Opposing Forces: The Encounter

Opposing Forces: The Encounter

Allied Forces

101st Air Born Division

Ardennes Forest

December 26th 4:05 am 1944

Patrick O’Brien found himself pacing again. He took note of the foot tracks he had left behind on the newly placed layer of snow. He continuously breathed into his hands as a gambit to remain relatively warm. Bombarding his fists with clouds of water vapor. He was a little more nervous then usual, but then again who is not when you are mere minuets away from charging into an enemy controlled village. Patrick upholstered his Colt .45 and unclipped the magazine, which was stored with in the handheld weapon. “A fresh magazine, good.” It was a nasty habit he had developed following the Para droppings over Normandy. He had the misfortune of Para dropping right into a barn, which was occupied by two German soldiers. He had lost his primary weapon, a Thompson, in the chaos of the free fall toward the Earth, and was only armed with a Colt. 45. A weapon, which he had forgotten to check the magazine and was without ammunition. There was a single bullet in the chamber, from which he dispatched one and subdue the other in hand-to-hand combat. Needless to say, he would never allow that to happen again. From the faint corner of his eye, he could see a young private, a fresh addition to the Air Born Division, quickly pace over to him. “O’Brein, the Lt. says to be ready in five minuets.” Before O’Brein could reply, the Private was already pacing toward the next occupied foxhole. O’Brein liked efficiency, it was a damn shame that that often quickly gets thrown out the window with the chaos of battle.

Axis Forces

Adler Division

Ardennes Village

December 26th 4:08 am 1944

“Alright men, I have fresh orders straight from Berlin, and it reads as follows.” Hans Gruber sighed, his Adler (Eagle) Division had been retreating from town to town avoiding capture to fight off the Capitalist invaders. In that, his division was doing quite well, as others were being captured, or simply destroyed. “Men whom fight for the glory of the Third Reich. We regret to inform you that reinforcements to your present location have been diverted to fight off the increasing incursions made by the Soviet Schweine in occupied Poland. We are however, confident, that you will be able to defend our Arian Pride. Signed Commander Erwin Trontie.” Hans knew the upcoming battle would be their last if defeat would bestow upon them. For the nearest village was thirteen miles back in German controlled territory, plenty of time for Allied scouts to round thrm up like a cowboy would lasso a cow. Hans began strutting back to his assigned position, a poor Belgium structure that used to be the local restaurant. It was two stories high, allowing Hans to use the effectiveness of his Mauser KAR98K. He removed the weapon from his shoulder and held it in his hands. Its once smooth wooden surface now rugged from its many years in use. He and this weapon have taken many lives in the name of Arian Pride. But now feared that the conclusion of this day would also see the conclusion of his active service. Hans took his seat that rested by a window, which overlooked the now, Allied Control Ardennes forest. It is from there that the Allies would storm through the village. And it is from here Hans will try to stop him. Hans squinted his eyes to better see what he had most feared. A canister was thrown from within the forest that now rested five meters into the clearing from which separates the forest and the village. This was the American way of signaling all forces to move in. Hans opened the window as a gush of cool air swarmed through the tiny room. He removed the safety from his rifle and was now prepared to do what he did best. Defending the glorious Third Reich.

Allied Forces

101st Air Born Division

Ardennes Forest

December 26th 4:18 am 1944

“Alright men, RED FOG, move in fast, get to the first structure and work your way into the Village, don’t stop for any reason, these bastards have mortar. Lets teach these Nazis what a real good kick in the ass is all about. MOVE … MOVE… MOVE.” And with those closing comments from Patrick’s commanding officer, he and 350 like him, emerged from the safety of the forest, and began a sprint toward the village. Mere seconds after Patrick began running, the sound of falling hell could already be heard. The quick whoosh followed by the boom. And with that thought, the ground in front of him was kicked up into the air, sending two Privates and their body limbs swirling in the Belgium winter sky. “Keep Moving god damn it, we’re sitting ducks out here.” About half way there, Patrick estimated. Suddenly, gunshots could be heard coming from with in the village. He could hear the pow, and then the secondary gap from which one unfortunate soul would scream in agony. Another salvo of fire came from with in the village, knocking half a dozen men off their feet into the blood ridden snow. “Keep moving, we’re almost there.” Patrick clicked the safety off his Thompson automatic and slowed his pace as he moved along the side of the first structure. Six-dozen men quickly joined him as the remaining forces still had a ways to go. His Lt. began assigning orders. “Okay, squads A, move in left. Squads B, move in right. Squads C and D, start clearing out those buildings. Move out.” Patrick and his group of a dozen and half or so had the task of cleaning out buildings on the east side of the village. The first being the structure they where gathered next to. Patrick gave the hand motions ‘1… 2… 3…’ and then kicked the door down. “Amerikaner hält, sie auf...” screamed one of the two Germans whom occupied the structure. Patrick blazed the room with automatic fire, as did the Germans with their MP40’s. Pallets of blood kick out from the Germans chest, sending them to the floor in a pool of their own lively fluids. Yet another private whose name Patrick did not know also fell to the floor, clutching at his stomach that cried out blood and other substances that Patrick could not identify. “One structure down” He said quietly to him self. “Nine more to go.”

