The bridge

The Bridge
By
Kenneth D. Thibodeaux
It was a very sturdy structure for its age, one that had withstood the passing of
time, as it was during the Cimbrian War that its foundation was first laid by the
Romans who had constructed it to cross the wide natural barrier that had its
beginning somewhere deep inside the thick forest and it was over the passing
centuries that the other users of the ageless crossing had constructed the twelve
foot high archway with the stones that were extracted from the river's edge by
which the foundation of the bridge was made even stronger that kept the once
small hamlet on the east side linked with the soil rich farmland lying west of the
river while still allowing the sleeping leviathan to continue flowing on its
unrestrictive path as it made its way to the open sea several hundred miles
away from its beginning. The four-foot-high pierced parapet that ran the length
of both sides of the bridge with its trefoil design and corbel ram heads that
were evenly spaced every few feet under the bridge's wall was more for
support then decoration as the high wall served as a protection allowing all
who used the ancient pathway to safely traverse over the river as the wall kept
them from falling into the deceptive waters below. Over the long centuries, the
river had cut itself a path that was now wider and deeper than it deceptive
appearance and it was this slow washing away over time that now had both
sides of its banks slanting at a sloping steep grade. Hidden below the
seemingly slow moving river’s surface were even larger boulders that were
once vomited up from the earth thousands of years ago, and the once tall and
majestic trees that had grown close to the now steep slanting banks had fallen
into the river along with other debris until it had over the many years
constructed a natural under water barrier making it impassable for anyone to
safely transverse even when its surface waters gave the allusion to be moving
at a slower pace. Those once living unsuspected ventures who had looked on
the gentle flowing surface of the water inviting them to cross other than the
bridge had attempted so under a false promise of assured success, only to find
themselves caught in the unseen death trap that lay beneath as testified by the
remains of the bleached bones of those who over the expanse of time had
tried crossing the deceptive river other than by the only safe connection as not

even during the coldest part of the year when the Earth was touch by the icy
hand of winter could the swift deep moving river's undercurrent be stayed or its
rushing pace slowed as it made its way to the ocean. Beyond the river was an
open valley with a lush green meadow country side that lay before a rich
wooded forest thick with trees, yet even after the centuries of contributing wood
to build houses and shops, to make furnishing for the homes of the villagers,
and the coffins for those departed villagers buried in the expanding graveyard
north of the village, along with the yielding a steady stream of firewood for the
cold winter days and nights, the forest was still thick with an seemingly endless
supply of trees awaiting the woodsman’s axe. For those living west of the
village of Armior the ancient man-made pathway had allowed them to cross
over Nature’s barrier with their bountiful harvest and safely return home again
with those items needed to carry on a productive farm life. One such farming
family was the La Louvrières, who owned the two-story wood and stone frame
farmhouse and a wood barn that was a stone’s throw away from the bridge.
Both the farmhouse and the barn were section off by the wood log fence from
the open acreage that ran East and South of the farm and like the shops and
homes of the village, the farmhouse and the barn had been made from the
trees of the same forest that was several hundred feet behind it and the stone
facing of the front and side of the house and the two chimneys were made
with the stones taken from the river’s edge and had been hewn into smaller
manageable pieces, making the foundation of the house stronger. The
chimney on the backside of the house faced the village and the second one on
the far end of the house faced the forest and the large open pasture that now
laid under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow that had come sometime
during the night. Since the time of the Normans the La Louvrières had used the
bridge to take their harvest to the markets of Armior and had brought back
those things needed to carry on a quiet successful farm life and over the years
as the earth willingly yielded up her bounty to them the once meager farm
had become a strong solid structure, and like the bridge of Armior for so many
years, the La Louvrière's farm had become a part of the surrounding landscape
giving the seemingly allusion that it too was able to endure as long as time
itself. However, the deadly disease of war that had spread its self across the
continent of Europe had found its way to the village of Armior, the bridge, the
La Louvrière’s farm, and the last seedlings of the La Louvrière family, who were
all now caught in its inescapable grip and as the war had done to so many of
the man-made structures as it swept across the landscape of Europe, the
bridge, the La Louvrière family along with their farm could be reduce to a
vanishing memory by the next shell that the Americans artillery were hurling at
the Germans that occupied the farm house and the barn. Huddled in one of
the cellar’s corners, Rose-Maria La Louvrière, a dark-haired woman in her late
twenties, made a vain attempt to shield the two younger children with her
body from the shelling that rocked the farmhouse. As the earth shook from the
exploding shell she whispered a prayer asking God to make the shelling to stop

and send the soldiers away, but if He couldn’t she wanted the next shell to
either hit that cursed bridge or allow it to strike this cellar where they had taken
refuge and end their unbearable torment.
This war had taken way almost everything that Rose-Maria loved and now all
that was left of the world that she had once knew, enjoyed, and held so very
dear was in the root cellar with her and having to live another moment of this
hellish shelling to her would be worse than living in any of the German death
camps that she had heard about. As to why the Germans hadn’t blown up the
cursed bridge once the last of their retreating soldiers had crossed it this morning
and by doing so cut off their American pursuers she didn’t know, but because
they hadn’t the struggle between the Allies and Germans that had engross
Europe over the past six months now cut its hellish path to the once peaceful
Village of Armior. When the news of the advancing Allied army reach the
village three days ago she came here with her brother's two children thinking
that they would be safe at the family's farm house rather than in town should
the Germans make a stand in the village, but as she watched from the front
porch late yesterday evening as the Germans were moving their heavy artillery,
tanks, and troops across the bridge as they left out of Armior, heading
westward down the road that cut through the forest she had a quiet moment of
celebrated relief as she was sure that most of the people of Armior as well
were glad that their unwelcomed guest who had occupied Armior over the
past several months were leaving. Nor were there any celebratory envoy to
meet the American liberators as terrified villagers who like she and her family
had done, also sought refuge where they could find it from the hellish cries of
war that now screamed out all around them. For those who had been on the
East side of the bridge when the Americans came into Armior, they were now
probably far behind the war zone or in a safer place in the village and had she
and her family members been in Armior they too might have escaped the
horror of the shelling by the Americans who were trying to drive the Germans
away from the bridge. Looking over at her grandfather Rose-Maria saw him
mouthing a prayer as he clutched in his hands the rosary beads with the small
silver crucifix. Kneeling next to Rose-Maria's father was her aunt who crossed
herself then quickly covered her ears as the sound of a screaming shell was
heard while an exploding shell hit the ground rocking the earth as if trying to
awake it from its deep winter sleep. Rose-Maria clutched the children closer to
her as the cellar was rocked again by the shells that exploded somewhere in
the forest that sent men, equipment, parts of trees, and snow flying.
Standing on the front porch of the farmhouse Oberstleutnant Engels with the
aid of the field glasses that a moment before was in the case that was strapped
to his holster belt casually raised them to his eyes and watched with intense
interest at the Americans who now occupied Armior as they went quickly about
shoring up their defensive position along the riverbank just outside the village as
they too like his men were dug in on their side of the river just out of rifle range
of each other, and unless any ventured too close to the bridge neither German

or American would carelessly throw his life away. Whoever this American
commander was he seemed to be intent on capturing the bridge of Armior in
tact as much as Oberstleutnant Engels was in keeping the Americans from
doing so, ad least not until he had it blown up, a task that would have to wait
until nightfall now as somehow during the rush to get the heavy artillery with
their ordnance and tanks across the bridge the truck with the explosives had
been moved with the retreating column as well and by the time that mistake
had been discovered forward units of the advancing American army had
moved in from the south pushing their way into Armior and now that lost
opportunity had come at a great cost as he had already lost several engineers,
half a squad of men and a halftrack that had been deployed to stay off the
Americans while the engineers attempted to set the explosives under the
bridge. Oberstleutnant Engels was in command of the rear guard, which was a
full company of Panzer grenadiers and conscripts, a tiger tank that was near the
barn, as it was now out of commission because of a damage tread track wheel
resulting from being hit by a bazooka team during the Americans attack on the
village, a half company mortar team that would cover their withdrawal once
they objective was reached, also assigned to the rear guard were several good
engineers who were to set the explosives and as soon as the bridge was
destroyed, Engels would use the two remaining half tracks in getting as many
of his men out of this death trap. By the American commander having his
snipers, who were well hidden in the shops and houses that face the river made
it possible for them to pick off any of Engels’ men that ventured to close to the
river’s edge, which in its self was a death trap and the only way to end this
standoff between him and the American commander was to destroy the
bridge, but in order to do that the engineers had to get onto it and once they
were, they would have to be lowered by rope to get the explosives under the
bridge’s stone supports, which now could be done only under the blanket of
night and once it came Oberstleutnant Engels would send Unteroffizier Wulf, a
squad of his best rifle infantry man, his two snipers, along with the engineers to
finish the job of cutting off the advancing Americans. Like his American
counterpart, Oberstleutnant Engels had ordered his best infantryman to occupy
the trenches near the river edge and flanked several yards on both sides of the
bridge was a machine gun nest, as well as one in the second story hallway
window facing the bridge, and another one in the loft of the barn. There were
troops with assault rifles who were equipped with Stielhandgrate and Panzer
Faust, and his anti-tank weapon crew was located near the farm house should
any of the American tanks get across and the disable Tiger tank could still be
employ should the need arise, which he didn’t foresee, that is unless the
American commander was very foolhardy to order another assault on the
bridge like he had done twice before and Oberstleutnant Engels was sure that
should he do so the American commander would lose more men and any
tanks he sent into the devilish crossfire that Engles' men had put on the
Americans twice before that kept them from crossing the bridge. Those two fail

