Combat Zone
- 3 years ago
- 29
- 0
WHAM!
He woke up instantly, sprawled on a cot near the entrance of the command bunker, just looking for somewhere to sleep for the few off-duty hours before dawn when he was supposed to head back to the rear area for a three day pass.
Flashes came through the entrance as someone threw back the gas barrier, he heard a shout from the interior of the bunker, then the muzzle flash and crash of a Mauser rifle firing into the bunker, a scream from inside and the sound of a body falling along with shouts and clatter as men jumped out of the rack and grabbed weapons and helmets.
George rose and grabbed his scrounged 45 and poking it around the corner he saw that the enemy soldier was reloading and had just slammed the clip into the top of rifle’s action. Before he could clear the clip from the charging slot George fired point blank into the enemy’s chest.
Two quick rounds from the 45 slammed the Obergefreiter against the entry wall and onto the floor. George snatched up his 1917 Enfield rifle while stuffing the 45 into his web belt.
Outside in the trench it was all confusion. The constant roar was of artillery impacting a few hundred yards up trench and also a few hundred yards down trench, as well as what seemed like a continuous line of exploding shells behind them.
They were cut off from help with a box of artillery and the enemy seemed to be pouring into the trench system. Probably not a full offensive, but a raid to take prisoners and show the newly arrived Yanks who was boss here on the Western Front.
‘A raid!’ some was yelling, barely understandable in the noise, flashing lights of explosions and gunshots, and the flickering light of flares. To the left he could see the dead bodies of the duty sentries, to the right were flashes and bangs and screams as the deadly and terrifying close combat trench fighting was going on.
There was a seeming waterfall of enemy soldiers pouring into the trench to the left, a second wave coming in behind the first strike, or someone’s timing was off. More men poured out behind him from the bunker.
‘Some of you guys attack those guys from their rear, the rest of you come with me!’
A Lieutenant looked at him sharply, but good sense was good sense, even coming from a corporal.
George turned toward the enemy, leveled his rifle and started firing, five rounds, load, fire five more, load, advancing a few steps. Twice he felt like some one punched him hard, once in the leg, almost knocking him down, and then in the side. He loaded and fired like a machine.
The enemy coming closer, firing as they came, an officer with his Luger snapping off rounds in the lead. Behind the officer he saw what looked like a shadow, with a potato masher raised to throw, a quick shot and shadow and grenade fell, and explosion, flash of light, men falling, screaming, the lieutenant pitching forward as if pushed from behind.
That explosion took the momentum from the raiders and then someone dragged a Chauchat light machine gun up and somehow it actually fired a complete magazine into the invaders without jamming.
The enemy still outnumbered the Yanks but they lost the few seconds of momentum that they needed to overwhelm the Americans who now were able to advance into them and then began the madness of hand to hand combat.
His bayonet fixed George ran at the enemy, in the close scramble the long rifle and bayonet were only momentarily useful, and he was soon using his trench knife and 45.
His knife stuck in someone’s ribs and was dragging him down into a crouch, his empty 45 useless. He looked into a bayonet with rifle attached coming straight at his face. No time to save himself, it was ugly death coming at him fast. Trying to get his empty pistol up to block was taking too long, everything in slow motion.
A double tube of steel jutted over his shoulder from behind and suddenly the crash flash and slam of Vince’s 12 gauge trench gun blinded and deafened him, and saved his life. The double O buckshot barely had range enough to spread and tore its way through the frail human meat it encountered.
Vince kept pumping and firing and George yanked his knife from the still squirming body, and faced forward again. Reloading and firing his 45 he emptied his pistol before Vince could reload his shotgun and suddenly George was faced with a veteran, a big, beefy Feldwebel who was also out of ammo. The two men grappled, the bayonet in the German’s hand slashed George from forehead to cheek, while his own knife hand felt like it was in a vice.
George brought his empty pistol up hard and knocked the enemy bayonet away, but the impact loosened his grip on the gun, and he lost it, so he grabbed the enemy throat. Someone leaned over from behind Feldwebel Mueller and slammed a rifle butt-stock into George’s shoulder, then was slammed back as Vince’s 12 gauge tore into him.
Jostled and pushed as the fighting went on around them, George and his antagonist were locked into their own private death struggle. It must have looked like a lovers embrace, they held each other and strove for life.
George’s left shoulder was on fire and his arm and hand didn’t want to work, pain shot up and down and around as the Feldwebel tried to twist his hand around and stab George with his own knife.
George was able to drop his knife before it did him harm, he still had a throat in his right hand as the two of them fell. George slammed his knee into the enemy’s groin as they both fell against the side and the muddy bottom of the trench.
