Author's Note (Important Name Update!)
Hi dear readers,
Before you dive into Chapter 12, I want to give you a quick heads-up. After reviewing the earlier chapters, I realized that several character names were inconsistent or incorrect due to early-stage planning. I've now gone through and updated all character names across Chapters 1 to 11 to ensure continuity and a smoother reading experience.
If you notice any differences in names—don't worry, it's not your memory playing tricks. It's just me fixing my past mistakes. 😅
Thanks for sticking with the story and supporting this journey. Your feedback keeps me going.
Now, back to the battlefield.
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"Be careful! May God bring you back alive!"Job's voice cracked with sincerity as he said it to Donovan.
"Damn it! I hate it when you say things like that!"Donovan turned his back, blinking quickly—his eyes slightly wet. With a forced smirk, he shook his head and pushed the emotion down."Alright, boys! I need a few volunteers!"
A few soldiers stepped forward without hesitation. Donovan nodded at them without another word.
"Gear up! Switch into their uniforms and grab their weapons! Move it! Carter's waiting for us!"
All around them, the ground was littered with American and German corpses. Donovan and the volunteers picked German soldiers with similar builds and stripped them of their gear. After a quick change and a few adjustments, they melted into the night.
While I drew the Germans' attention in a heated firefight, Donovan's group, disguised in enemy uniforms, crossed the road without resistance. They strolled right up to the grain yard checkpoint. Several German patrols passed them, barely sparing a glance—likely thinking they were headed to the rear with other orders.
As they approached the checkpoint, the German sentries didn't raise alarms. One older guard squinted at them and asked casually:"Which unit? What's your business here?"
A bead of sweat slid down Donovan's back. His hand instinctively edged toward his weapon, ready to shoot if things went sideways. They had anticipated questions like this, but with the chaos of the battlefield—units shuffled, officers dead or missing—no one could give straight answers anymore. Bluffing was their only chance.
A younger soldier nearby chimed in before Donovan could speak."Hey, you guys just came from the front, didn't you?"
Donovan nodded silently.
"The Americans are fighting hard. Major Bauer's leading the counterattack. Any news?"Donovan sighed theatrically."Damn Yanks are tougher than expected. Bauer sent me here to coordinate with your unit. Where's your CO?"
The young German gestured toward the storage shed."Lieutenant Möller is over by the machine gun nest. Just head that way."
"Appreciate it, comrade."Donovan smiled.
"For the Führer. For Germany!"the German replied with a stiff salute.
"For the Führer. For Germany," Donovan echoed and returned the salute.
The older guard scowled but didn't push the issue. Donovan and his men passed through.
Once inside the grain yard, no one else challenged them. Donovan motioned to his men, adjusted his weapon, and headed for the storage room. But just before reaching the entrance, another guard stopped him.
"What unit are you with? What's your business here?"
This time, Donovan was ready."Major Bauer sent me. I need to speak to Lieutenant Möller."
The guard called out,"Lieutenant Möller! Someone from Major Bauer is here to see you!"
A deep voice answered from inside."Send him in."
"Go ahead," the guard said, nodding.
As Donovan started in, his team tried to follow but were blocked."Only you. The others wait outside."
Donovan shot a look to Sergeant Hayes and the others. He shifted slightly, blocking the guard's line of sight, then smiled."Thanks for the heads-up."Suddenly, his face twisted in mock horror and stared past the guard.
The guard instinctively turned to look—too late. Hayes was on him in a flash, hand over mouth, blade across throat. The German fell silently, bleeding out. Donovan and Hayes dragged the body to the wall and propped it up with his rifle.
"Stay sharp," Donovan said loudly to his men."We'll be back on the line soon!"
Donovan checked the MP40 he'd taken off a dead German. It was an excellent weapon—500 rounds per minute, 32-round magazine, deadly in close quarters.
