Normandy, D-Day
His parachute opened just fine but he had landed funny on his ankle. 2nd Lieutenant Michael Porter unscrewed the cap on his flask and took a swig, the whiskey taking his mind off the ache. He knew it could have been much worse so he had no right to complain.
Flak from German anti-aircraft had swarmed like hornets as they had dropped into France. In the grey dawn, many paratroopers hung from the tree tops. Shot down like it was hunting season.
He punched the Private next to him in the shoulder and offered the flask. The kid shook his head, wiping his nose with his wrist. Porter struggled to remember his name.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWpWYYOBtF0
“You not a drinking man, Private….”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2cvcrse8xt
“Pickering, but the boys call me Hayseed, sir,” the gap toothed teenager quipped. His accent was thick as the smoke coming from the coast. The beach landings were well underway.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLTgjF151O3
“Where you from, Hayseed?” Captain Porter asked as he strode next to him towards the small French village.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxUu5x380oi
“Alabama, sir.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡor7ulwwUrm
“Never would have known.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlAJVFULDTS
Michael Porter had no idea where the rest of Item Company had landed. He wasn’t even supposed to be in that sector. But most of the paratroopers had become lost after their drop in the dark of the night. The Americans stuck together when they found each other.
Rustling came from a nearby patch of bushes and halted them in their tracks. Porter held out his hand and motioned that the two of them sink to the ground. His retrieved his clicker from the pocket of his field jacket. The cricket-like chirp signaled whether the stranger was friend or foe.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIfpDAjlLhV
“Flash!” a voice hissed the password in the grey.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYp9MxvhXOo
Porter exhaled, “Thunder.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCsG1wLpeCc
He snorted as he saw who emerged into the clearing in the woods. Porter rose to his feet, shaking his head, “I could have shot you.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoPyLmHJF4j
“How? Looks like you’ve gone and lost your weapon to me, Port,” chided 1st Lieutenant Alexander McKay. He smirked, the chin strap on his helmet swinging loose and his M-1 rifle hanging from his shoulder. Tall and dark Alex McKay was silent as the grave. Porter wasn’t surprised that his oldest friend had sneaked up on them.
Alex took out his canteen and drank, studying the trees in the clearing. His sharp, black eyes never missed a thing. Port felt more comfortable with Alex at his side, especially now that he didn’t have to be the superior officer in the group. If one of them was going to end up a war hero, it would be McKay. He just hoped it would be as a live hero and not a dead one.
The three continued towards the wide farmlands, in the distance a village. Labyrinths of hedgerows webbed through the summer fields. They traversed them with care, wishing they still had the advantage of dark to hide them. Alex took the lead down the overgrown roads. He halted, holding out a hand. Port hadn’t seen anything to give him concern but obeyed without question.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaHYoDB9XSz
German voices rose in the hedgerow beside them. Three men were arguing while the whine of a radio whirred in the background. Port swallowed hard. Alex motioned Hayseed up with him. The boy still had his pistol. All Port had was his jump knife and a can opener. He’d lost his leg bag with most of his equipment during the drop.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOCrjkOi5du
Alex nodded to Port and motioned for him to be ready. Cocking his weapon onto his shoulder, he furrowed his broad brow. Alex crashed through the brush with Hayseed and Port behind him.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiaxmoZHbtq
“Hände hoch!” Lieutenant McKay bellowed for the men to surrender.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0Rb9aVqNiV
The three men stood, the radio crashing to the ground. It looked like their gamble had paid off. The Germans stared at the half-Cherokee from California in terror. Then one scrambled for his weapon and raised it. Shots fired.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFFjIyrjED2
Port stumbled back as a bullet caught Hayseed in the forehead. A puff of smoke, a spurt of red and the teenager collapsed into Port. Alex hammered three well placed shots at the enemy and they all hit the ground dead. 710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0yKqOitrBF
Port vomited into the hedgerow behind him. Wiping his mouth, he blinked up at Alex. The young man dropped his arms, holding his weapon at the center of his long torso. His expression was stony as he stared at the mess of bodies around him.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDIRO4fmUC8
Downy blossoms from a nearby tree drifted over the scene, pink and white petals covering up the blood. Alex grunted as he leaned over Hayseed’s body. He took the dog tag.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡChk6Wi1GJD
“We’ll come back later for the burying,” he murmured, studying the silver tag.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPTnOpzxmvN
