As soon as the unit left the jungle, I realized I hadn't seen Job. I quickly asked, "Has anyone seen Job?" Everyone shook their heads.
"Has he... died?" Just as I sighed, mourning the loss of another key man, one of Winters' former men spoke up, "Sir, I saw him earlier, but things got chaotic, and I couldn't keep track of him. It looked like some of the Germans split off to chase him."
"God help him... I hope he's still alive," I muttered, knowing that I could never order the unit to turn back to the battlefield just for Job.
Job and Crane, relentlessly pursued by the Germans, kept retreating, using the terrain to their advantage. But due to their impeccable aim, the Germans were hesitant to get too close. That gave Job and Crane some space, but as more Germans joined the pursuit, both men were as good as dead.
Job had taken a bullet to the leg, slowing him down, so the two of them had no choice but to lean on each other as they fled. They stumbled upon a small forest cabin, mostly demolished, with only the walls left standing. Job, leaning against the wall with his Springfield sniper rifle, let out a breath of relief. He wiped the blood from his leg and gave a bitter smile.
"Sergeant, let me bandage that for you," Crane offered, pulling a roll of bandages from his first aid kit.
Job didn't refuse but chuckled. "Didn't expect you to have that kind of thing with you." Snipers rarely survive injuries, and even if they do, carrying bandages seems unnecessary for one with such battlefield experience.
Crane blushed and quickly changed the subject. "Well, I guess you could say it's your turn to need it, Sergeant."
Suddenly, Job made a "silence" gesture to Crane. Crane immediately grabbed his rifle and scanned the area warily.
Sergeant Fischer, leading the German pursuit, was seething with anger. He'd already lost six men to Job and Crane's deadly fire, and he vowed to skin them alive for his fallen soldiers.
Looking at the shattered cabin, following the trail of blood from the injured American sniper, Fischer knew the two snipers were likely hiding there, preparing to ambush. He signaled to his men to crouch low, split into two groups, and flank the cabin. He made a hand gesture, indicating an assault with grenades. His men moved into position, using the brush for cover, creeping toward the cabin.
Job wasn't entirely certain the Germans had surrounded them yet, but his instincts, honed from years of combat, told him to crouch low and peer through a crack in the wall, scanning the surrounding jungle.
"We can't stay here long. We need to move out, now," Job whispered.
"Right, we'll head back to the main unit," Crane replied.
"Attention! Someone's coming," Job suddenly said, raising his rifle and aiming at a bush. "Crane, cover my back!"
Crane's heart skipped a beat. He knelt down, pressing his cheek to the stock of his rifle, ready to fire at anything that moved.
Fischer, hiding behind some brush, watched through binoculars, waiting for the two German assault teams to close in on the cabin.
"Jansen, get the machine gun ready. I'm sure those two Americans are hiding in there," Fischer murmured to his machine gunner.
"Sergeant, when we catch them, can I have their eyes?" Jansen growled, his voice full of hatred. One of his brothers had been burned alive by American flamethrowers during the Omaha defense.
Fischer didn't answer, but gave Jansen a soft pat on the shoulder, a silent sign of understanding.
The German assault teams, now in position, were only a few hundred meters away from Job and Crane.
Job noticed the German ambush first, but the distance was too far to make the shot. He sighed bitterly.
"Crane, are you afraid of dying?"
"Sergeant, of course, I'm afraid of dying!" Crane realized the gravity of their situation.
"Dammit, I've got a soldier who's afraid to die. How unlucky can I get?" Job muttered.
Crane shook his head. This man, who'd never cursed before, had started to sound just like Job. "Goddamn Nazi bastard. I haven't even been with a woman yet. I don't want to die here!"
"My God, how old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"God, you should be breastfeeding in your mom's arms!"
Crane tilted his head, thinking for a moment, then tightened his grip on his rifle. "No, no, no. Maybe I'd rather suck on my wife's milk!"
"My God, you're a pervert!" Job exclaimed with mock shock.
