Memories In Ink

Chapter Ten: To Train And Fight

          Paratrooper training went by quickly. We had learned many obstacles, and various jumping exercises, from jumping form, to the operation, and inspection of our parachutes. I got along well in the training, being mostly superior to the rest of the cadets. It was there at that camp, I learned to say my prayers before jumping, as it did make a wave of fear crash over me. The hardest part for me, was remembering to hook the static line onto the cable in the simulated plane. There were several times I would not latch the hook all the way in, and without that, the parachute would not deploy. The static line was to always be placed over the left shoulder, I had forgotten this as well. Once the training was completed, we were assigned our first mission.
          The loud roar of the plane canceled out any, if not all, thoughts of home, Sarah, and even the mission at hand. I looked up to see Garry in the pilot seat, piloting the Douglas C-47. As I looked around, I noticed all of the soldiers in my unit had the same look on their faces. Determination. As the C-47 rumbled through the morning turbulence, we were signaled to stand. The jumpmaster peered down at the horizon of the plane, then looked back at us. "This is going to be a 12 man mass jump, all men to jump on the word go." He said as he put on his goggles. The jump signal light switched on above the jumpmasters head. "Get ready!" He shouted as we all stood up, and hooked our static lines to the cable above, checking to make sure they were secure. The drone of the plane, accompanied by the metallic clacking of the static lines helped drown out my fears. I looked down to determine that my reserve chute was on correctly. As we stood up, every soldier from back to front checked his brothers parachute to ensure no damages were present. "Man okay!" One soldier shouted, then down the line to me. Once all men were inspected, it was time to jump. We all moved out left foot first and shuffled as men began to jump. The wind from the morning rushed into our faces as we placed our goggles down. We began shuffling as the ones in front began jumping. One after the other, as I got closer, I could feel my heart rising out of my chest, but I didn't back down. I inched forward, my static line sliding along with me, until I was at the doorway. The warm fuselage of the plane met my sweaty palms. The fast whipping wind did all but cool me. I sprung with my right foot and jumped, with my hands on my reserve chute. The distinct roar of the C-47 was soon overtaken by the constant whipping of the wind that was whipping around my stiff body. The static line gave little resistance as my parachute tore open. As the parachute opened my speed was greatly reduced, causing a mid air jerk. As I sailed towards the ground, my heart did not stop beating. It only increased. I was hoping Sarah's picture didn't fly out of my pocket on impact of the chute opening. As I reached the bottom, the tall grass met my feet as I rolled. The Fresh Italian air filled my nostrils as I took a few deep breaths. We were in Monte Cassino. It was February 15th, 1944.
          An M1 softly landed 10 feet away from me. I crouched and ran over to pick it up, the cold metal meeting my hands. I pulled the slide back and loaded the gun. There behind me was George, followed by other soldiers. As we all landed, we headed to the German observation post known as the abbey, steep slopes below the abbeys walls. As we approached the town, our footsteps quiet, our mouths shut, and our eyes wide open, we began to hear the roar of an enemy aircraft that broke the silence of our mission. I looked up to see numerous German planes, from what I could see through the blinding morning light, were paratroopers dropping in form, such as we just did. The jumpmaster signaled us to lay down, as he threw out his cigarette and joined us.
