him. I also started to think this was a suicide run. Us against the
whole damn German army. They had the advantage of position, and knowledge of
the land. They looked well-supplied. They were meaner than us. It was
scary. Any time I thought about it, I just wanted to go hide somewhere. Just
curl up in a ball in the woods and hide. I know I wasn’t the only one that
felt that way. Despite all of our posturing as being Buzz Company, there were
times when guys in the platoon showed their fear. Hell, by the time the war
was over, we’d all broken down at one time or another. Nobody made fun of
anyone when that happened. We all had doubts and fears, but we didn’t think
they were weaknesses. Our claim to fame was that we would go into the battle
and get the job done, no matter how bad it was.
For me, I had
a constant weight on my mind that I had to kill other men or be killed by them.
And I didn’t like either alternative. All I wanted was to survive until I
could go home. Not just me. I wanted all of us to make it. Don’t get me
wrong, I was there to help win the war. It’s like what they say about making
sausage—you don’t want to know how it gets done, you just want the end result.
Cap called
everyone together. Each platoon of Buzz Company had a different objective that
night. The objectives were far enough apart that we wouldn’t kill each other
with friendly fire. Our platoon was going to take a big farm just east of
town. There were several buildings, and Command figured that there were
probably twenty or more krauts holed up there.
We left the
camp, which was on the west side of town. We had to avoid the town so we didn’t
get shot at, so we had to haul ass south, then east, then north. It figured we
would have the longest hike! Seems that always happened to us. About a half
mile east of town, we spotted a light in the farmhouse. We split up into six
groups of about five each. The plan was to form a semicircle in the woods around
the farm, and lay into the krauts when we saw their gun flares. Cap gave us
specific instructions—do NOT shoot at anything except the buildings, unless you
were damn sure that you were shooting at a German.
It was a mostly
cloudy night, so it was pretty dark. We were in heavy woods, so it was even
darker. A kraut could walk right up to me and shoot me in the head, and no one
would take him out, because people would think it was just me shooting into the
farm. I didn’t like this setup one bit. I kept glancing behind me. If I were
the krauts, once the fighting started, I’d send a bunch of guys around behind
us. It’d be real easy to take us out. This was the only time during the whole
war that I thought Cap made a bad call.
I was
crouched down next to Tinpan Jones. I don’t know how Jones got the name
Tinpan. I don’t remember his real name. Hell, I don’t think I ever heard his
real name. Everyone called him Tinpan, or Tin.
“This ain’t
good,” drawled Tinpan. He was from Oklahoma. “Cain’t see shit. All them damn
krauts gotta do is hold their fire. Hell, they could walk right up and git
us.”
I agreed.
“Anyone seen Cap?” I whispered as loud as I could.
“Shh!” came
a reply. “Shut the fuck up!”
“It’s
Mackinack. I need to talk to Cap. Pass it on.”
I heard some
whispering, and it worked its way down both sides of the chain. Then I heard
some rustling to my left.
“What the hell
is it, Mack?” It was Cap.
“We don’t
like this, Cap—”
“I don’t
give a shit if you like it or not!” he said. “You got something important for
me, or are you just wasting my time and risking the lives of everyone here?”
I’d really
pissed him off.
“I’ve got an
idea,” I said.
“What is
it?”
I hesitated.
I was about to tell my CO that I disagreed with him, and I thought I had a
better idea. I didn’t know
whole damn German army. They had the advantage of position, and knowledge of
the land. They looked well-supplied. They were meaner than us. It was
scary. Any time I thought about it, I just wanted to go hide somewhere. Just
curl up in a ball in the woods and hide. I know I wasn’t the only one that
felt that way. Despite all of our posturing as being Buzz Company, there were
times when guys in the platoon showed their fear. Hell, by the time the war
was over, we’d all broken down at one time or another. Nobody made fun of
anyone when that happened. We all had doubts and fears, but we didn’t think
they were weaknesses. Our claim to fame was that we would go into the battle
and get the job done, no matter how bad it was.
For me, I had
a constant weight on my mind that I had to kill other men or be killed by them.
And I didn’t like either alternative. All I wanted was to survive until I
could go home. Not just me. I wanted all of us to make it. Don’t get me
wrong, I was there to help win the war. It’s like what they say about making
sausage—you don’t want to know how it gets done, you just want the end result.
Cap called
everyone together. Each platoon of Buzz Company had a different objective that
night. The objectives were far enough apart that we wouldn’t kill each other
with friendly fire. Our platoon was going to take a big farm just east of
town. There were several buildings, and Command figured that there were
probably twenty or more krauts holed up there.
We left the
camp, which was on the west side of town. We had to avoid the town so we didn’t
get shot at, so we had to haul ass south, then east, then north. It figured we
would have the longest hike! Seems that always happened to us. About a half
mile east of town, we spotted a light in the farmhouse. We split up into six
groups of about five each. The plan was to form a semicircle in the woods around
the farm, and lay into the krauts when we saw their gun flares. Cap gave us
specific instructions—do NOT shoot at anything except the buildings, unless you
were damn sure that you were shooting at a German.
It was a mostly
cloudy night, so it was pretty dark. We were in heavy woods, so it was even
darker. A kraut could walk right up to me and shoot me in the head, and no one
would take him out, because people would think it was just me shooting into the
farm. I didn’t like this setup one bit. I kept glancing behind me. If I were
the krauts, once the fighting started, I’d send a bunch of guys around behind
us. It’d be real easy to take us out. This was the only time during the whole
war that I thought Cap made a bad call.
I was
crouched down next to Tinpan Jones. I don’t know how Jones got the name
Tinpan. I don’t remember his real name. Hell, I don’t think I ever heard his
real name. Everyone called him Tinpan, or Tin.
“This ain’t
good,” drawled Tinpan. He was from Oklahoma. “Cain’t see shit. All them damn
krauts gotta do is hold their fire. Hell, they could walk right up and git
us.”
I agreed.
“Anyone seen Cap?” I whispered as loud as I could.
“Shh!” came
a reply. “Shut the fuck up!”
“It’s
Mackinack. I need to talk to Cap. Pass it on.”
I heard some
whispering, and it worked its way down both sides of the chain. Then I heard
some rustling to my left.
“What the hell
is it, Mack?” It was Cap.
“We don’t
like this, Cap—”
“I don’t
give a shit if you like it or not!” he said. “You got something important for
me, or are you just wasting my time and risking the lives of everyone here?”
I’d really
pissed him off.
“I’ve got an
idea,” I said.
“What is
it?”
I hesitated.
I was about to tell my CO that I disagreed with him, and I thought I had a
better idea. I didn’t know
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