"Has the number of German forces in our area been confirmed yet?" I asked Winters.
"Not yet," he replied. "But from the current estimates, there could be a reinforced battalion of Germans in this jungle. If Colonel Herbert's intel is accurate, the Germans might be trying to concentrate their forces here to wipe us out in one go!"
"That's impossible!" I firmly disagreed with Winters' theory. "The Germans would never concentrate all their forces here."
"Why not?" Winters pressed.
"Although the Germans could overwhelm us, they wouldn't be able to wipe us out quickly. Plus, this place is only a two-hour drive from Colonel Herbert's headquarters. They must be considering whether we can hold them off! If we manage to delay them, Herbert's forces will be able to reinforce us quickly. The Germans aren't fools. They won't make that mistake."
"You're right, Captain," Winters said, his voice tinged with doubt about the Germans' intentions. "So, what are they trying to do?"
"Let's stop worrying about their plans for now. For us, it's all about steady progress. We need to control key points, and that way, we can force the Germans to come to us."
"Agreed," Winters nodded.
Just as we were strategizing around the map, a sharp crack from a German rifle pierced the air. One of my guards collapsed beside me.
"Sniper! Hit the deck!" I shouted.
The bullet had clearly been meant for me, but by some twist of fate, I had turned just in time, and my guard had taken the shot for me. The suddenness of the sniper's attack made my blood run cold. Without hesitation, I ducked behind the jeep.
"Damn it, where is that bastard?" I muttered.
"Sir, he's probably in the one o'clock position!" came the reply.
"Mortar team, damn it, get him out of there!" My heart was still racing, sweat pouring down my forehead. Honestly, I'd just had a brush with death. "Donovan! Donovan! Go get that damn sniper!"
"Machine gun team, suppress fire at one o'clock! Everyone else, follow me!" Donovan barked as he led the charge.
We didn't know exactly where the German sniper was, but as long as we had a general direction, that was enough. The machine guns erupted in a hail of fire, bullets tearing through the air like a storm, all aimed at the suspected position.
I carefully peered around the jeep, raising my binoculars to locate where the sniper had fired from. The area was thick with bushes, now torn apart by the machine gun fire, leaves and branches flying everywhere. I thought, since that damn sniper missed, he must have already fled. I stuck my head out a bit more, determined to get a glimpse.
"Bang!"
"Ugh! My neck!" The tremendous force of the bullet slammed me to the ground.
I had been hit! The sniper hadn't left; he was determined to finish the job.
"Captain!" Gibbs shouted, panic in his voice, as he rushed to my side.
"Damn Germans! I'm going to skin you alive!" I cursed, gripping my neck in pain, trying to sit up.
"Are you hurt, sir?" Gibbs asked, seeing the blood on my hand. He quickly called for medics. "Medic! Medic! The Captain's been hit!"
"I'm fine! Just get me that sniper!" I snapped, though my body still trembled with shock.
Somehow, the sniper had only grazed my steel helmet, leaving a small dent along the edge. The bullet's momentum had twisted my neck back with immense force, like it might snap. Fortunately, the shot had been too far for a fatal blow. But the pain was unbearable.
"I see him! He's in that patch of bushes! Keep suppressing him! Don't let him raise his head!" A soldier pointed to a small thicket, shouting to those around him.
"Ahh!"
A second shot rang out, and the soldier who had been aiming at the bushes crumpled to the ground, his helmet knocked askew. The impact had driven the bullet deep into his skull, and blood and brain matter splattered from his head as he collapsed, his lifeless body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
"Damn it, where's the mortar?" In just a few minutes, that sniper had cost Donovan three more men.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Finally, the mortars fired, a barrage of shells raining down on the sniper's position. The area exploded into chaos, the earth pocked with craters, like it had been bombarded by a meteor shower.
"Advance and check it out!" I ordered.
The smoke still hung in the air as we approached the now-destroyed position. There, a young German soldier lay in the dirt, his face covered in blood. He had been killed by the mortar blast, and his hand still gripped the trigger, as if in defiance, his eyes wide with unspent rage, as if asking, "Why didn't I kill him?"
"Damn bastard!" Donovan kicked the corpse angrily, still venting his frustration. I raised my hand to stop him, wincing as I tried to move my aching neck.
"Stop desecrating his body! We all fight for different sides, but as soldiers, he was a true German warrior. Someone, bury him properly."
I wasn't sure if the soldiers around me understood what I was saying, but once a man is dead, all hatred fades. Despite my orders, the German sniper's body was hastily dumped into a shell hole, covered over without ceremony. On the battlefield, this was as good as it got. Maybe when my time came, I'd end up with the rest of the bodies, burned together in a mass grave. Or perhaps I'd be tossed into some corner to rot or be eaten by the beasts. In this war, death was often a release — no more mud, no more bullets, no more fear.
"Damn, looks like the Germans are really gearing up for a fight now," a medic muttered as he wrapped my neck with gauze. The pain was sharp, but I had to keep moving. I waved him off, annoyed.
"Alright, alright, it's fine. No more bandaging, I'm good to go!"
When Joanner heard about my attack, he immediately ran back from the front, looking nervous as he approached.
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said softly. "It's my fault. My recon team missed that damn sniper."
Our headquarters had been a bit further back from Joanner's recon unit, which had been sweeping through the area. They had failed to spot the German sniper, and now, because of that, we had barely survived a brush with death. Still, the blame couldn't rest solely on Joanner's team. In war, things like this happen — it's a constant game of chance. If I had died, I'd just have to accept that I hadn't been favored by fate.
"It's not your fault," I reassured her. "But I'm certain now: the Germans are playing a game with us, trying to make us second-guess their main force."
"Do you think the Germans we've encountered are all from the same unit?" Joanner mused.
"No, there's at least two German forces. Each has at least a company of men. Otherwise, our recon teams wouldn't have been so confused."
"But where are the rest of them? What's their endgame?"
Could the Germans be trying to take out one of our companies — mine or Turner's? That didn't make sense. With two full companies in the area, they could try to fight us, but attacking us would be a huge gamble, especially since the Germans lacked reinforcements. Whatever happened, Herbert's men would be here soon enough.
I'd suspected all along that Herbert's strategy was to keep the Germans guessing, to make them think we were a larger force. He'd sent just my company and Turner's into the jungle to deal with the Germans, not because it wouldn't affect the overall defense of Clécy, but because he knew the Germans would hesitate to engage. Herbert had set a trap, knowing they wouldn't know what to do if they couldn't crush us quickly. He knew they would either pull back or risk being surrounded and wiped out.
If I were the German commander, how could I both inflict a devastating blow on the American forces and preserve the main body of my troops still based in Clécy? I'm considering this question from the standpoint of a German commander.