“They’ll bury Hayseed's body with the rest of them,” Port replied. He shuddered at the term rest of them as he said it.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDEu4u4uuyI
“Not…him. Them,” Alex cocked his head towards the Germans, “I’ll do it.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKFAuDStqpV
Alex picked up Hayseed’s weapon. He shoved it into Port's chest then pushed through the brambles of the centuries’ old hedge. Port followed Alex out into the road. 710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXRND19lhXE
He struggled to register what he had seen, that the boy who had been at his side all morning was gone for good. Maybe if he pretended like none of it had happened, he could make it through the day. He took out his flask to settle his nerves. 710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgjTX829WoV
Alex shot Porter a look as he swallowed down the mouthful of whiskey. Port shrugged, “Breakfast.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVfEtyQF89a
Alex’s glare didn’t abate, “I need you on your toes, Porter.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlV7k9FkkyL
“I know, I know. I’ll just save the rest for later,” he grumbled, tucking it into his jacket.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnrUecIMGry
Mortar shells exploded and the men took a knee to the road. Screams of combat and the crack of gunfire echoed across the fields.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsGBrnsO3H4
“Sounds like a real party." Port commented. 710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6v13TfLgm2
Alex grunted, squinting as he scanned the dirt road, "Suppose we go see if we have an invitation.”710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdDMJA9xDyS
Port followed behind. The young men crouched as they trotted along in the ditch. The enemy had been preparing for the invasion for months. They were well trained and ruthless, true soldiers of a dictatorship. The allied troops would have to tear German paratroopers from each field like weeds.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWBMkFTNrAG
They paused at a break in the hedge, Alex dipping his head in for a peek. The shots were cracking out of a machine gun by the sounds of it, a Browning automatic rifle. He waved Port over and they cut through the hedge, holding their guns at the ready.
Two American privates stood to the side. The only man shooting was a non-commissioned officer. Port gaped as the man gunned down the last of a group of unarmed, German prisoners.
Alex jerked the man back by the shoulder, “Enough, Sergeant!”
The paratrooper sneered, hatred flashing in his green eyes, “Yes, sir. I should think so. Those krauts look pretty dead to me."
Port stared at the bodies as Alex tore into the sergeant. He sent the three other soldiers out onto the road to wait. Alex came to stand beside Port. He was quiet for a long time.
Port looked over and noticed his hand over his eyes, his lips mumbling incoherent words. He knew Alex was praying.
“You still believe all that religious malarkey after what we’ve seen today?” Port interrupted, his tone sharp and his jaw slack.
Alex sniffed, his eyes clear as he met Port’s, “After all we’ve seen today, I’m sorry for the man who doesn’t.”
Port didn’t try to argue with him. He didn’t have the energy for that well-rehearsed debate. For once, part of him agreed with his friend. He wished he had the same faith as Alex to use as a salve for what he had experienced so far in Normandy. But he knew he was too smart for that. Port had always been too smart.
Alex returned later in the day to give the Germans he had killed a proper burial. Port went with him and stood by as Alex spoke a prayer for the men he had killed. The tree blossoms fell till they coated Hayseed's body like a shroud.
#
Aldbourne, England 710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSTLuruX5KJ
July 1944
As he ducked out of the rain, Alex heard Porter shut the office door behind him. The young officer tugged the hat from his damp, jet black head. He wiped the condensation from his forehead as he scanned the room. A splintering desk piled with organized folders faced a smaller room, the door ajar.
"Told you, Alex. Lunchtime." Porter commented, "We can try again later?"
Thump.
A sound echoed down a skinny hall at the end of the room. Alex's jaw tightened as he narrowed his eyebrows at his friend. Porter shrugged and gestured in the direction of the racket.
"All yours." Port leaned up against the desk and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. "You're the one who wanted to see the broad yourself."
Alex slid his fingers down the stitching of his hat and gave a sigh. The commotion grew as he walked down the dim hall and into a larger chamber. He hadn't realized that the building had an old library. There were at least ten free standing shelves of dusty books. Heavy rainfall slid down the puckered glass of the tall windows.
Thump, thump.
A few feet away, a leather volume thudded out into the aisle. A book on French Impressionism. It joined several others that lay in the path, most about art history. Alex rounded the corner of the shelf. He paused and watched the young woman on the step ladder as she leafed through a thin hardcover. She hadn't noticed him yet. Setting the book on the ledge above her head, her leg lifted behind her as she reached. Alex couldn't help but notice the attractive arc of her ankle curving down to her bare foot.
