WARNING: The folowing story contains violent scenes.

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED


June 6th 1944: 0100 Hours
Somewhere over the skies of Northern France

***

The drone of the C-47's Pratt & Whitney engines woke Sgt. Sean Grissom from his deep sleep. It must've been those goddamm sleepin pills doc gave me he thought wryly. He peered down the spartan and cramped corridor of the plane at the rest of Dog company. He saw some of his buddies he trained at Camp Toccoa in Georgia. He remembered pure hell of intense PT (Physical Training), and the exhilaration of parachuting out of a moving plane at 5000 feet. He remembered the crossing to England, the drills, the war games in which his squad came out on top as a result of the top notch leadership of Captain Martindale, a vet who already made a jump with 82nd over Sicily back in '43. He even remembered the times when he and Cpl. Eddie long-a friend from El Paso-Fellow Sergeants Don Williams from Biloxi, Ed Maroney from Chicago, James McDonald from Peyton, Iowa, and George Gennuci from Manhattan went to the local pub near base. They got drunk, hooked up with some of the British girls, made love, played darts and billiards, joked, smoked, and occasionaly got into fist fights with some stupid RN sailors on leave. Those were the days before seriousness of what was going on. After 3 weeks prior to the scheduled drop it was all business. The annoyance at the 24 hour postponement was a real pain in the ass for Grissom and the rest of the 506th PIR (Parchute Infantry Regiment). Now todays the day. The assault on Hitler's Festung Europa was on.

The air in the C-47 became intense. Grissom and McDonald checked the mechanism of their Thompson SMG's. Gennuci prayed with his rosary beads-like any devout catholic would do- Long, Williams, and Maroney enjoyed a pack of lucky strikes. Besides his buddies, Grissom noticed several new faces. Replacements at the last minute. This would be their baptism of fire. Captain Martindale looked patiently out the port side of the access door at the swirling clouds and the amassed fleet of warships below in the English Channel. Battleships, Cruisers, Destroyers, Minesweepers, Troop transports, landing craft. The entire allied fleet was out in force for the big invasion. Martindale checked his watch...

45 minutes to the green light. OPERATION OVERLORD was in full swing. Fortress Europe was about to be breached...

TO BE CONTINUED...

th: Another mighty story from BR, can't wait for more!

Great start!! keep it up!! :)

***

The red light came on beside Capt. Martindale's head. Time to go.

"GET READY!" Martindale yelled above the roar of the engines. Every man of Fox company stood up. their weapons and equipment safely packed in their harnesses. The glim light of the moon and the flash of AA fire illuminated the 101st airborne division patches on their arms. Grissom got up and shook the side effects of the airsickness pills off his groggy mind. The others did the same.

"STAND UP!" Martindale called out. "HOOK UP!" He called out again. Everyone attached their static line to the cable running the length of the C-47's fuselage. The static line would go taught when the paratrooper jumped out the plane and would open the main parachute. If all went well, the drop would be simple and safe. If not, you the reader could probably fill in what happened next.

"EQUIPMENT CHECK!" The men each checked each other's chutes and harnesses to ensure a snug fit. Grissom, and Gennuci each prayed the Hail Mary as the seconds ticked on...

***

In the cockpits and fuselages of over 1000 C-47's frantic efforts to evade the brutal German AA fire proved useless. To ensure the safe drop of the 101st's men, the pilots had to fly a straight course. The combined fire of 20mm, 37mm, and 88mm flak was devastating. The fuselages of planes erupted into gasoline fed torches. Men waiting to jump were incinerated, their screaming, flame lit bodies tumbled into the black abyss. whole planes were cut in two by 88mm fire. They plummeted downward, a few luck men managing to jump out safely before the twisted mass of aircraft and battle-trained men impacted the ground and blossomed into tullips of red and orange flames. Other planes were luckier. But only so. The pilots were so terrified of joining their dead buddies they actually missdropped their precious cargoes all over Normandy. Companies were separated over kilometers of ground with the Nazis between them and their objectives. It was the mother of all SNAFU's.

The plane carrying Grissom, Martindale and the others were lucky somehow. The pilot, who apparently flew B-24's before he transferred to the Transport Corps, was hellbent on his objective. The pilot, a twenty something from Kansas City, flew on against the maelstrom of flak and tracer fire, oblivious to the mangles remains of his co-pilot. The poor buzzard's face was ripped off, exposing the cavity where his brain should have been. A massive piece of shrapnel was jammed into his seat and impaled him through his flak jacket like a spear. His right eye hung down from its socket, its veins and crimson-red muscles swaying in the momentum of the breeze that pervaded the plane like an evil wind. Martindale pushed the corpse of a private out of the way and thundered into the swaying, and bucking cockpit.