Inside, five German soldiers occupied the room. Three manned a machine gun. A gruff-looking officer was bent over a makeshift table, writing something. A radio operator relayed messages in the background. This was clearly a tactical command post.
Donovan stepped up to the officer.
"Lieutenant Möller. Major Bauer sent me. Our reinforcements are close. The Americans are breaking. The grain yard is no longer a priority. You're to pull back and reinforce his line immediately."
The officer stood, nodding briskly."Understood. We'll move out right away."
Donovan's heart lifted. If Möller's unit really pulled out, they could seize the yard without a fight.
Then Möller paused. His eyes narrowed.
"Who are you? I've never seen you with Bauer. What happened to Lieutenant Vogel—his usual runner?"
Donovan's pulse spiked."Vogel was shot. Major Bauer promoted me to take his place."
"I see…"Möller nodded slowly—but didn't move. His hand drifted subtly toward his pistol.
Donovan caught it in a flash. He kicked the table into Möller, sending him crashing back. The rest of the Germans froze in confusion.
"RATATATATATA!"Donovan emptied a full magazine into them before they could react. Five bodies hit the floor.
"NOW!" he yelled.Hayes and the rest burst in, grabbing MG42s and aiming at the door. As the first Germans came rushing to investigate the gunfire, the room roared with gunfire—the scream of MG42s cutting through the night.
Outside, Job heard the gunshots and didn't hesitate."GO! MOVE! CHARGE!"
Caught between my unit and Donovan's sudden assault, the Germans panicked. Job's team tore through them—within moments, over a dozen were dead. The grain yard was ours.
One of the first to die was that young German soldier at the gate—cut down before he ever knew what was coming. His eyes were still open, staring toward the yard.
Donovan came out, breathless."Move! We need to hit the Germans hard while they're still reeling!"
"Those bastards! Where the hell were they? I swear I'll shoot both Job and Donovan myself!"The tension had been unbearable. German reinforcements were pushing hard, and Joanner's detachment hadn't arrived yet. If things had dragged on much longer, even a successful rear attack wouldn't have been enough to save us.
Then—BOOM! Gunfire and explosions erupted behind the Germans. I knew that sound—Browning machine guns.
"They made it! Light 'em up!"
Donovan's sudden attack hit like a hammer. German command hadn't expected the grain yard to fall, but they recovered quickly—rallying troops, forming a defense line, trying to hold.
But they didn't realize—Joanner's unit wasn't the real 29th Panzergrenadier reinforcements. It was a trick. In the confusion of constant battle, no one expected us to exploit such a small timing window to launch a surprise assault. The Germans had been told their reinforcements were arriving. So they believed it.
Joanner, in stolen German uniform, was waved right into the defensive line. A young officer barked orders in German. Joanner didn't understand a word. He just smiled, stepped forward, and slammed his rifle butt into the officer's face—crunch! Blood sprayed as the German collapsed.
"FIRE! OPEN FIRE!"
The chaos was total. No one could tell friend from foe. The line broke. I shouted the only order that made sense.
"ALL UNITS—ADVANCE! CRUSH THEM!"
Three sides closed in. The Germans were finished. Some surrendered—many were cut down. My boys were wild, gunning down even those with their hands up.
"STOP! CEASE FIRE!"I shouted, hating what I saw. But the frenzy had taken them. In their eyes, mercy was gone.
To be fair—German command had ordered their troops to treat Western POWs according to the Geneva Convention, and most had. That's why our boys preferred surrendering to Germans over Soviets. And in return, we'd done the same—usually.
But war makes monsters.
The grain yard was ours. Their AA guns destroyed. Their defense shattered. We captured two dozen prisoners and mountains of weapons. There wasn't time to stay.
I grabbed a barrel of fuel from a wrecked truck, lit a torch, and gave the final order:"Burn it all. We move—now."
As for the German POWs? They might fight us again tomorrow. I didn't care. Germany was already losing. They just didn't know it yet.