Bloody Bastogne by Len Levinson

Author:Len Levinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: world war ii, adolf hitler, general patton, gordon davies, len levinson, bastogne, hammerhead division, sergenat cj mahoney
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Ten

The next morning at breakfast, it was as though the events of the night before had never happened. The three of them carried on conversations like civilized, courteous people instead of total sex degenerates. After breakfast, Mahoney went to the barn with Cecile to help her with her chores, and wound up screwing her on a haystack. In the afternoon Suzanne looked at Mahoney’s wound and gave him another blow job.

That night Suzanne visited him again but not Cecile, who evidently was afraid she might run into her mother.

The next morning Mahoney was scheduled to leave. Suzanne removed his stitches, and he put on his uniform. She told him how to get to Bastogne, and they had breakfast, during which Mahoney had to admit to himself that if they were good actresses, he was a good actor, and if they couldn’t be trusted, neither could he.

After breakfast the women stuffed his pockets, with bread, cheese, and sausages.

“I wish you could stay longer,” Suzanne said. “We could use a man on the farm.”

“I have to return to duty,” Mahoney replied. “I’m no deserter.”

She looked into his eyes. “Good luck, Sergeant.”

“Thank you for everything, ma’am.”

Then it was Cecile’s turn. “I’ll pray for you, Sergeant,” she said.

“I’ll pray for you too.”

The women had tears in their eyes as they waved goodbye. Mahoney slung his rifle over his shoulder and marched through the gray dawn toward the woods.

~*~

The resort town of Spa was the scene of tumultuous frenzy, as its residents packed hastily and fled west. The streets were crowded with civilian and military vehicles, people on bicycles, and horses pulling overloaded wagons. Children cried, and adults had panic on their faces. In the distance, the ominous sounds of battle drew closer.

First Army headquarters was located in the Hotel Britannica, and General Courtney Hodges was sitting at his desk, when the door burst open and General “Lightning Joe” Collins entered.

“Sir,” he said, “I think it’s time that you got out of here!”

Hodges was from Georgia and had the courtly manners of a southern aristocrat. “Have a seat,” he drawled.

Lightning Joe was too excited to sit. “Sir, the enemy is getting awfully close!”

“I still have a few more things to do.”

Hodges sat calmly and signed orders. His divisions attacking the Roer dams would turn south and hit the Germans in flank. The 101st Airborne was on its way to Bastogne. The Eighty-second Airborne would bolster the defense at Wiltz. But the picture of the German attack still wasn’t clear. All he knew was that the Germans had broken through the Ghost Front as if it had been paper.

“Sir,” Lightning Joe said, trying to keep his voice calm, “the Germans are only a mile away.”

“Relax.”

Hodges read more dispatches, and Lightning Joe continued to fidget. Hodges had seen a great deal of war, and nothing fazed him anymore. He continued working until the Germans arrived on the outskirts of town, and then he calmly strapped on his helmet, walked downstairs, got into his jeep, and was driven away.

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