"What the hell is taking so long goddamit!?" Martindale bellowed. "We're getting plastered out here for christ sake!"

"We're almost there!!!" The pilot spoke unflinching at the controls. Suddenly the engine flared into a orange flaming mass. "Holy S***!" Gennuci yelled, we're going down!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

th: You sure are good on details.................there goes my sleep for the rest of the week :lol:

sorry kelly, wanted to show the gruesome side of war. Instead of glossing it over.

Hi Big Red,
A nice stroy you got going here - a very nice authentic feel to it! Keep up the good work!

th:

Well, you sure did a good job of it. Not that I'm complaining. You really are a talented writer (and prolific). Can't wait for more. th:

good work Red. Can't wait to see how one of your stories end some day.

***

The next morning...


The lights of dawn revealed a scene of chaos. The C-47 was a lost cause. one engine was fried and demlolished, while the other one was ripped from its mountings and flung like some discarded toy by a tempermental child into some trees. Gennuci was dead. He was decapitated by a piece of flaming aluminum as the plane skidded across the field, gouging a trench along some farmers field near St. Mere Eglise. Williams broke his neck in the impact, and his lifeless body fell out of the plane only to be crushed by the twisted mass of fuselage. Two technical Sgts. were killed, and two privates shot full of holes by flak. The rest survived the crash. The pilot, Jimmy Patterson was uninjured, and used his limited medical training he got before the war to assist the medics who had survived the crash. Grissom, Long, Maroney, Privates Elder, Stone, Penneli, and Capt.Martindale set up a perimeter protect the crash site.

Martindale hunkered down beside the crashed aircraft and checked his map. "Looks like we're a few kilometers off target." Patterson, who had grabbed a M1 rifle and some ammo,joined the Captain and scanned the horizon for enemy.
"The shelling should be starting soon. God knows how long we'll be here." He glanced at the radio. "Can't we ask for assistance?" Patterson asked.

"Naw I already tried that sir," Long replied grimly. "The goddamm thing must've been busted in the crash." He saw some movement from the corner of his eye. "I got movement her sir!"

Martindale picked up some binoculars. "Aw christ, they're not ours." A collumn of Germans probably a platoon plus vehicles was moving in the direction of the stranded paratroopers. Half tracks, Kubelwagens, and self-propelled howitzers were moving fast.

"EVERBODY GET READY!" Martindale called out. "Just weapons and ammo people, drop everything else! Hold you fire till they're within range!"

The Germans saw the movement near the plane and opened fire with mortar and MG fire. tracer shells ripped the land scape. Explosions scarred the ground, and Whermacht troops advanced SMG's and rifles blazing. MG-42 crews opened up with a hail of 7.62mm ammo. The stranded paratroopers took cover behind the plane and laded their weapons. Privates Elder and Stone readied the two .30 caliber machine guns and took carefull aim.

"OPEN FIRE!!!" Martindale yelled.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Keep is going Red. I love WWII stories.

***


The Browning .30 caliber machine guns spat out their red hot stream of tracer fire at the hapless Germans. The enemy troops were caught on open ground, and were cut to bloody pieces by high caliber rounds. Long, Elder, and Stone hurled grenades at the approching Nazi troops. Arms, legs, torsos, and pieces of heads flew like butchered meat across the field.


"Bring up the goddamm bazookas!" Martindale yelled. "We got armor coming our way! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

Grissom stopped firing his Thompson, and grabbed a rocket launcher from a case inside the shattered C-47, and shoved a round into the tube. He pointed to a terrified private shuddering beside the landing gear of the plane. "What in god's name are you doing private!?" he screamed, "Pick up your f***ing weapon!"

"I-I-I cant..." the boy said. "Oh god! They're everywhere!!!" His voice broke into sobs.

"You get your ass over here," Grissom yelled "And help me with this bazooka! I don't have time for this s**t!"

The soldier meekly submitted to Grissom's order, and closed the electical circuit to fire the rocket. A German Marder self propelled gun trundled up the field, laying down a brutal rain of shells. two men were vaporized by a direct hit, and one lost both his legs. He screamed the most heinous scream Grissom ever heard. He looked back at Doc Smith, D-Company's medic desperately tried to stop the blood spraying from both his severed arteries. The poor SOB was dead in about 1 minute. His blood saturated the green grass aroudnd the wrecked plane.

Grissom shooke the horrifying scene from his head and squeezed the trigger of the bazooka that was aimed at the Marder.

TO BE CONTINUED...

BTW: If you wish to contribute to this story, feel free to write a chapter as you see fit. There is no set limit of wording, so go nuts!!!

Cheers...

James "Big Red" Martindale

I'm a huge fan of World War II books. I'd like to see more of your writing.