Alex Muck 12/13/13 Creative Writing 5 Free Writing Project Product #2 In the Line of Fire *Note!

* (Not Published Name) Day One: D-Day Captain William Harris of the 131st Airborne sat in the darkness of the C-14 plane. The cabin shook violently as rockets, flak, and other aircraft exploded all around the plane. Yells from the engine room and cockpit echoed around the tightly packed room. Twenty soldiers, ten on each side, lined the walls of the chamber. Suddenly, the dim red light in the room buzzed, flashed a bright white light, and then stayed green. They were over the jump zone. The door latch suddenly retracted into the wall, and several soldiers stood up and slid it open. A huge gust of wind blew into the chamber, causing guns, packs, and papers to fly about. Harris got up quickly and made sure his parachute and machine gun were in order. The other soldiers did the same, each one checking that the pulley was primed and ready to work when needed. Harris signaled for his men to line up. Alright boys! he shouted, trying to be heard over the explosions and airplane engines. This is it! Jump on my signal! Each man gave a rapid thumbs up and prepared to leap from the plane. One! Tension rushed over the soldiers faces as they each grasped their guns and placed their hands on their parachute strings. Two! The sky began to clear now and the men could see that the city lay in heaps of rubble. Bodies were strewn everywhere on the ground, and hundreds of planes and paratroopers were scattered in the sky. Three! The men rushed to the exit, but out of nowhere, a mass of flak blew them all back into the opposite wall. The ships engine was hit, and smoke began to trail out of the back of the plane. Suddenly, the wall exploded, sucking five men out into the air, and with them, the supplies needed to repair the plane. Three more soldiers began sliding toward the hole. They grasped onto anything they could, yet it was futile. They were torn from the wall and thrown out of the plane. Harris own gun was ripped from its position hanging from his neck. He grabbed the handle on the wall and sprinted for the ventral exhaust, a small hole through which the men could drop bombs. He motioned for the remaining men to follow, as one after the other rushed to the small hole. He helped the men squeeze through the entrance until finally, each soldier was out. Without warning, the plane lurched forward, launching Harris towards the cockpit. He smashed his head into the side of the plane, and he felt the g-force begin to drag him through the hole in the wall. His parachute was then yanked off his shoulder and catapulted into the air.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He looked up. It was Thomas, the pilot. His right eye was bleeding heavily, and he had a gaping hole in his arm. His left leg was so mangled he could barely stand. He didnt speak, but removed a small board from the side of the plane. Inside was an emergency parachute. Thomas slowly attached the parachute to Harris, and pushed him toward the hole in the plane. Harris tried to grab Thomas but before he could, Harris blacked out. He awoke to the sound of gunfire. He squirmed around in his parachute and looked down onto the battlefield below. Planes flew under his feet and above his head. He could see men going down each second, yet he couldnt decipher which side they were on. He looked back over his shoulder as he heard a loud screeching noise. It was the C-14. NO!, Harris screamed as he realized Thomas was now not able to escape. The plane smashed into the side of a church, exploding in a gigantic ball of fire which sent rubble and wood in all directions. One of the pieces tore through Harris parachute. He felt himself begin to fall fast and tried to steer himself towards a small pond. He didnt know how deep it was, but it had to be better than anything else. However, the wind kicked up as he neared the ground. It propelled him towards a small grove of trees, and his parachute was caught up in the branches and tangled in under five seconds. Harris, still disoriented from the explosion, blacked out for the second time. Once again, he woke to gunfire and shouting. It was later in the day now, but it was still very cloudy and gray. Harris began to try to shift his way out of the parachute, but was unable to unclip his pack from the chute without it causing him to break his legs on impact with the ground. He reached inside the pack and found just what might save his life. A small Swiss army knife, the one he kept with him wherever he went, was still inside the hidden pouch. He pulled it out and began to cut the rope of the chute. However, he stopped once he looked down. There, right before his eyes, was a German soldier, spraying machine gun fire onto the beaches. Harris then began to quietly cut the ropes now, trying to free himself from his prison of branches. Finally, he tore through the sinew and fell onto the branch below. He caught himself, but smacked his knee into the side of the tree trunk. He felt an immense pain come over him, but he stayed quiet and held his breath. Then, with a quick and silent movement, he fell