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Fiction
Invasion contd
By Bob Spence
prev page,

Corporal Muller was indifferent. He knew that this was the army and that it was a fuck up. What ever was going to happen was a fuck up organised by fuck ups for fuck ups. He was indifferent.

Muller was in the 5th Battalion that was an infantry outfit. He had seen blood; he had even spilt his own blood. Tommy was going to be on the menu again soon. They all knew that. A cluster of little Meschershmitt fighter planes shot across the bay exuding confidence. Who did they think they were kidding? Just who?

The day rolled on. Boredom and boring. The men were morose strolling to the muster points. Another false dawn? Would it be the real thing? The Sergeants were jovial but firm. "C'mon boys. Heads up". The officers looked at each other. Was it tonight?

The stubby boat pushed through the cold sea. A man would not drown but eventually his heart would not have the heart to do its job. Not a good place for a swim.
The plane circled and a group of men tumbled out. The chutes popping out and the men swaying crazily underneath. Fists clenched around the webbing and harness and fear written into the faces.

The first foot set on this foreign soil. The sand was wet and the sea was so cold. Bullets whipped across the beach and a flare shot into the sky. Rapid fire from the East and was that mortar fire? Where was the damn cover that showed on the map? Wrong beach. Wrong bloody address. Wrong beach.
"Men follow me and stay tight"! The Sergeant ran diagonally across a line of red dots that were shredding the sand and were scything into the men cowering. A concrete block spat into the knots of men trying to make there way up the beachhead.

"C'mon 'A' Company take that fucking nest out".

A stick of riflemen takes up a staggered position to pour intermittent fire into the sandbagged position. Bullets whined everywhere. Moody levelled his rifle and took aim. Private Kreik collapsed clutching his shoulder and fell onto the sand.

The beach was strewn with bodies and craters. A small artillery piece began to belch and blast out chunks of the defence. The firepower into the defences began to increase as more equipment was deployed. It would not last.

Some of the men were backed against the slit in the concrete and then a burst of smoke came out as the grenades did their deathly job. A white flag was raised above the barricade that was closest to the escarpment.
An Officer shouted cease-fire! Cease-fire! "Cease fire shit heads, cease fire"! It was over they had ran out of bullets or courage or both. The Officer walked forward down the beach with a white flag. The sand covered Colonel nodded to the crouching radio operator. "This is Beach Bravo. It is taken and we have the entrance to objective four opened".

The British Officer saluted. "I believe you have made the right decision. You have saved many lives".

The first batch of Panzer 3 assault tanks moved down from the ramp onto the sand and above a Fiesler Storch monoplane hovered looking for landing.
Was it Rommel himself? The Wermacht rolled on, Colchester by tomorrow?

Corporal Muller sat on his helmet with cigarette held pensively. Another successful fuck up completed and then, home by Christmas?

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