Airborne Assault by Nick Ryan

Author:Nick Ryan [Ryan, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

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The tank crew removed the remaining main gun ammunition from the hull of the disabled Abrams and distributed the rounds amongst the surviving seven tanks. Then the small arms, the crew served ammunition, and all the crew served weapons, including the heavy 50cal machine gun, were offloaded before the steel monster was scuttled with a handful of thermite grenades. The paratroopers who had so stoically defended the western crossing re-dug their trenches while boiling black smoke from the burning tank spread across the afternoon sky.

The southern bank of the river was scoured a final time for dead bodies, as men took a long poignant moment to remember their fallen comrades, huddling together in solemn groups to pay their respects.

The paratroopers defending the center bridge helped repair the trench line while engineers filled sandbags to fortify each emplacement. Ammunition taken from the weapons of the dead and injured was shared amongst the survivors as they worked on, ever wary that at any moment a fresh Belarusian attack could come pouring out of the northern outskirts of the city.

Karl Armstrong walked amongst the Sky Soldiers as they dug, stopping to chat quietly with his men. The soldiers worked stripped to their waists, downcast but determined. A pall of quiet despair hung over the riverbank. Every paratrooper had lost a close friend in the fighting, and every man was mourning in their own way.

A Corporal carried a tin mug of steaming coffee across the crater-strewn ground and handed it to the Colonel. “Thought you might like a drink, sir,” the man said. His eyes were red and his face was streaked with sweat and caked with dust. Armstrong accepted the mug and nodded his thanks. The Corporal offered Armstrong a cigarette and then cupped his hand around the flame of a lighter. The two men stared, smoking silently, across the carnage of the battlefield like old friends, rank set aside, bonded in their grief.

“If they come again,” the Corporal drew deeply on his cigarette and filled his lungs, “I reckon I’ll be the first one killed,” he said with bleak fatalism.

Colonel Armstrong blinked. “What makes you say that, son?”

The Corporal shrugged. “It’s my time,” he said. “I should have died during the first attack. Steve Mills took a bullet for me,” his voice wavered suddenly as his composure cracked and his terror came flooding to the surface. “We were in a trench by the river,” his bottom lip trembled. “I’d emptied my mag into a group of enemy soldiers and as I was reloading, one of the fuckers returned fire. Stevie threw himself in front of me – took two rounds in the head. He… he was dead before I could catch his falling body.” The words trailed off into a series of sobbing breaths. Armstrong looked down and saw the Corporal’s hands were caked in dry blood, and there were more spattered stains on his uniform shirt.

The Colonel said nothing. The young Corporal’s shoulders began to heave and the gasp of anguish he had been choking on was suddenly torn from his lips.

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