onto the soldier, stabbing the knife into his neck. The soldier struggled and gasped, but his efforts to live began to diminish. Harris removed his knife from the soldier and picked up the soldiers gun. He looked back once more at the soldier. He was not old, probably twenty-five at most. He grimaced at the sight. He was so young, with a full life ahead, and Harris had ended it, without any remorse. He looked away, trying to keep the sight out of his mind. He limped over the burning church and quickly hid inside. Day One: The Church The gunfire had finally ceased, and Harris sat in the darkness of the church, not a sound to be heard. Then, another rain of bullets could be heard from outside. He clutched his leg. He pulled out his knife and began to carve shapes in the side of

the wall. As he drew playful pictures across the room, he could begin to hear voices closing in on his position. He returned the knife to his pocket and placed the machine gun on the railing. He boarded off a small area of the church, in hopes of hiding there until he was either rescued or fully healed. Three men ran into the church, guns at the ready. They were obviously German, marked by the insignias on their shirts. Harris carefully aimed the gun from behind the boards. He needed to conserve as much ammo as he could. Then, drawing out his knife just in case, he opened fire. Spurts of light danced around the Germans, dropping all but one. He yelled out in pain, and clutched his right leg. He had been wounded severely in the knee. Harris walked out from behind his hiding spot, realizing the threat had been diminished. The man looked up in horror as he saw Harris approaching him. He leapt for his fallen gun, but accidently knocked it towards the wall. Harris ran over to the gun, checked the bullets, and looked the strap around his neck. He looked at the German once more. Like the first he had killed, this one was young. He had blond hair and greenish blue eyes. He had a large scar running down the side of his left cheek and onto his chin. Harris knew his duty was to win the war, and he knew killing this youth would not help. The soldier was too badly injured to run, anyways. He would most likely bleed out. Harris left the church, leaving the soldier to die in agony. Day Two: The Silo Harris crawled towards the farm that lay in ruins. It had been almost completely destroyed, and now had only a single silo left. Harris quickly got up and darted for the latter to the top of the tower. He had seen three Germans go up there as well, one with a radio. Harris had known this would be his only chance to be reunited with his regiment. He had waited for night to come, so that he could move through the tall grass unseen. Once he reached the latter, he began to climb towards the top, trying not the slip on the damp wood. After about three quarters of the way there, his foothold broke, making a loud cracking sound. He could hear the alarmed voices of the soldiers and looked around, searching for somewhere to hide. Then he saw it. A small window had broken above him, making a narrow ledge where he could perch, waiting for the soldiers to return to their duty. He jumped with all his might and reached for the ledge. He effortlessly pulled himself upright, just escaping the Germans view. They, just as he had hoped, sat back down. He then resumed the trek to the top. Once he was at the end of the latter, he peeked the tip of his head over the top. Three soldiers sat on the roof, one asleep, one operating a portable radio, and the other peering down the sight of a sniper rifle. Harris quietly pulled himself onto the roof of the silo and whipped out his knife. Suddenly, a loud clang echoed around the farm. The sniper had fired into the forest ahead. Harris, thinking he was being fired at, jumped onto the radio operator. He slammed the hilt of his knife into the center of his forehead, and threw him against the side of the wall. Then, with blinding speed, he drove his knife into

the just awakening guard. Finally, he threw his knife as hard as he could into the stomach of the sniper. The man had no idea what had hit him. The German began to fall from the tower, but Harris just barely grabbed the knife from his belly and dived back into the silo, watching the soldier fall to his death below. Harris looked down the scope of the rifle. The sniper was aimed right at his commanding officers head. He tore the sniper from its mount on the ridge and attached to the sling on his back. He also removed the pistol from the knocked out soldiers holster. He was now fully armed, and had control of a radio. He began to reconfigure the broadcasting network of the radio to message his CO when the other guard awoke. He kicked Harris in the back, sending him flying over the edge of the tower. His machine gun strap, however, caught on a stray piece of wood, hanging him from behind. He struggled to regain his footing on the wall, but was unable to. He looked up to see the German smiling down at him. He was now holding his own knife. He gave one single chuckle and readied his knife. Harris was a lucky man, it seemed, as every time he was about