          A fly whizzed past me as I lay deep beneath the cover of the grass, praying and breathing erratically. The distant sound of Germans yelling brought me to attention. The morning breeze became still, as I looked behind me, I saw George, grabbing his rifle while nervously praying. All at once an enormous explosion erupted into the morning lit sky, causing debris to fly into the air, and all on top of us. I ducked at the stone and other debris hit my helmet repeatedly. The debris flying ceased, followed by German soldiers yelling and charging right at us. I stood up, with my gun at the ready as a German soldier charged straight toward me. I shoved my bayonet through his chest and pulled the trigger of the M1. The soldiers chest exploded right in front of me, tasting his blood, I jerked the bayonet out of his chest and continued on. Another one attempted to rush me, but I shot him in the throat, causing him to collapse. As the enemies dwindled down, more began to peak over the horizon. There were too many men to count as we continued to stand our ground and fight on. My ears rang profusely as the smell of gun powder settled into the morning sky. Two soldiers were running straight into me. They had their bayonets at the ready, with spit flying from their teeth, screaming as they charged me. I quickly put my M1 up to my shoulder and rapidly fired in their direction. One of the soldiers fell, while the other one kept coming at me. I went to pull the trigger, but the gun was jammed. No time to unjam, I shoved the bayonet through his stomach and pulled out my 45 caliber pistol, putting three rounds into his head. As the soldier dropped, I looked over to see George struggling while a German soldier had his neck pinned down, sitting on top of his chest. I ran up behind the soldier, and placed the barrel of the 45 to his head, administering two rounds into his temple. As the soldier dropped dead, I shoved his bloody corpse off of George and held out my hand. George grabbed my hand and hopped up to his feet, his gun at his side. "We gotta get the hell outta here!" I yelled over the constant gunfire and screams. We all charged away from the gunfire into the open pasture half a mile away. As we all caught our breath, we were trying to figure out how to make contact with base. Since our jump master was dead, I decided to take charge of the group, the only reason in doing so, as no other man in the unit would speak up. "Okay." I began as I stood in front of the unit in the cool February morning. "We need to get a field phone." I said. George interrupted me. "And exactly how are we going to do that?" He said as he nervously lit a cigarette. I cleared my throat, standing at attention to the unit in front of me. "We're gonna have to lift one off of the Germans, call in help, and await instructions." One of the other men in the unit cut into my speech. "So how exactly do we plan on doing that Sooie?" He asked, while twiddling his knife in his hand. "We need to wait until nightfall. It's far too hot out there right now to try and sneak around, we're dead for all they know. It needs to stay that way." Another man added in. "So what do we do until then? Set up camp?" He asked. "Exactly!" I said while distant gunshots rang out in the morning air. "We can gather up some supplies, maybe a couple of parachutes, make a makeshift tent, possibly some sleeping arrangements. I'm going to leave that up to two individuals, whom might those individuals be?" I asked as two young men stood up, taking responsibility at hand. Greg Sims, we called him "stubs", due to his short and stubby build, and Nathan Bridger. Nicknamed "Bridgeman". I looked at the both of them and nodded. "Alright, Stubs, get as many parachutes in that field as you can carry, and Bridgeman, gather and find as many C-rations as you possibly can, dead, alive, it don't matter. Food is food." Both nodded and dispersed to work. "Now as for the rest of you, lay low, and try not to make too much noise. Let's all just lay down in the grass, and await the return of the rest. If we lay low, out of enemy sight, they'll think we're all dead.
          Several hours passed as the sunlit sky became expired with a slight hint of a moon. Stubs and Bridgeman were slowly approaching in the distance, hands and packs full of supplies. I let out a distinct whistle to let them know of our exact location. The whistle rang out, echoing for miles through the trees and the night sky. The smooth winter air filled my lungs as I stood up, to see the men at their return. "We found as much food as we could, as well as a handful of parachutes, the others were destroyed by rubble and gunshots." Bridgeman said as he began setting down his supplies. "Good job men, you're heroes." I said while helping them unpack. Stubs pulled several average sized sticks from his pack. "Maybe we could use these for the base of the tent Everett." He said while showing them to me. I nodded in agreement as we began setting up the camp.