attempts had cost the American an anti-tank gun, a tank, along with several
brave soldiers whose bodies now litter the bridge that pointed the way to their
fail objective. Once again as Oberstleutnant Engels looked toward the village
through his field glasses they briefly reflected the light of the bright Sun that was
slowly and steadily making its way up the Eastern sky toward mid-morning.
“Got damn it sergeant I don’t care if the boy is a damn green Martian, he’s a
live and right now we need every damn man we can get, even drivers! Now
unless you know how to make the Germans see double, I suggest that you
take that damn soldier, get him a got damn weapon and get your ass out of
here and cross…” Captain Davis' last words were drown out by the firing of the
three Sherman tanks that were supporting Bravo company in their effort to drive
the Germans from the farm house on the west side of the Armior bridge so that
first and second armor along with the second brigade of First Army could cross
over to the other side of the river, but the advance was being held at bay by
an unknown number of Germans, which probably included Pathfinders and
maybe elements of the third and sixth Parachute regiment, plus forward
spotters reported seeing ad least one Tiger tank near the farm and experience
told Davis that if there was one Tiger seen in the neighborhood it was safe to
bet that there would be a few well-hidden ones in the woods that could be
used as support for the defenders of the farm and keep Davis from capturing
the much needed bridge that would allow second brigade to advance and
hook up with first and third brigade who were racing to flank the retreating
Germans from the northwest. Not only had that hellish cross fire stopped
Sergeant McPherson and second squad first attempt to cross, but in their second
attempt Davis had ordered two of the four Sherman to support them. Now he
had lost a tank along with their crew to those damn Panzer Faust teams, plus
one T48 Gun Motor Carriage as well as several more good men had been cut
down by those two machine gun nest set up near the west end of the bridge.
Now the bridge was littered with a number of dead bodies of both Germans
and Americans, a burning Sherman, a disable T48, and an abandon German
halftrack that had been knocked out of commission in the initial assault of the
bridge, all of which made it impossible now to get any tanks or heavy assault
vehicles to give support to the troops in a third attempt to cross the bridge,
which meant that the German troops who were now entrenched around the
farmhouse would have to be driven out by infantry before the wreckage could
be cleared off the bridge. Of course Davis could easily dislodge the German
troops by just leveling the whole farm and all its occupants, but orders had
come down through the chain of command to take the bridge outside Armior
intact, plus knowing that Captain Southerland’s artillery company couldn't hit a
bull in the ass with a banjo Davis was taking a big risk of ordering Southerland
to lay down an artillery barrage on the field on the far side of the farmhouse
along the open field and the road that led into the forest some four hundred
yards west of the farmhouse. His having Southerland of doing so was to keep
any German troops or tanks from coming up to give support to the occupiers of

the farm, ad least not without paying a very high price in human life to
complete the job of blowing up the bridge or getting more support to the lone
defenders of the farm house. What started out as a small firefight between the
advance patrol of first squad led by Corporal Knox who had ran into elements
of the German rear guard of the retreating Fifth Panzer near the town of Armior
early this morning had by zero seven thirty disrupted the deep winter sleep of
Armior and sent the citizenry running for the safety of their cellars as the firefight
had now escalated into the battle for control of the Armior bridge. As to why
the Germans hadn’t blown the bridge when the last of their heavy equipment
had crossed didn’t concern Captain Davis now nor did he care, all he knew was
that the bridge was intact, and it was going to stay that way if he had anything
to do with it. And thanks to his well place snipers and best rifle men who were
in several of the houses and shops that faced the river he was able to keep the
Germans engineers from completing the job of laying the charges and blowing
the bridge. Davis knew that the only way to get to the other side was the
bridge itself and even if he had sent any of his men down the embankment to
cross the river would be a waste of good men and those who didn’t drown
would be easy targets as they made their way up the west embankment along
the river’s edge. The only thing that Davis lacked were enough boots on the
ground, and with the loss of two squads of Bravo company in the taking the
village of Armior and the loss of a number of troops in the two attempts of
trying to cross the bridge he didn’t have enough men to complete the job after
deploying what was left of his company along the river to provide covering fire
for what was left of Sergeant McPherson’s squad who was to make a third
attempt to cross the bridge. To him any and every able body soldier that came
his way was pressed into service and that would include Father Albright if he
had too. Even the two Negro truck drivers of the 514th Quartermaster Corps
who had brought up the two truckloads of ammo Davis didn't think twice to
press them into service.
“Come on.” McPherson said to the young dark brown skin soldier, who didn’t
look like he had had his first shave judging from his smooth looking face. “What
do they call you boy?” McPherson growled as the two were walking from the
shop were Davis had headquarters set up at. “My name is Absalom Scott, sir.”
Came the young soldier’s reply that had McPherson giving the private a hard
stare for a brief few seconds. The way the soldier said his name and the tone in
his voice gave McPherson the impression that he was supposed to have known
it without asking. “What kind of…” McPherson’s words were cut off by the sound
of an artillery shell rocketing across the sky that had them quickly ducking their
heads down. “Did they teach you boys how to use one of these in basic?”
McPherson asked tossing Absalom a M1 Garand and a ten-pouch ammo belt
that he had taken from the back of the jeep. “Yes sir.” Absalom replied as he
caught the rifle then the ammo belt and followed the rough tone sergeant as
the two weaved their way through the desolate village. This wasn’t what
Absalom had in mind when Sergeant Williams volunteered him and Franklin to

make the supply run up here. “Just take ’em up there and get your black asses
back here as soon as you finish,” Williams had barked, “and don’t forget to get
those got damned papers signed this time.” The simple run of taking the
supplies to the front for the four Sherman tanks and the artillery company that
were supporting what was left of the elements of Alpha, Bravo and Charley
company of First Army who were giving chase to the retreating 3rd Panzer
armored and the ninety-fifth German infantry had led them by way of Armior
and that had Absalom and Franklin playing a game of hide and seek with
them as they weren't where Williams had said they were and once they found
them it was Absalom unlucky task to be picked to stay while Franklin got to
drive the company messenger back to HQ. But bad luck or not Absalom didn’t
say anything to Davis nor was he about to say anything to this mouthy sergeant
about him needing to get back to the supply depot like Sergeant Williams told
him and Franklin to do, the last thing Absalom wanted was for this dog face to
question his man hood even if it would get him into hot water with old
“bulldog” Williams later. While keeping pace with the fast walking McPherson,
Absalom checked his weapon to see if it was loaded, after he saw that it was
he quickly put his ammo belt around his waist then shouldered his rifle. “Ok
here we are.” McPherson said as their short trek had them soon reaching a half-
destroyed house.
“So what’s the word sarge, we getting leave?” The smiling soldier asked, who
seconds before had been looking out of the window. “Right Puklicky.” The
soldier with the Thompson submachine gun replied. Absalom saw that the
soldier was wearing a ten-cell ammo pouch that was strapped over his
shoulders that fitted him like a vest. “Yeah, sure thing,” McPherson said with a
quick crooked smile, “just as soon as we cross the bridge.” “And I guess he’s
going to drive us across.” The sandy head soldier with the bright green eyes said
pointing to Absalom. “Is that right boy?” The soldier with the southern drawl
asked smiling. “You’re going to drive us a cross that bridge in that red ball
express truck of yours?” “He’s a replacement.” McPherson replied. “The hell you
say,” The soldier with the southern drawl snapped, “a nigger! you mean they
sent us…” Absalom felt his back bristled at the soldier's words. “Watch your
mouth Grayson.” McPherson said cutting him a hard look. “He’s a soldier and
unless you want to talk to Captain Davis you need to shut your damn mouth
and that goes for all of you.” McPherson added looking at the others. “Now you
got about five minutes to make your peace with God ‘cause we are going
back to the bridge.” “Is Davis crazy!” The soldier with the Browning automatic
rifle said. “No he’s not and since you’re so eager to go Person, Anson is with
you, now get your asses in gear and follow me girlies.” “Tuff luck Glen, with that
ol’ boy on your ass the Germans ain't gonna need to paint a bull’s eye on it to
see you.” Grayson said smiling. “Shut up you damn hillbilly.” The soldier with the
heavy Spanish accent said as they filed out of the house. “So where are you
from Anson?” Puklickly asked. “My name is Absalom and I’m from Weston's
Freedom Town.” Absalom told him. “Yeah,” Puklickly said looking at Absalom,

“and where’s that?” “It’s in New Mexico.” The Spanish soldier said. “Hay Valdez is
there any place you don’t know where it’s at?” Person said. “Yeah, your brain.”
Valdez said smiling back at Person. “Well that's not hard to find, just tell him to
open his fly and he can show it to you.” Puklickly added smiling. “Kiss my butt
Puckly.” Person snapped. “Only in your dreams baby cakes, only in your
dreams.” Puklickly said as he took the last drag from his cigarette before flicking
it away. “So what kind of name is Abselone?” Glen said looking back at
Absalom over his rifle that was across his shoulders as he rested his arms on it.
“He said it’s Absalom, you jerk.” Puklickly said. “Yeah that’s what I said.” Person
said with a half-smile. “It’s Hebrew.” Absalom replied. “Hey ain’t that Jewish,”
Person quickly added, “so are you Jewish?” “Damn I ain’t ever met a black Jew
before.” Grayson cut in looking at Absalom flashing a crooked smile that
showed off his heavy yellow teeth. ”heard about them, but ain’t never seen
one before.” “Grayson you ain’t never seen nothing until you left that one mule
town you came from in Alabama.” Glen said smiling. “I ain’t from no damn
Alabama, I’m from Georgia.” Grayson shot back. “What's the difference you're
a Southern county hick no matter where you come from and he didn’t say that
he was Jewish, he said his name was Hebrew.” The stocky soldier carrying the
M1 carbine rifle snapped. Absalom looked at the big man as the carbine
looked more like a toy in the large hands of the giant. “And if you and Person
would stop chattering like a couple of damn monkeys long enough and
listen….” “Look Harrison I heard him, and I know for a fact that all Jews speak
Hebrew, after all I am from New York.” Person said looking at the giant. “Hell
you can’t throw a rock…” “Well being from there ain’t anything to brag about.”
Valdez said smiling. “At least I ain’t no damn Pourto Ricon.” Person said. “That’s
Porto Rican, you dumb ass. And I’m Mexican, there is a difference.” Valdez
said. “Like what, you speak a different kind of Spanish?” The soldier with the
Thompson submachine gun asked smiling. His remarks got a round of chuckles
from the other soldiers including Sergeant McPherson. "¡Que te jodan,
gilipollas!" Valdez snapped.
Absalom welcome the antics of the soldiers as their peppering each other with
racist retorts took their attention off him for the time being. Since joining the
army he had seen and learned a lot about white folks and he was surprised to
see just how quickly this group turned on each other given the seriousness of
what they were about to face causing him to wonder as to how they ever
made it this far in combat by the way they were going at each other. The only
difference about this conversation that he was now listening too and of those of
the guys in his unit who often carried on the same kind of talk when they were
out of the ear shot of a white non-commissioned officer was these were white
soldiers and not Negroes. Absalom notice that Sergeant McPherson, who was
walking just ahead of the group acted as if he didn’t hear the conversation of
his men, but like all sergeants Absalom knew that McPherson could cuff this
group of miss behaving boys with just a word. “Ok girls hold up here.”
McPherson said that had them stopping near a destroyed German halftrack

