Post by borderregt on Aug 24, 2007 8:36:03 GMT -5
(I was bored this morning....)
The young lieutenant scrambled through the shallow trench hacked into the rocky Italian soil. This scrape in the ground represented the allied front line in “Hitlers soft underbelly”, anything beyond that was “smiling Alberts” Gustav Line. The early morning wind carried with it the faint scent of decay and defecation that was associated with over two years of bloody Stalemate. He made his way towards, where he was told, Charlie Companies command post was. This was to be his first command, fresh out of ROTC at Penn State and he had been given a whole company…he felt like he could take on the whole German Army himself.
He came out of one of the communication trenches, to his left he could see a bunker, built of stone and debris, he could hear movement from within. He slowly raised his Carbine to his shoulder, in a loud whisper he said “ Gunpowder”, this was the password he had been given, he waited for the countersign “ Dupont”…but none came. His heart raced, he could hear his pulse in his ears as he reached down slowly with his left hand and pulled a grenade from his belt. “I said Gunpowder!!” he demanded, a little louder as he prepared to toss his egg. “ Go to hell mac!! We’re in the middle of breakfast here…come back latter if you want to play war” was the muffled reply from within the tomb like structure.
The young officer was stunned. The voice was undeniably American but had not given him the countersign…what should he do? With grenade and carbine clutched in his Adrenalin powered hands he crept forward. He tried to remember everything he had learned during his training at Fort Dix but still felt he was forgetting something.
He arrived at the tattered blanket that acted like a doorway to the bunker, slowly, with the barrel of his carbine he pulled it open. The overwhelming stench of filth, coffee and rotten food came wafting out from the opening, he had to fight back the urge to wretch. With all the courage he could muster he sprung into the room within, Carbine and Grenade ready…but he was oddly not prepared for the sight before him.
There on the floor beneath a 30 caliber that pointed out towards the enemy, sat what could have been at one time, two GI’s…he wasn’t really sure. They were bundled in blankets, scarves were tied around their filthy heads, their unshaved faces were covered with grime…a fine mixture of cordite, dust and sweat, One wore a Jump boot on one foot and a combat boot on the other, their equipment seemed to be a staggering array of every item available in the quartermasters catalog dating back to WWI. One wore a helmet with the word “Ouch” painted on it and a arrow pointing to a shrapnel hole in it, the other, a tattered Jeep cap. The only things that came close to being “clean” around them were a T-20 ( clip feed M1) rifle and a BAR.
The two men sat with a carbon scored army stove between them, on which sat what appeared to be a mess tin half full of bubbling coffee. Around them were strewn piles of spent casings, old K-rat cans and empty cloth ammo belts, grenade pin chains held up what could have once been a Field phone but now resembled a evil experiment by Ma Bell it had been rewired so many times.
“ Good morning” Said one of the men, as they looked at the officer in disbelief. “..Sir” said the other like he had finally remembered the punctuation at the end of the others sentence. Before them was a clean faced boy, his 43 pattern uniform still had its shiny finish, his web gear was dark green and un-faded, his combat boots were still relatively free of dirt and his eyes free of the “Gustav Gaze”.
“ Morning Soldier…” The officer said as he deepened his voice in a attempt to sound older. “why didn’t you give the counter sign? I could have been a German” he chastised the two Dog faces. The two men Nonchalantly looked at each other and one said “ How would they have known the pass word?” The officer tried to recover from his surprise “ I mean…I could have thought you were Germans and thrown a grenade in”. The two GI’s looked at each other confused “ Now…why wouldn’t a German had tossed a Grenade at you when you started shouting pass words and such?” the other added “Sir”. Giving in the officer said “Never mind….Where is Charlie Company CP?” he asked. One of the me smiled “ This here is it…in fact for ease of book keeping, this here is Charlie company” he said motioning to himself and the other soldier “ Im the Left flank…and Bill…he’s the Right, now we do have a reserve…that’s the Rat named Greg that lives in the old Mortar pit, but his attitude has proven bad for morale so we put in transfer papers for him.” The other muttered “ Little Defeatist SOB”.