Axis Forces

Adler Division

Ardennes Village

December 26th 4:26 am 1944

“Is this all you Amerikaner have?” With that remark, he fired another bullet at squad of Allies that seemed to be clearing buildings in his section of the Village. He clutched back the lever on his rifle, automatically placing another bullet into the chamber, and firing once again. He was granted the pleasure of seeing an Allied soldier’s leg ligaments spew out from the pressure of his marksmanship. He fell to the ground like many others, clutching and screaming for a Higher Source to show mercy. But Hans had learned that Higher Sources don’t take sides, otherwise no one would get strong to begin with. Hans reloaded a clip, and began firing at the Allies who pranced about around his location. However, Hans’ confidence was beginning to drain, the structure nearest his had now been cleared, and what appeared to be three or more Allied Soldiers where making their way to his building. Hans lowered his rifle to get a better angle at the quickly approaching soldiers and fired. The solider furthest back quickly clutched the gapping hole that was once his chest and fell to the ground with an expression of shock and aw. The other two had taken note of Hans’ presences and opened fire in his direction. He leaped out of the oncoming barrage as chunks of frozen wood were being eaten away by hot lead. Then the sound of wood crunching came from down stairs. Clearly the door had been bashed open. Hans was the only one in this building. He quickly dropped his rifle, and drew his Walter P38. He took a position in the corner of the room the over looked the staircase. What appeared to be a human head popped up from with in his sights. Hans took aim and released the trigger. A portion of his head was obliterated from the close range hit, spewing out brain fragments across the wall. His body went limp and fell upward a few additional stairs. Hans waited for the second one to emerge into his waiting sights. And would deliver the same fate to him as he did his fellow solider.

Allied Forces

101st Air Born Division

Ardennes Village

December 26th 4:31 am 1944

‘Jesus Christ’ Patrick thought to himself. It was rather rare to see your comrades brains spewed across the wall to your immediate left. ‘That son of a Bitch is going to really get it now.’ He pushed this chain of thought out of his mind. He had found that anger had ways of making one do irrational decisions which have cost many good soldiers their lives. Patrick removed an F1 Fragment Grenade from his uniform. He flipped off the pin with his bloody thumb, and lobbed it over the staircase. “Heilige Scheiße” was the reply that returned. Patrick heard what appeared to be a dive, followed by the explosion of the fragment grenade. Sending both metal and wooden shrapnel everywhere. With that, Patrick quickly ran over the dead body that blocked the stairs and entered the room. The only things visible to him where a smoldering dent in the floor, and a door which was partially open. Patrick positioned himself in front of the door and smiled. “See you in hell you piece of shit Nazi scum.” The room lit up as the Thompson sent chunks of metal into the wooden door. Patrick emptied out the clip and began reloading. Suddenly, the door was kicked open from the other side. A German wearing the standard Winter Military Uniform. His right arm was covered with blood, a chunk of jagged wood was sticking out from with in his bicep. He fired his luger, but his aim was sluggish at best with his damaged arm. The bullet hit the side of Patrick’s Thompson lodging a bullet into the chamber. The gun was now obsolete. Patrick grabbed his Colt .45 and fired just as the German fired again. Both hitting each other in their right arms, but it was the German that dropped his only means of defense onto the floor. Patrick did not hesitate to fire again into the Germans chest, and did so. A wad of flesh flopped out from the falling body. He laid on the floor, alive, but barely. He slowly breathed, struggling to remain of this earth. Patrick wanted him to have a slow and painful death. He holstered his Colt .45, shot a smile toward the German. “Plenty more where you came from.” Patrick clutched at his arm, and began to slowly walk away.

Axis Forces

Adler Division

Ardennes Village

December 26th 4:40 am 1944

Hans’ body ached with pain. His bodily functions ceasing to be. His mind flashing with pain. His conscience, his very being slipping away. But he had one last task to do before he ceased to be. With in arms reach, was his rifle he had disbanded earlier. He grabbed the weapon, steadied it on the floor. Pulled back the lever one last time, the sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber rang like a cheery song to him. The Amerikaner clearly heard that, and turned his direction to face Hans. Hans struggled a smile, a smile he knew would be his last. “You shall join me in hell, Amerikaner” and pulled back the trigger. A shock wave was sent through the soldiers body, a large hole presented it self in the enemies right torso. Surly he will not survive that. The enemy placed his back to the wall and sat down, having as much a struggle to breath as Hans did himself. The two stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, what was really a minuet or two. Hans’ vision began to give, everything became a mixture of white and black. The black engulfing the white. Until, there was no more vision. Their was just nothingness. Total, and absolute nothingness.


The End…