by Alexa Kang
Battling loneliness day after day was a tough fight in and of itself. How he wished Tessa was here.
An unexpected knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."
Edmond Ferris nudged the door open. He looked unusually nervous. "Captain…"
Anthony sat up. "Yes?"
"I should report this to my squad leader, but I'm afraid…"
"Afraid of what?"
"It's Percy. He shot himself in the foot."
Percy Ross. The replacement who had joined his company the same time as Ed.
Great, Anthony thought. Just what he needed right now. Cowardly quitters choosing to bow out without carrying their share. Still, he wanted to give the boy the benefit of the doubt and make sure. "Was it an accident?"
"Acci… An accident?" Edmond asked, as though he had never thought of this.
Anthony looked pointedly at him, waiting for his answer.
"Yes, sir. It was an accident."
Anthony scowled, but decided to give Edmond another chance to come clean. "Ed. I'm asking you again. Was it an accident?"
Ed hunched his shoulders. "No, Captain. It wasn't an accident."
Anthony let out a heavy sigh. Ed stole a glance at him. "Anthony?"
"Where is he?" Anthony asked.
"In our foxhole. At the back of the house next to the pile of farm equipment."
Exasperated, Anthony put his boots back on. Army or not, Ed had come to him. He couldn't refuse to help someone he knew from back home. "Go find Lieutenant Garland and meet me there."
Ed went away in relief.
Drawing on his last bit of energy, Anthony went outside to the foxhole shared by Ed and Percy. At the bottom of the dugout, Percy cowered on the ground. Blood trickled out of the bullet hole at the toe of his left boot. When he saw Anthony, his whimpers grew louder.
Anthony crouched down at the top of the foxhole. "You know there will be a penalty for this," he said to Percy, not to scare him, only to tell him the fact.
Ed and Jesse arrived. Jesse took one look at Percy. Like Anthony, he showed no sympathy. He jumped into the foxhole and grabbed Percy by the ankle. Percy bawled out.
"Hold still and be quiet," Jesse said, but Percy would not stop crying.
Ignoring Percy, Anthony asked Jesse, "You'll handle it from here?"
"Sure."
"Get him back to the hospital as quickly as you can. Take a driver but keep this quiet. We don't need anyone else getting the same idea."
"Got it."
Anthony stood up, ready to leave, except that Jesse was staring oddly at him. He couldn't make out why Jesse was staring at him this way. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. Everything's fine." Jesse returned to the task of fixing up Percy.
Anthony started to walk away, but Percy cried out to him. "Captain! I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I can't be here. I don't want to be here. I don't want to fight a war."
Without answering Percy's cries, Anthony walked on. Of course the boy didn't want to be here. Anthony didn't want to be here either. Neither did the wounded soldier they had left behind in the woods, nor the young private who had run out to try to save him but was shot dead himself.
There was nothing Anthony could do for any of them. The only thing he could do, that he did do, was to order his men to leave the wounded soldier and the dead private behind. It was a decision he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
More than a week into the battle, the siege in Montélimar had done nothing except to bring both sides into a stalemate. From the reports Anthony had received, the 36th Division was bombarding the city with everything they had. The Germans, though, refused to let up. The enemy had increased their counter-offensive. More Panzer divisions had come to reinforce the fight. On the outskirts of the city, where the Orion strike team was positioned, Anthony could hear fierce explosions and gunfire going off at all hours.
To secure a victory, the Allied command had decided to send the Third Division here to join up with the 36th. Orion's mission was temporarily put on hold. The command had directed the strike team to rejoin their company to engage in the continual assault on Montélimar. When Warren and Lt. Dennison arrived with their unit, Anthony was glad to see their familiar faces. From what Anthony had heard, Dennison had been doing a fine job leading their company while Anthony pursued Klaus.
Warren also brought with him good news. "The 36th broke the Krauts' perimeters. They're trying to trap the Germans inside the city. Won't be easy though. The Krauts will do everything they can to keep a route clear for evacuation."
"Any news on Klaus's whereabouts?" Anthony asked.
"We got it from the Y-service he's in charge over on the north side of the city."
"That makes sense," Dennison said. "The north's where they're trying to maintain their escape routes."
"Yep." Warren opened a map and pointed to Crest, a small town north of Montélimar. "There's a stronghold of Panzer units right here. If Klaus wants to get away, he can go here for backup."
"We'll have to capture him before he makes his way there then," Anthony said.
"If we can capture him, he'll be a goldmine of intel." Warren's eyes gleamed with excitement at the thought. "But your priority now is to lead your unit to join the attack. Command is very clear on that."
"We'll do both," Anthony said. "Whatever it takes." He wasn't trying to talk big either. Since the Orion mission began, the Amerika Bomber report was always on his mind. The more the Allies pushed ahead, the more desperate the Germans would become. There was no telling what they would do if they were pushed to the brink. In the worst case scenario, Hitler might set off his long-range bombs. As long as Klaus was at large, the risk of a disastrous attack on the American homeland would continue to exist. If that happened, Anthony didn't know how he could live with himself.
