War For The World

CHAPTER SIX

Shell casings littered the uneven dirt floor as 6 Nazi soldiers fell dead in their tracks, an assortment of loaded rifles falling to greet them. Sergeant Michaels opened his eyes to find a familiar pair staring back to greet him. Benson was the first to break the silence, shouting loudly thanks to the ringing in his ears
"Bloody Hell Jones where did you come from"
Martin Jones stood, covered from head to toe in blood and the barrel of his stolen MP40 still smoking.
"Takes more than a kraut bomb to kill me" he grunted, wiping soot from his eyes and stepping towards the three men "Where's the soppy one"
Michaels mind went back to the strewn aside cross buried under the rubble
"Smithy's gone"
Jones nodded simply, grunting and moving on past them all to the Martian pod still softly humming to itself at the centre of the crash site
"These Krauts have really outdone themselves. The fuck's it supposed to be you think?"
Jones moved a hand closer to the pod, quickly reeling it back upon making contact.
"Gah!" he pulled his hand up to his face to examine it, a large red blister had already begun to form in the palm of his hand
"Careful" Benson chuckled "Its hot"
Jones turned to face the Irishmen, giving him a ruthless stare before retreating back from the pod. A dull ache in Michaels leg had clouded his mind, but he managed to conjure his focus back into the battlefield for a moment.
"Men" he uttered "We need to get as far away from here as possible. We may have delayed the later reinforcements but a battalion of German soldiers should be on us any second and we've lost our one advantage" He gestured towards the debris of the once mighty bunker.
No one spoke
"Get to it!" Michaels barked.

The remaining men of his squadron all stiffened, coming to attention. A natural instinct they had developed within the army, they recognised an order when they heard one.
Jones raised his rifle, pushing forwards back down the hill and into the trenches. Benson and Aldridge heaved Michaels up and holding onto each side of him firmly the three of them followed suit.
A soldier made his way round the corner and before he had time to register what he was seeing, his chest burst open. Rifle at the ready and scope pressed to his eye, Jones got off another shot into the soldiers lower jaw blowing it clean off. Blood splayed everywhere and a splash managed to hit Michaels face.
He gagged, trying to spit out some of the blood that had gone directly into his mouth.
"Jesus Christ" Aldridge muttered to himself.
"Didn't even check" came from Benson
Michaels spirit was slightly lifting now, he had heard both those remarks which mean the ringing was slowly fading. In a fit of adrenaline, he tried to steady himself with his own two legs, an immediate stumble and fall to the ground proved Aldridge and Benson would continue to be necessary.
Jones stepped over the body, a pool of blood now gushing from the gaping hole in its chest, and ushered for them to wait. They had reached an intersection within the trenches now, Jones pressed up to the wall right before the divergence in lanes.
Michaels understood. They had progressed further into enemy territory now and were still far off from crossing the line back into the land of the allies.
Something had caught Jones attention, his rifle was raised and he had the calm look about him that screamed preparing for action. Although his ears had begun to improve, the ringing had remained somewhat which meant Michaels was struggling to hear what was causing so much panic for Jones. Benson and Aldridge heaved him over the chest burst corpse but Michaels pulled back a moment, insisting he get a closer look at the body. Sure enough, upon inspection he found what he was looking for. A standard German issue Walther pistol. Feeling a bit more comfortable with a weapon in his hand, Michaels went about inspecting the magazine and clip size. 12 rounds. He cursed to himself, that mightn't be a lot but right now it was all he had in the way of defence.
Michaels felt the weight on his left side return to him, struggling but not failing to stand with just his right side supported. Benson moved into Michaels field of view, holding up his own rifle and aiming it up as he made his way closer to where Jones was standing. Tension filled the dirty air and Aldridge moved Michaels to the side of the trench, propping him against a jutting out pipe.
"He's gonna get himself killed" the Irish words came thick and fast "Wait here Aldridge" and just like that Benson had moved up ahead out of earshot.
Michaels found himself a moment of relief, perched up against the dirt wall. He turned to Aldridge, the boy standing next to him, holding onto him firmly in case he fell. The young boy was still shaking and Michaels thought he caught a few tears making their way down his face. The boy didn't look good at all.
"It's gonna be ok Aldridge" He said, turning to his side
Aldridge said nothing, he simply nodded and continued to absentmindedly fiddle with the rifle in his spare hand
"Hey, Aldridge look at me"
This caught his attention, Aldridge peered up and stared at Michaels, bloodshot eyes and runny nose in painfully clear detail.
"I can't do this sergeant Michaels. This is all too much, I'm not even supposed to be here my father signed me up because he thought it best for me. Not even old enough either. I just want to go home sergeant please"
Michaels frowned. This kid would get them all killed if he continued this freak out. He felt bad for him, he was clearly out of his depth, but this wasn't what he needed right now. Not at all.
"I know this is tough. Its scary and not at all like training and all you can see is death and blood and destruction but remember that we're all they've got" he gestured first to the sky, and then to the left and right
"We're all that stands between the world being overrun by these German lunatics. They're counting on us, can I count on you?"
Aldridge let go of Michaels, wiping his nose and standing to attention. His shaking seemed to lessen slightly and he adopted a stern and concentrated look
"Sir yes sir".