Part 4
By Sam Doctor

Tuck loaded another round into his rifle and turned towards the remaining gun. Through his nine-power scope he took aim at the Mg42 gunner. The German's grey steel helmet sat crooked on his head, turned slightly up and to the left, to assure he could see down the barrel of the machine gun. The tip of his tongue was stuck out the side of his mouth, indicative of concentration on his task. The assistant gunner sat wide eyed next to him, holding the chain of bullets level with the feeder, allowing his partner to fire at a greater rate without fear of a jam. As the gunner turned his body to adjust his aim to the left or the right, so did the assistant, creating a slightly comical bit that could be described as a dance of sorts.


Observations aside, Tuck burned his crosshairs into the gun-man, aiming just above his gun powder-blackened chin. Tuck's rifle was zeroed on 300 yards, and since it was only about 60 yards away from his current position, he held off low, to allow room for the bullet to rise. As he aimed now, the bullet should strike the German right between his eyes, providing a clean kill, and an opportunity for his squad-mates to move in on the Krauts to their front.


He took up the trigger slack and squeezed slowly. The rifle bucked hard into his shoulder as the firing pin hit the primer on the casing. Gasses from the explosions of smokeless powder slammed into the cup shaped back of the round, which pushed up into the rest of the bullet, expanding its lead core and allowing its nickel jacket to grip the spiraled rifling on the inside of the barrel. The heavy 150 grain bullet shot out of the muzzle at 2,700 feet per second, spinning downrange toward its unknowing target. The recoil from the shot knocked the scope up and off target before the impact of the round, but when Tuck brought it back down again the German gunner was dead, his companion stunned. The bullet had killed the Kraut before the sound of the shot reached him, striking the assistant with a certain element of fear that can only be reached when one hears the sound of his neighbor's skull being penetrated at super-sonic speeds.


'Let's go Holt!'� Compton shouted as he rose to his feet and hurdled over the bullet ridden log. He now carried the thirty cal. in his left hand, slinging it over his shoulder as if he were on a hiking trip. The carbine was held akimbo in his right.


Thom reached down to his waist and pulled his bayonet out of his belt. He brought it hurriedly to the muzzle and slipped the small loop at the handle over the end of the barrel, then slid the bottom half onto the stud to ensure it wouldn't fall off. He then jumped over the log and ran with Compton. Thom fired his rifle from the hip as he ran, catching the first German in the shoulder.


As the young German spun towards the ground, Compton shot the remaining one twice with the carbine. The two shots hammered into the Kraut, practically lifting him out of the trench with their combined force.


Behind them, Tuck was in a bit of trouble. Upon killing the German gunner, he realized he had better reload while he still could. He flipped the bolt of his rifle up and back, flinging the spent cartridge from his last kill to the ground and revealing the two that he had left in the built-in magazine. He reached into his bandolier and pulled out three more, but dropped one as he did. While bending over to pick it up he spilled two more and fumbled with those. By the time he was reloaded and set, the assistant gunner had gotten it together and began firing the Mg42 at Holt and Compton.


By the time Thom and Compton were ten feet away from the trench, bullets started flying all around them. As they ran, a bullet ricocheted off the dirt and hit Compton in the foot, kicking his leg out from under him and sending him tumbling toward the ground.


'Holt!'� He cried out as he hit the dirt. Thom slid into the trench and set his Garand down as he reached for Compton. Just out of reach a mere five feet away, Compton lay still clutching both the thirty cal. and the carbine. Thom watched hopelessly as the machine gun flung hot lead at his friend. Each bullet hit the ground with a splash of dirt and debris, each seeming to explode like tiny mortars.


'Come on Compton!'� He yelled with all his might, his voice cracked with fear. Compton finally crawled close enough for Thom to grab him by the collar and pull him down.


Compton was smiling like a school boy again once he was safe in the trench as he observed the wound to his foot. It didn't look bad, but he couldn't run on it very well.


The Mg42 bullets that still zipped and roared angrily just a meter over their heads suddenly stopped coming when Tuck's rifle sounded off once more. It's about time! Thom thought as he dared to look over the top of the trench. Tuck sat behind the log still, and upon looking over toward Thom gave him the thumbs up sign.


'Come on!'� Thom yelled over to him. He wanted to know what took so long to kill that gunner. Tuck jumped over the log and ran towards them with one hand on his gun and one on his head, holding down his helmet. When Tuck had reached about half way between where he started and where Thom and Compton now sat, a terrible sound came from their left. The panzer shook the air mightily as it fired a shell towards him. Tuck was erased in a storm of fire and dust.


A sudden rush of emotion overcame Thom as the young Texas boy was killed. Suddenly, as his friend was devoured in a hungry explosion, he felt the loss of Tuck and Baker at the same time, and was hit with a devastating sense of grief.


'NO!'� Thom screamed in anguish as he grabbed his rifle and began to climb out of the trench in a poorly developed assault. Fueled by grief and rage at that moment he would have done whatever he could to avenge Tucks death, but fortunately for him, Compton grabbed him 'round the waist and wrestled him back down. As he looked face to face with the corporal, he saw no school boy smile.


'That will get us both killed!'� Compton whispered hoarsely.


'You want to let them get away with it? Those bastards are gonna pay!'� Thom shouted back. He turned and screamed for all he was worth, 'You hear me? Do you hear me? So God help me, I'll kill you all, you''


Thom was cut off by another horrible explosion, which was followed by a horrifying 'whoosh'� as the shell passed over their heads. The crash of its impact shook the earth. Thom shuddered, instantly sobered. What the hell were they going to do now? He suddenly found himself lower in the trench, his world crashing down on him. The strangest thoughts began cycling through his head. How long since he'd had a shower? What did he look like? If his mother saw him like this, what would she do? What was she doing now? What time is it in the US???


Looking over at Compton he saw the corporal was smiling again.


'I think I've got a plan.'� Compton whispered.

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