The fighting wore on throughout the day. Piles and piles of enemy bodies made obstacles for the oncoming force, but it barely slowed down the relentless army.
Grillo was relieved when the word came to continue falling back into the city. Villages joined the fight, using whatever weapons they could get their hands on: kitchen knives, shovels, and one burly Belgian swung a sledgehammer left and right as he covered a score of retreating women and children.
He put up a fight, but was eventually taken to the ground. The people he’d been covering ran, but some of them weren’t able to get away.
Grillo and his men fired until they were out of ammo, but it was too late for the women and children. He fought back tears as he was ordered to withdraw. He came across a GI who’d been ripped apart and took the man’s Thompson and his ammo. His new M1 was out of ammo so he left it next to the corpse.
As he dug out a pair of magazines and one grenade, the guy reached for him. The presumably dead GI’s eyes had turned white, and he made a low, keening noise that hissed through his shattered throat. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and turned Grillo’s stomach upside down.
When he’d recovered from vomiting, Pierce and Shaw grabbed his arms and urged him on. Pierce had been limping along, aiding when he could, but his leg was clearly paining him.
Captain Taylor had been conferring with command when he found the remains of Able and Baker companies.
“Grillo. Is it true you’re a combat engineer?”
“Yes sir,” Grillo said. “Orders got fouled up on my way to Europe.”
“Perfect. We need you. As soon as we secure a ride, we’re planning a surprise for the Krauts.”
“Kinda surprise, sir?” Sergeant Pierce asked.
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now, would it? Okay, Corporal Grillo. You’re with me,” Taylor said.
“I’m a Private, sir.”
“Not any more. Field promotion. Congratulations,” Captain Taylor said, then sauntered off.
Grillo fought a smile and followed, but not before he wiped the vomit off his mouth.