He sensed the crunch of his enemy’s bones as the other Man’s left arm was twisted and pinned awkwardly under him and against the edge of the duck-boards that ran down the center of the trench.
George tried to hold onto the enemy’s right hand with his damaged left, but with a broken collarbone the pain was intense, and it was all he could do to just clench the fingers closed on the other man’s wrist.
With a convulsive twist the German smashed his helmet brim into George’s nose, smashing it and sending blood spurting, but George had the enemy under him now, and was pushing him into the mud. He could feel the man trying to pull his arm loose, but George’s injured left hand was hampering that effort, and he kept the pressure on the throat as he pushed the enemy’s head further into the mud.
In the sliding glare of a flare swinging overhead George watched more and more of the Feldwebel’s face disappear into the mud. The eyes were pleading now, the mouth making shapes as if he were talking but no breath came out. The struggles were weak and ineffective as first one eye then the other disappeared under the sucking mud, then the nose and finally the mouth.
George held on and held on, the fighting had gone past and they seemed alone with the other bodies scattered by the fighting, the smell of blood, explosives, and excrement pungent in the air.
He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open, the enemy soldier jerked his body twice, then a bubble burst in slow motion from the mud. The fire of pain in shoulder, thigh and ribs were coming to the front of his consciousness, an at some level he knew he had been hit by bullets or shrapnel.
He felt weak, weak and tired, his eyes barely open, his face just inches from the mud. He could hear the blood dripping from his face and hitting the mud with a plopping sound. Vision tunneled. Falling into softness. Pain receding. Then nothing.
He was in a cold wet place, with several suns shining through mist. He shivered, and in the mist surrounding him he could see shapes moving, they loomed above him, he couldn’t make them out, monsters, they would drown him in the mud if he moved, he had to float, arch his back, feet together, breath, slow, steady, don’t make a noise, or the white monsters would get him. He could hear the moans and screams of the ones that the monsters caught. His bladder emptied. They covered his nose and mouth
to suffocate him.
Nothing.
He was on a cloud, a soft warm cloud. He wasn’t cold any more. The most beautiful thing he ever saw was looking down at him. The face was soft, a little tired looking, but clean, it had a strange white hat, blond hair pulled back, and eyes so blue he could swim in them. The face smiled. He wasn’t in hell. He closed his eyes. The angel would take care of him.
Nothing.
He was trying to run, sweating, panting. Something was chasing him, he was in mud up to his knees, he could hardly move, there was fog, the dead Feldwebel was following him, but he was huge, with a meat cleaver, slobber dripping from the mouth. There were rats as big as dogs circling like sharks, they were talking to each other, one was saying it wanted George’s left thigh, it looked tasty, it would toast it with cheese.
Nothing.
He was pinned down, tied down, straps across his chest, one leg heavy and painful, aching, his face hurt, his ribs, shoulder and thigh ached. Something was tickling his left thigh, like tiny fingers scratching and moving. Had the rats caught him?
Nothing.
His eyes opened and another angel was beside him, this one was older, and tired looking, a brunette with brown eyes, she turned to him and said: ‘Hello’ with a tired smile on her face and in her voice.
‘Whaa rrrg.’ He tried to speak, it didn’t come out very well.
‘Shhh, you were thrashing around, we had to restrain you.’
‘Mmm egg’
‘Clear your throat, here’s some water.’
She held a glass straw to his lips, he sucked, it felt good.
‘Rats, my leg, there’s rats.’
‘Shhh Shh, don’t worry, there’s no rats here, none at all.’
‘My leg, rats chewing.’
‘No, no rats here. It’s all bandaged up, the doctor put maggots to eat the dead flesh, you were wounded there, a lot of places.’
‘Nooooo, they’ll eat me up!’
‘Shhhh calm down soldier, you’re in a hospital, the maggots only eat dead flesh, it’s a normal procedure, it’s quite sanitary, quite safe.’
‘Itches, tickles.’
‘I’m sorry, you can’t scratch it. They’ll be removed in an hour or so.’
‘So beautiful.’
‘What?’
‘You’re beautiful.’
He sank into his dreams before she could say anything. She smiled though, these poor boys were starved for affection, it seemed like every week one of them wanted to meet her after it was over. She was nearly old enough to have a son their age, she could only imagine the proposals that some of the other nurses got.
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It was June of 1978. Patrick and I had grown up in families that went camping. We were as comfortable in a forest, on a lake, or at a campground as at home. He and I wanted to take our girlfriends, Kelly and Yvonne, camping. Kelly and I had recently been hiking at a park that was kind of out of the way and it had a small campground that was quite secluded. We had planned to go early in the week toward the end of the month.If you’ve not read of our previous adventures, here’s a super short catch...
