Summary: The Germans come back for Carentan, from Anon's perspective. I gave the MG42 a flat look, as Fang excused herself to go get new orders from Taggart. The look of sheer fucking hatred that had flashed across her face as she laid into that trigger… …Something told me it wasn't just the Nazis she was mad at. I removed my helmet, wiped my cue-ball bald forehead, and replaced said helmet. What a mess. I turned away from the buzzsaw-sounding gun, and followed after Fang. The two of us waited until Taggart was done talking to Carota and his MG squad before we approached him. “Where do you need us, Taggart?” She asked, still taking short drags on her cigarette. The Lieutenant looked the two of us over with a considerate eye, before nodding as he came to a decision. “I want you to grab a couple other guys and double back to the churchyard. Grab that Kraut AT gun that got left behind, and roll the bitch up here. No telling if the Jerries will bring up tanks or not, and I'd rather have something with more range than a bazooka to shoot at panzers with.” “You got it, LT.” I nodded, slinging my Springfield Rifle as Fang volunteered a couple of the gathered privates to come help out. “Where do you want us to site it?” “Put it on the right side bridge.” Taggart instructed. “Middle bridge we're going to collapse with the dynamite satchels we have left over, and the left we're going to cover with mines and other toys the Krauts so kindly left for us to use. Streets over there aren't really big enough for a tank anyhow, even if they try to squeeze it through.” “Understood,” Fang nodded, as they rejoined Taggart and myself, their two volunteers in tow. “We'll get it done.” “Sounds good.” Taggart nodded firmly. “After that, Mous, I want you up in the town hall and keeping an eye out with that rifle of yours. Aaron, you and DeNicola are going to move the Krauts’ sandbags to give yourselves some cover looking over that right bridge. If there's any extras laying around, grab some more Kraut MG42s, so Carota can chuck more shit at the Germans. Okay. That should be everything, let's get moving. No clue when the Krauts will be back, so let's make it fast, airborne.” Orders handed out to us, we set off back through the town and towards the Church. A few other riflemen followed us back with the intent of setting up the church itself as a fallback position if - or more likely, when - we lost control of the town hall. Myself, Fang, and our two volunteers ignored their work, though, focusing instead on the job Taggart had given us: moving that German cannon. There were five boxes of ammo along with the gun itself to lug forwards, and all of it would need to be taken to the bridge. “Okay,” I began, gesturing at the ammunition crates. “Two of us can start with the crates. They're probably pretty hefty, same as the gun, so we'll take ‘em one at a time. The other two of us can get started on the gun, it'll take the longest to move.” “You got it, Sarge. Jackson and I can start on the gun I guess.” I gave the private a nod, as Fang and I began manhandling one of the ammo crates. They were pretty hefty as I'd suspected, but not too bad. With several grunts of exertion, we made our way over to the several grunts of exertion, we made our way to the bridge. The two of us dropped the box off next to a hastily prepared sandbag position that the gun was slated to be slapped behind, before turning back to grab box number two. Passing the AT gun toting privates on our way, we quietly took up the second crate from the pile, and started it back towards the gun’s soon to be new position. We easily overtook the AT gun again, as they worked it around a dip in the road that was annoying and catching the gun’s wheels. “So…” Fang began, as they helped me set down the box next to the first one, making two boxes at the sandbags. Fang didn’t follow the comment up with anything, though, and we headed back towards the church again to pick up box number three. The two privates - Jackson and… Roberts, I think - passed us by, having freed the AT gun from its road dip and now were nearly at the bridge. They’d probably have the gun set up and ready by the time we returned with the third box of ammo. “So…?” I questioned, in response to her having trailed off mid-sentence. She was acting as if she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to say something or not. The pterodactyl girl was silent for another minute, as we assessed the remaining munitions boxes. She selected one at random, and I moved to help pick the thing up. Box number three was now headed towards the sandbags. “So… you uh, think anyone else got stuck up in this mess with us?” They finally questioned, as we continued up the street. I considered the question as we hefted the box towards the front. Hadn’t Fang hung out with a couple of other people pretty regularly? Her friends, I’d guess. “I dunno honestly.” I