him.
Kent rammed the blade of the knife into the first man’s chest. The first Nazi fell and landed on the feet of the second one, causing the guy to stumble forward. Kent grabbed hold of the MP40 the second one was carrying and snatched the gun from his hands. He jabbed the knife into his face and as that man fell, the knife still sticking out of his eye socket, he revealed the fact that the other two were raising their rifles.
The third one had his weapon knocked from his hands by the guy with the knife in his face as he fell past him. The fourth one at the rear couldn’t raise his weapon because of how close he was to the third, the barrel of the rifle just kept catching on his webbing.
Kent unloaded the full magazine of the stolen MP40 into the third and fourth. Their bodies vibrated and jittered as they convulsed in a whirlwind of red before they fell on top of each other.
The man with the knife in his face was still alive under the pile of death. Kent reached down and pulled the knife free. The Nazi screamed. Kent stomped his right boot down onto the German’s face, until he was dead and left with a red boot-shaped tread mark.
Kent wiped the blade clean on himself and placed it back in his webbing. With the barrel of the MP40 still smoking he searched in the mass of butchery for a spare magazine. He found one and loaded it in. He walked over the bodies, squishing pulverized flesh, and continued on.
Kent stopped at the trench wall that he’d have to climb to go for the halftrack. He risked a peek over and saw the mortar crew fire off a new round. There was an officer in the pit along with two other soldiers. He had binoculars to his eyes and was directing the crew to targets.
Kent ducked back low. He chambered a round in his MP40 and took a moment to prepare. He took four long breaths then pushed the MP40 over the top of the trench wall. He grabbed hold of the battered ground beyond and pulled up and out of the trench to be lying on his belly. He pulled the MP40 back into his chest, and held it tight. He was a crater away from the halftrack.
As predicted he was soon spotted. Bullets started to cut up the dirt around him as he crawled toward the crater, toward cover. He raised his head enough to see Jordan stand up in the other trench. The private had the Thompson to his shoulder and he unleashed a storm of lead.
The officer in the mortar pit ducked low with the crew. The two soldiers turned their fire toward Jordan, using the sandbags near them as cover. Kent stood and took just three steps before he jumped and crashed down face first into the shell hole, a mouth full of dirt, and the smell of burn attacking his nostrils.
Kent crawled to the edge of the hole and was within reaching distance of the rear of the halftrack, two Jerry Cans fastened to it. He placed the MP40 on the ground, at his side, and removed the knife.
He rolled from the hole and took cover behind the halftrack. Bullets started to ping off the vehicle. He willed them to not hit one of the cans. He looked around the halftrack and managed to see, just before a shot struck close to a cheek, Jordan as he stood up again and laid down some more covering fire.
Kent ducked back into the cover the halftrack provided and cut the fastenings on both Jerry Cans. He kicked them into the crater and rolled from the halftrack down to them.
He shook the first one he got his hands on. It was empty. He tossed it aside and checked the next one. Half full or half empty. Either way you looked at it, it was flammable.
Kent unscrewed the cap then stuck the side of the can a few times with the knife. He stood and charged out of the crater. Jordan was still providing covering fire. Would it be enough? Would he have time to throw the grenade?
Kent threw the Jerry Can then dove to the ground among a hail of bullets cutting up the section of dirt he was aiming for, puffs erupting in all directions. Kent landed as the Jerry Can did. He looked to Jordan. The grenade
Kent rammed the blade of the knife into the first man’s chest. The first Nazi fell and landed on the feet of the second one, causing the guy to stumble forward. Kent grabbed hold of the MP40 the second one was carrying and snatched the gun from his hands. He jabbed the knife into his face and as that man fell, the knife still sticking out of his eye socket, he revealed the fact that the other two were raising their rifles.
The third one had his weapon knocked from his hands by the guy with the knife in his face as he fell past him. The fourth one at the rear couldn’t raise his weapon because of how close he was to the third, the barrel of the rifle just kept catching on his webbing.
Kent unloaded the full magazine of the stolen MP40 into the third and fourth. Their bodies vibrated and jittered as they convulsed in a whirlwind of red before they fell on top of each other.
The man with the knife in his face was still alive under the pile of death. Kent reached down and pulled the knife free. The Nazi screamed. Kent stomped his right boot down onto the German’s face, until he was dead and left with a red boot-shaped tread mark.
Kent wiped the blade clean on himself and placed it back in his webbing. With the barrel of the MP40 still smoking he searched in the mass of butchery for a spare magazine. He found one and loaded it in. He walked over the bodies, squishing pulverized flesh, and continued on.
Kent stopped at the trench wall that he’d have to climb to go for the halftrack. He risked a peek over and saw the mortar crew fire off a new round. There was an officer in the pit along with two other soldiers. He had binoculars to his eyes and was directing the crew to targets.
Kent ducked back low. He chambered a round in his MP40 and took a moment to prepare. He took four long breaths then pushed the MP40 over the top of the trench wall. He grabbed hold of the battered ground beyond and pulled up and out of the trench to be lying on his belly. He pulled the MP40 back into his chest, and held it tight. He was a crater away from the halftrack.
As predicted he was soon spotted. Bullets started to cut up the dirt around him as he crawled toward the crater, toward cover. He raised his head enough to see Jordan stand up in the other trench. The private had the Thompson to his shoulder and he unleashed a storm of lead.
The officer in the mortar pit ducked low with the crew. The two soldiers turned their fire toward Jordan, using the sandbags near them as cover. Kent stood and took just three steps before he jumped and crashed down face first into the shell hole, a mouth full of dirt, and the smell of burn attacking his nostrils.
Kent crawled to the edge of the hole and was within reaching distance of the rear of the halftrack, two Jerry Cans fastened to it. He placed the MP40 on the ground, at his side, and removed the knife.
He rolled from the hole and took cover behind the halftrack. Bullets started to ping off the vehicle. He willed them to not hit one of the cans. He looked around the halftrack and managed to see, just before a shot struck close to a cheek, Jordan as he stood up again and laid down some more covering fire.
Kent ducked back into the cover the halftrack provided and cut the fastenings on both Jerry Cans. He kicked them into the crater and rolled from the halftrack down to them.
He shook the first one he got his hands on. It was empty. He tossed it aside and checked the next one. Half full or half empty. Either way you looked at it, it was flammable.
Kent unscrewed the cap then stuck the side of the can a few times with the knife. He stood and charged out of the crater. Jordan was still providing covering fire. Would it be enough? Would he have time to throw the grenade?
Kent threw the Jerry Can then dove to the ground among a hail of bullets cutting up the section of dirt he was aiming for, puffs erupting in all directions. Kent landed as the Jerry Can did. He looked to Jordan. The grenade
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