to meet his end, some random bullet saved him. A loud crack rang from the forest, and the German fell forwards, just missing Harris by an inch or two. Harris stared out into the immense swarm of trees and heard a single word. Echo! Harris smiled as he heard the word. His happiness then faded away when he realized he had forgotten the counter. He racked his mind as he tried to remember. Lightning! he screamed, finally coming to his senses. The small skirmish had temporarily wiped his mind of any important memories. Seven men exited the trees, each wearing the same badge that Harris sported on his sleeve. He climbed back onto the silo and retrieved his radio. Then, he made his way back down the tower. Once he reached the ground, the other soldiers were there to meet him. Excellent work, Captain, said Major Thompson. Thank you sir, Harris said, handing him the. You might need this. The major grabbed it and threw it to one of the other soldiers. Ok boys. We got another soldier back, so it looks as though were clear to move on. Harris smiled. He was happy to be back with a squad, as opposed to being a lone ranger. Then, as a group, the soldiers resumed their crawl through the brush and towards the next town. Day Three: Rain of Fire The eight soldiers sat in the back room of the restaurant. It had not been scavenged yet, and thus it still had food. Once their breakfast of bread and butter was finished, they packed the rest of the food and moved through the back streets of the town. It had been devastated by the Germans, but they apparently did not search the buildings. They seemed to remain almost untouched, besides the burned and charred outsides of the buildings. No bodies lay in heaps on the sidewalk. It just seemed as though people were in and out of there in a hurry. The men set up camp in two buildings. One of them was three stories tall, giving the sniper and his lookout a nice perch. The ground floor of that building was

the operating base. The radio operator and the medic had set up in there, as well as Harris and Thompson. The other building lay opposite the base. There, the gunner and his loader had locked themselves inside with the mounted 50-caliber machine gun. This design was meant to work as a base and pinch maneuver. From the left side, the sniper could easily pick off targets at will if anyone came from the center road. The machine gun nest was aimed toward the middle as well. This would help set up fire from both sides. The strategy was easy. All the soldiers needed to do was to hold this road until their own troops made their way here. Harris sat in the living room of the house, a cold cup of coffee in his hand. He stared out the window onto the small pond that sat in the garden. He could see small koi fish darting through the water. He could hear birds chirping, and every once in a while, a woodpecker. He wondered how such a beautiful place could be destroyed and ransacked like this. What sick and twisted minds could possibly want this world to be so sickening? As he sat and stared, a loud static rattled from the comm system. The operator, Alec Jones, ran over, sat down in the chair and began playing around with radio. Harris turned his attention back to outside. He could now hear another noise, not the static, nor the birds nor a woodpecker. It was the sound of machinery. He leapt from the chair, grabbing Jones and slamming him into the ground, just as the wall behind them erupted. Harris dragged the semi-conscious Jones along, searching for the medic. The medic, Carlson, ran across the street, his med kit swinging in his arms. Behind him was George, the gunner, and his loader, Jackson, dragging the major by his shoulders. Harris ran to their side, handing Jones to the medic. What happened! Harris screamed at the gunner. The tank! It blew a hole in the roof, and a ceiling beam collapsed on him! I think it broke some of his ribs! Harris ran back to his chair and grabbed his ammo box. The gun? he yelled, signaling where the 50-cal. In the house, sir! yelled the gunner. Harris ran through the street, dodging a blast of rubble from behind him. He grabbed the gun and sprinted across the street. He jumped into the house, just as another explosion lit up the wall of the house. He watched it collapse, sending dust everywhere. They were now stuck inside. The sniper was left on the roof, and two men were badly injured. Harris ran for the stairs to the roof, clawing away rubble and wooden planks. George ran to his side, helping him clear the way. Finally, they breached the roof. More rockets crashed into the building, but it couldnt get much worse inside. Nearly everything had collapsed already. The sniper, who was just called Watch Dog, fell through the opening, coughing up dust and ash. He was also about to lose consciousness. Dan Daniel hes hes dead. Harris pulled Watch Dog inside and down to the med center. The George raced back down the stairs, carrying the spotter, Daniel. He had been shot in the rib, and the bullet had punctured his lung. Rockets blew chucks out of the sides of the building, and we began to hear the roof collapse. We knew it would be over soon.