replied, as we set the next box down next to the previous two. Two more to go, and with the AT gun now in position, Jackson and Roberts could grab the fourth box, leaving us the last one. “Friends you’re worried about?” Fang hesitated, then nodded firmly. “Yeah. Reed and Trish. We play in a band together.” Yeah. That, I did remember. “Yeah, I thought I remembered that…” I paused, prompting the pterodactyl to stop walking as well. The privates passed us by, lugging one of the two boxes of ammo, so I told them to drop that off and then report back to wherever Fang had stolen them from. I then turned back to the Ptero. “You guys played in the auditorium, right? Two basses and a drum set?” Fang nodded absentmindedly, then squinted, as if thinking it through. Her eyes widened. “You were there for that?” They questioned. Poking me sharply in the shoulder with a claw. Fucking ow, those things hurt. “Yeah.” I nodded, tapping a finger to my cheek. “That was like… my first day at school.” I stated truthfully. Not like lying to her face was going to work when I’d already outed that I knew about the band. And it wasn’t like I gave half a shit anyhow, I’d just been there for the free pizza. Mmm, delicious pizza. “...Did you laugh at us?” At the band, I assumed she meant. She was staring at me at this point, giving me a weird look I couldn’t really decipher. I’d have guessed disdain initially, but that wasn’t really quite right. More sad than disgusted. I really needed to get like, a thesaurus or something. Words are hard. “Shit, you want the honest truth?” I shot back, as we continued moving back towards the remaining ammo crate. Fang nodded, jerkily, tensed as if afraid to hear the answer. I sighed, then replied. “Honestly… yeah. It sounded…” I wiggled a hand back and forth to help showcase my feelings on the matter. “Not great. Pretty sure double bass is considered a war crime in all fifty states, sorry.” Fang exhaled through their nose, and shook their head. It was clear she’d been hurt by the reply, but had also sort of been expecting a reply like that. That’d been… six months ago, by my math. Come to think of it, I don’t think I remember them actually playing in the auditorium again. I assumed they played somewhere, since the three of them still practiced with their instruments in said auditorium, but I don’t remember any more set shows. “Yeah. I was fuckin’ afraid you’d say that.” She replied coldly, as we finally picked up the last ammo crate. “God, you fuckin’ normies are all assholes.” I rolled my eyes. I guess we’re going back to square one again. For a second there, I’d forgotten we weren’t actually friends, but whatever. “Never said I wasn’t one.” I defended myself. “To be honest the only reason I even showed up was because I’d just moved to Volcadera and Naomi and her boyfriend mentioned there’d be free pizza. I gotta eat too, and you don’t just pass up pizza for the price of free.” “Naomi and her- you mean Naser?” “Yeah, him.” I confirmed, as we set the last ammo crate back down, and got out of the way of the three paratroopers that Taggart had assigned to take over the cannon. “You know each other?” Just because they were both pterodactyls, I didn’t want to assume anything… “Yeah, dumbass. He’s my younger brother.” She scoffed at me. I blinked. “Oh. Well. You’ll be happy to know I guess that he talked you up pretty good to the best of my shitty memory.” I refrained from adding that he’d way oversold their crappy butt-rock band. I was being honest, not going out of my way to be a dickhead. Even if I felt like it after her bitching at me. She didn’t really cheer up at the prospect, though. I just sighed, shoving my hands in the cargo pockets of my uniform. “Look,” I began, “Yeah, I fuckin’ laughed. A lot of people laughed at you guys.” Her scowl and sharp eyes did not tell me that I was helping - but I wasn’t done, either. “So what? High School’s fucking over. You three are still friends, right?” She paused, then nodded. I pressed on. “You guys still play music together?” “Duh?” The added ‘fucking idiot’ I’m sure that they wanted to throw in there went verbally unstated, but it was mutually understood. “So just… keep doing that”? I shrugged. “Shit, Fang, if you have a good time doing it, just fucking do it. Who cares what I or anyone else thinks?” Not the healthiest way to approach it probably, but fuck it, I wasn’t wrong either. As a terminally online shitposter, if I just gave up because retards told me I was an idiot, I’d have been laughed off the internet forever ago. Shit I miss having a phone already. I could make so many good greentexts about this dumb shit. Fang blinked. Then blinked again… “...Yeah, okay.” They finally nodded, after a long time’s consideration. “That’s… yeah, that’s fair. I guess I shouldn’t just let random dumbasses dictate my hobbies. Thanks for the pep talk, Caveman.” I rolled my eyes at