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THE HALLOWEEN AMBUSH..........................TWO SPIRIT --(Fiction really good Radman) |
It was another foggy, dreary day in Germany. Just a few days prior, American forces had finally made the first push onto German soil, and as a result, several German commanders had found themselves relieved of command. For Johann Brach though, a young machine gun platoon corporal, it was just another of the long days of battle that had been going on since the invasion in June.
The Panzergrenadier unit that Johann was attached to had been fighting constantly for over five months now. Eventually pushed out of France, fighting through Holland, they now found themselves back on the soil of the Fatherland, not from from Aachen. They had recieved their new orders the day before, on October 30th, to defend a small town which held a crossroads a mere twleve miles from Aachen. During the trip to the crossroads, they had come under bombarment from American guns on several occasions, and had twiced been strafed by American aircraft during breaks in the fog. As they arrived at the crossroads, there were only seventy eight men still in fighting trim within the unit, and they quickly began setting up their defenses.
At the edge of town was a graveyard. and it was at this graveyeard that Johann was to set up his platoon, offering a clear field of fire over the crossroads. The rest of the men set up in buildings and ditches around the crossroads in order to provide a deadly crossfire to any who entered the town.
As the sun began to set on the afternoon of the 31st, Johann walked along his units positions, insuring all was ready. As he walked, he also noticed some of the headstones on the graves. Not all the markers he noticed were German. There were numerous French and British markers as well.. Noticing the dates on the markers, he soon realized that the graves held the remains of French and British soldiers that had died at the beginning of the war. Asking his commander about the graves, he was told that a small battle had been fought here in 1940, when a French and British column had been lost in the fog, and found itself on the wrong side of the German border, only to be slaughtered by a Panzer column moving forward. Pointing to a nearby ravine, his commander showed Johann all that was left of the burned out hulks of the French and British vehicles, which had been pushed there in order to clear the road. As the last of day's light dwindled away, both men moved on to their night's position.
Along with the darkness came the fog. Light at first, it soon was the heavy wet fog that every soldier hates, the type of fog that creeps into your bones, as well as making it impossible to see further than a few feet away. It also is the type of fog that carries sound a long ways, and somewhere off in the distance, the sounds of the machines of war could be heard. Johann was hopeful that the sounds would stay in the distance, but somehow he knew that before morning his men would once again be fighting for their lives.
Late into the night, the sounds of vehicles could be heard moving up the road from Aachen. The men at the crossroads could tell that it was not heavy vehicles, but mostly trucks. This was some reassurance to them, since they knew their ambush could well handle a non-armored column. Miraculously, the fog had thinned a bit, making it possible to see shadows in the night, especially against the backdrop of flashes from exploding artillery in the distance. Johann's platoon could now see a row of vehicles making it's way to the edge of town. Suddenly, the men of the Panzergrenadier unit were surprised to hear another sound. From the northeast, they heard a column of light tanks moving towards the town. Having had no radio contact with other units during the night, their only thought was that the Americans had managed to push further into Germany, and were now attempting to take the crossroads from two directions. The men hunkered down in their positions, knowing the coming fight would be a hard one.
As the two columns made their way toward the center of town and the crossroads, firing soon erupted from the tank column. Fearing the ambush had been found out, the German commander gave the order to open fire. Johann's platoon opened up with all they had on the truck convoy making it's way into the town. The men surrounding the crossoroads fired on the oncoming tank convoy. In a matter of minutes, the entire town was caught up in the struggle of battle, the defenders firing madly in both directions, while the two columns fired on the defenders. Johann's men quickly came under machine gun fire, and one by one his gun crews began taking casualties. He realized his postion was perilous, and ordered his few remaining men to move into the town where the rest of the unit was. He quickly saw that this was a mistake though, as the light tanks were blasting away at every buiding in the town. It was then that he remembered the ravine, and ordered his last two crews to go there and take cover. The order was almost too late though, since the truck column, somehow still mostly intact, was quickly approaching the ravine. Thinking he had ordered his men to their death, he sought the only cover he could find, a ditch which ran under the road. As he made his way there, he realized that firing from the town had fallen off to nothng, and the tanks were quickly pushing through the crossroads.