"I'd rather be a pervert!" Crane shot back without a hint of shame.
"Maybe I should pray the Germans shoot your nuts off!" Job laughed.
"Sergeant, I curse you!" Crane shot back with a grin.
"Quiet, here they come!" Job suddenly raised his sniper rifle and fired at a German soldier that jumped out from the left. He missed, and only kicked up dust.
"Two o'clock, three Germans!"
"Nine o'clock, two Germans!"
"Dammit, there's a machine gun in front of us!"
"Crane, move, grenade!" Job shouted.
Boom! The already demolished cabin took another hit as several grenades rained down, collapsing its walls further.
"My God, my balls!" Crane suddenly screamed in agony. He looked down at his blood-soaked hands. Shrapnel from a grenade had hit him in the groin. His pain was unbearable, and he writhed on the ground.
"Fight back, you bastard!"
Job, pinned down by the German machine gun fire, barely had the chance to lift his head. He shot one more German soldier, but he didn't realize Crane had been gravely wounded. When he looked back, Crane was on the ground, clutching his groin, writhing in pain. Job understood immediately.
"I've got a real mouth on me, but it looks like we're both done for today," Job thought, despair starting to set in.
As the Germans closed in and more grenades came flying in, Job barely managed to shoot two more Germans before he slumped against the broken wall, gasping for air.
Fischer, hiding next to his machine gunner, Jansen, watched as three more of his men were killed. His teeth were clenched, and his rage was overwhelming. Now, with only four men left, he wasn't sure they could eliminate the two snipers. But what Fischer didn't know was that the grenades had left one of the snipers too wounded to keep fighting, and Job was barely holding on by willpower alone.
Job reached for a grenade from his vest and glanced at the unconscious Crane. "Brother, I'm sorry. It looks like you won't be getting any women in this life... Heh, you don't know what you're missing. Well, don't worry. When we get to Heaven, I'll get God to give you a woman to be your wife. I just hope they've got women there."
As the sounds of gunfire slowly died down, Fischer realized the main German army hadn't completed their mission. He knew his time was running out. The orders were clear: eliminate these two American snipers, or the entire unit would retreat before nightfall. He waited a moment, and when he didn't hear any movement, he assumed Job and Crane were done for. Fischer waved his hand, signaling his remaining men to close in.
Fischer moved carefully, keeping his finger on the trigger of his Mauser rifle. About a hundred meters from the cabin, he paused, signaling his men to prepare for close combat. As he moved forward, the absence of movement from Job made him pick up his pace.
Job had long since spotted Fischer. The earlier target he'd aimed at was actually Fischer, but the angle hadn't been right for a clean shot. Fischer had gotten lucky, but luck wasn't going to save him now.
With a swift pull of the trigger, Job's bullet hit Fischer square in the chest, opening up a gaping wound. Fischer's lifeless eyes stared at his chest for a moment before he collapsed.
The bullet had been a Dum-Dum round, a hollow-point bullet designed to expand upon impact. These were illegal under the Hague Convention but were used by some military units. The round didn't just pierce the body; it caused devastating internal damage. If it hit a limb, amputation was often necessary.
Fischer's death triggered a desperate response from Jansen, who began firing his machine gun wildly. But Job had already thrown a grenade at Jansen's position, and, in one last act of defiance, fired a clean shot that killed him instantly. Jansen's body fell to the ground, his machine gun still clutched in his hands.
Two more Germans had been killed in the blink of an eye, leaving only two remaining. Panic set in for the last two Germans, and they rushed toward Job's position.
Job, barely able to hold himself upright, pulled out his Colt M1911 pistol and aimed it at the advancing Germans. One soldier closed in, raising his rifle to fire, but Job was quicker. He squeezed off several rounds, the .45 caliber bullets tearing through the German soldier's body. Another German soldier rushed forward, eyes wide with rage, his gun raised to kill Job.
Job aimed his pistol, but it seemed like fate had other plans.