Screaming Eagles

^FOURTEEN TAYLOR

Captain Taylor drove the jeep through the woods at a fair clip. His companions—Cooper in the front and Wayne in the rear—kept watch, as well as whooped every time their Captain swerved around a tree or bounced over a hole in the ground. The fog had settled in as the morning wore on, and showed no sign of letting up. That meant that air cover wasn’t going to appear anytime soon.

Corporal Kranz should have been driving him but Taylor didn’t mind. Tearing around in his Jeep was one of the few joys of this war, that was, when someone wasn’t shooting at him and the vehicle. So he left his orderly behind to enjoy some hot chow.

The jeep was meant for this kind of terrain, but the weather had played foul with the engine, forcing them to take a few precious minutes to warm her up. Taylor called her Betsy, and had even painted the name on the side himself. One of the men had asked him what the name meant, but he’d kept his secret close.

She was named after his mother-in-law, a battleship of a broad who never really warmed to him. However, she’d taken care of he and his wife one summer, while he’d been out of work following college. She’d been tough but fair, and her fiery temper had done nothing but urge him on even harder to find a job.

Betsy strove around obstacle after obstacle. Taylor passed a line of men returning to the aid station, guns over shoulders, bandages around heads, arms, and legs. Some of the men saluted him and he nodded back, refusing to take his hands off the steering wheel for fear of the old bitch guiding him into a tree.

Taylor asked for a cigarette, and Wayne complied by placing it in his mouth and lighting it while the Captain kept his eyes glued to the rough terrain.

The air bit at his cheeks and forehead. Exposed to the chill, his nose had gone numb the minute he’d stepped out of his tent.

“Here, sir. We displaced during the night. Take a left and go slow. Some of the boys were a little trigger happy with a few mines.”

“Mines behind our line? What idiot did that?”

“Uh, that was us, sir. We were almost overrun, but managed to repel a counterattack. Lost Johnson to a burp gun. He took a round in the leg and it didn’t look too bad. Poor fella bled out in a few minutes. Anyway, sir, we thought we were goners, so we set a few traps.”

“If we run over a mine and my Betsy is destroyed, I’m going to be a very unhappy man,” Taylor said. Not to mention a dead one.

“Slow here, sir. See that big oak? The one with the sign on it? Go around.”

The sign had Mickey Mouse pointing a middle finger at a German swastika painted on a pair of old boards.

Taylor grinned and complied.

A minute later and they were at Charlie Company’s position.

Taylor hopped out of the jeep and grabbed his Thompson, then followed Wayne and Taylor. A couple of bullets shattered the still, but they didn’t land anywhere near the men. Taylor pointed his gun in the direction the shots had come from, but no targets presented itself.

Charlie Company had arrayed themselves in the snow and dug up what they could of sugar holes. A pair of men at a forward position pointed M1s at the forest and banged off a few rounds.

“Captain Taylor, damn glad to see you. Where are the reinforcements?” Sergeant Metz asked. “I heard Baker got some rooks.”

The man didn’t look like he’d had a wink of sleep in days. His eyes were red and the lines on his young face betrayed the look of a man aged by the war.

He’d managed to secure a thick coat and had placed his own Army-issued jacket over the top. The villagers in Bastogne had been kind enough to send along as many jackets as they could muster up. There weren’t enough to go around, so the Sergeant had probably traded something to get his.

“They got one new guy, and I’m not sure when the rest of the replacements will be along. Germans caught us with our damn pants down. We’ve got Panzers all along the front line, and infantry advancing on our position,” Taylor said.

He tossed his cigarette and ground the butt into the snow with his boot.

The two men ducked when more fire erupted from the front line. Wayne and Cooper picked that moment to get back in the action and ran toward the shooting.

“Thing about Airborne, they go looking for trouble,” Captain Taylor said, nodded at the company’s Sergeant.

“Wouldn’t know it, but those two argue like brothers. One time Wayne said something about Jake LaMotta that Cooper didn’t like. You’d have though they were insulting each other’s mothers. Had to pull ‘em apart.”

More rounds kicked up dirt and snow, forcing the two men to drop low.

“What’s this about a weird German?”

“Oh. That shell-shocked Kraut? He tried to attack one of the guys guarding him and got shot. Sorry about that, I know we’re supposed to take prisoners and all. Thing is, Captain, word’s been spreading about…”

“I know what’s been spreading. Guess the talk is all about Malmade?”

“So it’s true?” the Sergeant asked.

“It is. Sad to say. I should tell you, officially, that we treat prisoners the same way we’ve always treated them.”

“I can say those words, but the boys are already talking about killing every SS they come across,” the Sergeant said. “They massacred our boys. Lined them up in the goddamn snow and shot them down. That deserves payback.”

Captain Taylor tried to think of an argument.

“So the Kraut with white eyes, do I need to take a look, Sergeant, or are we done here?”

“That Kraut’s dead. Thought he was gone the first time, but then he got up and attacked Hansen. Bit him. Weirdest thing I’ve seen.”

“War’ll make you crazy,” Captain Taylor said. “Is Hansen alright?”

“I think so. He said it wasn’t bad. He took some shrapnel at Normandy and shook it off. I guess a little bite ain’t gonna kill him. He’s huddled up in one of the foxholes if you want to talk to him” the Sergeant said. “Oh, sir, before you go. I’m sure things are bleak, but we sure could use some ammo and bandages.”

Captain Taylor ducked as another mortar sailed through the air but overshot their position. It wouldn’t take long for the Germans to zero in on them though. The round exploded fifty feet behind them, dangerously close to Betsy.

“I’m sure Hansen’s fine,” Taylor said. “I’ve issued orders to resupply ASAP. We didn’t expect to be back in the fight so fast, Sergeant. Have your men make every round count.”

He felt around his belt and handed the man an extra magazine for his Thompson.

“Thank you, sir.” The Sergeant nodded in way of a salute. No point in giving any potential snipers a target if he could help it.

Captain Taylor counted to three, then leapt out of the foxhole and made for the jeep.

Krauts executing soldiers and now biting his men. What in the hell was this war coming to? Malmade was going to be a sore on every soldier’s mind before much longer.