located several yards from the bridge. Studying the side of the halftrack that he
was now kneeling by Absalom saw that a shell fired from a Sherman had
ripped a large hole through the thin metal plating of the vehicle. There were
also telltale signs of dry blood mixed with human flesh, bone, and pieces of
German uniforms of the soldiers who had once occupied the halftrack. Beside
the hole made by the shell fired from the Sherman, Absalom also saw that the
left treads of the halftrack had been blown off its tracks and figured that the
vehicle must have been hit first by a bazooka team, rendering it immobile thus
making it an easier target for the tank's gunners who had finished off the
halftrack as well as the Germans soldiers riding in it. “Look son I know this is
probably your first action,” McPherson said looking Absalom in the eyes for the
first time since their meeting, “so this is how it works, you’ll provide cover fire for
Person here when he's reloading the Browning automatic rifle so you move
when he moves and shoot when he's not. Person,” McPherson said turning to
him, “I want you and Scott here to work your way up the left side of the bridge,
and you James,” He continued turning his attention to the soldier with the
Thompson submachine gun, “take the kid here and work your way along the
right side. And watch the fire from those damn machine guns especially the
one on the right and try and stay behind cover as much as possible. I'll have
the rest of the squad keep those boys along the river pinned down.” “Yes sir.”
Absalom said eyeing the words that came out of McPherson's mouth. “Mouth
feels dry?” McPherson asked looking at Absalom. “Yes sir.” Absalom replied.
“Well there’s cool water in that well on the other side of the bridge,” McPherson
said then flashed a quick smile that reveal a few missing teeth, “you can get a
drink from it if you want one. Ok girlies same drill as before, the Sherman’s are
going to fire off some smoke shells so wait till it build and work your way
across.” “Say Sarge I've got a better idea," Puklickly said smiling, "why don’t we
fire the smoke and send the Sherman’s across the bridge.” “Get ready to
move,” McPherson said, “and watch that damn cross fire from those machine
guns.” Came McPherson added warning. Crouching behind the destroyed
halftrack with the other soldiers Absalom tried to picture the faces of his parents
and his young sister Kari, but all he could recall of them were their tear filled
dark brown eyes on the day they went with him down to the train station to see
him off to boot camp. It was the first time he had seen his father crying making
that one of the saddest moments that Absalom could recalled in his nineteen
years of living. Now a year later he wasn’t sure if he would ever get a chance
to see them again or make it to see the end of this day. “You should have mail
that letter.” He thought and in a frantic moment he began to search with his
right hand each of his pockets for it. “Hay! Ten bucks say the nigger runs back to
his truck when the shooting starts.” Grayson said smiling at Absalom. The sound
of the Sherman firing broke the hard stair Absalom was giving the smiling
soldier. “Let’s go!” McPherson yelled.
As the group quickly moved from their hidden spot to the edge of the bridge,
James and the kid went off to the right while Absalom kept pace with Person,

who had moved off to the left, acting as if he was being chased by Absalom.
“Got damn it, I hate these damn Krauts.” Person snapped as the sound of
bullets began zipping out of the cloud of smoke. “So what does your name
mean?” Person asked. The question was asked with such a calm tone of voice
that it caught Absalom off guard as the now smiling soldier had asked it as if he
and Absalom were having a quiet conversation at some bus stop or train
station rather than about to try and cross a bridge under the hail of machine
gun fire from an enemy that could care less about Absalom skin color. As far as
the German soldiers were concern Absalom was wearing an American uniform
and that made him the enemy, which was all that mattered to them. “It
means leader of peace.” Absalom said. “You don’t say.” Person said with a
friendly smirk as several bullets chipped away pieces of the bridge they were
now crouching behind that sent small chunks of the stones wall scattering. The
look Person gave Absalom caused him to smile back as a sense of peace over
came him that had the dryness in his throat now wet with his own saliva. “Ok
then let’s go leader of peace.” Person said then quickly crossing himself after
which he took the Browning automatic rifle off safety and set himself to move.
Both men moved quickly to the burning Sherman that was on the bridge and
just as Person was about to take a quick peek around the front of the tank
several bullets skipped off the front right side of the tank and took down James
and the kid who had made their way as far as Absalom and Person along the
right side of the bridge. “Got damn it!” Person snapped on seeing the life less
bodies of the two men collaps on the bridge. “This is as bad as D-Day.” Person
said. Looking over at the two fallen soldiers Absalom noticed the look on the
face of the dying soldier McPherson had called the kid, who looked even
younger than him, who now lifeless green eyes stared back at Absalom with a
look of amazement as if they were looking at a very curious sight. “Yeah that’s
right, a colored soldier.” Absalom thought looking into the face of the kid. It
was then that a half amusing smile flashed across Absalom's face. This was the
last place anyone would expect to see a Negro soldier, at least one who was
doing something other than driving a truck or cleaning a latrine.
“Ok cover me,” Person said as his nudging of Absalom brought the young
soldier back to the bridge, “then follow me over there.” He added pointing to
the T48 that was several yards away from their location. “Ready?” Person asked
studying the young Negro’s face for a brief moment. “Sure.” Came Absalom’s
reply and without thinking he popped out from behind the tank and as he took
aim at the German soldiers who were in the trench on the left side of the
bridge he could clearly make out their faces that were now vividly etched in his
memory. Firing off a full clip of his M1 at them he thought he saw two of the
Germans drop out of his sight from either being hit by the bullets fired from his
rifle or because they had quickly ducked out of his line of fire. The familiar
pinging sound of the ejecting clip had Absalom quickly stepping back behind
the cover of the disable tank and saw that Person had safely made it to the T48
and was motioning to him to move up. “Now who’s going to cover me?”

Absalom heard himself saying while reaching for a fresh clip, pushed it into his
M1 then set himself to make a run to where person was. Unconsciously he once
again looked at the bodies of James and the kid. “Got damn it Absalom come
on!” Person yelled on seeing Absalom crawling over to the kid’s body.
When Absalom reach the kid’s body he heard someone mumbling and
looking over at James saw the wounded soldier’s lips moving. “Say buddy are
you ok?” Absalom asked the wounded James, but he didn’t reply as another
round of machine gun fire skipped near James’ head. Grabbing James by the
collar of his uniform, Absalom quickly pulled him back to the cover of the tank
and as he did it was hard to tell if the fresh trail of blood that now marked the
bridge was from James or from the small pool of blood of the kid’s that he had
drug James through when pulling him back behind the safety of the tank.
“Take it easy buddy.” Absalom said to James before reaching for the Thompson
after which he grabbed the kid by his jacket collar and pulled him back over to
the tank. Taking the ten-cell ammo pouch vest pack off James, whose face was
growing paler as he continued to mouth his prayer, Absalom quickly put it on,
then took two M1 Grande clips from the kid’s ammo belt, with the two-pocket
hand grenade carrier that the kid had on him, checked the contents of the
carrier before slinging it over his right shoulder after which he signaled to Person
that he was ready to make his run to the T48 where Person was waiting, who
fired off several rounds of the Browning automatic rifle when Absalom started
his run.
“What the hell were you doing back there?” A frustrated Person snapped. “I
had to get a few things at the market.” Absalom said smiling. “Were they
dead?” Person asked looking back toward the destroyed tank. “One of them
was, but the one I got this from,” He pointed to the vest, “I don’t know about.”
Absalom went on to say glancing back at where he had left James. “Well next
time just leave 'em, that’s why we have medics.” Person said checking the clip
that a second before he had ejected from the Browning automatic rifle. “I think
you got two of them with that first clip you shot.” Person said as he checked his
magazine. “Yeah, I think I did.” Absalom said with a look of satisfaction. “So do
you want to see if it was luck?” Person asked. “Sure.” Absalom replied. “See that
halftrack?” Person asked. “Sure.” Absalom replied with a grin. “That’s our next
stop.” Person told him smiling. “Right.” Absalom said rechecking his rifle to
make sure he had a full clip. “Ready?” He asked Person. “Yeah.” Person replied
then took in a short deep breath then quickly exhaled it. “Go!” Absalom yelled
then popped out from the backside of the T48. As he did before he took aim
at the Germans in the trench to his left, only this time he saw that there weren’t
as many Germans there as before. Quickly he fired off a full clip only this time
when the empty clip ejected rather than taking cover Absalom quickly popped
in a fresh clip and fired off eight more well placed shots that took down a few
more Germans. When the empty clip self-ejected Absalom step back behind
the cover of the T48 and reached for another clip from his ammo belt. Even
though he felt and heard the pounding of his heart racing he saw that his hands

