The Chronicles of a Soldier

[beanmachine43]

From here on, though I promised I wouldn’t, I think its best to end my Fanfic, GTA: The Epic, with giving any mod the go to lock it. To me, even though it’s a GTA board, its been overcrowded with Fanfics, and I know I’m part of it too. So I sat in the very back of my math class the other day thinking, what the hell should I do for 55 minutes of useless numbers and equations? English class has always been my strong suit, so I just wrote instead of scribbling. So, this is the result.

 

I’ve always been fascinated with the aspects of war, whether it be the incredible story of the expansion Rome, the largest empire ever conceived by Genghis Khan, or the bloody stories of WWII. This story in particular, focuses on just that; Nazi Germany and the Axis powers sweeping across Europe in World War II. As an American, I’ve always been exposed to the amazing, yet seemingly farfetched stories and tales of U.S. soldiers storming the beaches of Normandy, liberating the city Athens, and the brave men who died for their country. Now, I’ve always been curious when compared to another point of view, namely the British’s. So through extensive research from things like the Allied invasion plans to the slang of British troops, I’ve put together a rather lengthy tale of a young Private James Watson. He is a fictional character, as are most of the other characters in the story and a lot of battles that he takes place in. This way I believe I have room for creativity, thus giving you, the reader, a much richened experience. Now, with all that blabber out of the way, on with the story.

 

Chapter I - The Landing

 

“Sixty seconds!”

 

I clutch the barrel of my newly-issued Lee Enfield, beginning to feel nauseous as the inevitable draws nearer. Glancing to my left, I see Private McCrae staring at the flooded ground of the landing craft. To me right, I see my superior Lance-Corporal Barmen peering toward our destination; Sword Beach. I take a deep breath, inhaling the moist air around me, enjoying the last few moments of peace.

 

“Forty-five seconds!”

 

“On your feet, men!”

 

The boat full of men stagger to their feet, as do I, the coughing and grunting masking our nervousness. At the front of the craft I spot an officer I do not recognize as he clears his throat for one final word.

 

“Our destination is the Queen sector and capture the town of Caen. As a commando unit, we’re assigned to link up with the chaps of the 6th Airborne Division.”

 

“Thirty seconds!”

 

In the distance, we begin to hear the bombarding of mortars, yet the machineguns do not open fire. The unit becomes even more uneasy, as our constant shifting reveals our restlessness.

 

“Do not underestimate the Jerries; we’re walking right in their front door and they’re not about to let us in without a fight.”

 

“Fifteen seconds!”

 

As the officer begins to take a final breath for his closing statements, his body his ripped by machinegun fire, then thrown overboard as the craft brushes an underwater mine.

 

“Get down!”

 

I get onto my knees, unsure how I’m able to support myself with the weakness in them. The door is blown open by a mortar round, and we pile out of the craft.

 

“Move, move, move!”

 

I shuffle with the last of us, watching my fellow men in front of me getting torn down by machinegun fire, then I am next in line.

 

I jump feet first, sinking into the water rapidly. I frantically kick my feet, nearly getting dragged down by my equipment. As bullets pierce the surface of the water, one grazes my boot, thankfully not making any contact. The water fills my lungs, but I continue to make for the top. I break the surface and struggle for air before swimming for the beach like a madman.

 

The beach is a mere thirty meters away; a mile to me at this point. I continue to swim, thrusting my body forward no matter who I leave behind. Eventually, with nothing short of God‘s smile, I make it to shallow water and dive behind a capsized craft.

 

“Watson, God damn it’s good to see you!”

 

I look up and see Private McCrae gleaming at me. His red beard is soaked; clearly he had to make it here the same way I did.

 

“McCrae, remind me to buy you a bevvy once we make it back to London!”

 

“London? Any bloke will be lucky if they can make it off this beach!” he yells back.

 

I roll over to my back, trying to peer around the right side of the craft. Two nests planted on a small hill are painted on our position, firing at us relentlessly.

 

I jab at McCrae, “What do you say about buggering up those ‘42s over there?”

 

“Right behind you!”

 

I gather my Enfield in my hands, anticipating a reload of the MG42s. I get it, and signal McCrae to follow me. We dash up the shore, dodging small-arms fire from atop the hill. As the machineguns begin to readjust their aim, we dive into an anti-tank ditch.

 

"Don't you just love it, Watson?'

 

"Oy! Get down before the Jerries-."

 

I'm cut off before I can finish with the MG42 opening up again, with McCrae just barely managing to get down in time. The roar of machinegun fire pierces our eardrums, and I can’t make out what McCrae is saying.

 

“What?” I scream.

 

“I said ‘How far are they?’”

 

“About twenty meters, why? You fitting to try something stupid, McCrae?”

 

“Just trust me!”

 

McCrae climbs onto his feet, careful not to expose his head. Hurrying down the far end of the ditch, he jumps out and makes a dash toward another.

 

Before I make toward him, I realize his plan. I do the same, only in the opposite the direction. I jump head first into the ditch, just avoiding a barrage of bullets. I don’t even dare to glance at the Germans occupying the nearby nest, now only meters away from me.

 

I peer down the opposite side of the beach, watching comrades fall victim to the relentless Nazi defense. The frantic screaming and panic on the beach frightens me, enough to make my shut my eyes for a few moments. One of my squad mates is swept with the ’42 fire in front of me, falling on top of me. Pushing him off of me, I gathe rmyself and get an idea.

 

I pull out my only frag grenade, pulling the pin before counting to two. Tossing it over my head, I pray for it land where I hope it to.

 

“Granate!”

 

An explosion is heard, with me looking up to see packs of dirt flying overhead. I look back toward the advancing Brits; it worked. I scramble to my feet and quickly make my way up the hill. As I draw my Enfield, I fire a few buck shots into the surviving Germans. I smug a little when I notice the blown apart MG42.

 

“WATSON!”

 

I shoot my glance toward McCrae; pinned with a couple other boys from our unit.

 

Barmen charges up the hill past me, gathering his men from his section.

 

"Let's go boys, time to help McCrae and the others! Watson on point!"

 

I nod my head as I make my way toward the front of the pack, careful of advancing around the hill. A bunker lies in front of us, and I look back to Barmen.

 

"Tomson! Get your arse up there and blow that bunker to bits!"

 

Another one of us rushes to the front, pulling out a small bundle of explosives. He makes his way to the door before stopping to get it ready.

 

"Throw it in there, Tomson!" Barmen yells.

 

Tomson looks up, unsure what the problem is.

 

Barmen curses under his breath, "Damn explosives must be faulty."

 

As we head toward Tomson, the explosives let off without warning, tearing him into pieces. The bunker erupts along with him, blowing the top off sky high.

 

"Move it, ya bloody wankers!" Barmen screams, "We aren't going to get off this beach pissing around, now are we!"

 

I rush behind Barmen as he leads the squad, but stop as we see the machinegun nest firing on Watson.

 

"Men, open fire on that nest!"

 

Opening fire again, I realize that my clip is empty. One German notices me, opening fire with a small pistol. I drop to the ground, pulling out my very own and squeezing three shots into the German officer. He drops to the ground, with McCrae and a few others quickly coming up from behind him. I watch as he helps clear out the nest with his American-made Thompson.

 

He pats me on the head as he runs by, joining me as we move out to clear the remaining of the beach.

 

“Bloody hell, Watson! Never thought you had it in you!”

 

[TonyZimmzy]

I'm sorry to see you end The Epic. I was really enjoying that story. I'm not a big fan of war stories so I'll have to give this one a miss, I'm afraid

 

It looks very well done, so I'm giving it a good rating, because you're a talented writer