          At least two hours went by as we set up the camp, it was very minimal, but it would have to do for the time, and mission at hand. The parachute formed tent whipped hard in the wind as we devised a plan to get in contact by radio. As the sun set, we geared up and began our journey. The night air had a cold bite to it as George and I made our way back to the abbey. All was silent. The distant howl of the wind was the only thing one could hear, as well as the rustle of dead leaves. The quaint sound of our footsteps thumped along the dirt road leading up to the abbey. The only thing I could see in the absolute darkness was the embers of my cigarette. As we got closer, we heard a truck coming. George ran and ducked behind a bush. I looked around frantically, not able to find anything, then my eyes met an abused wagon on the road side. Without hesitation I jumped into the wagon and threw the partially damaged tarp over my head. The rumble of the truck ceased as it was shut off. Four men exited the truck and approached the abbey. They began speaking in German, unable to understand I wasn't sure what to do. The rustling of leaves caught my attention as I saw George heading to the truck. I quickly but carefully exited the wagon and came up to him, taking cover being the truck. "What are you doing man?!" I asked in a sharp whisper. "They were saying the coast was clear, and that all of the enemies are dead." George replied. He looked at me with sarcasm in his eyes. "Yes I took German in high school." I looked at him. "So what now George?" I asked while puffing on my cigarette. "We need to sneak into that radio tower, and reach out to General Clark." He said while nervously holding his rifle in the moonlight. The Germans stood in the mask of the night, talking and smoking cigarettes as we slowly approached the abbey. George peered around the truck and shouted in German: "Hey! hier drüben, Scheißkerl!" The German soldiers quickly looked up into the darkness, trying to figure out where the voice has come from. George shouted again: "Der Kommandant will dich!" The soldiers quickly stepped away out of sight. I looked at George in amazement. "Let's go!" George said as we broke from the cover of the truck. The creak of our leather boots stayed in rhythm of our slow deep breaths in the winter night. The crisp cool air had began to make my face numb as we approached the tower. George and I took cover on the adjacent wall to the entrance, stirring up the dust as we placed our backs upon the splinter ridden tower. George put out his cigarette and began to yell in German. "Eindringling! Eindringling!" As he pulled his head away from the corner, the thud of enemy footsteps grabbed my attention. Four German soldiers ran out from the tower. They looked around frantically in the mask of darkness, and took off into the night. George smiled and looked at me. "You speak fluent German, don't you?" I asked cracking a slight smile at George. George looked back up at me and grinned, allowing his teeth to shine in the dim moonlight. "Let's go!" He ordered as we slowly approached the entrance. George went first, and I followed slowly behind. I gripped the cold 1911 in my hands as I tried to control the erratic rhythm of my breath. The wooden stairs let out a dull creak as we climbed to the top of the tower. As George rounded the corner, he could see the radio there in a pain sight. George quickly went over to the radio, picking up the German instructions. I quickly followed behind, looking out of the tower into the winter night. The moonlight cast shadows amongst the hills. George fumbled through the channels and the instructions as the radio emitted rhythmic thumps of static. "Alright, I think I've got it!" George exclaimed as he turned the tuner knob. As he turned the knob, a faint conversation faded in. The signal got stronger as George kept adjusting the knob. The signal finally came through strong enough to communicate. George grabbed the microphone and quietly, yet frantically began speaking. "This is George Aldridge. General Clark, do you copy?" George nervously held the microphone as he repeated his transmission once more. "This is George, George Aldridge with the 1st Airborne Task Force. Do you copy?" George nervously awaited the reply once more. "This is General Clark. Can you hear me? George quickly pulled the microphone closer. "Yes sir! The bomb of the abbey was no good, German paratroopers rushed us and we had to retreat, setting up camp nearby!" He exclaimed as I was looking around for hostiles. "Who is this?" General Clark asked in a sharp tone. "This is George!" He stuttered "G-George A-Aldridge." "Aldridge you're going to have to stay and fight. We're sending allied forces and more supplies soon. Stay at your camp and wait for more 1st Airborne. Use flares to identify your location. We need to win this -" the radio quickly became silent. George frantically tried turning it back on, but to no avail, it was dead. "Damn!" He exclaimed as he slammed the microphone down onto the desk. The slam of the microphone echoed across the hills. George and I looked at each other, as we heard a voice ring out nearby. "Sie sind im Turm!" A German soldier yelled as footsteps began to ease up the stairs. Without having time to think, I took a deep breath and aimed my pistol at the top of the stairs. The German soldier rounded the corner of the railing while holding is Luger in hand. I quickly squeezed the trigger of my 1911, letting out four rounds into the Germans head. The soldier fell back against the wall, smearing his blood on the railing sliding down onto the steps. "We need to go now!" George exclaimed as we both got up. We slowly crept down the steps as more voices rang out. We slowly eased out of the tower, and ran back to our camp.
          The sharp, cold wind cut into my face as I was running back to camp. George was close behind me, his rifle in hand. The faint flicker of a campfire came into view as we approached our camp. Bridgeman, puffing on a cigarette, slowly sat up from a makeshift bed and met eyes with George and I. I tried catching my breath before I began to speak. "We're going to stay here, until we successfully take the abbey. General Clark ordered us to hold position, and wait on supplies and allies. The rest of the men perked up in the dim light. "So what, we're just sitting duck?" Stubs asked while he laid back into his makeshift bed. "No, we're doing what our general commanded us to do!" George said in a stern tone as he approached forward. "You all have already forgotten haven't you? We are a team, we fight together! We're not sitting duck, that's a lousy excuse. We're here to fight dammit!" George said as he set his rifle down onto the cold February ground. "So who's with us?!" He exclaimed quietly as he raised his hand. The entire unit raised their hands in a quiet cheer.