were steady as he quickly pushed the fresh ammo clip into the M1. A smile lit
Absalom's face as he recalled how as a little boy he use to practice with his
sling shot shooting cans and rocks that he would set up on the back fence that
quartered off the back yard of his parents’ two-story wood frame house from
the open acreage of their ranch. Just like he was doing now, he had squatted
behind the old wood wagon then jump up and shoot at the rocks and cans
that he had place on the top rail of the fence and see just how many he could
hit while counting to ten, but unlike then the objects he was now shooting at
were shooting back at him. As time went on he could pick off the rocks and
cans with greater accuracy and more of them before he got to ten. “Got to
keep your cool under fire, don’t get excited or lose your concentration while the
enemy is shooting back at you.” His grandfather once told Absalom after he
had watched his grandson practicing his marksmanship with a slingshot. “Ol’
Captain Bell use to tell us that a good soldier could fire three shots in one
minute, but I got five off.” Absalom recalled his grandfather telling him. His
grandfather had been a run away from a Virginia plantation during the civil
war and after making his way north he soon joined the Union Army. “Hell I told
him the reason I was so fast was because I didn’t want those Rebs getting me
before I got ‘em.” When Absalom turned fourteen his grandfather began to
instruct him in the handling of a rifle, that included the old Henry repeater rifle
that his grandfather used in the Indian wars against the Apaches and the
Springfield rifle Absalom's father brought back from the Spanish-American war.
“A good marksman sees more than just his target; he sees the whole field.” His
Grandfather told him as he swept the air with his left hand, “he takes in
everything in his field of vision,” Then with that bony finger of his, Absalom's
grandfather would point to the young boy’s head, then at Absalom's right eye.
“Pick your target, aim, and shoot all at once and you’ll hit your mark every
time.” His grandfather had so often told the young rifleman. In basic training
Absalom's skill as a rifleman had even impressed his drill sergeant, staff
sergeant Francis Raymond “ramrod” O’Kelly, who was one the meanest men
colored or white that Absalom had ever met. “God damnedest shooting I’ve
ever seen.” O’Kelly’s words now sang in Absalom's ears. O’Kelly had watched
as Absalom placed eight rapidly fired shots of the second full clip from his M1
rifle into the bull’s eye target of the rifle range, then placed the second eight
shots in a tighter pattern of the bull’s eye than the first eight shots. Afterward
O’Kelly had Corporal Davis to go get a M1903 Springfield from the armory.
“Now let me see what you can do with this boy.” O’Kelly said holding the rifle
out to Absalom. And as Absalom was loading the Springfield rifle O’Kelly had
the target that Absalom was to fire at moved a thousand yards back. Then
O’Kelly, Corporal Davis, and the rest of the company watched as Absalom
placed his first set of the five shots he had fired in a tight grouping in the bull’s
eye and the seccond set of his five shots in the same hole of his first shot fire
that was dead center of the bull’s eye. “God damnedest shooting I ever saw,
boy if you were white I’d send you to the sharpshooters.” O’Kelly said after he

saw the grouping of the shots in the targets. “If you were white.” Those words
had always hunted Absalom like a ghostly figure lurking in the dark shadows of
his life, if he was white Absalom knew he would have been able to go to a
much better school as a child and when he finished his formal schooling, if he
was white Absalom knew he could have gotten one of those good jobs in a
factory, and if he was white he would have a better life back in the states, if he
was white when he joined the army, he would have been in a combat unit
rather than being assigned to driving a supply truck as he was doing. Even after
putting in three requests to be transfer to a colored rifle company all he got for
his efforts was being assigned as a truck driver supplying ammunition to those
front-line units and up until now the closest he ever came to combat since D-
Day was when that lone Bf109 made a few passing runs on the convoy that
Absalom was driving in two days after D-Day. The sound of a bullet bouncing
off the T48 grabbed Absalom's attention and he saw a soldier go down a few
feet from him. As the wounded man tried to crawl to cover Absalom heard a
distinct second single shot ringing out striking its mark again causing a small
pool of blood to quickly surround the body of the dying man and as the body
of the man twitched as it grasped to hold on to what life was left in it a third
bullet struck the dying body. The flicker of sun light that reflected off the front
glass of the sniper’s rifle scope caused Absalom's eyes to follow the reflected ray
of sunlight back to the second story window of the farmhouse. Now Absalom
understood why the bodies of James and the kid that he drugged to cover
behind the tank weren't hit by bullets fired from the machine gun, they were
shot by the hidden sniper, who was in the upper second story right room of the
farmhouse that faced the bridge giving the hidden German sniper the perfect
advantage to freely pick off his victims as he had been doing. Absalom figured
that in his gluttony of choices the German sniper didn’t see him and Person as a
real threat and rather than giving his position away by shooting at them, he
would leave them to be cut down by the crossfire of those two machine gun
emplacements. Absalom knew that if any of the other G I’s trying to make their
way along the right side of the bridge wouldn't have a chance getting any
further then he and Person as the German sniper was waiting to pick them off
as he had done James, the kid, and the others who were working their way
along the right side of the bridge. Now it would be up to Absalom to take care
of that hidden sniper should he get a chance too. And that was all he had was
just one chance, but that was all he needed or would have, but if he missed
him, his quarry would either move or worse pick Absalom off from his well-
hidden place. After checking his M1 again Absalom took in a long slow breath
and made himself ready. Closing his eyes, he took another moment to see the
sniper. Yes, there he was, standing just in the shadows on the right side of the
window so not to be seen. “See the scope.” His grandfather softly said as his
bony finger touched Absalom just above the right eye. As if standing up from
his seat to leave a room Absalom stood, open his eyes and with a cool and
steady calm he aimed the M1 at the upper right side of the window of the

farmhouse as he squeezed off the full clip before ducking back behind the
cover of the T48.
Oberschütze Claus Goldberg had taken up his sniper’s position in the second
story bedroom that faced toward the Village of Armior giving him the
advantage of picking off any American soldiers who would have made it along
the right side of the bridge passed the disable anti-tank vehicle. Through his
scope Claus had seen the unusual dark skin American soldier, as he along with
the other soldier with the large automatic rifle made their way across the
bridge, but the two were using the disable vehicles and the four foot high
bridge wall for cover as they advance along the left side of the bridge, which
at the time neither of them offered Claus a clear target that would allow him to
stop them without giving his position away and by ignoring them at the time in
order to get the other two American soldiers who were much easier targets as
they had moved along the right side of the bridge had now cost the German
sniper his life as he was totally surprised by the dark skinned American suddenly
popping up from behind the Anti-tank vehicle and before Claus could react to
the sudden appearance of the dark skin soldier, he had aimed his rifle at the
upper window and fired off several rounds with deadly accuracy. The first bullet
fired from the dark skin American soldier’s rifle ripped through Claus’ skull as the
next three shots hit the body of the second soldier in the room causing the
young German to drop to the floor while still clutching the MP40.
The familiar pinging sound of the empty clip ejecting its self from the Rifle
signaled to Absalom that he was out of ammo that had him calmly slipping
back behind the T48 as if playing a game of hide-n-seek with the hidden
sniper. “Got damn it boy where did you learn to shoot like that!” Grayson said
as he crouched next to Absalom as they both were now safely behind the
cover of the disable T48. Grayson's question was responded to by a smile that
was now on Absalom's small thick lips as he looked into the face of an astonish
Grayson who along with two other soldiers had made their way to the cover of
the disable T48. Reaching for his fifth clip from the M1 ammo belt Absalom
quickly inserted the fresh clip into the rifle’s ammo chamber. “Sorry, but I got to
run.” A smiling Absalom told Grayson and checking the Thompson and after he
secured the M1 over his left shoulder, peeked from around the front of the T48.
After taking the Thompson off safety he took a firm hold of the weapon and
leaving the cover of the T48 he fired two short blasts from the Thompson that
was aided with the suppressive fire from Person’s Browning automatic rifle
giving Absalom the time he needed to sprint over to the halftrack that was a
few dozen feet away from the safety of the T48. “Leader of peace.” Person
said with a smile as he and Absalom crouched behind the halftrack, “well I
guess those Germans you killed are at peace now.” The sound of the machine
gun on the left broke their brief moment of repose. “No rest for the weary.”
Person said as he set himself to move. “Got damn it!” He yelled as a ricocheting
bullet nicked the right side of his helmet as the machine gun on the right side of
the bridge was firing at their position. “Where are those ass holes Puklickly and

Valdez!” Person snapped as he looked down at the other end of the bridge
and saw that most of their squad were being pinned down by the relentless fire
of the two machine guns that had already cut down a few new victims who
hadn’t been so lucky as he and Absalom in their attempt to make their way
toward the west end of the bridge. “If we don’t do something quick those
jokers are going to pull back and leave us hanging here.” He said and motion
to Grayson to fire at the machine gun to the right. “Put some fire on that god
damn gun!” He yelled, “You dumb ass country…” His words were drowned out
by a Stielhandgrate that went off several feet from them and the blast of it was
absorbed by the other side of the halftrack. “They’re trying to flush us out.”
Person said over the sound of a second Stielhandgrate exploding. “Got any
ideas?” He asked pressing himself hard against the halftrack like a child would
do with his mother as he was seeking for protection from the halftrack against
the stick grenades.
“Briefly stated ma’am, the three laws are one, an object in motion will remain
in motion unless acted upon by a net force. Two, force mass multiplied by
acceleration, and three to every action there is an equal and opposite
reaction.” Absalom said as he stood by his desk. The young boy of twelve was
dressed in a freshly washed white shirt that had been starched and ironed, a
pair of retailored pressed dress pants that were once his father’s, and a pair of
old black dress shoes that had a fresh spit shine on them. “Very good Absalom,
you may sit down.” Mrs. Walker said looking at him, but not even the rigid drill
sergeant expression she wore could mask the gleam of delight in those light
brown eyes of hers telling Absalom that she was very pleased with him and not
just for giving her the correct answer, but that like some many times before
when she called on him he knew the correct answer from memory and was
able to recited without making a mistake when doing so. “Yes ma’am.” He
replied sitting back down in his desk as he tried to keep the smile back that was
tugging at the corners of his small mouth. Mrs. Estelle Alice Walker had been
Absalom school teacher from the first grade as well as his second mother and it
seem to him that she was much harder on him than any of her other students
or even as his parents were, particularly when it came to him learning his class
lessons. “Just because white folks won’t let you be nothing more than common
labors, housekeepers, and field hands when you’re work for them don’t mean
you have to be ignorant ones.” Mrs. Walker had often told her class and
Absalom had heard that saying so much from his parents as well that it had
become the twelfth commandment for him. “Ladies what we have here is the
Mark-II A-1 hand grenade with about a four second fuse.” O’Kelly said as he
held up the grenade with his left hand for the group of soldiers to see, “and
boy let me tell you one thing for sure you ain't wan ’ting to be anywhere
around when one of these babies go off, ‘cause if you are.” O’Kelly's smile
blossom into a bright grin, “there ain’t gone to be much of you found to put in
a shoe box to ship home. It has a killing range of about twenty feet, so you
better be ready to run faster than that 'ol boy Jessie Owens for cover after you