Harris, being the lucky man he was, did not fear death. Instead, he embraced it. He charged up the stairs and onto the roof. He grabbed the sniper from its mounted position and quickly took aim of the tank. He slowly and steadily aligned the crosshairs with the gas cap of the tank. Harris slowly pulled back on the trigger and let the bullet fly. It sailed over the pond and slammed into the tank with a small clink of metal on metal. The gas exploded, sending flames high into the sky. The tank was completely destroyed. The flaming rubble rained down upon the buildings and grass, lighting everything flammable. The town was ablaze. Harris rushed down the stairs and slammed his shoulder into the door with all his might. After three attempts, he fell out onto the sidewalk, gasping for air. The other soldiers followed as well, each trying to escape the smoke inside. The clouds above them no longer were white, and the sky was not the same blue. It was a dark gray, the color of ash. The clouds were gone now, and nothing but the sunlight barely shining through the clouds illuminated the town. Harris sat on the ground, accompanied by George. The smoke left the houses and climbed into the sky. George then stood up and dusted off his jacket. Alright then, said George, Better move on before that smoke attracts more people. Harris got up as well. Carlson helped Watch Dog to his feet, and with the Major and Jones, they quickly followed Harris into the next thicket of brush. George looked back into the city. The house they were in seemed to let out a loud creaking sigh before falling to the ground. The city was destroyed. Yet another mission failed, he thought. Day Three: The Bitter Night The wind whipped against Harris unprotected face. He sat closer to the fire, trying to keep warm. He sat next to the major, who was still unconscious. He could hear the pitter-patter of rain on the roof above him. The door to the barn had been blown off, and thus there was no protection from the wind. The fire began to die out, as the wind blew it out. Harris grabbed the blanket from his pack and threw it around his shoulders. After minutes of sitting in the cold, he heard footsteps running in the field outside. He grabbed his machine gun and ran to the door, peeking into the darkness. George ran inside, holding a tin can of biscuits and a canteen of water. Whered you get that? asked Harris. The old couple that live up the road, responded George, opening the can. He took a quick swig of the water and resealed it. They said they would do anything to help us get the rid of the Germans out here. He walked over to the small campfire. He took out a matchbox and relit the wood. Sparks flew up into the rafters of the barn and burst in small balls of orange and red. Carlson slowly and quietly walked down the steps to the attic. He picked up the major and carried him up with him. Could you two seal the door with something. These guys will freeze to death before they bleed out, said Carlson, heading to the attic. Harris and George grabbed a couple of hay bales and moved them to block the door. The wind stopped blowing inside, and let the fire do its job. Harris ran up the stairs, leaving George to prepare a meal of stale bread, beans, and biscuits for the soldiers. As he neared the stairs, he

could see Watch Dogs sniper peering over to side of the roof. He was staring down the sight of the rifle, positioning the barrel to look into the town not far away. Flames climbed into the sky from the buildings, and he could hear screams as people fled the town. German vehicles had swarmed the area over two hours ago, but had only stayed in the city. They didnt head up the road to the town. Harris went up the ladder to outside. Watch Dog and Jackson lay on the shambles of the roof, keeping an eye on the dirt path up to the barn. They sat in the freezing cold wind, yet they never flinched from the cold. Harris handed them each a biscuit and returned to the attic. Carlson had made a couple makeshifts beds and was working on the majors injuries. Everything, Harris thought, seemed to be working out. They had food, shelter, and medical supplies. He headed back downstairs, sitting down on a wooden board as George attempted to warm up the beans. He was a good cook, yet it was impossible for a human being to turn the disgusting old beans into anything but mush. George turned to Harris. You know those vegetables that were harvested out back? asked George. I think so, replied Harris, lying back on the board. Could you see if there happens to be anything left. We will need something better than beans to keep us going. Harris got up and pushed the hay bales away from the door. He wrapped his blanket around his face and ran outside, trying to get back in as fast as he could. He ran down the field, trying to stay hidden among the trees and bushes. The farm was about a quarter of a mile away from the barn. He rummaged through the dirt and found as many greens as he could. In all, he got three beats, two carrots, a head of lettuce, and five stalks of corn. He ran back up the hill, keeping to the shadows. However, as he neared the barn, he heard a car coming. He sprawled out in the tall grass, trying to stay hidden. A small, four-person jeep passed by the barn. Suddenly, it stopped and two of the men got out. Harris pulled out his knife and crawled through the grass. George would most likely mistake the Germans for Harris, returning with the vegetables. Watch Dog was also not looking in the correct direction to alert them of the danger. They had never expected the Germans to come from anywhere but the town. Harris ran to side of the barn. One of the men began smoking near the door, the other heading inside. Harris grabbed the idle one by the sleeve and pulled him into his knife. Then, with blinding fast speed, he jumped into the barn. He threw his knife into the patrolling guards back and tackled him. He covered the Germans mouth with his hand to keep him from screaming. When the deed was done, he went in to find George still working hard on the meal. There are 2 Germans outside in a Jeep. Help me barricade the staircase to keep them from going upstairs. You and I will go out back and take them from behind, ok? George nodded and grabbed a large wooden beam. They piled stacks of wood on the stairs and leaned the beam on them to keep them propped up. Once they had finished, they exited out the back door. George pulled out his shovel and Harris whipped out his knife. They quietly crawled into the grass. The jeeps