The Officer felt as if he was going to faint…his head swam as he tried to grasp what he was being told. “My Company consists of two men?” he asked himself out loud. “Yes Sir…We probably have a few back at the Hospital….if such a fanciful place actually exists…Bill says it does” bill answered simply “ I’m a cup half full kinda guy…sir”. The other continued “ We got this here 30 Cal, and even have a 60mm mortar back in the Mortar pit. Bill here has taken the joint role as Company Medic…” “ I use a mixture of positive thought and ancient Mayan healing magic…Sir” Bill said, not looking up from his coffee.
The young man slowly slid down the bunker wall till he was sitting with the men…his mouth hung open in disbelief. “ Better give him some coffee Frank…looks like he’s just got his first taste of the Gustav” bill said as the other man handed the officer a tattered canteen cup of steaming brown liquid. The boy sip it slowly…it tasted horrible…but it helped. “ What do we do if the krauts attack?” he ask anxiously. The two older men looked at each other in confusion, then frank stood up and moved to the firing slit, “ Hey Han’s” he shouted. “ Gut Morning Frank” came a heavily accented answer from a distance off …again the officers mouth dropped open. “Hey are you guys attacking today?” frank asked…there was a pause then “ Nein…I don’t think so, but we’ll be firing off der Spandau around noon to burn up some ammo” “Thanks…Hows Kurts foot?” the disheveled GI asked “ Much better…thanks for the Cigarettes by the way” “ No problem…talk to ya latter you Kraut bastard” “good day American dog!” and with that he slid back into his seat “ See that sir, looks like you have a easy first day” “ barring any noise from the Artillery, the Air force or the odd walking corpse” Bill added.
For the first time since starting up into the mountains, the Youth felt unsure, he felt lost. All those days in the class room, all that time at Fort Dix, nothing prepared him for this. He pushed his helmet back on his head and asked “What do we do?”. The two men looked at each other, Franks unshaven grime covered face softened as he said “ We try not to die son…we try not to die"
The young lieutenant scrambled through the shallow trench hacked into the rocky Italian soil. This scrape in the ground represented the allied front line in “Hitlers soft underbelly”, anything beyond that was “smiling Alberts” Gustav Line. The early morning wind carried with it the faint scent of decay and defecation that was associated with over two years of bloody Stalemate. He made his way towards, where he was told, Charlie Companies command post was. This was to be his first command, fresh out of ROTC at Penn State and he had been given a whole company…he felt like he could take on the whole German Army himself.
He came out of one of the communication trenches, to his left he could see a bunker, built of stone and debris, he could hear movement from within. He slowly raised his Carbine to his shoulder, in a loud whisper he said “ Gunpowder”, this was the password he had been given, he waited for the countersign “ Dupont”…but none came. His heart raced, he could hear his pulse in his ears as he reached down slowly with his left hand and pulled a grenade from his belt. “I said Gunpowder!!” he demanded, a little louder as he prepared to toss his egg. “ Go to hell mac!! We’re in the middle of breakfast here…come back latter if you want to play war” was the muffled reply from within the tomb like structure.
The young officer was stunned. The voice was undeniably American but had not given him the countersign…what should he do? With grenade and carbine clutched in his Adrenalin powered hands he crept forward. He tried to remember everything he had learned during his training at Fort Dix but still felt he was forgetting something.
He arrived at the tattered blanket that acted like a doorway to the bunker, slowly, with the barrel of his carbine he pulled it open. The overwhelming stench of filth, coffee and rotten food came wafting out from the opening, he had to fight back the urge to wretch. With all the courage he could muster he sprung into the room within, Carbine and Grenade ready…but he was oddly not prepared for the sight before him.