toss this baby.” O’Kelly’s voice warned. Then he pulled the pin and tossed the
grenade at the target in the open field and ordered everyone in the group to
duck behind the protective wall. Absalom had never heard anything so loud in
his life and when he looked at the target all he saw was remnants of what was
left of it. Since D-Day he’d seen just what a grenade could do to human flesh as
well as a flame thrower, but seeing a once living human being torn apart by
an explosion wasn’t as bad as the smell of a burning body or decomposing
flesh of any kind. Looking ahead he saw to his right just over the horizon of the
bridge the stack of sand bags and just behind the piled of four high sacks he
could see the top of a German soldier’s helmet. He figured it was where the
emplacement of one of the machine gun nests that was laying down that
murderous crossfire and that the other machine gun had to be setup in about or
near the same location on the left side of the bridge. Taking one of the six
grenades from the carrier he pulled the grenade’s ring that released the safety
pin and as if throwing a baseball he arched it up over the halftrack to the left in
the direction of the unseen machine gun nest. The lazy toss of the grenade
would make it easy for any of the German soldiers of the emplacement to
catch it and toss it back to him, that is if they saw it in time. Taking a second
grenade from the carrier he arched it in the same matter toward the pile of
sand bags to his right. Shortly after he had tossed the first one he heard the
Germans yelling something that was shortly followed by an explosion as the first
grenade went off, then quickly stepping from behind the cover of the halftrack
he cut loose with the rest of the clip of the Thompson. After the second grenade
that he had tossed at the nest to his right went off Absalom quickly moved up
along the wall of the bridge, ejecting the empty ammo clip of the Thompson
as he went and slipped in a fresh one and fired at the machine gun nest to the
right before the gunners had a chance to recover from the grenade that
exploded near them. Moving along the left wall of the bridge toward the pile
of sand bags at the far end of the bridge that would give him cover from the
Germans ahead. As he quickly moved toward his new position Absalom heard
automatic fire, but he didn’t stop to see who was shooting, or from which end
of the bridge it was coming from. All he knew was that he had to reach the
stack of sandbags that were about twenty feet in front of him and with the
Germans shooting at him the pile of sand bags seemed a lot further and
having to run in a crouching position he felt as if he was moving slower than his
grandfather did when he walked. Just before he reached the sandbags he saw
a German soldier who had position himself behind them, reloading his 98K rifle
to catch an unsuspecting Absalom. Aiming the Thompson, the fast-moving
Absalom fired, but the clip was empty. He stopped and quickly ejected the
empty from the Thompson, reached for another clip from his vest, slapped it in
and shot. As the bullets flew from the muzzle of the Thompson they cut down
the German soldier and with a second blast from the death spitting Thompson
the bullets ripped into the body of the second German soldier who had been
hiding behind the sand bags as well. On safely reaching the pile of sand bags

Absalom saw that they afford him cover from the machine gun to his left and
gave him a clear view of the machine gun nest on the right that was now a
pile of twisted metal that was covered with human blood, pieces of uniform
and small bits of body parts.
“What the hell is that crazy ass nigger doing?” McPherson heard someone
saying as they watched Absalom move from the cover of the halftrack as the
first grenade that he tossed exploded a few feet above the Germans manning
the machine gun. As McPherson watched the young driver moving along the
wall of the bridge that gave him cover from the entrenched Germans along
the river’s edge, the second grenade that Absalom had tossed bounced off
one of the top front sandbags of the machine gun nest then a fraction of a
second later it exploded, violently ejecting the two Germans from their hiding
place. It was then that Person popped out from behind the protection of the
halftrack providing cover fire for the young driver as he was crouching while
moving along the wall of the bridge, firing the Thompson in the direction of the
machine gun nest to his left before turning his fire on the one to his right. On
seeing the two Germans moving to the once occupied machine gun nest
waiting for the unaware Absalom to get closer to them, McPherson felt a
momentary sadness for the young G.I. as he was nearing the stack of sandbags
and it was then that McPherson heard himself calling out to the unsuspecting
Absalom of the danger and to move out of the line of fire, but to the battle
harden sergeant surprise he and the others watched in amazement as Absalom
stopped his advancing toward the sandbags, then coolly and quickly reloaded
his weapon and fired at the two Germans who crumpled lifelessly before the
fire of Absalom's Thompson. A crooked smile of gleam lit the rough face of
McPherson. “That son of a bitch!” He mumbled when Absalom reached the
edge of the bridge and watched as the cooled headed G.I. once again reload
the Thompson with a fresh clip. “Alright ladies let’s go and don’t bunch up.”
McPherson shouted to the men with him. “Damn crazy ass kid.” A now smiling
McPherson mumbled as he and the group of soldiers quickly moved to the T48
where Grayson was. “Got damn it Grayson! Put some fire on that machine gun
in that upper window now!” McPherson ordered pointing to the location of the
machine gun. “Now damn it!” The stunned soldier came out of his daze and
aimed his M1 at the upper window as he, along with the soldier with a
Browning automatic rifle, and one with a grease gun fired at the machine gun
gunner in the upper left window of the farm house.
When Oberstleutnant Engels heard that one of his best snipers who had been
placed in the upstairs right bed room of the farm house facing the bridge had
been killed he was impressed that the Americans had a sniper with the skill to
hit his target from such a distance, but when he learn that it was one of the two
American soldiers who had gotten past the disable anti-tank vehicle on the
bridge and there was at least one American who had moved near enough to
the edge of his defenses, but at the time Oberstleutnant Engels knew that this
lone soldier was no threat of getting passed the cross fire of the two machine

gun emplacements near the bridge and it was the news of both machine gun
nest being knocked out had brought the German officer to the upper bed
room and as he walked into the room he saw the walls of the room stained
with the splattered blood of Oberschütze Goldberg and the second dead
soldier who was clutching his MP40, telling Oberstleutnant Engels that it was
now only a matter of time before the Americans would breached his once
impenetrable defenses, and if he didn’t call up the rest of his men to hold off
the assault he wouldn’t be able to hold the farm house not even with the one
tank he had, which had a bad tread wheel and was of little use to him should
the Americans break through and have one of their bazooka team with them.
“There sir.” The young officer said, who was standing behind Engels, pointing to
the stack of sand bags just at the left edge of the bridge. As Oberstleutnant
Engels looked through the field glasses to his surprised he saw just the side of
the face of the lone advancing American soldier, a young Negro crouching
behind the sand bags where the once emplacement was. “Perhaps the
Americans has call for Jesse Owens to help them cross the bridge.” Unteroffizier
Wulf said smiling as he looked at the man crouching behind the sand bags as
machine gun fire from the emplacement in the room on the other side of the
hallway held the lone soldier pin down. Oberstleutnant Engels smiled at Wulf's
remark. Engels remembered seeing the black at the summer games back in
Berlin and was very impressed with the speed and athletic ability of the man
and although the remark Unteroffizier Wulf had just made was somewhat
humorous, Engels knew that it wasn’t true. As he well knew of the Americans
feeling toward the blacks of their country and although Jesse Owens speed and
athleticism was used to show the Fuehrer that his concept of a German master
race wasn't true, they would never allow blacks to fight with whites. Still
Oberstleutnant Engels was impressed by this Negro. Not only had this young
soldier got passed the cross fire, but it was the deadly accuracy of this young
soldier with that rifle that now had Engels concern. Looking at the face of the
young black American Engels also saw no sign of fear, which was even more
dangerous than a well train company of Fallschirmjagers. “Unteroffizier Wulf,”
Engels began to say as he raised the field glasses up to his face again to look
through them and as he did Engels saw that the sunlight reflected off the left
front lens of his field glasses. “So that’s how you did it, you used the reflection of
the sunlight off the scope,” Engels thought smiling, “Clever lad, very clever.” The
last thing Engels saw as he looked through his field glasses was the muzzle flash
of the M1 rifle of the lone advancing American soldier. As he fell backwards
from the impact of the bullet that shattered the left lens of the field glasses
three more bullets ripped through the upper right window of the room. One
skipping off the left side of Oberstleutnant Engels’ head and entered the neck
of the young officer who stood just behind and right of his commanding officer.
Instantly the young officer clutched at his throat with both of his hands in a vain
attempt to try and keep his blood from escaping the wound. As he fell to the
floor five more bullets rip through the window and three of them found a new

