Mud and Misery by Patrick Kirk

Author:Patrick Kirk
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Patrick Kirk

Chapter 14

I never looked back to see if Joe Bob and Williams stayed on my heels. The day’s shadows grew longer, and the men along the new front line worked feverishly to improve their positions. With sunset not far off, men knew the German Raiders were not far behind. The Raiders were the best of the German infantry, adeptly skilled at close combat in the confines of a narrow, nasty trench line. I picked up my pace and my trot turned to a quick run. I hurdled over small patches of rubble and danced my way back to the gully.

I grabbed Harris by the back of his field suspenders, looked at him, and crisply ordered, “Put these two along the line. Make sure they are tied in, and they confirm their field of fire with you before you leave them. Is that clear?”

Harris nodded, grabbed the two new members of the squad, and headed down the hasty defensive positions that curved naturally with the ground.

I made my way over to the far end of the defensive position and worked my way down the line. I slid behind every position and confirmed the field of fire and trigger points. I quizzed every man in my squad on our trigger point, mission, and the challenge and password. “We can’t fall back from this position. We hold here,” I reiterated countless times. “Be on the lookout. The German Raiders will test us today.” I stressed to each man, “Don’t be lazy. We are all counting on you to do your best. Don’t let anyone down by falling asleep.” Satisfied the squad was ready, I made my way back to my position in the middle of the line and waited. We waited in silence with an occasional nervous metallic slide of a rifle bolt crashing forward.

“Hey Dickerson,” Billy called in a loud whisper. “Do you think they know we are here…?”

“No doubt, Billy. They’ve been watching all day.”

“That’s quite unsettling.”

“That it is...”

Out of nowhere, the German artillery fire violently burst to life 300 yards in front of us. The concussion waves rippled through my squad and ignited fear. “Steady men,” I urged. “Quickly now, get as low as you can!” I yelled.

Our positions provided little protection from the cruel impact of artillery. Besides the psychological effect of artillery on infantry, the physical impact was horrid. A direct hit from an artillery round would pulverize a man into nothingness, leaving fragments of bones, flesh, and smoldering burnt shards of uniform scraps. In anything but a prone position during a barrage, a man risked being sucked up, hurled like a rag doll, dying on impact.

The overpressure from the explosions absorbed the air out from around our positions in milliseconds. Any exposed skin tightened, and our closed eyes pulsated by the compression of the air. The overpressure acted like a berserk German as it radiated outwards from the impact. It pushed all the oxygen out of the area and then violently pulled it in and then back out.

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