What he saw next paralyzed him in his tracks. The tanks were almost upon him, and he could see that they were not American tanks, but old PzI and PzII tanks, vehicles which many had not seen since the first days of the war. Suddenly, the tanks opened fire on the truck column as it passed the ravine. The last thing Johann remembered seeing was a truck exploding, and then something hit his helmet, knocking him unconscious.
When Johann came to, the sun was already a few hours into the sky. Not knowing what had happened, he crawled from the ditch to look for men from his unit. What he saw was something his pained head was not ready for. Everywhere he lookd, the men of the Panzergrenadier unit lay dead. Although he had seen the tanks firing on the buildings, it seemed as if few buildings were actually damaged. Then he remembered the men he had sent to the ravine. Walking that way, he suddenly realized that there were no signs of the truck he had watched explode, or any of the trucks that he was sure his platoon had hit. As he looked into the ravine, he saw all that remained of his men, their bodies torn from the explosions and bullets of the night before. Not understanding what had happened, he made his way to the center of town and collapsed.
A few hours later, an Amercan unit made it's way to the town. Having been told to expect resistance, they slowly made their way past cemetary and ravine, and then into the middle of the town. All around them there was the smell of battle, and the bodies they saw assured them that a hard battle had taken place. But a battle with whom. No American units had moved this way the night before. The fog of the night before had made the American commander decide to wait until the first of November to continue the push, taking the previous day to resupply his men.
It was then that one of the Americans noticed Johann, and that he was still alive. Bringing up a soldier who could speak German, they quickly questioned him as to what had taken place. He told of the night's battle, and how a column of old German tanks had destroyed the trucks attempting to take the city. This confused the Americans even more, since they would have surely heard the sounds of such a ferocious battle, having been camped a mere five miles away. Looking around, there were no signs of any trucks, except the burned out hulks in the ravine, now rusted with time. There were also no signs that tanks had passed anywhere near the town. Even more unexplainable was when a soldier walked up carrying the remnants of two uniforms, one French and one British, since no French or British units were within thirty miles of the town.
No one will ever know what happened in that small town on the night of October 31st of 1944. The only records of any battle having ever been fought there would be the ones of 1940, when a French and British column met it's fate. And what of Johann Brach, a German corporal who was now a POW? Well, most thought him crazy, or even worst, a desserter. There would be several times that he would recount the story of the battle, but most would discount it as the story of a madman, who had seen too much of war. Even more unexplicable though, would be the graves on the hillside. Among the graves of the French and British who had died in 1940, were the graves of the Panzergrenadiers who had died that night in October of 1944. |
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| Alias | Date | Reply |
| Aine |
10/16/2005 1:21:00 PM |
Interesting, thanks for posting! |
| Two Spirit |
10/16/2005 4:32:00 PM |
Actually CP, this a fictional story I wrote for the Halloween contest. |
| Radman |
10/17/2005 1:30:00 AM |
Awsome story... Thanks.. TS... :D |
| Americangirl |
10/17/2005 5:48:00 AM |
This is really great Two Spirit! Good luck in the contest. Be Good... |
| Xylanthia |
10/17/2005 5:52:00 AM |
This is great Two Spirit...very different..I like it!! |
| kaymad |
10/17/2005 8:30:00 AM |
Awesome story! I really enjoyed it. |
| "I remember you..." |
10/17/2005 12:32:00 PM |
Oughtn't it be in the Strictly Fiction section? Interesting read. Please run a spell check. =) |
| §ilent Echo |
10/23/2005 12:16:00 PM |
This is really good (-: |
| Hagatha |
11/2/2005 8:22:00 PM |
Awesome and spooky -- perfect for Halloween. |
| Bad Co |
11/3/2005 6:39:00 PM |
Hello, Two Spirit :) Great story, my friend. So well done. Write on.... |
| Rusure |
11/3/2005 7:36:00 PM |
Excellent Halloween post! :) |
| NOLATROZAR |
11/16/2005 3:38:00 AM |
Rockin story!! |
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