Screaming Eagles

^FIFTY-ONE GRILLO

Grillo and his companions had mounted as many satchel charges as they could. Chaos was all around them, with villagers and soldiers alike streaming through the city. He had to carefully weave the primacord with square knots—a simple but frustrating task, thanks to the cold. His fingers were stiff, and his limbs ached from the long night and morning of fighting.

The twenty-two pound satchel charges had been arrayed against walls in two buildings so the blast would blow outward. With any luck, the rest of the walls would follow suit and collapse with the blast.

Grillo’s side itched where the bandaging had come loose. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to stop the irritating bindings from slipping any farther down his ribs.

“Clear the street!” Captain Taylor yelled, gesturing left and right.

Somewhere to the northeast, a huge gun pounded. Grenades exploded on the streets surrounding them, and small arms fire joined the cacophony.

Grillo backed up, playing out wire. He stumbled over a piece of rubble and landed hard on his backside. He got back up and continued his slow walk.

Captain Taylor joined Grillo, and helped string the wire.

“How we doing, Corporal?” the Captain said.

“Good, sir. Strange to be called Corporal,” Grillo said.

He wouldn’t have a chance to sew his new rank onto his uniforms for a while, assuming he even survived. At this rate, they were going to be overrun in minutes. The delaying action he was effecting would do little to stem the tide, but it might buy them some time.

Grillo played out more wire, and found the doorway they’d designated as their cover for the explosion. He picked up the detonator and attached the cord.

“We’re out of time, Corporal,” Taylor said, and pointed.

Grillo peeked out of the doorway and found hundreds of the crazed Germans flooding the main street.

“Should be ready, sir.”

“Wait,” Graves yelled. “There’s a pair of kids.”

He slid off the back of the half-track with one of the other tankers. They rounded the vehicle and ran toward the pair.

The little ones were no older than ten, and bundled up against the cold. They held hands as they picked their way over the rubble in the street.

“Get back here!” Captain Taylor yelled.

Grillo put his hand on the handle. Just a twist and he’d be creating one hell of a big bang. He’d also kill the two little ones, Graves, and the other guy. He looked at the Captain for orders, unsure if he’d be able to detonate the explosives even if Taylor gave the order.