Within seconds, a trio of German soldiers, each screaming at the top of his lungs, came from nowhere, leaping over the perimeter wire.[1]

As Phil raised and shot his pistol at point-blank range, hitting two of the men, each man’s chest spewed eruptions of blood and tissue as they were blown backward.

Phil shot the third German between the eyes. His face exploded, and he crumpled to the ground at Phil’s feet.

Two more shrieking Germans rushed up the hill. Phil aimed, but his .45’s trigger only clicked as he pulled it again and again. Throwing the empty pistol down, he reached for his last weapon—his knife.

Time slowed as he thought to himself, This is it! Kill or be killed!

Then Phil suddenly heard and felt a flurry of bullets whizzing just above his head. The fusillade was coming from behind. He couldn’t believe his eyes as both Germans were cut down, landing in a heap at his feet.

The tracer bullets, every fifth bullet fired by a BAR or Tommy gun, were red. They were American!

Unless the Germans had replaced their white or green tracers, help had arrived—and an answer to their prayers!

Phil felt his lungs fill with air and escape in a slow exhalation of gratitude. Then the forest and slopes below them erupted from a torrent of mortar fire, creating tree bursts that rained down on the Germans, literally cutting them to shreds.

Phil had never seen such a beautiful sight. He had never been so thankful for the support.

Within moments, men from F Company and the task force were swarming into the OP. The first men hit the perimeter, laying down suppressive fire.

The second wave of GIs rushed in and descended on the raiders, indicating the escape route up the hill to the task force OP.

Lieutenant Morris came to Phil’s side. “I’m having you hauled outta here, Phil!”

“The hell you are!” Phil replied. “Pretty sure I can walk if Vales will give me a hand.”

With assistance, Phil stood and tried to put his weight on his wounded right leg. The pain was excruciating, and he felt sure he was going to faint. He tried keeping the leg stiff, but the pain was overwhelming.

“You’re a tough nut, you sonofabitch,” Morris commented. “But no limping up the mountain allowed. I’ve got to get you and the rest of these guys out of here fast.”

The lieutenant directed Happy and another man to put Phil on the stretcher they’d used to bring ammunition to the Raider’s OP. “Get him to safety and a medic!” Morris commanded. The men took off with him as fast as they could up the slippery slope.

A medic met him at the Task Force OP. Phil felt instant relief for two reasons. First, he received an injection of morphine, which reduced his severe pain immediately. Second, he knew that once he was in the hands of the medics, his chances of survival soared.[2]

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW.

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 163.

[2] Ibid, 163-164.

In case you haven’t read or listened to Dad’s book, you can learn more or order it here.

© Copyright WLL, INC. 2024.