James Shipman - Task Force Baum

“What’s taking them so long?” he asked finally, frustration and anxiety churning up the hot cauldron of his emotions.

“It takes as long as it takes,” said Stiller, motionless beside him in the darkness.

The bastard , thought Hall. How can he sit there so calm ? Must be too stupid to have an imagination. Besides, who would miss him if he was killed? Hall strained his eyes again, trying to make out any progress in front of them, but all he could see was the occasional flash followed by a distant booming, dancing with the staccato rattle of small-arms fire. Why didn’t they get a move on? The longer they were stuck here, the more time the Germans had to prepare for them. Damn this whole operation!

“Something’s wrong, sir,” he said. “Do you want me to check with Baum and find out what the hang-up is? We should be long out of here. If we don’t hurry, the Germans will be waiting all along the route.”

Stiller chuckled, turning to Hall. “Nerves a little on edge, boy? I forgot this is your first time in near combat. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of the shit on this little trip, no matter when we get through here. And, no, I don’t need you bothering Baum. I promised we’d stay out of his way, and the last thing he needs right now is a snotty-nosed lieutenant asking him questions. Just sit tight. We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Baum materialized out of the darkness. The lanky captain was striding rapidly up to their jeep, helmet in one hand and a map in the other. He exchanged a brisk salute with Stiller.

“You got everything you need?” he asked.

“Just like you promised. What’s the deal up ahead?” asked the major, nodding toward the front.

“We’re delayed. There’s more resistance than we figured. A couple companies maybe, spread out in the buildings. A tank or two also, or artillery. We haven’t figured it out yet.”

“How long do you figure before we bust through?”

“I’m not sure. Could be at it all night. That’s what I came to let you know. I don’t want to wait. I think we’ll force the issue.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Hall.

Stiller jabbed a finger at the lieutenant. “He wasn’t talking to you.”

“That’s all right,” said Baum. “I’m talking about lighting up our machines and storming right through town. The two companies Abrams sent are already well in. It’s the last few blocks that are giving them trouble. If we rip through right now, we should make it just fine… except—”

“Except it may get a little messy,” finished Stiller.

“You got it, Major. Figure we’re gonna lose a few boys that way. I hate doing it right out of the gate, but we got to get this show moving before we call half the German army down on us. You all right with that?”

“I told you, Baum, I’m just along for the ride. This is your ball game.”

“Can’t we wait a bit longer?” asked Hall.

“You’ll have to excuse the lieutenant,” said Stiller. “He’s a greenhorn. Never tasted any combat before.” The lieutenant flushed with anger at the comment. Shove it in my face all you want, you bastard. I’ll show you .

“Don’t worry, Hall,” said Baum. “We aren’t taking much of a risk. You’ll get used to it anyway, before we’re through with this little trip.” The captain pointed down at the Thompson. “I’d get that loaded and ready to go. Never know what might come out at you, and we can use all the covering fire we can get. You know how to use that thing?”

Hall nodded.

“Good. When we get into town, spray the second-floor windows as we roll by. You don’t have to worry about hitting anything. I just want those krauts ducking as much as possible. But one clip only, okay? We’re going to need all the ammo we have on this hike.”

“Yes, sir, one clip only.”

“Get ready then. We’re moving out in the next few minutes.” He turned to the driver. “Just gun it when the Sherman in front of you takes off. Stay on his ass; you won’t want to give them a chance to spot an unarmored target. Good luck, boys.” Baum turned and disappeared rapidly into the blackness.

Stiller turned to the lieutenant. “Well, Hall, this is it. Get that Thompson up and ready to go. When we get into the town, keep your cool. Hit those second-story windows, like Baum said. You’ll see. It’s all easy enough once it gets started. It’s the waiting that’s the problem.”

Hall reached down and pulled the Thompson up. He jammed a clip into the submachine gun and locked it into place, flipping the safety open with his thumb. He kept his finger off the trigger and the barrel pointed out of the vehicle at a forty-five-degree angle, as he’d been trained. He was thankful to have the weapon to cling to, and he hoped the major couldn’t see how much his hands were shaking.

A new sound erupted in the night. Rolling back from the front of the column came the rumbling of engines as first the lead Sherman, then the others fired up their engines. Hall heard the jeep start, adding its buzz to the thunderous roar of the task force as it prepared to move.

“We’re heading out,” shouted their driver. “Be prepared for a bumpy ride.” They sat there for a few more minutes before the Sherman directly in front of them roared into motion. Their driver lurched forward, keeping the front of the jeep pressed up and almost kissing the rear of the lumbering tank.

They jolted and banged along the road, the flashes and thuds of artillery growing ever closer as the town drew into sharper focus. Hall gripped his Thompson, his heart echoing the racing rattle of machine-gun fire.

“Hang on,” said Stiller. “We’re almost there.” The major drew his .45 pistol and lowered the lip of his helmet. He reached into his mouth, pulling out his wad of tobacco and tossing it into the night.

The column entered the first row of houses. Hall was shocked up close by the damage to the buildings. While the frames of the outer structures still stood in most places, the walls were pitted with machine-gun bullets interspersed with the gaping holes of artillery and tank shells. Fire raged through one of them, the flames licking greedily out every window. A German soldier lay facedown in front of the front door, surrounded by an angry red pool, arms stretched out and fingers gripping the pavement in twisted claws.

The roar of explosions in front of Hall clattered thunderously. His ears rang, and he felt concussive spasms overwhelming him wave after wave. The detonations erupted rapidly now, and he could see the horror unfolding in front of him by the light of the shells and the raging fires.

Flashes flickered from the windows of many of the houses. A Sherman a few ahead of him jerked, and its cannon belched fire. A house a hundred yards away erupted from the shell, the whole structure collapsing in on itself. Hall saw in terror the outline of a man writhing in flames among the rubble.

“Hall, what the hell are you doing!” demanded Stiller. “Fire your weapon at those windows!”

The lieutenant had forgotten his orders in the chaos. He drew a deep breath and raised the Thompson to his shoulder. Sighting down the barrel, he depressed the trigger. The weapon bucked hard against his shoulder and flayed wildly in his hands as a spurt of bullets flew out, crashing against one of the houses.

“Keep it up, boy!”

He fired the Thompson again and again, aiming for the windows. His arm was nearly ripped from the socket by the violent recoil. He had no idea if he was hitting anything, but Stiller kept shouting, and he continued pressing the trigger. He pulled down again, and nothing happened. He looked at his weapon, wondering what was wrong. Out of bullets . The thought amid the fog of his emotions. He reached down to the satchel between him and Stiller and drew out another clip, but the major grabbed his wrist, shaking his head.