January Dawn (20 page)

“Shove him off.”

Carrigan shoved him overboard as a massive concussion wave fanned across the river like a giant ripple. The entire scene lit up in one giant orange fireball. My gut reaction was to duck my head, but when I raised it a few seconds later I could see the railroad bridge engulfed in a maelstrom of smoke and fire that rose two hundred feet into the air.

A huge fifty foot segment of the bridge had been entirely demolished. I could only hope Charlie Company made it off that bridge before it blew.

When the fireball dissipated and the darkness swallowed the bridge once more, I refocused and resumed my fire on the opposite bank. Mortar rounds exploded all around. A machine gun opened up directly ahead of us. I could see the tracer rounds hitting the water twenty feet in front of us and skipping closer, each one sending a geyser of water into the air.

The bullets missed my shoulder by an inch and punctured the side of our boat seven times.

“We’re taking on water,” Carrigan said.

The machine gun had completely emptied the pontoon of all its air and the boat was sinking fast.

Before I could begin to process a thought of what to do next, our boat was lifted out of the water and I could remember flipping end over end before landing upside down, struggling to right myself in the murky water. The din of battle was suddenly hushed as I clawed and kicked my way upwards, my heavy gear pulling me down, my lungs begging for air.

When I reached the surface I took a relieving gasp of air. I was surrounded by flaps of torn rubber. The air was still saturated with a heavy blanket of lead. A body floated by me. It was male. Not Carrigan.

Some assault boats had made it to shore and we’re already on their way back to pick up the second wave. They would have a much easier time of it the second time around.

Ignoring an engineer’s plea for me to climb aboard his boat, I swam as best I could toward shore, but all my gear kept pulling me down. Panic was at my door. I kicked and paddled, but everything was too heavy, my lungs burned, my body ached and I was swallowing too much water trying to keep my head above the surface.

Finally, my toes touched solid ground. I made it to shore.
Keep going Colton
,
don’t stop here.

I shambled through the shoreline brush until I was on dry ground. Fighting was going on all around me. I didn’t know where I was, or where the rest of my unit was at that moment. I was scared, but my adrenaline kicked in and my instincts followed.
Do a self-check.

No rifle. I must have lost it in the river. All I had was my sidearm. Helmet’s gone too.
Damn.
I shed my backpack and instantly felt a hundred pounds lighter.
Get moving.

I moved forward cautiously, my handgun’s safety flipped off.

Immediately I came upon a sandbag bunker. There was a body of a dead Yankee laying limply over his machine gun. He hadn’t been dead maybe five minutes. The barrel of his gun was still smoking.

I jumped over the sandbag wall, skidded down into the hole and scanned with my pistol, ready to shoot anything that moved. Nobody.

If he’s dead, then that means friendly troops have already moved past here
.
I got to keep moving.

“Colton!” Came a voice from above.

“Carrigan! You’re alive.” I said, as she jumped into the hole and collapsed beside me.

“A mortar round flipped us. I got picked up by another boat. They got hit too, but I made it to shore finally.” She had lost her helmet also, but managed to hold on to her rifle.

Right then, two friendly Apache helicopters roared overhead releasing a salvo of rockets that ignited the forest about fifty yards in front of us. In the blast, I could see the silhouettes of men moving forward. Friendlies.

We caught up to them within a few minutes. The forest was glowing orange and yellow from the advancing flames. Entire pine trees ignited, dotting the forest with spears of fire.

In our mad rush forward, we came upon Captain Elroy directing the battle from behind the cover of giant oak tree. He was crouched down over Michael’s dead body screaming into the radio receiver. He slammed the receiver down into the dirt when he saw us approach.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to contact Second Squad for the past five minutes. Where is Sergeant Redman?”

“I don’t know sir. Carrigan and I were separated on another boat during the assault.”

“Dammit Captain, keep Echo moving,” Teague said, retreating from the tree where three other soldiers were engaged in a heavy firefight. “If Alpha and Charlie Company move too far ahead of us their flanks will be wide open to attack.”

Elroy grabbed Teague by the collar. “You listen here you little shit. You need to drop this fantasy of a cake walk. Nothing about this assault has gone right. The enemy was waiting for us with a whole damn battalion.” I’d never seen Elroy this livid before. “You know damn well the Yankees blew that bridge before Charlie could get across. And Alpha Company is still thirty yards back behind us. I am not moving my company any further, until I get all my squads accounted for. Do you understand?”

“If you won’t take charge of this operation and do what is necessary, then I will,” Teague said. They both had to shout over the battle to be heard.

“Tough shit Lieutenant. As long as I’m alive Echo belongs to me.”

In a flash of a second, Teague leveled his rifle and fired four shots into Elroy’s chest. Elroy was dead before he hit the ground.

Carrigan and I were both downright flabbergasted over what we had just witnessed. So much so that before either of us had time to react, we were staring down the barrel of Teague’s smoking gun. My muscles tensed to react and I almost pulled my weapon on him but thought better of it. He would shoot me dead before I could get a shot off.

“I had to do it,” Teague said. “As an official emissary of the Department of Defense I am entitled to evoke Statute Seven of Executive Order 1070, authorizing me to relieve him of his command. By force if necessary.”

“You bastard. Do realize what you just did?” Carrigan said.

“Shut up! I oughta kill you both right here.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Cause I need every soldier I can get. If we rescue the divisions stuck in the city, we can reform our defense and live to fight another day for the Confederacy.” No matter how badly he itched to pull the trigger he really couldn’t kill us. Not now, at least.

“You’re delusional,” Carrigan said.

