Devils with Wings by Harvey Black Read Free Book Online Page B

his Commander’s common sense.
    Paul looked to the left; third troop was in position, MG34’s set up and ready. Two hundred and fifty round belts in each gun, the number twos already lining up the next two hundred and fifty round belts for when they were needed.
    He looked about him and to his right, first and second troop would assault with small arms and grenades while Fischer’s men covered them with the three MG34s. They were dependent on Fischer knowing when to cease-fire or the three MGs would cut Paul’s men down like corn if his timing was wrong.
    If successful, the Polish artillery men would face a swathe of steel that would cut down the unsuspecting soldiers and keep the heads down of those lucky enough to get to ground quickly enough.
    He looked at his watch, it was time. He gave the signal and the two troops rose up. He looked across to second troop, seeking out Max, catching his eye and the slight nod between them reinforcing Paul’s determination and boosting his confidence to lead his men in this attack. This would be his first time under fire, in fact, for all of them except Max who had been involved in the German Army’s operation in Czechoslovakia.
    They started to move forward just as Fischer’s troop opened fire. The devastating hail of bullets hit their targets, the sudden cacophony of noise startling the paratroopers advancing, even though they had been expecting it.
    The first barrage of fire took out a young Polish Korporal sitting astride an ammunition box smoking his fifth cigarette of the day; unfortunately it was to be his last as the two heavy calibre bullets sliced through his body taking him backwards to the ground.
    An officer, a matter of feet away from the soldier, was struck in the back of the neck as he was inspecting the limbered gun to ensure it was ready to move out, it didn’t matter anymore, he would never finish his task.
    Two Polish soldiers playing cards on top of one of the limbers were both hit; one had an arm smashed by a heavy bullet, the second soldier hit in the chest; dead before he hit the ground.
    His fellow card player, still holding his hand of cards in his right hand, the left hanging useless at his side, scrutinising his comrade’s eyes, glazed and watery, staring at him, unblinking.
    The battery Commander, looking about him, shrieking at his men to take cover and return fire, but not taking cover himself.
    Halfway through his final set of commands, a slug from a German rifle, sliced through his lower jaw, severing the lower part of his face, his mind continuing to command his men, his hands clutching what was left of his face in horror.
    A further eight soldiers were hit by the weighty bullets from the MGs and small arms fire coming from the Fischer troop. Considering Fischer’s initial concerns about being left out of the action, it was he and his men that were delivering the first blow.
    Fischer’s onslaught continued, incessantly, five hundred rounds had already been fired by the machine guns and the number two gunners were already feeding in fresh belts.
    The Polish soldiers, who up until now had been focusing on, and hiding from, the gunfire from the machine guns on their right, now saw the rest of Paul’s men advancing on them from their left.
    This second group of soldiers opened fire on them and it seemed as if hell was suddenly on the earth. The ones that weren’t firing back were dead, wounded, or too fearful to raise their heads above whatever shelter they had found.
    Paul saw a Polish soldier rise up about two metres away in front of him, his rifle, although shaking was still aimed directly at his chest. His eyes staring, displaying hatred or fear, he could not tell.
    He had heard it said that at the time of death your past flashed before your eyes. This did not happen for Paul, but he did feel a deep dread in the pit of his stomach and it did flash through his mind, for a split second, that his life was about to be ended.
    He didn’t hear the