"Damn Krauts! Cowards, all of them! Won't fight us head-on, just make us suffer out here in this hellhole!"
It was noon. A weary American soldier muttered the complaint while chewing on a dry ration cracker and washing it down with a sip of lukewarm water.
"Hey Spiegel, I don't quite agree," said another veteran, grinning as he leaned back against a tree. "If all the Krauts wanna do is hide and play tag with us in this jungle 'til the war ends, I'm all for it. Beats charging MG nests, don't you think?"
"Hide and seek forever? Wouldn't it be better to just end the damn war?" Spiegel frowned, puzzled.
"Kid, wars don't end unless enough men die." The older soldier made a finger-gun gesture and mimicked pulling the trigger. "That's how peace gets made."
Spiegel finally got it. He took another aggressive bite of his cracker, like he was trying to chew through the anger.
"Gibbs! Push the patrol perimeter further out. I don't want Krauts crawling right under our noses while we're sitting here picking our asses," I ordered, still chewing my own dry ration.
"Don't worry, sir. We're not green anymore. We've seen enough of this war to know better," Gibbs replied with a confident grin.
"Good. Never get too comfortable, though. Germans aren't known for being sloppy."
"No kidding. If they weren't so damn good, they wouldn't have rolled over half of Europe."
I nodded. "Exactly. What about Joanner's recon team? Any signs of movement?"
"Nothing so far."
"Nothing?" I frowned. "Doesn't add up. Bring me the map."
The jungle was thick and overgrown, and I'd been cautious about standing upright ever since that sniper tried to take my head off earlier. We crouched down and spread the map across a patch of dry ground.
"The German command post was spotted here," I pointed. "And we're currently positioned here."
"Captain Turner's men and the howitzer battery are right behind us, here," Gibbs added.
"Gibbs, if you were the German CO, what would you do?"
Gibbs thought for a moment, brows furrowed. "If I saw the Americans advancing cautiously with strong defenses and tight coordination... I wouldn't go head-on. I'd fall back, probe for weaknesses, and wait for a chance to strike back."
He pointed toward the forest area on the map. "This forest north of Clécy—it's not big, but it's dense and tangled. Not ideal for a large force, but perfect for an infantry battalion to maneuver, ambush, and harass."
He grew frustrated and waved at the map. "Hell, maybe I'd just hit 'em once hard and then disappear."
That offhand comment landed hard. We all stared at the central shaded part of the map—the dense woods.
That's it. That had to be it.
The forest north of Clécy wasn't large enough to conceal a regiment but was just right for a full German infantry battalion to dig in, harass, and vanish. It wasn't worth risking Colonel Herbert's limited force to hold it either. But as a baited trap? Oh, it made perfect sense.
They were gambling on us taking the bait—rushing in to clear what looked like a command post. They didn't need to hold the woods. They just needed to hurt us.
But I wasn't about to bite. All morning, I advanced slowly, setting up defenses at every step. If they wanted a fight, they'd have to wait 'til nightfall.
"You think they'll hit us tonight?"
"I doubt it, sir," Gibbs said flatly. "Our lines are consolidated. They can't approach without us hearing it. No armor, no heavy guns, and they'd need time to break through."
"Then when's their best chance to strike? Broad daylight? We could fall back and dig in. They'd be walking into a meat grinder. From behind? That'd be suicide."
"Impossible. Turner's men are right behind us. If the Germans tried that, they'd end up surrounded."
I nodded slowly. "Exactly... unless they come from underground."
That thought sent a chill down my spine. But that's ridiculous. They'd need an entire tunnel system. No way.
I shook my head, dismissing it. "Let's move. Joanner and his team'll start griping if we're late."
Deep in the jungle, Job and Crane lay motionless in the underbrush. They still had no idea how they'd wandered into such a heavily fortified German zone.
"Now what? That's a lot of Germans," Crane whispered, sweat dripping from his brow. "Looks like they're prepping for a full-scale attack."
"I don't get it either," Job muttered. "It doesn't make sense. Why risk exposing this much force unless they're covering something else?" He glanced toward the horizon. "Where the hell's Zachary?"
"Didn't you tell him not to come back after the last intel run?"
"I did," Job said, nodding. He made a hand signal for retreat. Just as they began to move, thunder cracked through the air.
BOOM!
"Shit! They're hitting the Captain!" Job's face went pale.
"Where the hell did they come from?! Get down!"
BOOM!
A German mortar exploded nearby, the blast wave slamming into me and flinging me into a muddy ditch. Germans. Behind us. Behind us!
"Gibbs! Form a line! Don't let them break through!"
"Captain! They're hitting our whole flank! We need reinforcements!"
"No time! Donovan and Joanner are probably getting hit too! We hold the line or we die! Let's go, boys! Turner's coming up behind them—we just have to hold!"
I shouted to keep my men from unraveling.
"Get word to Captain Turner! Tell him to close in now! Artillery, get ready!"
"Sir, they're hesitating to fire—worried about friendly casualties!"
"Tell them I said do it! I'll take the blame!"
The Germans were pouring out like they'd been hiding beneath us all along. They had dug foxholes, spider holes—hell, full tunnels. I'd been careful, damn careful, and I still walked right into it. They didn't move all morning, but when they did—it was like thunder.
"Fire! Light 'em up!"
The German MG-42s opened up with lethal crossfire, and their infantry surged forward behind them.
My rear guard collapsed within minutes.
"Fall back to my position! Consolidate! Everyone on me!"
We were being hit from all sides—Joanner and Donovan were yelling over the radio.
"Captain, we're overwhelmed!"
"My line's falling! The Germans are everywhere!"
I felt my stomach drop.
We were being swarmed. No backup. No fallback. No safe angle.
This wasn't a skirmish—it was a slaughter waiting to happen.
That's when I finally understood the true value of armor.
The two M8 Greyhound armored scout cars we brought were the only reason we hadn't been wiped out in the first five minutes. Their autocannons and .50 cal machine guns were the only thing making the Germans think twice.
Thank God the Krauts hadn't brought anti-tank guns. But they were trying. Again and again, they threw teams with grenades and launchers at us.
"Use the vehicles as cover! Form up!"
I yelled from behind one of the Greyhounds.
"Damn it, they've got Panzerfausts! Take him out—now!"
The Panzerfaust was a cheap, single-shot German anti-tank weapon. They came in all flavors—Faust 30K, 60, 100, 150, even 180. Deadly at close range, it was fired by impact trigger and stabilized with pop-out fins. The later versions could reach up to 150 meters.
By the time you spotted one, it was usually too late.
I didn't care. I'd throw bodies in the way if I had to.
Those two M8 Greyhounds were the last wall between us and total collapse—and I'd hold that line with everything I had, until Turner and Colonel Herbert got here to save our sorry asses.