home in the broad chest of Unteroffizier Wulf, who was dead before his lifeless
body fell to the floor. The deadly marksmanship of the American soldier caused
the group of conscripts to quickly flee out of the room before any more bullets
from his rifle found them as well.
The suppressive fire provided by the soldiers on the machine gun set up in the
second story left window of the farm house allowed Absalom the time he
needed to fire at the scope lens of the sniper that he thought he got the first
time and instead of firing four shots Absalom used the entire clip of his M1 as he
sprayed the window by moving his aim slightly from left to right with each shot
fired, when he heard the clip eject its self he crouched behind the sandbags
and quickly reloaded his M1 and made ready to move. “Don’t waste your
shots, remember all you need is one good one to take down your target.” His
grandfather’s voice said. “So see it here and here.” He added as he touched
Absalom on the head again then pointed to the young boy’s right eye. “I think
you got ‘em that time.” A breathless Person said as he crouched next to
Absalom behind the pile of sandbags. He had also seen the sniper as well, but
with a Browning automatic rifle his shooting at him would have been a waist of
ammo. “What are you ladies doing holding each other’s hands?” McPherson
yelled as he knelt on one knee near the halftrack, “Clear those damn trenches
out!” Person looked at the now stern faced McPherson for a moment then gave
him a sharp crisp salute. “Ready?” Person said to Absalom, who had shouldered
his M1 and reached for the Thompson. “Yeah.” Came the half weary reply from
a smiling Absalom. “Where did you learn that trick with the hand grenade?”
Person asked as he checked the magazine of the Browning automatic rifle. “In
school.” Absalom said with a bright smile. “Well that must have been some
school you went to,” Person added as he shoved a fresh clip into the Browning
automatic rifle after he had tapped the fresh clip against his helmet twice,
“think you can do it again?” “I can try?” Absalom said smiling. “So how many
you got left?” Person asked studying the smiling face of Absalom. “Just these
two.” Came Absalom’s reply after checking the grenade carrier. “Well take one
of mine.” Person said holding out a grenade to him. “Ok try it on the right flank
cause that’s where we’re going next, ready?” Absalom nodded. Person
watched as the grenade was arched into the air and then heard an explosion
as smoke, pieces of metal, and the screams of Germans filled the air. The
second grenade that Absalom tossed toward the trench exploded and sent up
a large cloud of dirt mixed with blood and parts of German soldiers into the air,
whither they were alive when it exploded it didn’t matter as he and Person
fired shots into the bodies lying in the trench as they ran toward it. Their new
position gave Absalom and Person perfect cover from the German troops who
occupied the farm yard and those that were near the barn where the turret gun
of the Panzer could be seen, but to their surprise the tank didn’t move toward
them as it fired another round at them that hit several yards from the trench. “I
don’t think its tracks are working.” Absalom said as he fired off a short blast from
the Thompson at several German soldiers who came rushing at them from the

front side of the farm house. The short rapid fire from the Thompson took out
three of them and as Person fired the Browning automatic rifle caused the
remaining Germans to retrace their steps that had them quickly taking cover
behind the short wood pile. By then Sergeant McPherson and the rest of the
squad had taken cover in the trench on the left and was giving supporting fire
catching the German soldiers in a cross fire that made a vain attempt to rush
Absalom and Person position again. With his last grenade Absalom arched it
toward the wood pile that exploded just above it ripping it apart, killing the last
two German soldiers hiding behind it, as their bodies were riddle with metal
fragments from the exploding grenade and large chunks of wood. “One of
these days you’re going to have to show me how you do that.” Person said
slapping a fresh clip in to the Browning automatic rifle. “Ok let’s go knock on
the front door.” Person said with a smile. As they were about to exit the trench
an exploding shell from the Panzer hit the ground several yards away knocking
them both backwards into the trench with such force that Absalom was dazed
by the impact of the concussion of the exploding shell. As he tried to steady
himself he looked over at Person who was mouthing something to him, but the
loud ringing in Absalom's ears made it impossible for him to hear what Person
was saying. “Move faster.” Absalom told himself, “got to move faster.” But his
body wasn’t responding to his verbal thoughts. If the Germans soldiers made
another assault on them he knew that in his current state, he wouldn’t be able
to put up much of a fight.
“Goddamnit! Look at me boy when I’m talking to you!” The elderly man said
frowning at Absalom whose face had gone from its normal brownish glow to
an ashy tint as Absalom felt the tight knot in his stomach squeezing the air out
of him. “You catch the damn chicken by the neck like this and…” Absalom
never heard the rest of what Sergeant Duston was saying as what was left of
Absalom's breakfast of eggs, toast, half-cooked Oatmeal and coffee came
spewing out of his mouth and on to the left pant leg of mess sergeant Duston’s
uniform and the man’s freshly shine boots. “Sweet Jesus boy! What kind of a
damn soldier are you.” Sergeant Duston snapped looking at Absalom, who was
now double over as he cradled his mid-section, his body convulsing as the knot
in his stomach became tighter. “Them damn Nazis German ain’t going to have
no trouble out of you, are they boy?” A soldier added with a smile as he
watched Absalom throwing up. “Get this son of a bitch out of here!” Sergeant
Duston snapped. “Are you ok?” Sam asked Absalom who nodded his head as
he tried to stand back up only to double back over again. Absalom never
knew what it was about seeing an animal killed that made him react in such
away, but it always did. As much as he liked meat, the process that it took to
get it never did set well with his stomach, which left a nagging question in the
back of his mind as to what he would do if he had been transferred to a front
line colored company. It might have been easy to kill a defenseless animal,
but killing a man was different, especially one with a weapon and since he
couldn’t stand killing a simple mindless chicken just what would he do when it

came to killing a man? But now he had the answer to that question, as so far
he hadn’t given his action today a second thought not since he had started
across the bridge with Person nor had he reacted to seeing death today as he
had done the first time he saw that dead German on his first run up from the
beachhead. “Are you ok!” Absalom heard Person saying that had him looking
into the soldier’s face that had a light layer of dust that was mixed with the
blood that came from Person’s nose and the right corner of his mouth. Absalom
nodded then looked around for his helmet. “I hate those damn things.” Person
said as the Panzer fired off another round that exploded several yards left of
the trench where Person and Absalom were. Absalom figured that the Panzer
firing that last round was more of a warning shot just to let them know that the
fight wasn’t over with just yet. “Damn tanks are worse than a chaperon.” Person
added with a smile as he took a quick look to see where the tank was at. “So
Absalom do you have a girl back at home?” Person asked reaching for his
weapon. “No.” Absalom said as he picked up his helmet and put it back on his
head only this time he made sure to fasten the chinstrap, pulling it tighter to
make sure that his helmet didn’t come off again. “You’re a smart boy, me I got
three of them back in the states, plus a wife.” Person said as a smile flashed
across his face, “got a few girlfriends back in England too, but I don’t know what
I’m going to do if I get out of this.” “Well you could always become a
Mormon.” Absalom told him reaching for the Thompson machine gun. “Yeah,”
Person said looking at him and saw a look of sincerity on the young man’s face.
“Sure, the men there have two or three wives,” Absalom said as he picked up
his M1 and checked it. “Of course you’ll have to move to Utah.” “Utah? Well
that ain’t so bad. I suppose anything is better than Detroit ‘cause a guy can
freeze his damn tail off in the winter there and nearly cook to death in the
summer.” Person said smiling. “I’m sure that can be said of a lot of places up
north.” Absalom said taking off the M1 ammo belt after he saw the damage to
his rifle. “So how come you know so much.” Person asked. “Mrs. Walker.”
Absalom said smiling. “Mrs. Walker?” Person said with a puzzled look when he
saw Absalom smiling. “Yeah, she was my school teacher up until I finish.”
Absalom told him. “High school?” Person said reaching for his pack of smokes,
then with a light flick of his wrist caused several cigarettes to pop up from the
half empty pack and held it out to Absalom. “No thanks, I don't smoke,”
Absalom said, “yeah she had me reading every book she had and when I
finished them she would get more books from the white library in Santa Fe,
now the library back in Weston's Freedom Town has just as many books as the
one in Santa Fe, if not more.” Absalom said as he scanned the farm house yard
to see if there were German soldiers lurking about. “Yeah, well I still can’t get
over you living out there, most nig…I mean Negroes that I know back in Detroit
are from the south. So how did your people end up in Weston's Freedom
Town?” Person said. “My grandfather was in the army and after the war he
stayed in and was sent out west.” Absalom replied. “You mean he was one of
those Buffalo soldier fellows?” Person said unable to hide the surprise in his

voice. “Yeah, after leaving the army he got himself some government land,
married my grandmother and ever since we Scotts have been living there.” “So
are there many of you out there…I mean in the town.” “There’s about two
hundred families.” “And you don’t have trouble with white people out there?”
“Well most of the whites who live in Santa Fe or Albuquerque don’t come
around much and the only time we ever see any white people is when they
pass through Weston's Freedom Town on their way to California or when a
group of us go to Santa Fe about once a month to pick up things that we need,
but other than that we keep pretty much to ourselves.” “What about the
Mexican and Indians?” Person’s question produced a smile on Absalom's face.
It had never cease to amaze Absalom when he saw that look that Person now
had on his face as it was the same one he got from both Coloreds and White
folks when they learn of the protective state that he grew up in. It was a well-
known fact to anyone living within a hundred miles of Weston's Freedom Town
not to go meddling with the people living there, that’s unless they like messing
with a hornet's nest, which was what they would be doing. After having to fight
off Mexican bandits and Mescalero Apaches that had raided in that area, then
having to stay off greedy white land owners who had tried the steal their land,
the fledglings’ settlement of ex-soldiers, southern share croppers, and northern
Blacks was able to take root as it soon grew into a thriving small community,
but because of the shortage of colored women in the settlement at the time
some of the men traded with the more friendly neighboring Indian tribe for
wives and still some of the colored men married Mexican women. By the time
Absalom was born the settlement was a thriving town with shops, stores, a
sizable law force and volunteer fire station, a school house, a church, two
banks, a number of thriving businesses, that were all supported by a population
that was made up of some two hundred plus families and a large numeber of
single folks. And the last time the people of Weston's Freedom Town had any
serious trouble with any white people was two years before he was born when
a group of white men came to the town on a fourth of July to try and curtail the
town’s celebration of it. From what Absalom was told of the story the unwanted
guest was all escorted out of town by the peace committee members of Henry,
Winchester, Smith & Wesson, Colt, and Springfield making it the last time any
white people came to Weston's Freedom Town looking for trouble. Still even
growing up in such a cocoon Absalom and the other children there weren’t left
in a state of ignorance concerning life outside of his hometown, or the ill
treatment of colored people by white folks out in the world, a sobering fact
that Absalom had been well remind of from the first day that he left for boot
camp. Of course it wasn’t as bad in England or France as it was back in the
states, still he had been reminded that he was colored by the whites from
America. As far as the white people of Europe were concern he was an
American liberator, even though he drove a truck and it was in Paris that he
had his first real contact with a white woman and that in its self was very
surprising and unsettling for him by Annett’s genuine friendliness toward him. Of