the dumb nickname, which drew a bemused smirk from the pterodactyl. Angry dino girl avoided, score one for my big mouth and the foot I like to cram inside of it, apparently. “Don’t mention it.” I nodded, as we began to split back up to our assigned positions. “Yeah, I didn't plan on it.” Ass. “Best of luck, I guess. Don’t get shot or something.” I blinked, that had actually been halfway to an honest compliment, in a backhanded fashion. “Yeah. You too.” I returned, as we shared a nod and headed off to our stations. Entering the town hall and passing by where Taggart and a couple NCOs were still packing up any documents the Germans had left behind in their run from the town center, I gave him a nod as I continued upstairs. Settling myself in one of the windows near but not on the top floor, I sat a little ways back from the window in order to remain hidden, cradling my rifle in my arms. Had… Had I done the right thing, telling Fang the truth? I mean… yeah, I probably could have been nicer to them and their band, but… I dunno. I leaned back against the room’s back wall as I kept watch towards the right side’s bridge. A few stray thoughts moved through my mind. Ways I could have smoothed things over instead of insulting their band. Ways I could have more kindly breached the topic. But did Fang deserve that? Not just because they were kind of a dick, but also because being straight up with them was… probably what they needed. Still… could I have handled that better? Should I have? You are not the only person in the world. I lurched forward. Where the hell had that thought come from? I raised my scope to eye level. I’d heard that beforehand somewhere, but… where? Scanning the buildings across the river, I hunted about… there, there’s the glint I’d spotted. It looked like a spotter of some sort, judging on their binoculars and lack of a scoped rifle. I breathed in, then out, letting my lungs completely empty and my aim steady in with my focus. Little wind… My finger eased into the trigger, and I jerked a little in surprise as the startling report of the rifle snapped me out of my focus zone. Thank you, Snoot of Duty I guess. Oh, and Rock Ring 2. Definitely Rock Ring. I racked the bolt on my Springfield, as the airborne troops below stopped what they were doing - be that working, talking, or trying to catch a quick nap - and prepared to receive the incoming enemy. A rumbling noise shook me from my reverie. I’d have to pin my mental conversation with myself for later on - no free time now; I couldn’t afford to just stop paying attention now that a firefight was about to break out. That was a good way to die and have to redo all this shit over again. No thank you. For a minute, everything was silent. Then, it came into view, across the bridge from us. “Tanks! They brought fucking tanks!” Some private very audibly screamed, as all hell broke loose. Sure as shit a squat, German tank was trundling across the rightmost bridge. It was weird looking, as it opened up with its cannon and machine guns - no actual turret, and shaped like a flat rectangular pancake, or maybe a waffle I guess. Machine guns and rifle fire tore across both sides of the bridge as German infantry jogged up into combat lines themselves, using the tank and other debris as cover. I winced, as I heard the tell-tale detonation of the middle bridge, then re-raised my rifle and began taking shots down at the Germans. The AT gun we’d moved forwards put in good work as it slapped a shell into the front of the German tank. Corporal Carota, meanwhile, began putting out a truly ridiculous rate of fire across the river with his myriad of stolen German machine guns, whilst Fang and the rest of the infantry on the right took their own shots at the attacking Germans. The Germans, of course, fired back, as the squat tank turned its entire front to face the AT gun that had shot at it. The AT gun meanwhile, slapped off another round at the tank, which smashed through the front like the first. The tank stopped moving - holy hell, they’d killed it. Racking the bolt on my rifle again as I took another shot at one of the now retreating Germans, I frowned in grim satisfaction as he dropped, before taking the opportunity to slip a fresh load of bullets into the weapon. Gunfire could be heard from the left side of town - at the bridgeline - and a quick glance over that way showed that the paratroopers were still holding well. So much for the Krauts’ first wave, I guess. That went well enough. The Germans returned rather quickly, not content to just sit back and let us own the town. As expected, unfortunately. I kept up the accurate sniper fire from my perch in the town hall, as the Germans poured out from the woodworks on the other side of the river, doing their damned best to punch across the bridge and take the town back. Carota was putting in good work with his machine guns, and the AT