headlights shined in the darkness, illuminating the path in front of it. Harris motioned for George to follow him. Ok, we need that Jeep to get out of here fast tomorrow morning. The lights will cast shadows on the ground out there. You run in front of the headlights to get their attention. Ill sneak around behind them and take them out before you get chased down. If I dont succeed, keep them from shooting and alerting the other soldiers by the city. George nodded once more and got to his feet. When Harris had made his way to the truck, he sprinted out into the road. It took a second for the Germans to see the shadow, but once they did, they leapt out of their seats. Harris jumped out of the grass and onto the first solder. He wrestled the gun out of his hands and stabbed him in the arm. The other German aimed the gun at Harris, but was tackled from behind. George bashed his shovel against the soldiers head, knocking him out. He then tore the remaining soldier off of Harris back and threw him to the ground. He tied him up and tossed him into the barn, along with his fellow unconscious soldier. Harris drove the Jeep into the barn, turning off the headlights to keep them from shooting through the cracks and sending out bizarre signals. George finally grabbed the vegetables from the grass outside and proceeded to finish his masterpiece. Once all this was done, they removed the barricade from the stairs and closed off the entrances to the barn. Then, as midnight settled in, the soldiers enjoyed a nice meal of dirty vegetables and mush. Day Four: The Invasion The planes came without warning, and thus the soldiers were not quick to react. Loud sirens sounded in the city, but the Germans were too late to realize the Allies position. Five platoons of American, English, and Canadian soldiers stormed the small town, just a mile from the small barn. Not only did waves of soldiers come, but squadrons of airplanes dropped fiery bombs, destroying the barracks that the Germans had set up around the town. Explosions and gunfire could be heard from inside the city, but the area surrounding the town was untouched. Germans fled the city, running off into the woods. The Allies yelled triumphantly, rummaging through the city for any more stragglers. Harris ran down the stairs, gun drawn. He burst through the door and watched as hundreds of Axis and Allies shot at each other. George ran outside as well, followed by Watch Dog and Jackson. Carlson carried Jones and the major downstairs and into the jeep. They loaded up all their food and weapons into the trunk. In addition to their necessities, they tied the two German prisoners to the back of the truck, dragging them along as they screamed in terror. The city was ablaze, and tanks began to fill into the town as well. The Germans knew this town was lost, and they fled on jeeps and trucks into the forest. George, wanting eagerly to join in on the fun, opened fire on the fleeing Germans. They werent expecting to be shot at from their own jeeps. The jeep headed off into the town, followed by several more Allied trucks unloading weaponry and ammo. Harris exited the truck once they entered the city. He was immediately met by four soldiers, aiming their guns at Harris chest. However, once

they saw Major Thompson riding in the back, they lowered their weapons and called for medics. A smaller jeep rushed to the scene, two stretchers attached to the back of it. The men loaded the major and Jones onto the car and watched as it drove to the makeshift medical station, the only fully intact building still in the city. Harris and George, meanwhile, unloaded their equipment, along with their prisoners. They threw them into another much larger truck, filled to the brim with other POWs. Harris then made his way to the medical center, George trailing behind him. They neared the building, but they were quickly stopped by a young soldier. He was cut and bruised, with a long scar running down his cheek to his neck. Excuse me, but would either of you fellows happen to be Captain Harris? he asked with a thick English accent. Harris stepped forward. Yes, I am Captain William Harris. Is something wrong? The boy looked stunned for a second, then shook his head. Oh, no, no problem. I am sorry that I alarmed you there. Its just that General Collins would like to see you. He is in the largest tent out by the German barracks. He didnt quite specify exactly why he requested your acquaintance. He looked over at George. Im sure you can go as well, if youd like. Just then, they could hear running footsteps. Watch Dog ran up to them, Jackson struggling to catch up. Ah. I see you were already told about the general. Well, I can at least take you to him. Follow me. He walked back the way he came, patting Jackson on the back and pointing towards the opposite direction. Harris looked back at the young British soldier and smiled at him. He then ran after Watch Dog, George now trying not to be left behind. They made their way through the crowded city to a mass of at least twenty tents. Each was packed with food, clothing, bedrolls, weaponry, and