There on the floor beneath a 30 caliber that pointed out towards the enemy, sat what could have been at one time, two GI’s…he wasn’t really sure. They were bundled in blankets, scarves were tied around their filthy heads, their unshaved faces were covered with grime…a fine mixture of cordite, dust and sweat, One wore a Jump boot on one foot and a combat boot on the other, their equipment seemed to be a staggering array of every item available in the quartermasters catalog dating back to WWI. One wore a helmet with the word “Ouch” painted on it and a arrow pointing to a shrapnel hole in it, the other, a tattered Jeep cap. The only things that came close to being “clean” around them were a T-20 ( clip feed M1) rifle and a BAR.
The two men sat with a carbon scored army stove between them, on which sat what appeared to be a mess tin half full of bubbling coffee. Around them were strewn piles of spent casings, old K-rat cans and empty cloth ammo belts, grenade pin chains held up what could have once been a Field phone but now resembled a evil experiment by Ma Bell it had been rewired so many times.
“ Good morning” Said one of the men, as they looked at the officer in disbelief. “..Sir” said the other like he had finally remembered the punctuation at the end of the others sentence. Before them was a clean faced boy, his 43 pattern uniform still had its shiny finish, his web gear was dark green and un-faded, his combat boots were still relatively free of dirt and his eyes free of the “Gustav Gaze”.
“ Morning Soldier…” The officer said as he deepened his voice in a attempt to sound older. “why didn’t you give the counter sign? I could have been a German” he chastised the two Dog faces. The two men Nonchalantly looked at each other and one said “ How would they have known the pass word?” The officer tried to recover from his surprise “ I mean…I could have thought you were Germans and thrown a grenade in”. The two GI’s looked at each other confused “ Now…why wouldn’t a German had tossed a Grenade at you when you started shouting pass words and such?” the other added “Sir”. Giving in the officer said “Never mind….Where is Charlie Company CP?” he asked. One of the me smiled “ This here is it…in fact for ease of book keeping, this here is Charlie company” he said motioning to himself and the other soldier “ Im the Left flank…and Bill…he’s the Right, now we do have a reserve…that’s the Rat named Greg that lives in the old Mortar pit, but his attitude has proven bad for morale so we put in transfer papers for him.” The other muttered “ Little Defeatist SOB”.
The Officer felt as if he was going to faint…his head swam as he tried to grasp what he was being told. “My Company consists of two men?” he asked himself out loud. “Yes Sir…We probably have a few back at the Hospital….if such a fanciful place actually exists…Bill says it does” bill answered simply “ I’m a cup half full kinda guy…sir”. The other continued “ We got this here 30 Cal, and even have a 60mm mortar back in the Mortar pit. Bill here has taken the joint role as Company Medic…” “ I use a mixture of positive thought and ancient Mayan healing magic…Sir” Bill said, not looking up from his coffee.
The young man slowly slid down the bunker wall till he was sitting with the men…his mouth hung open in disbelief. “ Better give him some coffee Frank…looks like he’s just got his first taste of the Gustav” bill said as the other man handed the officer a tattered canteen cup of steaming brown liquid. The boy sip it slowly…it tasted horrible…but it helped. “ What do we do if the krauts attack?” he ask anxiously. The two older men looked at each other in confusion, then frank stood up and moved to the firing slit, “ Hey Han’s” he shouted. “ Gut Morning Frank” came a heavily accented answer from a distance off …again the officers mouth dropped open. “Hey are you guys attacking today?” frank asked…there was a pause then “ Nein…I don’t think so, but we’ll be firing off der Spandau around noon to burn up some ammo” “Thanks…Hows Kurts foot?” the disheveled GI asked “ Much better…thanks for the Cigarettes by the way” “ No problem…talk to ya latter you Kraut bastard” “good day American dog!” and with that he slid back into his seat “ See that sir, looks like you have a easy first day” “ barring any noise from the Artillery, the Air force or the odd walking corpse” Bill added.
For the first time since starting up into the mountains, the Youth felt unsure, he felt lost. All those days in the class room, all that time at Fort Dix, nothing prepared him for this. He pushed his helmet back on his head and asked “What do we do?”. The two men looked at each other, Franks unshaven grime covered face softened as he said “ We try not to die son…we try not to die"