The next day, Anthony set off toward Montélimar with his company at dawn. Their order was to lead the reinforcement of Third Division tanks and artillery units into the city to link up with the 36th Battalion. As they approached the city, they came upon a scattered group of 36th Division soldiers attempting to hold a blockade against the German troops striking out from inside the city's walls. The blockade was faltering. Enemy shells pounded and smashed against them, setting their light tanks and armored cars on fire. The unit's own self-propelled guns, whatever was left of them, could not match the German Panzers.
As soon as Anthony and his company were within range, a runner from the group under attack ran up to his jeep. "We're collapsing, sir. Our infantry platoons are wiped out. The engineers battalion's fighting in their place. We can't hold much longer."
Anthony surveyed the scene ahead. He hadn't expected to engage in a battle here, nor was he prepared to have to take on tactical command. His original order was only to act as the highest ranking officer to bring reinforcements to the 36th battalion command. Now, he had to make a call.
Next to him, Jonesy said, "We got enough men and weapons to take the Krauts out."
Anthony agreed. "Go back and tell your units we're taking over from here," he said to the runner.
"Yes, sir." The man took off in a hurry.
After he left, Anthony said to the radio operator riding with him. "Tell Dennison to pull all units into position. We're going in."
"Yes, sir."
Accompanied by the Sherman tanks, Anthony commanded their units to move forward. The Germans were putting up a good fight, but he felt confident their own troops could overpower them. Surveying the grounds, he shouted orders to his troops, passing on observations to the armored units and guiding them through the radio operator to forge ahead. The might of American weapons gave them the edge. Their arrival brought on a storm of gunfire and bullets that their enemy could not defend against. In short order, the German forces disintegrated. Everything was looking good.
"Captain," the radio operator shouted, relaying the information given from the troops ahead of them. "They've got hostages!"
"Hostages?" Anthony asked. That was bad. The Germans must have captured the locals in the city. "Civilians?"
"No, sir. Our own men."
Alarmed, Anthony stood up from his seat and looked ahead with his binoculars. Two Panzers emerged to meet them head on. The Panzer that was leading the way had three American soldiers tied to the front. The enemy was using their American POWs as human shields.
Damned Krauts! Anthony winced. This was low.
"Captain?" The radio operator asked. "What now?"
Angry, Anthony continued to stare into his binoculars.
"Captain!" The radio operator urged him again. "The tank units asked what you want to do."
He lowered his binoculars. Sweat dripped from his head inside his helmet.
"What's your call, Captain?" Jonesy asked. "We can't retreat now."
Jonesy was right. Any hesitation, and the Germans might find an opening to inflict more casualties on them.
Without taking his eyes off the men tied to the Panzer, he said, "Tell them to fire." The words came out of his mouth like dead weight.
The radio operator began to transmit the order.
"Tell them to aim as low as they can," Anthony added, his voice lame and feeble. He could hardly convince himself that the attempt to avoid hitting the victims would work.
Next to him, Jonesy turned his head, unable to look.
Boom! A shell struck the Panzer, annihilating the enemy along with the American soldiers set up to be killed. Out of respect, Anthony kept his eyes on the three men he had chosen to sacrifice. At the least, he should bear witness to the consequences of his order.
Sorry. He said over and over again in his head. I'm so sorry. He wanted to throw up.
The battle raged on, leaving behind all those who did not survive. Eventually, the American units pushed the Germans back, forcing them to retreat while the reinforcements Anthony had brought rolled into the city. As he passed the disabled Panzers, he saw the bodies of the American POWs who were killed at his order laid limply on the enemy tank. He felt his center had turned into a sinking hole. He had told the tankers to aim low, but…those men didn't stand a chance.
Inside Montélimar, the entire city was burning.
Bombs and grenades exploded left and right. The sounds of explosions mixed with the haze of smoke, filling the city with a miasma of darkness. Mounds of debris on the ground burned in flames, unleashing fumes that stung Anthony's eyes. The heat of fire everywhere oppressed him. The ghosts of the men killed at his command smothered him.
Carcasses of dead horses littered the streets along with blackened human corpses. For all the death and destruction he had already seen, Anthony still could not numb himself to the casualties. The smell of charred skin, singed hair, and burnt flesh nauseated him.
Everywhere, vehicles were burning. Buildings were burning. The train station was burning. Montélimar was a boiling inferno.
When the battle finally ended and the Germans made their retreat, Anthony felt as if the battle had not only wrecked the city, but also his soul. Early on when he joined the war, he had resolved to do everything he could to protect his men. As he rose in rank, he thought he would be in an even better position to save them from harm. That had not been the case. The more power he had, the more often he had to give them up for sacrifice. He loathed this burden. By what authority was he empowered to determine any man's fate? What right did he have to decide who lived and who died?
He watched the American troops march the captured German soldiers away. When this war was over, if the Allies could claim victory as they did here today, surely the world would deem his actions justified. His own conscience, however, was another matter. From whom could he seek forgiveness? Not the wounded soldier he had left behind in the forest, nor the private who had run out to save him. Not the soldiers who the Germans had tied to the Panzer to use as human shields.
He reached his hand up to touch Tessa's cross. His cross. The burden of the cross had never felt heavier.