even small motorbikes. In the center of them all was the largest tent. It was a yellowish brown color, and it was filled with busy looking intelligence officers and radio operators. Watch Dog led them inside to find an older bearded man working hard on one of the radios. As the soldiers entered the tent, he turned around and set down the speaker. He had a bushy gray beard and small reading glasses positioned at the end of his nose. He was balding on the top of his head, and his face was wrinkled and pale. He approached Harris and stuck out his hand. Good afternoon, Captain Harris, he said, with a slight hint of a British accent. Its nice to finally meet you. The major has told me quite a bit about you. He said you are particularly good with leading a squad. He showed a large smile, exposing his shiny white teeth. Actually, sir, I am not the best leader. In fact, my entire squad was lost during the invasion of Omaha. As far as I know, I am the sole survivor of 131st Airborne. He looked down to the ground, a disgust flooding over him. Theyre all dead because of me. I am not fit to be talking to a man of your stature. Suddenly, George pushed past him and looked at the general. Sir, the captain doesnt know what hes saying. He is an excellent leader and fighter. He has taken out more men with a knife in three days than I have in a week with a machine gun. He also led our squad in our time of need. He saved us from a sniper team, and when the major was put out of action because of injury, he led us

on. He is the only man that I would want leading me into battle. George stepped back, nodding at Harris as a look of surprise came across his face. Well, said General Collins. It appears your men appreciate you more than you thought. Harris turned around to face his new squad. They all smiled at him, Jackson even giving him a thumbs up. In fact, I would like you to lead a mission for me. Almost a hundred Germans fled the city through the forest. We need to keep them from alerting any nearby reinforcements. Take your men and one of my platoons and go out and find as many stragglers as you can. Got it? he asked. Harris swung back around, nodding vigorously. Sir yes sir. We will eliminate any Germans we see. Lets move out boys. He ran out the tent, followed by his three men. They went through the city and back to their jeep. They loaded up whatever ammunitions they could and headed towards the forest. They stopped by the entrance as six more jeeps and two trucks drove up the hill as well. Harris stood on the back of his jeep. Alright! This is a crucial mission! Find and either kill or capture any German soldier you see out here! Keep them from reaching safety and alerting allies! He slid back down into his seat, loading his gun. Soon after, the engine started up again and Jackson zoomed into the immense jungle of trees, the other trucks only seconds behind. Day Four: The Hunt The afternoon had come fast. The sun was only about an hour from setting, but the search squads had only recorded 24 German deaths and 13 prisoners. There were still about 46 more men out there, probably nearing help. Jackson split up from the rest of the group. Watch Dog stood on the edge of the jeep, keeping his sight level with the trees. Out of nowhere, bullets erupted from behind them. He swung around, his sniper lighting up the area behind them. After no more shots were fired, the men returned to the shooting sight. Three Germans lay face down, each with a single bullet hole in their head. Watch Dog quickly opened up his cartridge. Only one bullet was missing. George let out a long, soft whistle. Nice shot, eh? He laughed and ran a couple yards away. He picked up a small object and handed it to Watch Dog. It was the bullet. You should keep this as a reminder of the time you killed three birds with one stone. He chuckled again and returned to the jeep. Harris, meanwhile, recorded the three deaths. He took out his radio and began speaking to Sergeant Wells, the leader of the other platoon. We recorded another total of three more deaths. Any more on your side? The radio buzzed for a second, then came from the other side a deep British voice. Yes, we got another seven kills and two captures. How many left is that then? he asked, waiting for his response. Harris tallied up the total once more. Ok, only 34 more to go. Nighttime is coming, though. We wont need all the troops. Send back half the platoon to base camp. Well continue until the evening and then return.

The radio buzzed once more. Roger that captain. Well meet up with you soon. Harris pressed the button on his radio to turn it off and sat back down in the jeep. The others climbed into the back and Jackson started it up, heading back from where they came. As they moved along, they heard a rustling in the bushes. George brought up his gun and aimed it at the brush. Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the bushes beside them. Jackson let out a sudden yelp and slammed his face into the steering wheel. The jeep rushed past the bushes, hitting a rock and sending it tumbling towards the trees. The car slammed into the tree with such force that it sent it crashing down on top of the jeep. George and Watch Dog scrambled out of the wreckage, but Harris was still stuck inside. His door was jammed against his body, and he couldnt feel his right arm. He grabbed his temple with his left hand and wiped away a puddle of blood that had formed there. Dont worry, captain! George yelled, grabbing his gun. Well get you out of there after we take care of these guys. George began to fire into the brush, sending leaves and branches into the air. Once his entire clip was empty, he lowered his gun. He took out his shovel and ran towards the bushes, Watch Dog close behind. They emerged into a small clearing. Around them, five dead