course when he got back to the barracks that night he didn’t have a story to tell
like most of the guys from his unit did, as they bragged about what they had
done with a French or Belgium girl that they were with. Absalom well knew
that if any of the white soldiers had heard of those boastful coloreds talking
about being with any white woman, even if they were a common street
walker they might end up like Tommy Horness, or worse. But it wasn’t for that
reason only that Absalom shied away from Annett or any other European
woman that had an eye for him. The night before Absalom left for boot camp
he and his father had a long talk that was much different than any that they
had as his father warned him about getting himself into any kind of trouble,
which included staying away from the lips of a strange woman, especially
white women. “When this is all over with then maybe you can come back here
if you want, find a nice girl, get married, and raise a family.” Absalom father
had told him while flashing him that big smile of his. “That is if she’ll come back
here with you to live.” At first Absalom hadn’t really given much thought about
what his father said of him coming back to Weston's Freedom Town and starting
a family of his own. He was thinking that after the war he might want to see
more of the world, see how other colored people live. However, since leaving
home he had his fill of the world and had seen enough to know that after all
this was over with he would be getting himself back home once he got out of
the army and not just to get away from these ill-tempered white folks either.
He was more than ready to get back to the one place he could have peace,
real peace. And if he never left Weston's Freedom Town for the rest of his life it
would be ok with him too. Even though he found the Europeans not as bad as
those white folks back in the states, he felt that once the war ended they might
lose this cloak of humility that had a way of humbling the most racist white
person. He recalled some of the stories his grandfather told him about his
experience in the Civil War and how the white people of the southern towns
that they passed through hated being lorded over by any colored soldiers
“especially the confederate prisoners of war” and even in the Great War his
father told him how the colored soldiers were treated by the white soldiers, and
even by some of the ally soldiers. “Now when the fighting started the only color
that mattered was the color of a man’s uniform, that and not getting shot.”
After the great war was over a lot of the colored soldiers stayed in Europe when
they were discharged from the army and Absalom had met a few of them
who lived in England as well as the families of those Negro soldiers who were
living on the continent before the war broke out. Of all the ones he met none
of them seemed very happy living in Europe, like the colored folks back in
America, those ex-soldiers and their children had to deal with the same type of
prejudice from the Europeans who looked upon them as something less than a
foreigner. And should he survive this war Absalom knew that he would be
heading straight back to Weston's Freedom Town and gladly. Even as a truck
driver getting through this war wasn’t a sure thing and life behind the battle line
was just as dangerous, if not more so than being on the front. He was never so

glad now that he wasn’t with the 93rd or the 92nd that were fighting in the
Pacific and in Italy cause he sure couldn’t see himself having to deal with
fighting a two front line duty on a daily bases, even those few strafing runs from
the Luftwaffe he had experienced were more tolerable than having to deal
with living in this white man’s army and fighting the Axis powers too. And as far
as him finding a wife he hadn’t given that much thought either as the girls that
he grew up with in Weston's Freedom Town were more like sisters to him
making it very hard to look at them in any other way. “So would you like me
to write you…I mean it really wouldn’t be any trouble for me to… you know
just to let you know about any new books we get in the library and what books
we’ll be reading in the Wednesday night reading circle...you know just to keep
you up to date, not that you’ll be doing that much reading over there.” The
young woman standing behind the desk said as she handed Absalom the
books he had checked out and a relaxing smile blossom on her face when she
saw the way Absalom looked back at her. Sarah May Walker was a tall slender
built Almond brown skin woman with thick coal black natural wavy shoulder
length hair that she wore in a pulled back bun style, an oval shape face,
natural angle eye brows, large brown eyes,medium size nose, nice full small
lips, and had a womanly figer that couldn't be hidden. She was Mrs. Walker's
niece who had come from Los Angeles to work in Weston's Freedom Town's
library and from the moment of her arrival she had caused quite a stir. Her
fashionable dress and big city ways had help to spark an interest to bring
Weston's Freedom Town into the twentieth century, which she and several of
the returning young people who had gone off to college had sort to do. The
young Miss Sarah Walker had also spark the interests of several of the young
men as well, especially Absalom, but unlike most of the boys he grew up with
Absalom had always been very timid and shy around girls even around the
ones he had grown up with and he was never drawn to girls the way most boys
his age was, nor did he ever have a special girl. Not that none of the girls in
Weston's Freedom Town weren’t pretty, as a large majority of them were and
more than half a dozen who were exceptionally attractive and of those several
had shown a strong interest in him, but none of them had ever sparked his
interest, not even Mary Kay Reed who was one of the prettiest fair skin girls in
Weston's Freedom Town who it was said of that her grandmother was a white
captive. “Ol’ Absalom sure spending a lot of time down at the library now since
that young pretty city gal came to work there. The boy must have read half the
books in the library by now.” His Uncle Justinian had jokingly said a few times.
“Only if you have time to.” Absalom had told Sarah nor did he expect to get as
many letters from her as he had after leaving home as he was surprise at the
first mail call of basic training he had gotten a letter from Sarah and since then
she hadn’t fail to send him at least two letters every week, sometimes he had
gotten three letters from her that were dated a few days apart. Even though he
wasn’t much of a letter writer Absalom did write her back often and prior to
headquarters placing a communication black out so the Axis power wouldn’t

learn anything about the invasion and knowing that any letters that he wrote
home would be censored by the ever-watchful eyes of the Army he didn't
express what was in his heart as how much he missed seeing her. Over the
weeks leading up to the invasion and after the landing he hadn’t the time to
write her on a regular basis and now with the push to the Rhine the Red Ball
express was so busy that what time Absalom did have between his supply runs
he spent trying to catch up on his sleep and after a hot shower and getting a
hot meal he would often fall off to sleep while writing to her. In his inner pocket
was a three-page letter he had written her, and it was as he was on his way to
the company mail box to drop it off that Sergeant Williams had stopped him
and voluntarily ordered him to make a supply run here to Armior. “I know that
you probably don’t have time to write with the war going on, so don’t worry
about it, as long as you are safe and will write me when you can. Love you
always Sarah” She had ended the letter he had gotten from her a few days
before D-Day and a smile lit Absalom face as he now thought about how
surprise he was to see that she had ended the letter with that sentiment. That
was the first time that she had ended any of her letters that way and it had him
puzzled for some time as to why she had done so and whether it meant
anything more than her just saying it, like the way his mother ended her letters.
“Always love you my son, Mother.” But last week during mail call when he got
several letters from home, five of them being from Sarah and it was then that
he soon got his answer and as he read her letters in the order of their dates
each one ended with “Love you always, Sarah.” However, it wasn’t until her
fourth letter that Absalom fully understood as to why she had ended each of
her letters “Love you always, Sarah.” And as he read the five-page letter that
had a picture of her at the Weston's Freedom Town’ Fourth of July gathering
pinned to the last page. For a long time he had studied her picture and as he
looked at her smiling face it made him wish that he had waited to be drafted
rather than volunteering. Sarah was wearing that dress he liked seeing on her
so much, a V-neckline two button dress that crossed in front at the waistline,
giving a very good look at just how shapely a woman Sarah was. Of course,
with her wearing that dress to the celebration she had every man back in
Weston's Freedom Town attention, especially Charlie Fisher. “I really miss talking
with you and seeing you at the book club meetings, which aren’t as enjoyable
without you being here. Everyone here is always talking about the war in
Europe and in the Pacific and we see the news reel of the hard fighting that's
going on over there as well and I keep you in my prayers each day and night
asking God to keep you safe and bring you back to me here in Weston's
Freedom Town. Even though I know that you’re not in the front line fighting like
those Colored units that are in the Pacific and Italy I still worry for your safety. So
far we’ve only had a few families here to receive telegrams from the War
department and each time one of the men from Western Union in Santa Fe
comes here my heart all but stop as I hope that it’s not for your parents. Last
night I went to see your mother and we sat talking for some time. She was