“You will tell no one about this, understand? Elroy was cut down by an enemy machine gun as he was directing the battle from the front. That’s how he would have wanted it. If you tell anyone, I will have you both shot for impending the war effort.”

We stayed there standing toe to toe with Teague with murderous looks being passed back and forth. We wanted to kill each other, but reality demanded otherwise.

As if on cue, Beauregard came stumbling out of the brush, momentarily pausing the standoff.

“Sir, Second Squad has been overrun. We need help,” he said, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Teague lowered his rifle and said, “You two go help them and tell Redman I need to see him, immediately.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to kill Teague then and there, but my brothers needed me. With one last look at Elroy’s bleeding corpse, the three of us bolted from the murder scene.
This won’t stand.

Beauregard led the way to our embattled squad mates. We crossed through a whirlwind of crossfire, sticking close to his heels and firing from the hip in the direction of the enemy.

We hopped, skipped, slid and crawled over everything in an all-out effort to reach our friends before it was too late.

The battle was impressively ferocious. The clamor of all the guns and artillery and thunder and wind whipped together into one massive tumultuous drone that left us dizzy with awe. We were lucky that the darkness of night was veiling the full extent of the extraordinary carnage that was happening around us. Being spared the agony of baring constant witness to all the mud, blood and gore that we knew blotted everything and everyone was a remarkable blessing in a night full of terrors.

As we crossed a small open meadow, a stray bullet pierced through Beauregard’s thigh, slicing through flesh and bone and exiting out the other side. He let out a yelp and collapsed midstride.

I slid to a stop beside him. I applied a quick tourniquet to staunch the bleeding, but I had to move him before I did anything more. We were stuck out in the open.

“Can you move?” I asked.

“Get me on my feet.”

I pulled him to his feet and he hopped alongside me as we escaped the torrent of crossfire. When we thought we were clear, we slowed, but when a machine gun opened up twenty yards to our right, we quickened our pace once more. We didn’t want to be killed by friendly fire. At least I think it was friendly. My perception of the battlefield at the time was all jumbled.

“Which way?” I asked.

“That way,” he said, pointing straight ahead.

As he pointed, a grenade with the color and shape of a tin can landed with a thud in front of us.

“Grenade!”

Beauregard shook from my grasp, shoved me backwards off my feet and dove onto the grenade. The explosion lifted his body off the ground and engulfed him in a flood of blindingly hot white phosphorus that melted the skin from his bones and sucked the air from his lungs. His sacrifice muffled the blast and saved both Carrigan and I from a certain death.
No, not him, please no.

“Colton, we have to go. Get up,” Carrigan said, forcing me up.

“Beau.”

“He’s dead. Alex and the others will be too, if we don’t move.” Carrigan swallowed her emotions, gritted her teeth and shoved me along. There was no time to mourn.

I picked up my rifle, took one last look at my friend’s lifeless body and went in search of Alex and the others.

I ran as fast I could without knowing where I was going. A rocket from a shoulder fired rocket launcher swished over my head and exploded a few yards away in a cluster of trees.

The marsh brush was thick and confusing. We could hear enemy soldiers all around us.

I continued running forward in the direction that Beauregard pointed, pushing through the brush with one arm out in front, trying to block the limbs from hitting me in the face. My foot snagged on a root and I tumbled to the ground.

I was horrified to learn that it wasn’t a root at all. It was Hayes’ leg.

He sat against a tree with his head hanging low, a string of bright red blood trickling from his mouth. His chest was spotted with bullet holes and soaked in crimson.
No! Not you too.

In the two seconds I discovered Hayes’ body, a Yankee soldier appeared over me, wielding his gun and demanding my surrender.

I swooped him off his legs with a swift kick to the ankles and grabbed the barrel of his rifle as he brought it up to shoot me. The gun shook wildly in my hand as he emptied the entire magazine up into the air. I wrestled the gun from his hands and whacked him in the temple with the butt as hard as I could. That only made him angrier.

My mind and body went into fight-or-flight mode. Up till then, the war had been mostly cold, lifeless bodies I passed on the battlefield, or dark figures in the distance, or the muzzle flashes that sent me diving for cover, but now as I wrestled for my life with this Yankee I could see the anger and determination burning in this young man’s eyes. He was no older than me and he probably was just as scared as I was, but he wanted to kill me, and if I wanted to live long enough to see Tess again, I’d have to kill him first.

We clawed at each other’s throats as we rolled back and forth on the sodden ground exchanging punches. It was when we rolled into the back of someone’s legs that I realized that there was more than one Yankee here. The other savages had wrestled Carrigan to the ground, disarmed her and were in the process of cuffing her.

I frantically searched around for anything I could use as a weapon and then I remembered the knife strapped to my ankle. The soldier grabbed my wrist as I brought the blade of my knife down. The tip stopped inches from his eye.

Before I could force my entire weight down onto the knife, I felt the blunt blow of someone’s boot on the side of my head. The world went dark.

When I came to a few seconds later, I heard the soldier sitting across my chest say, “I’m going to bleed you dry,” as he placed my own knife to my neck.

“Enough!” The Yankee Sergeant said. “You’ll do no such thing. Cuff him and bring them both back to the Captain. We’ll send them back to division on the next truck.”

The soldier was disappointed at this command. As he stood, he slyly sliced the side of my neck with the serrated edge of the blade. A blanket of blood oozed from the cut, coating my shoulder in sticky gore.

“You piece of shit,” the soldier said, with a charged kick to my groin. I rolled over in agony as another soldier cuffed my hands behind my back.

They dragged me to my feet as three grenades landed at our feet, pouring out clouds of white smoke. By the markings, I knew they were Confederate smoke grenades.
I hit the floor knowing that the bullets would be coming next.