Germans and one severely injured one lay in the leaves. George grabbed the injured one and threw him over his shoulder. Watch Dog ran back to the jeep, putting down his rifle and trying to pry the door open, but to no avail. Just then, another engine hummed in the trees. Headlights blared in the soldiers faces as more Allied troops rushed out of the truck. Sergeant Wells, followed by several medics, headed for the jeep. Medics, get this door open! Then, aid this man! he said, pointing at the German. We still want him alive. George dropped the soldier to the ground, kicking Watch Dogs rifle out of his reach. Wells looked at him. Just taking precautions. He went over the truck and helped the medics tear the door open. They removed the bleeding Harris from the wreckage, followed by Jackson. Harris was still conscious, but he was bleeding badly from his right temple and shoulder. One of the medics squeezed Harris stomach, and reported that two of his ribs had also broken from the impact of the tree. George then proceeded to walk over to Jackson. He had been shot in the heart, and twice in the head. George felt tears welling up into his eyes. Watch Dog placed his hand on Georges shoulder and walked him back to the other truck. Meanwhile, Wells was able to secure the book full of accounted German deaths from the burning carcass of the jeep. He crossed off the most recent number and added five, followed by one added to the captured list. He placed the booklet in his breast pocket and headed to the medics. They eased Harris into a portable stretcher positioned on the back of the truck. They then met up with the remaining search party and headed back into town, as the sun slowly set on the already darkening forest. Day Five: Back in Action

The night was bitter and cold. Many of the men on guard ended up in the infirmary with mild cases of hypothermia. Anyone else who was sent outside would have to layer up well just to evade the wind and rain. Harris sat on his bunk, grasping his hip. He had found out that he had broken two of his ribs, and that his hip had been smashed by the door of the truck. In addition to this, he had suffered from amnesia for the first two hours upon returning to the town. He was still regaining his train of thought when George and Sergeant Wells entered the room. Captain, one of our search parties returned with the remaining German soldiers position. There is an old neighborhood about two miles east of the forest. Apparently, one of their spies was spotted and captured. He gave up his allies positions almost immediately, said Wells, holding up a map and pointing to the supposed hiding spot of the Germans. Harris sat still for a second, trying to comprehend what he had just been told. He couldnt function well enough to respond, so instead he signaled a thumbs up and lay back down in the bed. George laughed and exited the room, Wells not far behind. They knew that Harris had been injured, but they also knew that they had a duty to fulfill. The Germans would most likely leave the next day, in hopes of escaping the search parties. We need to find and secure those Germans, Wells told George quietly. They must be captured or killed. Otherwise, they will alert reinforcements. This base is far too important. We cannot put all of our fellow soldiers at risk. George swung around. Captain Harris is in no condition to lead us. He is mentally incapacitated, and thus he cannot make the correct decisions when time comes. We will have to wait and hope the Germans do not leave tomorrow. Harris looked behind him and walked up to George. Youre right. Harris cant lead us. But I can. We need to find those Germans, or else were done for. We will lose this town. Ill take the men and hunt the Germans down. Sir, with all due respect, Harris was given that job. I cannot let you take up his position. If anything, I should be the one to lead us. Then why dont you! Wells shouted, louder than he had intended. Harris tossed around in his buck, yet as he heard the commotion, he got out of the bed and fell to floor. He slowly rose to his feet and made his way out the door. George and Wells stood arguing in the hall. I refuse to go against my commanding officer, George repeated. Harris is no longer your leader. He is too injured to lead us. We need someone else to step up. Just then Harris let out a small cry of pain as he banged his hip into the wall. George and Wells slowly turned around. Suddenly, they stood at attention. Captain Harris? Wells said, bewildered. Sir, you must rest. Youre unfit to stand. Harris took a deep breath. I can stand, sergeant, and I can still lead. You are right, however. These Germans need to be caught. They will leave at dawn, so we must reach them before

the sun rises. We must venture out tonight. Georges face fell to frown as he heard the captains words. But sir, he started. But nothing! Harris yelled. The cold will not stop us. Get the men suited up and ready to fight. We will find those Germans. We will not let them evade us this time. With that, Harris returned to his room, collapsing on his bunk. He reached under his bed and grabbed his submachine gun. He loaded the clip and quickly put on his coat. He left the room once more and exited the building. The cold whipped at his bare face. He held his hand up against the breeze and ran across the road to the barracks. Inside, the full platoon of men locked and loaded their guns, stored their ammunitions, and threw on whatever clothing was at hand. Several jeeps pulled up outside. Harris motioned for the men to start loading up. One after another, the soldiers boarded the trucks, getting ready for the bitter search. Once on board, Harris returned to the passenger seat. He stared out the windshield at the snowy path in front of him. The little white flakes of ice drifted