Screaming Eagles

^FORTY-FIVE GRAVES

The half-track covered the retreating Allies. Gabby roared with anger as he laid down fire. They’d become trapped in a tiny alley with barely enough room to clear either side. But they slowed to a crawl, to effect a moving roadblock. The bastards kept on coming, no matter how many bullets he shot.

Murph had argued that he was a tank driver and should be in the driver seat. Gabby had said, “All yours. I’ll go shoot Krauts. Pain in the ass driving with the steering wheel on the wrong side, anyway.”

The men had swapped positions, and Gabby had been true to his word. He unleashed wave after wave of German lead back at the pursuing forces.

With boxes of ammo and weapons left by the Germans, they were able to provide a safe retreat. Villagers joined the army and moved among them, but never at a fast enough pace. They carried suitcases and boxes of belongings. Many clutched children close. An elderly couple tossed aside their items and insisted on holding hands as they wove among the refugees.

“This is so FUBAR, Staff Sergeant,” Gabby said as he reloaded the German machine gun with the last of the ammo.

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” Graves said.

“What about Big Texas? We left his body back there,” Gabby said.

“We can’t do anything about it now,” Graves said.

“I know. Just a shame. Should have kept him in the half-track with us. We’d have taken care of him as soon as we were safe.”

“If we manage to find a safe place, I’ll say a prayer for him. Right now I’m busy praying for us,” Graves said grimly.