          As the days went by, more supplies were dropped, such as food and ammunition. More attempted attacks rang out day by day, but to no avail. The polish stepped in and began helping us as we could not do it alone. The shots rang out day by day, echoing across the Italian plains, releasing gun powder into the air. As the days grew, so did our camp, with more supplies, and allies as well.
          The chirp of crickets rang out into the warm spring air. It was now May 17th, 1944. Three months had passed since we landed in Monte Cassino, Italy. George and I, laying back to back in the dark of the night, slowly began drifting off to sleep. I tiredly pulled a cigarette out of my shirt pocket and placed it in between my lips. The flick of my lighter started George. "Shit man, you can't be doing that. I thought it was a fucking grande pin!" He exclaimed as he repositioned himself. I let out a laugh as I puffed my cigarette to life. "Man don't be so jumpy. This battle is probably almost over." I said as I let out a silhouette of smoke into the May air. George replied: "Well we think that, sure. But once this is over, there is talk of Iwo Jima next year." "Good!" I replied. "Maybe then we can end this thing, go home to our loved ones." I said as I pulled Sarah's crumpled up picture out of my pocket. "Man I sure do miss her." I said as I puffed my cigarette, as the embers glowed in the night. George laughed. "Poor old horny boy over here. Ain't had none in a year now." He said while continuing to laugh. "Fuck off George!" I said jokingly, putting Sarah's picture back into my pocket. Our conversation grew silent, as we propped up against each other's backs. Did Sarah forget about me already? Was the baby born? Well obviously it had to have been, I hadn't had time to think about her, or anything else. I promised her I would write and I had not since jump training. The distinct chirp of the crickets slowly sang me to sleep.
          "Wake up! Let's go, let's go!" A polish man startled me awake as the morning rays shined Bright into my vision. George and i shot up as we were instructed. Shots rang out all across the valley, welcoming the morning scent of gunpowder into the air. "We need to move now!" The polish man said as he handed me a Thompson gun. I made sure the gun was loaded and grabbed my helmet. George patted my shoulder as he began running. "Let's win this thing!" He exclaimed as I followed behind him running. As we approached, German soldiers charged at us. I squeezed the trigger of the Thompson as shots impaired my hearing, ejecting shells into the air. One German ran right up to me, no time to act I pulled out my knife and shoved it into his knee. The soldier doubled down in pain, letting out a sharp scream as the blood began to pour around the wound. As he was stunned, I shot a bullet into his forehead, causing him to drop. I pulled my knife out of his knee and kept pushing forward. George was pinned down by another soldier. I squeezed the trigger while aiming down the sights at the soldier. He dropped as my bullet went directly into his eye socket, allowing blood and brains to splatter out of the back of his head. I ran up to George and helped him up. We huddled down and patted each other's shoulders. "Let's move!" I said as we both ran into the fight. The fight rang out for hours. With many close calls, and a few scrapes, we made it. As I shot another soldier, the cries of victory rang out. George looked up with victory in his eyes. "Look at the flag!" He exclaimed. I looked up to see the Union Jack flag, followed closely by the polish flag rise over the debris. The flags danced proudly in the sunlight. George grabbed me and cheered as we all held up our guns and exclaimed in joy. "We did it!" George said as he danced around in victory. I smiled back at him. "Yes we did, brother!" I replied as I hugged George tightly.
          As the victory rang out, we were all extracted from the ruins, little by little. 55,000 allied casualties were the result in our victory, and they would not be forgotten. The chatter of the helicopter's blades could not ring out my joy. As I sat there, looking down at the distant smoke across the beautiful plains, I lit a cigarette and pulled out Sarah's picture. Her beautiful smile, and long red hair shined in the picture. In the picture it wasn't red, but I just knew it was vibrant and colorful. "I love you Sarah." I said as I looked down at the picture. I looked up and puffed my cigarette once more as the Italy landscape faded out of view.