The Long Road

Chapter Three.

November 9, 1942 - Oran, Algeria. North Africa.

I assumed that when night fell, the fighting would be less. What a false assumption. Battle still raged along the coast of North Africa. In the distance I could see the flash of German artillery, and at sea, Vichy forces engaging the British Navy.

Watch was a terrible thing for the mind. You try to stay alert, but you're tired, hungry, scared, all in one. Every minor noise gives the alert of an ambush, but it turns out to be a rat fumbling through the debris of war.

It was nearly two in the morning, I guess. I had relieved Corporal Costello of watch, and in three hour shifts I felt like I wasn't even half way through mine. 1st Division and the 509th Parachute Division had taking their objectives for the day. The beach, and other minor areas. We had pushed the Germans back some, but they were regrouping with the larger force.

Panzers were the worse. The German tank. Luckily I had'nt came into conflict with one, but we had passed a wrecked one on our march in. It was a massive machine of war, it was nerve wrecking even when smoldering, a fully functioning one was the last thing I hoped to see.

The city of Oran was still in Nazi control. We were able to push up into the outer dwellings of the city. We were held up in an abandoned house, awaiting dawn to push farther.

There were seven of us left, out of an initial twelve man squad. Two were lost on the beach, another while we assaulted the bunkers, and the rest through our skirmishes as we pushed forward.

The men that remained standing of our squad had hardened over the previous day. The fighting had turned us into something, that just over twenty four hours ago, we were not. While we took up in the house for the night, I had the time to get to know these men whom I would be fighting with.

Staff Sergeant Jack Solomon was also from Missouri, a small town I had never hear of. His family is military, and like his father, Solomon joined the Army as an infantryman.

Corporal Michael Costello, from Brooklyn, New York. He says that none of his family had ever joined the military, and that most of the men in his family either join up in the local mafia, or get jobs somewhere that the mafia controls. He said he wanted out of that life, no part of it.

Private Anthony Anatoli, another Italian-American, was from New Jersey. He joined the Army to escape a life of poverty. Both his parents had passed, and he just wanted out of Jersey. Not having the money to relocate, he enlisted.

Private First Class John Sullivan, from Upstate New York. Sullivan was an academic, and was going through college to earn a degree in Biology. After Pearl Harbor, Sullivan enlisted, his parents protested, and begged him to finish his schooling. He said 'the war may be over before I'm finished though.'

Private Matthew Hendricks, lived in San Diego California. Initially wanted to enlist in the Navy, but got tired of waiting in line, so he went to the Army Recruitment Office, where the line was shorter.

Private Marcus Allen was from Ohio. His family were farmers, he said he hated farming, it was boring, and the same routine day in and day out. His father told him to join the military if you want a more eventful life, so he did.

I sat there, clutching my M1 Carbine, watching the light show of the German artillery. When morning comes, it'll start all over again, and again, and again. I don't know how to explain the feeling. It wasn't fear, or nervousness, the only way I could describe it would be excitement, but that couldn't be it. Was I excited for more destruction? More death, more war, no, I think I was excited that after tomorrow, that would be one less day in this war, and after the next, another day down.

"Time to rotate Miller."

The voice caught me a bit, I hadn't heard Anatoli awake, rise from his bedroll, and make his way over to the window where I sat.

I gave a nod, and handed him the binoculars the watchmen kept. Stepping over slumbering bodies I found my bedroll. Barely and inch of fabric separated me from the dirty hard floor of the house, but as tired as I was, it would do just fine. Sleep came fast, the morning, came even faster.