telling me about when you were….” It was the longest letter that he had
gotten from her and unlike anyone of the guys of his company whenever they
got a picture of their girls or wives Absalom didn’t bother sharing the picture of
Sarah that had sent him and it was only when he was alone or just before he
was about to go to sleep that he would pull it out and look at it. Since getting it
her picture had become the only piece of Weston's Freedom Town that he had
and one he could look at for hours without even growing tired of. He smiled,
maybe that was the reason he didn’t date any of the girls here and not just
because they were white or what the white soldiers would do to him if they
found out he was. Reaching inside his jacket pocket he pulled out Sarah’s
picture and looked at her smiling face. “I love you too Sarah.” He said softly to
himself then put her picture back in his inner jacket pocket. Yes he had a girl
back home, only he didn’t know it until now, even though he liked her from
the moment he saw her it had taken this crazy war that now separated him
from her to make him realize it, and if it hadn't been for this war he could be
back home with Sarah rather than just having this picture of her to look at.
“What are you ladies doing, taking a tea break?” McPherson said as he
crouched down next to Absalom. “Yeah, did you bring any to drink?” Person
said shooting his sergeant a look only to smile at him a short second later. “No,
why do you want one?” McPherson said as a shell exploded near the edge of
the bridge, “if so, we can have one when we get back to Armior. I’ll buy the
first round.” “Well there’s a water well over there.” Absalom said and got an
odd look from both men. “Well I don’t drink, not spirits that is.” Absalom added
with a noticeable blush on his now dust covered face. “Well choir boy I'll buy
you a nice cold glass of milk then.” McPherson said with a quick smile, “but first
we’ve got to knock out that Panzer.” “No problem.” Absalom said checking the
Thompson. “Person you, Absalom, and Valdez work your way around the side
of the house and flank that rat's nest and I’ll get a bazooka team in position to
hit that Panzer.” McPherson said looking at the three men. “And just how do we
do that, sing them a song?” Person asked. “You and the boy wonder here will
come up with something, just like the two of you have done so far.” McPherson
said smiling at Absalom. “Damn what I wouldn’t give to have you in my
squad.” McPherson added looking at the smiling Absalom. “Now get going and
I’ll meet you at the well when this is over with.” McPherson said then turned and
with a series of hand motion ordered the men who were moving across the
bridge to take up position in the trenches. Now that they had taken the bridge
he wasn’t about to lose it, as they had paid a high toll in human life just to cross
it and he wasn't about to relinquish it back to the Germans and once they took
out that Panzer and cleared out the rest of the German troops McPherson was
going to hold the farm like it was his until the rest of the division moved into
Armior. “Puklicky and Grayson run yourselves back and grab me that tank killer
on the bridge, and make sure you get the ammo too.” He said looking at the
two men, who were staring back at him in disbelief, “that wasn’t a request
ladies, now get your asses moving!” McPherson ordered then he looked to see

where Person, Absalom, and Valdez were.
“We better clear out the house first.” Valdez suggested as the three men were
about to make their run for the cover of the destroyed car near the front of the
farm house. “So why don’t you go knock on the front door,” Person said, “just to
see if anybody is at home.” “Very funny smart ass.” Valdez said giving Person a
stern look as he gripped his M1. “He’s right there could be more snipers on the
second floor.” Absalom added. “Well I don’t want to get shot by any of those
trigger-happy snipers of ours from across the river either.” Person added. “We’ll
stay out of the rooms facing the river than.” Valdez told them. “Right.” Person
said, “Ok let’s go and don’t block each other line of fire and Absalom since
you’re the crack shot you have the lead, how many grenades do you have?”
Person asked. “I'm all out.” Absalom reply showing Person the empty grenade
carrier. “Valdez how many grenades you got?” Person asked him. “Three.”
Came Valdez's reply. “Well give them to the peace giver.” Person said with a
smile. “OK let's go and don’t bunch up.” Person reminded them again.
“Ready?” The other two nodded and then the three quickly moved from the
cover of the car to the front porch keeping clear of the windows. “OK let’s go.”
Person said in a low voice as he made ready to kick the door in. “Wait, I
thought we were going to knock.” Valdez said and got a cutting look from
Person. “Just watch my back smart ass.” Person told him as he lifted his right
foot. Whether it was because of the boldness of the three or the fact that they
had never seen a Negro before, as Absalom was the first of the three to come
through the door, the sudden appearance of the three men who had burst into
the front room of the farm house caused the group of surprised Germans to be
frozen in time as they stared at the three American soldiers with looks of
bewilderment. And it was in that moment of hesitation that gave the three
intruders an edge as they sprayed the room with bullets as they quickly backed
out of the house and onto the porch. When they were back on the front porch
Absalom quickly tossed one of the grenades he had through the front room
window to finish off any of the Germans soldiers that might be still alive in the
room. “Well that’s what I call a knock.” Person said smiling looking in the room
via the front window only to see the bodies of the dead Germans. “Ok let’s
check out the rest of the house and watch your line of fire.” Person told them.
After checking their weapons the three men made ready to re-enter the
farmhouse, with Absalom leading. Looking into the front room Absalom had to
force his eyes to scan the room so not to look at the pale lifeless bodies of the
young Germans lying on the floor of the front room. “Absalom checkup stairs,
Valdez you check the cellar.” Person said as the three men stood in the room,
“and Absalom watch yourself, these German basterds hide everywhere.” Person
warned Absalom who was standing at the bottom of the stairs and gave Person
a quick nod after receiving the words of warning. With his back firmly pressed
against the wall and a firm grip on the Thompson that was now aimed upward
Absalom started up the stairs slowly and quietly to the second floor of the
farmhouse. The sound of his pounding heart now drowned out all sounds of the

battle that was still going on outside. As the second floor of the house slowly
came into sight and with catlike senses Absalom watched for any movement,
listening for the slightest sound that came from any of the rooms on the second
floor of the house as he fixed himself to play this very deadly game of hide-n-
seek, a game that as a child he wasn’t very good at. For a brief instant he froze
as he thought he caught the shadowy glimpse of a figure that had moved in
the first room at the top of the stairs. He froze long enough to listen for a clue to
verify his suspicion before continuing. Even with the noise of the battle raging
on outside the house and the sound of his beating heart thundering in his ears
Absalom heard it, the slow clicking of a 98K rifle and the low whispering of
voices speaking German coming from one of the two rooms at the top of the
stairs. “Kommen Sie mit den händen up!” Absalom shouted as it was one of the
few phrases that he knew in German and as he waited for a response Absalom
took a firmer grip on the Thompson. His command was responded to in the
form of a rifle shot with the bullet striking him in the left side of his chest as the
impact pushed him hard against the wall that had him dazed for a brief few
seconds, but he was still able to fire his Thompson and as the bullets poured
from the barrel ripping through the wall and the half-closed door of the room
as if they were both made of newspaper he could hear the shouting cries of
dying men coming from the room over the blasting of the Thompson. Quickly
ejecting the spent clip, he reached for a fresh one from the Ammo vest and he
saw where the bullet had struck him as it had firmly lodge itself in the cell of his
Ammo vest that he was now reaching for. Getting the one just below the
damage cell, he slipped the full clip into the Thompson, pull the bolt back and
cautiously made his way up the hallway. After taking a few steps pass the first
room he stopped, “these German basterds hide everywhere.” Person’s warning
words echoed in Absalom’s ears. Carefully and quietly retracing his steps he
moved back to the room he had past while keeping his eyes fixed on the
hallway ahead of him. When he reached the first room and looked in only to
see the bodies of three dead German soldiers who had hidden in the room
and he saw that they all had been armed with 98K rifle rather than machine
guns, if one of them had one he knew he wouldn’t be standing here now. As
he was about to start back up the hallway Absalom heard a door knob turning
and as he scanned the room he saw via the mirror the wardrobe door slowly
opening, without hesitating he quickly raised the Thompson and fired off a short
blast. The body of a German SS soldier holding a semi-automatic rifle crumpled
to the floor as he felled out of his hidden place. After he checked the closet
and under the bed, Absalom left the bedroom and stepped back into the
hallway, then carefully and without making any noise he inched along to the
next door that was a few feet from the room he had just left. As he passed the
second room he saw the two dead Germans who had been manning the
machine gun that was set up in the room. Careful to stay in the shadow of the
room Absalom looked to see if there were any hiding places that a German
soldier could hide and when he didn’t see any he moved on to the last room.

It was in the last room that he saw his own handy work and as he looked at the
dead men he felt his stomach knotting up and he force himself not to weaken.
Turning from the sight he was about to go back up the hallway when he met
Person coming toward him. “All clear up here?” Person asked and saw an ash
faced Absalom nodding his head. “Good, Sarge wants us out in the yard.”
Person said and started back down the stairs.
By the time Absalom came out of the house men and tanks were flowing
across the bridge that minutes before was impassable. Even the sky gave no
hint that there had been a struggle for the now half destroyed farm as the sun
shone in a cloudless sky. “So is this everybody?” McPherson asked as he looked
at his men. “All who made it.” Grayson replied. “Well we’ll rest here until…”
McPherson started saying when he saw Valdez walking toward them with anold
man, an elderly couple, a young woman, and two young children. “Where did
you find them?” McPherson asked. “They were hiding in the basement,” Valdez
said motioning to the house, “as near as I can make out they got stuck here
when the Germans started crossing the bridge. Want me to take them back to
town?” “No, I don’t want you getting lost.” McPherson said. “Scott here can take
them back.” He said looking at Absalom. “You think you can handle that.”
McPherson said with a smile. “Yes sir.” Came Absalom reply. “For a truck driver
you handle yourself really good.” McPherson said as he held out his right hand
to the young soldier, “thanks for the ride across the bridge.” McPherson added
flashing a crooked smile. “No problem sir.” Absalom said shaking McPherson’s
hand. “Yeah thanks, you’re a real Buffalo soldier.” Person added as he held his
hand out to Absalom. “Say Grayson you owe me ten bucks.” Person said
turning and looked at the weary faced man. “And just how do you figure?”
Came a surprise response from Grayson who was now sitting on his haunches as
he finished smoking the cigarette he had lit two minutes before. “Well you bet
that Ol’ Absalom here would break and run.” Person said. “Yeah, he broke
alright,” Puklickly added, “ran right across that damn bridge and with you
bringing up the rear.” “Yeah hillbilly pay up.” Harrison said as he reached out to
Grayson with a large left hand. “Ya’ll crazy if you think…” Grayson protested.
“Pay up.” McPherson said giving Grayson a hard look that was shortly followed
by a smile. A smile slipped across Absalom face as he listened and watched
what was happening to Grayson, maybe this was the way front line soldiers
behaved when the pressure was off, that sense of relief of knowing that you
had made it through the struggle with death as afterward the realization of
making it in one piece it brought on such a jubilant state that the survivors
expressed it with boyish teasing and ethnic taunts. “Well Grayson you can give
me my ten when you get back to the states.” Absalom said smiling. Like a
radio knob turned to the off-position Absalom remark caused the hazing that
Grayson had been getting from the members of his squad to abruptly stop and
the once smiling and laughing group of men looked at Absalom. “What? you
don’t think I’m going to pass up ten bucks do you?” Absalom replied with a
serious look. Smiles once again broke out across everyone’s face, even

The bridge

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The bridge