Battle Of The Bulge

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Corporal Nathan Thorn
December 25, 1944
Ardennes Forest, Belgium

We're all huddled up in our foxhole, freezing our asses off. It's so fucking cold.

Zussman: Nice boots, College. T-They look new.

Zuss says as Stiles is lacing up a brand new set of boots. I look down at my piece of shit boots and wish I had new ones.

Aiello: Yeah. He poached'em off some replacement. That poor kid froze to death.

Stiles: If Pierson wasn't so stingy with requisitions, I wouldn't have to steal.

Daniels: It's okay.

Nathan: I don't think that kid will miss his boots anytime soon.

We all shiver. God, it's so fucking cold. The wind doesn't help and we drank almost three-quarters of the bottle of wine last night. Now I'm wishing Vivian sent us blankets.

Zussman: Where are those Texas kids I used to know?

Daniels: Well, if you see 'em, give me a holler.

I pull my hood under my helmet a bit closer to my face, trying to gain any kind of warmth.

Stiles: Helluva Christmas, huh, fellas?

Aiello: Oh, yeah. Why would I wanna be cuddled up by a nice warm fire with my gal, when I could be freezing my ass off with you bastards?

I chuckle a bit and then my teeth start chattering.

Stiles: Oh, shit. Incoming.

We all sit up straighter as Pierson approaches.

Pierson: Aiello, get back on the MG.

Aiello: Yes, sergeant.

He slowly and begrudgingly sets back up on the MG.

Nathan: Sergeant, any extra coats or blankets?

He glares at me.

Pierson: You look just fine to me. East dugout got hit all night. Grab an ammo box; you're gonna resupply them.

Nathan: If I take that ammo, Aieillo's gonna run dry.

Pierson: Well then I guess you better make every fuckin' shot count.

He walks away and Stiles hands me the ammo box. I climb out of the foxhole, slowly making my way over to the east dugout. I approach and they notice me.

Jason: Nathan, what are you doin in this neck of the woods?

Nathan: Brought some ammo, fellas.

Jason: Lookie here, he's a regular ol' St. Nick.

Ben: Throw it under our tree.

I set it down under their Christmas tree.

Jason: Any chocolate or dry socks?

I look up to see Ben getting on the MG.

Ben: Shit! Krauts over the hill! 12 o'clock!

I take out my Lee Enfield sniper rifle, provided by Vivian, and aim down the scope, spotting the Kraut patrol.

Ben: Fuck, gun jam!

Jason: Nathan, take 'em out!

They work on getting the jam cleared. I take a breath and fire, hitting a Kraut right in the head. The others scramble for cover but I lick them off like fish in a barrel.

Jason: Is that all of them? Scan for more.

A lone German soldier tries making a run for it.

Jason: Take him out!

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