The Batter's Box by Andy Kutler

The Batter's Box by Andy Kutler

Author:Andy Kutler [Kutler, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: baseball romance, baseball, World War II, Battle of the Bulge, PTSD, Veterans, Washington Senators
Publisher: Warriors Publishing Group
Published: 2019-03-12T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 16

“Listen, Will,” mumbled Janikowski, between mouthfuls of the fruitcake he received at last week’s mail call. “I know you don’t wanna hear this–”

“Then keep your trap closed,” Will said sharply. He knew what was coming.

“The lieutenant, he ain’t up for this.”

Will peered over the edge of their foxhole, making sure no one else was within earshot.

“You’re right,” he said, turning back to Janikowski. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Davison would’ve hoofed it back to the CP two or three times by now. Made the major see how things are–”

“Keep that crap to yourself,” Will growled, irritation in his voice.

“Fine. I’ll keep it to myself. But I got my ass kicked once in this war, and it ain’t happenin’ again. This is your platoon, and if Lucas ain’t ready to make a decision, you’re gonna have to make it for him.”

A decision. Janikowski was speaking in code, but his insinuation was clear. If no order came from Desobry to pull back, someone on the line might have to exercise some discretion. Will was quiet, refusing to respond. He could not encourage this, though a voice inside was telling him that Janikowski was right. The men were nearing a breaking point.

There was a quiet along the front, but only because the Germans had inexplicably paused once again. In addition to the mounting casualties that were deluging the makeshift aid station, Noville itself had sustained substantial damage, with several houses absorbing direct hits. Many were burning, the intense blazes fueled by wooden roofs and furniture. The main road was strewn with so much rubble and debris it was nearly impassable. Amid the destruction, someone had quipped that Noville would soon become “no ville.” Gallows humor.

Lacking air or artillery support, and with the number of serviceable tanks dwindling, there was little Desobry could do but wait for the Germans to make their next move.

It had taken the Germans long enough after the fog lifted, nearly 20 minutes, to make their first move. Puffs of smoke finally appeared along the ridges, followed by the delayed gun reports as the Germans launched a seismic barrage, sending thousands of pounds of explosive ordnance into the village. The men were well dug in, so casualties were initially light, but several of the team’s armored cars and half-tracks were less fortunate, destroyed or rendered useless by the shelling.

After the last German gun fell silent, Desobry counterpunched, sending forward four of the newly arrived tank destroyers to meet the expected charge. The M18 Hellcats were the most lethal and agile of the American tank destroyers. Their inventive crews had mastered the “shoot and scoot” for the nimble Hellcats, using their speed to evade return fire from their less dynamic foils. It wasn’t just cat and mouse; the Hellcats could deliver a powerful blow. The 76-millimeter turret gun was like a sledgehammer, capable of punching holes in even the thickest German armor.

On Desobry’s order, they emerged from their protective cover behind the few structures still intact, expecting an onslaught of Panzers.



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