Screaming Eagles

^FORTY-SEVEN TAYLOR

“You men!” Taylor yelled. “Where’d you get that vehicle?”

The German half-track was a sight that almost sent him diving for cover. But someone had dropped a flag across the front, and there were GIs in the vehicle. They’d been driving down a small road and nearly run into an alley before stopping, backing up, and finding the road again.

“Long story, Captain,” a man carrying a German machine gun said. “I’m Staff Sergeant Graves, formerly a tanker attached to the 37th Tank Division, 4th Armored Division. We got overrun, and had to borrow this beauty.”

“You lost your tank?”

“Like I said, Captain. Long damn story.”

“Save it. I need transport to the southeastern entrance to Bastogne.”

“Hop in, Captain. We’re headed that way,” Graves said.

Taylor and Grillo slid over the back of the half-track and took seats while they made hasty introductions.

“We need to make a stop at the supply depot. I’ll point the way,” Taylor said.

“What about these civilians?” Graves said.

“This mission will save a lot of lives, provided we can get there in time,” Taylor said.

“Hear that, Murph? Got us a mission now.”

Murph grunted, but kept his eyes glued on the advancing horde.