gun was keeping any German armor at bay pretty well, though the krauts themselves seemed pretty inexhaustible as they just kept the pressure up. We were already taking casualties… Something had to give, and soon. That something, of course, turned out to be the Germans’ patience. We were first alerted by the loud obnoxious whistling off in the distance, far behind the German lines. I had no idea what the hell it was - at first - until Taggart and some of the other Sergeants could be heard bellowing at their troops to get the hell down and into cover. I turned away from the window - just in time - as artillery fire from the Germans smashed into town hall, lifting me bodily up off the ground and slamming me into the hallway behind me - straight through a fucking door, Raptor Jesus Christ on a unicycle. I wasn't dead. Yet. I stood back up, wincing as I wiped blood smears across my forehead where my helmet had taken the brunt of my impact against the back wall, and spat out a fucking tooth. Thank fuck I hadn't bit my tongue off or something. More artillery was whistling in, and my whole world shook like a ragdoll as I stumbled my ass downstairs and away from the not-so-structurally-sound upper levels of the town hall. Taggart about dragged my ass out of the Town Hall, pushing me ahead of him as he barked out orders for a retreat back to the church - before spinning about and emptying his rifle magazine in the direction of some angry Germans that were starting to scramble across the river behind us. Fang was a bit ahead of Taggart and the rest of us stragglers, her own automatic rifle - and her squad - laying down suppressive fire as we beat feet out of town square. My lungs felt like lead weights as Taggart and Carota half-carried half-pushed me down the street, and I all but collapsed against the stone statue out front of the church once we reached it - thankfully outside of the range of the Kraut artillery. “Holy-fucking-shit.” Fang wheezed, as she slid into cover next to me, the low stone wall around the exterior of the church reinforced by stolen sandbags. “That was way fucking worse than that dumbass beach.” I just nodded, still trying to catch my breath and not hack up a lung. I let out a wheezy exhale, and slumped myself back up into a sitting position, feeling around for my bolt-action, which Fang passed to me. “Shit, you good, Anon? You're bleeding out of your face.” I blinked, and took another deep breath, still worn the hell out, but shook my head. “I dunno honestly. That artillery strike was kinda close.” Fang frowned, then gave me a closer look-over, placing her hands on my shoulders and giving me a thorough check-up, even shifting my helmet to check beneath. Her grimace told me she'd seen something there. “Yeah, pretty good sized gash on your forehead, Caveman. That artillery got you good, I guess.” “Sure feels like it.” I grunted, as she tugged open one of her pockets, and retrieved a small cloth kit from it. “Mhn. Lucky you, my dad's a cop. Here, I'm gonna tie you a bandage off, hold still.” And then they did, no mess, no fuss. “Okay. You good?” “Good as I can be.” I grunted, pulling myself to a crouch. The Germans couldn't be too much farther behind us, though they were probably moving a bit slower in case of ambush. In retrospect we should have laid out a couple ambushes, but whatever. Hindsight was a bitch. The group of us paratroopers that were still breathing - which was… more than I'd expected, thankfully - waited in tense silence, as the slow Rumble of German tanks finally came into our hearing. Or maybe they'd already been hearing it, and my head was just fuckin’ rattled. That was a definite possibility, after taking an artillery hit to the face. Whatever the reason, I was prepared for the Germans that entered the church square from the main street and the left side street. That was expected, as our machine guns and our rifles opened up on them, and our bazooka team - the AT gun long having been left behind up at the front - opened up on the krauts and the halftracks they were using to cover their advance. What we weren't ready for was the fucking panzer that busted down a goddamn side wall like fucking cardboard, and blew a massive chunk out of the side of the church behind us. I fell over, mostly out of shock, and hopefully not any more holes in my body, and blinked as Fang fell over right beside me, clearly sweating bullets as she slapped a fresh magazine into her BAR. Oh, duh, she hadn't fallen over, she'd taken cover. Idiot. She crept back up in a short crouch with her rifle, and started dumping rounds down range as I pulled myself back up to my feet as well, taking shaky aim at the very, very close to my position krauts. This wasn't a great place for me to be with a sniper rifle, but boo fuckin’ hoo I guess. I squeezed the trigger, and down went a Nazi, as I racked the bolt. Bullets were flying all