10 minutes from Jack's platoon, 2 miles behind Omaha beach.
A temporary rally point was set up for the defeated Panzergrenadiers to fall back upon and nurse their wounds from the recently failed push against the dug in paratroopers. It's also serving as the staging point for the next attack with the combined arms.
Down the street, the sounds of heavy armor could be heard, the engine sounded weird. No one had heard this engine from their tanks yet, so at first thought, they thought it was an enemy.
Leaning against the side of the commanders hatch, Marcus is sitting with his upper body out of the tank, and his lower body in.
The fresh air and lovely breeze blowing against him are welcoming in the rising temperatures, plus it was becoming too stuffy inside of the tank as well.
Seeing his fellow Germans resting on the side of the road, he raised his arm up and waved a friendly hello to the Grenadiers.
Then he leaned back and looked down into his tank "Frost, pull us up to the side of the road and stop us next to the grunts." Marcus ordered and the driver called back his acknowledgment of the order.
Turning the Tiger II to the right slightly, Frost eased the lumbering beast to the side of the road and put her into the parked gear.
Behind them in marching formation was forty men at platoon strength, along with two more Panzer IV's and a Jagdpanzer IV.
All of them are from the Asgard company. Hauptmann Marcus Falk did like his Norse mythology lore after all and he requested that the tankers under his command name their tanks of their choosing from the Norse mythology. And everyone loved the idea, it gave them a feeling of power, strength, and the belief that they're like the Norse Vikings almost.
Looking back up, Marcus turned at his waist and faced the approaching men, "Say, you look awfully familiar sir, by any chance did we meet back in Italy?" The man at the front of the gathered group called out.
"Feldwebel Roper? From the 15th Panzergrenadier?" Marcus asked, his interest in the grunts on the ground has spiked.
"Ja herr, dass ist mir. Good to see a fellow veteran that'll have our backs out there." Kristin said with a smile as he snapped a quick salute up to the Captain.
Chuckling a little Marcus returned the salute, "Same goes for you, it eases my mind a little knowing that I got someone I can trust to protect our asses." He said with a wide grin.
"In any case sir, the Americans are about ten minutes up the road at the bridge, they've set up defenses behind the stone wall that runs parallel to the bridge. They're also set up in the barn and by the looks of it, the farmers house as well." Kristin said as he walked up to the side of the King Tiger, staring at the new tank in awe.
"Thanks for the warning Oberfeldwebel, we'll push them back, and if we can't. Well then, we got artillery to render that bridge useless." Marcus said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Then after a moment, he added "In any case, orders from the top came down to start the push against the bridge. So do excuse me Master Sergeant, but we're on a tight schedule here to keep." Marcus said after he looked down at his lap to steal a glance at the marked map.
"Ja herr, if there's anything I or my men can do to help, don't hesitate to ask and I'll see that we get it done," Kristin said as he saluted, then turning around he made his way back to the tree line where the rest of his men have gathered.
All surviving twenty-two men out of the fifty in the first platoon that assaulted the bridge have regrouped here, resting under the shade of the trees.
YOU ARE READING
Screaming Eagles
Historical Fiction"You're about to embark on a great crusade..." General Dwight D. Eisenhower had said in his speech to the troops prior to the opening assault on Normandy's shores. However, Jack and James O'Brian never heard that speech, because they were in the air...