slowly to ground below. He looked over to the driver, but suddenly, the driver wasnt there. It was Jackson. Harris groaned and grabbed his head. Sir? yelled the man, in Jacksons voice. Sir? Sir! Harris felt a hand on his shoulder. He quickly looked around. Jackson was gone, and it had just been a figment of his imagination. George was staring at him from the back of the truck, sitting with his hand on Harris shoulder, shaking him. Are you alright captain? he asked. Harris nodded several times and clutched his head once more. He still felt the throbbing pain he thought he had overcome. George looked back at the driver. Take us back to the infirmary. The captain is in no condition to go out in this cold weather. The driver nodded and began to reverse back to the base. Harris swung his head around. Im fine, he said quickly, I just needed some time to rest. Besides, this mission is far more important than my headaches. George shook his head. Well, sir, you are more important than this mission. We cant let you get hurt out there. Bring us back, and Wells can lead us. He is a good soldier, and hell keep us alive. Dont worry. George smiled, and Harris nodded, acknowledging that George truly wanted Harris to not endanger himself. The truck quickly returned to town, unloaded Harris, and zoomed back out into the fields to meet up with the rest of the search party. Harris returned to his room in the medical ward. He rested on the bunk and took out his old knife. He began carving pictures into the wall next to him. He at first had no idea what he wanted to draw, but after he finished with lines and shapes, he began to illustrate the battles he had been through. The soldiers he fought with. The men he killed. Suddenly, he fell back onto his bed. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as his ribs began to ache once more. He slowly took in a deep breath. He needed to stay still. It was the only thing that kept both his body and mind at ease. He looked up at the ceiling. It was a dark beige color, and most of the paint in the room was pealing. His bunk had several holes in it, and the padding and springs poured out from

beneath the bed. The hard wood floor was squeaky, yet surprisingly lustrous. He stayed on his bed for what felt like hours, his eyes closed. He tried not to think of anything that related to the way. Instead, he dreamed of returning home, to his wife and son. To his mother and father, and to his brother and sisters. He dreamed of what his life might have been without the war. He also imagined losing the friends and bonds that he had made here. He would miss his fellow soldiers, and he would never have been able to thank the men that saved his life. He knew that this was all fake, that the war was still raging, and realization flooded back into him. An alarm was sounding, loud and clear, coming from outside. Screaming soldier rushed through the hallway, guns at the ready. Harris leapt from the bed and grabbed his gun as well. He charged for the door, only to be met by Watch Dog. He was cut and bleeding badly from the forehead, and his left arm was limp, blood trickling down his wrist. Captain! he said, startled to see Harris awake. We need to go. Germans ambushed us from behind, and we are still missing the platoon from the search party. Follow me, and hurry please. They ran down the corridor, struggling to push past the other soldiers that were running to aid in the fight. They made it to the rear exit of the building, and Watch Dog grabbed his rifle from a coat closet. He swung a large windbreaker over his shoulders and sprinted for a jeep. Several soldiers unloaded injured men off the back, and Watch Dog quickly hopped inside, starting the engine up. Sitting next to him was none other than Jones, the operator. His wounds had fully healed, and he now helped load the injured on board. Captain, we need to get these men out of here. We are heading into the forest, as we will meet up with the search parties, said Jones. Harris nodded and climbed in the back, positioning his gun on his lap. He took out his map from his pocket and began crossing an X off on it. What are you doing captain, asked Watch Dog, peering at the map. Im keeping a record of lost towns and cities. Sadly, it seems another one will join the list. Start going, we need to get these men help. Watch Dog ignited the engine and roared off down the road, towards the forest. As they exited the town, they heard a loud yelling. Stop! Stop, please! Harris turned around to face the buildings. Carlson ran after them, hugging a pistol and his medical case against his chest. Watch Dog quickly stepped on the brake, and Carlson leapt into the jeep, spilling the contents of his med case all over the front seat. Jones grunted, but whipped out his gun and began firing into the field. Several Germans rose from the grass, but were shot down. The jeep moved on, trying desperately to make it to the forest before the Germans realized where they were. Harris took one final look on the town. Flames climbed into the night sky, and gunfire blared in the darkness. The sounds of bullets slowly began to die off as the truck finally reached the edge of the forest. The jeep came to a rest as all the soldiers looked back into the city. They didnt want to leave. They expected some miracle to save their fellow soldiers. However, no miracle came this time. The Allies lost the city, and there was nothing to do about it. One of the injured soldiers groaned, and Harris refocused on the current situation.

Watch Dog, Harris began, Lets go. We cant make a difference in that fight anyway. Besides, these men urgently need help, and right now, were the only ones who can help them. Watch Dog nodded and drove the jeep into the center of the forest, soon becoming hidden among the surrounding trees and bushes.