over the damn place, and that tank was just spraying machine gun fire as we took what cover we could. Shrapnel from bullets, shells, whatever and whoever, burst all over the place, and fragments of buildings and stones peppered the ground all around our slowly diminishing group of airborne infantry. The stone wall and sandbag backing wall was being torn apart at a rapid rate, and soon there wasn't going to be any of us left to bitch about it. The panzer to our front suddenly went up in a ball of goddamn hellfire, as a tank shell came screaming in from behind us, and I nearly fucking shit myself as heavy machine gun fire - much heavier than the light German MGs and Carota's thirty cals - sailed over our heads and into the advancing Germans with a throaty grumble. A few of us, myself and Fang particularly, looked behind us and about cried happy tears. Rolling up to town was friendly infantry and friendly fucking tanks. Thank you, God. The Germans about pissed themselves by their looks, as their determined advance became a rapid and disconnected retreat, followed by the other Americans and their tanks. We airborne troops rose up from our own positions and tagged along, pushing the German cocks across the bridges and right the hell back out of town. Our town, no touchy. The fighting died down as the Germans covered their retreat with whatever artillery fire they had left, cutting off our pursuit. Whatever. There'd be more Germans to deal with later, very likely. We regrouped with our rescue detachment at the town square, and I was pleasantly surprised to see Captain Mckay riding atop one of the tanks, along with - oh God it was private whats-his-nuts. That fucker was still alive? How? Mckay hopped off the friendly tank - a Sherman, i think it was called - and took Taggart aside so that they could discuss whatever it was officers talked about when the enlisted schmucks weren't listening in. I blinked though, stopping dead in my tracks as the driver's hatch and the commander's hatch popped open, followed by their occupants. Those… those were not homo sapiens. Nope, those were dinosaurs. Joy. By the way Fang sort of dropped everything they were doing and ran over, cheering and calling out their names - Trish and Reed, if I caught that correctly - that was likely her two friends. They looked vaguely familiar. I started in their direction, but a flat look from the short purple triceratops gave me a pause. Fang followed her gaze back to me, then looked at the triceratops, and muttered a few words to her. Her scowl just deepened, and the midget gave me a guarded, untrusting glare. Fuck it, she had her friends now, she'd be fine. I just snorted, and turned around, wandering off towards wherever Corporal Carota was playing with his dumbass machine guns. Fang had her friends to go fuck around with now, it was obvious that my companionship - what little we'd built up while playing soldier out here in the ass end of France - wasn't necessary anymore. Cool. That's fine. I slapped the back of Carota's helmet, as he staggered a bit, his fellow machine gun crewmen laughing at his expense. “Hey, I hope that isn't alcoholic, Corporal.” I joked, gesturing to the wine bottle he was carrying. I sent one last look back in the dinosaur gang's direction… and it was like I just didn't even exist anymore. Not even a look back from Fang, or the other two. “Oh, sure thing Sarge. It's uh, grape juice.” “Grape juice. Right.” I snorted, holding out a hand. Carota handed it over. I rolled my eyes, and downed a good swig of whatever the hell this was. Bleugh, didn't taste particularly good, and I gave Carota a scowl as he shrugged, chuckling. “Well, it was Sarge.” Carota beamed, the little shit. “A year ago.” “Har-har. I'm gonna go see what Taggart's up to. I've had enough of this shithole town to last the rest of my life.” I groused, tossing the bottle back to Carota. “Longest few days I've had for a while.” “You're preachin’ to the choir, Sergeant.” Carota nodded, taking his own swig from the wine bottle. “Think I wanna see a nice vineyard or something over in Italy, that'd be a good change of pace.” “Keep dreaming, Corporal.” I paused. Shit. I was a Sergeant, I was supposed to be like, responsible and shit. “And no getting shitfaced on duty.” “Sure thing, Sarge. No sloshing the grape juice.” I just shook my head, and moved off. I was ready to get the hell out of Carentan. If it moved me away from the pastel party, well, that was just icing on the cake, wasn't it? So why was my stomach churning like I'd been slugged in the gut? Mckay and Taggart now. Stupid, unnecessary feelings later. [NOTES] It took me a couple days more than I'd expected to get this out. Work and especially Veteran's Day had left me exceedingly busy. But hey, it's out now, yay. Now that the semester is winding down, I'm hoping to start having more time to work on my writing. We'll see.