She cleared her throat.
Alex’s eyes shot up. His face growing warm under her unimpressed glare glinting underneath reading glasses. There was no doubt who her father was from those narrowed, hazel eyes. His mouth went dry and he forgot about her legs.
"Who are you?" She demanded. Taking off her spectacles, she tucked them into her shirt pocket as she climbed down the ladder.
"Lieutenant Dixon?"
"That's my name," she tucked her feet into her practical, brown oxfords, "But what is yours?"
"Lieutenant McKay." Alex stood straight, regaining his composure and meeting her eyes. "I was informed that you were who I needed to speak to."
"About what, Captain?" Edith brushed past him and gathered the books from the floor.
"Those passes for my men."
Alex followed her down the hall, the ends of her loose, ash blonde waves grazing her narrow shoulders. She had quite a determined strut for a woman.
Michael Porter's reaction was typical. He looked up from lighting his second cigarette, his eyebrows lifting in interest. Moments earlier, he'd told Alex that Edith Dixon was probably the spitting image of her father. Mustache and all. Why else would a single woman in her late twenties be working in a position usually held by a man? WAC officers were alright, but Edith Dixon wasn’t just a typist or switchboard operator. She ran the gauntlet of administrative work from assisting supply officers to distributing leave passes.
The look of delighted surprise on Port’s face dimmed as she turned her scathing attention on him.
"Who are you?" She demanded as she eyed him in a same withering fashion, "And why are you smoking in my office?"
Porter's mouth dropped. He let out a nervous chuckle, tossing the cigarette into a cup of water on the desk behind him. She eyed his actions, nostrils flaring as she sighed.
"That will be a pleasant surprise for my secretary when she returns from lunch." Edith Dixon mumbled, turning away before he could answer.
Without looking at his speechless friend, Alex followed the Colonel's daughter to her office. She set the books on the edge of her desk and opened the top drawer of a green cabinet. After fishing out a file, she laid it open on her desk. She surveyed the paperwork as she unrolled her blouse sleeves. Buttoning them around her slender wrists, she appeared to have forgotten about him.
Alex coughed, "Lieutenant?"
Edith waved a hand to the chair in front of her desk. Alex walked into the warm, closet of a room but didn't sit. She glanced up and perched her hands on her hips. He hadn't realized how tall she was until standing in front of her.
"The passes to the concert in Newbury on the 25th?" She flipped over a piece of paper and furrowed her brow. Her bold eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair, "Glenn Miller?"
"Yes, I was informed there were several reserved."
"It's a miracle any of the men from the 101st are allowed passes at all after the mess they made in London. British newspapers were comparing the damage your boys did to that town to the Blitz.”
Alex exhaled through his nostrils, his patience waning. "I'm not here to discuss that. I want to know why there has been a hold on the passes for my men."
"There isn't a hold, Lieutenant," she held out the folder, "The Colonel had it removed this morning. Your boys acted like destructive hooligans. But a little Glenn Miller might be good for their nerves."
Captain McKay took the folder from her hand, "Thank you."
Edith Dixon nodded, her eyes dropping to the desk, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?"
"We could probably come up with a few things." Porter smirked from the doorway.
Alex cringed, "Porter, you should go get the jeep started."
"In the pouring rain?"
"Just go, Port." Alex growled low, glaring over his shoulder.
Porter grinned, "Good to meet you, Lieutenant Dixon."
As the door shut behind him, Alex let out his breath, "I apologize for him."
Alex hoped that she couldn't tell that Porter was already drunk and it wasn't even one o'clock.
She shot him a chilly glare before regaining an air of authority. "To be honest, I'm used to the comments. It comes with the territory, I suppose. So there is nothing else? I have some other matters that need my attention."
"Of course, thank you for your help." Alex backed towards the door, tucking the folder under his arm.
"Lieutenant?" Her eyes flickered over his shoulder as she wet her lips, "Thank you for what you did over in Normandy. For your service. I have heard my father speak well of you. I am sure there would be many more of our boys not here today if not for you."
The blossom strewn image of Hayseed from Alabama flashed into his mind's eye. After taking a bullet to the head, he hadn't returned to England with them. Alex had failed that young man. It was still something he prayed over, especially when he woke from the nightmares of that day.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." He marched from the office out into the grey English summer.
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