous heroism and courage above and beyond the call of duty while attempting to interdict German reinforcements that were maneuvering to attack the Normandy beachhead on June 7th. Private Thorson, along with a handpicked squad of Marines on detached duty to US VII Corps, parachuted behind enemy lines to attempt to destroy an enemy occupied bridge. Facing heavy opposition, Private Thorson, who had moved across the bridge as a reconnaissance element, was cut off from his fellow Marines by enemy counterattack. Despite grievous wounds and the death of his teammate, seeing his fellow Marines pinned down, Private Thorson advanced through heavy enemy machine gun and tank cannon fire and managed to set off previously emplaced explosives. His actions destroyed the bridge and prevented a counterattack by the German Panzer Lehr armor division on the allied beachhead at a critical moment. His superb fighting spirit and personal valor reflect great credit upon Private Thorson and the United States Marine Corps.
TO BE CONTINUED
Joint Task Force 13 is a project of Cannon Publishing. We expect to follow this book up with a half dozen more in 2020, all written experienced authors in many different timeframes.
Jason Cordova
Boneyard
US Navy SEALS engaged in a search for a High Value Target in Africa bite off more than they can chew and the JTF is called out to deal with an overwhelming supernatural horde.
William Roberts
Widowmakers
France in 1944 is a whirling maelstrom of combat and death, and a scratch team of JTF members is called on to defend forward airfields with a motely aircrew.
J.F. Holmes
The Centaur War
A JTF unit disobeys politicians’ orders to rescue a supernatural ally caught in the middle of the Bosnian War of the early 1990’s.
Look for these and many more from Cannon Publishing!
Follow us (and participate in the creation of our authors’ works) at our Fan Group, The Command Post.
Appendix A
Current Organization of Joint Task Force 13
JTF 13 operates in a forward deployed environment, with squads rotating out to areas of operation from Joint Service Bases in Darwin, Okinawa, Stuttgart and Djibouti.
Each platoon is on a three month on, three month off, three month training rotation. Forward deployed platoons are split between bases on Team Atlantic / Team Pacific, but may assemble as needed for larger operations, and training units are on 24/12/3 hour recall in their training cycle.
Training Platoon, Intel and
Logistics are all based out of Quantico, VA.
The Joint Services Liaison Detachment is located in Quantico, but liaisons with all services and intelligence agencies are embedded with those agencies.
JTF 13 falls under Joint Special Operations Command for funding and logistics but is an independent command for tasking.
Appendix B
Personnel
1) Although JTF 13, in all of its various iterations, has been traditionally based around the United States Marine Corps, it also has a long history of admitting military personnel from other branches based on skill sets and needs. This was formalized under the Goldwater–Nichols Department of Defense Reorganization Act of 1986, and JTF members can now be recruited from all branches of service.
2) In order to serve on the JTF, a military member must have had at least one combat encounter with the supernatural on the battlefield. Pre-requisite is an ability to keep their wits when confronted with thing outside normal human experience.
3) JTF personnel go through a vetting process with a line platoon, often moving directly from the incident to work an operational squad. From there, they attend the following schools:
a) JTF Basic integration course (Quantico)
b) US Army Airborne and Air Assault Schools (if not already qualified.)
c) Within 12 months, USMC Sniper School for selected personnel
d) Various other specialty schools as needs and time permit.
4) JTF Officers and NCO’s attend the three month JTF 13 Leadership Level I school at Quantico, and six month the Leader II school within three years.