Screaming Eagles

^THIRTY-FIVE COLEY

“This is not right,” von Boeselager said as they broke the line of trees.

“Sheeeeyit,” one of the men from another jeep called. “Ain’t nothing been right in days. I should be relaxing in a barracks right now and watching the same movie I’ve seen six times. I read a tourist brochure that said this was the perfect location for winter sports. Worst sports I’ve ever seen.”

Since yesterday morning, Lieutenant Coley had been in a bad spot, but he’d known what to do. He’d trained for months before being deployed to the Europe. Now, though, he was caught behind enemy lines and facing an overwhelming force.

Not to mention, he had German POWs in the jeeps and he had no idea where to take them. He wished the radios hadn’t been left in their haste to escape and the one that had been shot all to hell and was completely inoperable.

Some of the Krauts turned to investigate the sound of the jeeps. White eyes focused on the Americans. A few turned to engage, but they carried no weapons. A group peeled away from the mass of men and moved at a fast clip toward them, weapons lowered, dickhead helmets firmly over heads. Clothing covered in mud, blood, and filth.

“Sir?” Tramble said.

“Goddamn, that’s a lot of enemies,” Coley said. “Let’s get the jeeps turned around and back into the woods. We’ll lose them.”

“Lieutenant,” Owen called from the jeep behind his. “That’s Bastogne, and our guys are dug in around it.”

Three of his men hopped down from the jeeps and opened up on a squad of Germans that had taken an interest in them. They used the jeep for cover, and dropped Krauts with careful fire.

Coley dug out his binoculars and found an emplacement with men looking back toward him. They had a machine gun squad pouring lead into a mass of Germans. If he could get the men around this mess, he’d be able to come up on their right flank and offer assistance.

“Tramble. See that road that leads back into the woods?” Coley pointed to the east.

“Not much of a road,” Tramble confirmed. “More like a trail.”

“Let’s make for it, and then we’ll cut out of the woods. In a few minutes we’ll be able to break free of the trees and close in on the city.”

“You got it, sir,” Tramble said, and dropped the jeep into gear.

Men hopped back into their jeeps and followed.

They ran into a clump of Germans a few minutes later, and drove around them. One of the men lowered a submachine gun and opened up, but his shots were way off target. Jones shot the man, and hit him in the midsection. The German sat down, but then struggled back to his feet.

Von Boeselager said something in German that sounded like his mother would box his ears if she’d heard him.

They wove around the Krauts, but they were now off the little trail. Tramble had to slow down to a crawl and pick out sections of snow-laden trees to drive between. He got them stuck once, and they lost a precious minute backing up out of a bowl and finding a new path.

The edge of the trees was ahead, but the space between a pair of towering pines was too small. Tramble swerved to the right and hit a massive copse of blackberry bushes. The jeep ripped free and they carved a path, but not before Coley got one of his gloves nearly ripped off by a prickly thorn. He fought the brush and managed to get loose.

Clear ground lay ahead, but there were a number of Germans in the way. They’d assembled around a piece of mortar equipment, but they weren’t manning it. The series of tubes lay cold on the ground, but the Krauts seemed unable to figure out how to fire.

Von Boeselager shouted something in German. The men turned, and Coley shot one in the face. As they broke free of the forest, they swerved around the emplacement. One of the men in the jeep behind them tossed a grenade at the mortar crew and blew a hole in their ranks.

They were a quarter mile from the Allies, and with the exception of the harsh terrain, the path was clear.

Tramble pushed the jeep up to speed until they came into view of the town through the mist.

“We’re gonna make it, sir,” Tramble shouted over the roar of the engines.

Then he slumped in the seat, and the jeep tipped to the side as the Corporal fell across the steering wheel.

“Goddamnit!” Coley flew out of the jeep and landed against a clump of ground and snow. The breath left his body and he saw stars.

Von Boeselager fell next to him, and the two men stared at each other as Coley’s gun landed between them. The German soldier pushed the gun toward Coley, then put his hands close to his body.

The German wasn’t the problem. One of the men from their own line had shot Tramble through the chest.