Group SexJohnny Love arrives home with his girlfriend, Camila Cortez. As they walk in the house, they bump into Johnny’s step mom, Jenifer White, and this is where everything changes. Camila is instantly attracted to his step mom, so much so that when she goes in for a hug, she decides to squeeze Jennifer’s ass. Jennifer is faltered by this, so later that day she goes over to Johnny’s bedroom and slowly opens the door. Inside Johnny and Camila are making out. Without him noticing, Jennifer flashes...
xmoviesforyouI’m constantly scouring the internet for the next most fap-worthy content. Of course, lots of shit flops, but every once in a while, I’ll find some dope new content to jerk my dick to that I’ve never seen before. That’s exactly what I was going for this time around. And, well, I wouldn’t be writing this shit if I didn’t find something that piqued my interest. I came across a site full of hot premium 3D and SFM content. Fuck, you cucks know I love big tittied 3D whores just as much as the next...
Premium Hentai SitesSince my husband work in IT, his timings to reach home is always around 1 or 2 at late night. My name is Poonam and I got married at the age of 24 to a 40 year old guy. His name is Sagar. I am 25 now and I never cared about my husband much. I married him because he earns a lot and I can get settled in Mumbai. I was born and brought up in village. But I got educated well and sexually active even in college. I kept myself fit and used my husbands money lavishly with my new friends I got in this...
This was written by request the material is rough but the best I could come up with. The year is, as near as I can tell, is 1840. I am nearing the Trading Post where I will trade my furs for my possibles which includes Bacon and coffee. Next on the list will be powder and ball for my long rifle. Then and only then a shot of whiskey... well maybe two. Of course maybe a woman … If one is available. I have 2 pack mules loaded with beaver and other furs. Other trappers have told me that...
I was taken aback when my wife, Sue , suddenly came down ill, and died in front of Amanda, Keith, Drew and myself...All four of us were really torn apart, and had crossroads in life staring us directly in the face... The kids' dad was local, but not in their lives enough to know what any of them wanted. The boys were adament that they wanted to get to know their father, and go to live with him... No problem I thought, and I understood...What boy, ages 13 and 15, wouldn't want to get to...
I awoke on the morning of Halloween as if it were any other morning. I took a pee and a shower then struggled into my fake leg and then my clothes. Just like every other morning I made a pot of coffee. Then sat drinking the whole thing while my head removed itself from my ass. I needed to do that before I even came close to getting myself up to speed for a new day. It was my day to hook the water trailer to my scooter for the trip to Fred’s house. There I would fill the twenty gallon plastic...
The sad truth is that whilst halfway through writing Part 10, my laptop crashed and developed an error with one of the boot drives. I sent it away to be repaired but eventually had to buy a new one and start from scratch. So I sincerely apologise for the delay in getting you guys this chapter. Thank you all once again for your kind words and polite demand, and also for picking up on the fact that many of my grammar errors are simply because I'm English. Though there are also probably a few...
“Whacha Doin?” Oh. Shit! I’m CUMMING! And the little ones are watching. Regina has returned bringing Luz and Carlita back with her. They have permission to spend the night at Regina’s. After catching Gwen and I inflagrante delicto, Mom ushers them across the hall to Bebe’s and Flor’s room again. From the noise of the ecstatic welcome, you’d think there had been a much longer separation than those few hours. Gwen is cleaning herself up in the head. I nearly drowned her. Regina returns to...
It was the hardest thing I’ve ever hard to do in my career, but I wouldn’t let anyone else contact Dave or tell him about his wife. I drove to his house. He was there and answered the door. “Bill, what are you doing here?” he asked when he saw me. My face must have alerted him to the serious nature of my visit. “Is it Melissa? What’s happened? Is she alright?” His questions came flooding out, faster than I could track them. “Dave, can we sit down?” I asked, gesturing inside. He stepped back...
The class was well into the topic of the day in the Adult Education class when the door opened and a woman, giving the impression of one who had been running, entered. Rich who had begun to answer a question from one of the class paused. "Are you Beth Wilson?" he asked. The woman still giving signs of being out of breath, just gave a nod as she took the vacant seat that Rick had indicated. "I'm sorry", she finally said. "I missed the bus and had to get a taxi. I didn't want to miss the...
Explanation Regarding Joining Up Infinity With My Nymph Sister Goddesses As noted by Siza when she appears to me suddenly in the neighbor’s house, the young woman who offered to dress my scrapes, cuts and scratches after I got stuck in Mrs. Sutlevich’s basement: Siza reminded me of the opposing medicine cabinet mirrors in my grandparents’ bathroom, the two mirrors mounted on opposite walls almost perfectly align. They reflected images seen viewing one mirror, showing me, my childhood head...