"Captain!" Fox, the young sharpshooter from his company, came up to him. "We found Klaus! First Sergeant Jones found the Kraut's HQ. Klaus got away, but we know where he went."
Quickly, Anthony switched his thoughts to focus on the task at hand. "Good. Gather the strike team and tell Lieutenant Dennison we're taking off. Tell them Orion is on."
16
Down the road away from Montélimar, Anthony led his squad toward the small town of Crest. The rest of the Orion strike team followed. By now, Warren, too, had joined them. This was the only road between Montélimar and Crest. If they moved fast enough, they might be able to capture Klaus before he reached his reinforcements.
"If the Y-service reports are correct," Warren said as they sped along, "Klaus is looking to gather the Panzer units at Crest and push on to Lyon. The German command wants him to join and direct the German forces there."
"Too bad for them," Anthony said. "He's not going to make it to Lyon." He looked directly at Warren. "We'll get him."
Anthony wasn't boasting. When Klaus left Montélimar, he had taken a route separate from the rest of the Germans in retreat. With his stealthy escape, he likely believed he had gotten away from the Americans. As far as he knew, the Americans had diverted all their attention to pursue the troops he had left behind. If he was under a false sense of security, the Orion strike team would have a better chance of catching him by surprise. The only thing that worried Anthony was the time. It was late afternoon already. They only had a few more hours before it would get dark. If they failed to find Klaus before evening set in, he could escape in the dark.
Just as Anthony thought, Klaus had let his guard down. The strike team's forward squad reported that Klaus and his men had stopped at a farmhouse. Losing no time, Anthony organized his troops for a raid. This was the closest they had come to achieving their mission. They could not make any mistakes.
The troops of the strike team surrounded the house, rotating in groups as they moved closer. Anthony watched. Why weren't there any Germans on guard outside the house? Did Klaus know they were here? Were he and his men watching them from inside the house? Something didn't feel right. Anthony took a deep breath. Gunfire could go off any minute.
To his surprise, a large sheet of white cloth dropped from the farmhouse's second story window.
"They're surrendering?" Anthony asked in disbelief.
"Without even a fight," Warren said. "I can't believe it."
"Could be a ruse."
The strike team halted. Wary of the enemy's intentions, Anthony watched for Klaus's next move. The door of the farmhouse opened. A lone German soldier walked out, holding a white flag. He held his other arm in the air. Jonesy, Fox, and Edmond, who were closest to him, quickly moved in and captured him. One by one, the German troops exited the house, surrendering with their arms in the air.
"Let's see what's going on." Anthony walked toward them. Warren followed.
The last man to exit was Major Heinrich Klaus, the man they had been after. Unlike the German soldiers under him, he walked out of the house with his arms by his side. Fearing he might be armed, Fox and Jonesy raised their rifles at him, as did the other strike team members behind them. Their hostile reaction did not faze Klaus. Calm and composed, he walked toward Anthony, looking neither nervous nor defeated.
"Keine Bewegung!" Jonesy shouted to stop him from getting too close to Anthony. "Hände hoch!"
Klaus glanced at Jonesy, then spoke to him in English in the voice of a superior. "Is this how you talk to a high command officer? Don't worry. I'm unarmed." He opened his palms to show he was not holding any weapons. Jonesy and the other soldiers, however, would not lower their guns.
Klaus ignored them and said to Anthony. "Captain Ardley. Pleasure to finally meet you."
The German's greeting caught Anthony off guard. He did not expect Klaus to know who he was.
"I know you've been after me for some time now, Captain Ardley," Klaus said.
Not wanting to let on w
hat he didn't know, Anthony kept his face blank.
"You have your intelligence, and I have mine," Klaus explained anyway. Anthony's attempt to hide his surprise didn't fool him.
"We have to take you in," Anthony said.
"Of course you do. You've captured me. At the rate we're going, your team would have caught us before we could get away." He looked around at the Orion strike team soldiers surrounding the house. "We're outmanned and outgunned. It's better this way, don't you think? No need for unnecessary bloodshed. I don't want my men to die any more than you want yours to. Isn't that right?"
Anthony wouldn't answer, but Klaus was unnerving him. He needed to do something to stop Klaus from playing mind games with him. He eyed Jonesy to signal him to frisk their prized prisoner. Jonesy got the order and began searching Klaus's body up and down.
Klaus scowled, his face indignant. "Respect is a two-way street, Captain Ardley. I'm sure you're aware of that. You treat our officers well, we'll treat yours well if you are ever captured." He looked Anthony in the eye. "Just remember that."
Not wanting to engage him, Anthony refused to respond.
"He's unarmed," Jonesy said.
Relieved, Anthony sized up the rest of the German prisoners in their custody. They numbered about fifteen men. What should he do with them? Should he take them back to Montélimar now? Or should he ask command in Montélimar to send more troops to guard them on their way back?
The sky dimmed. Night was falling.
"Captain," Warren said to Anthony. "Can we speak?"
Anthony walked with Warren farther away from the prisoners and the strike team.
"We need to find out everything Klaus knows as soon as possible," Warren said. "He might have vital information about the German troops' next move. Let's get him back to command before the Germans find out we've got him."