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We were like gods once... BIG UPDATE Friday Nov 5!
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<blockquote data-quote="ledded" data-source="post: 1353844" data-attributes="member: 12744"><p><strong>[PLAIN]We were like gods once... [Introduction][/PLAIN]</strong></p><p></p><p>France, somewhere near St Lo, June 1944, 4:22 am.</p><p> </p><p>Major Jansen, US Army 1st Division, entered the room in his usual brisk, efficient manner, his relatively clean uniform and freshly shaven face a testament to just the kind of officer he was.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok boys, here it is. We’ve got some fellas reporting in with a recon platoon of the 503rd about 12 miles from here that they’re tracking a Panzer Grenadier platoon that broke out through our advance and are high-tailin’ it back towards the Reich land”, he fires off in his unmistakable Massachusetts drone at the combat officers in the small barn now serving as a temporary command post. Weary and battle-stained, they quiet to impudent murmurs and look on with resigned acceptance.</p><p> </p><p>Unruffled, Jansen gestures towards several points on the map spread before him on a makeshift table of .50 cal ammo cans and bullet-riddled splinters of old barn door, and looks up to make eye contact as the officers gather around.</p><p> </p><p>“The colonel says we’re to take one of Captain Michaels mechanized platoons and D Company’s 2nd platoon and head up there ASAP to provide support…”</p><p> </p><p>“Beggin’ the major’s pardon, sir, but aint we a bit thin right now for that sorta thing? Sir?” interrupts Captain John Michaels. His tone takes on the quality of a hard whisper as he continues through clenched teeth. “We barely got enough gas to get my boys into town, and 4 outta my 5 remaining Shermans is down for essential repairs. Those 88’s a couple days back caught us nappin’, and we’re due a rest and refit, or we aint gonna be able to push the door offa this barn, much less a line across this gol-darned peninsula. An’ I also know that Murphy’s D Company took it pretty hard from Omaha up till now, ‘specially since I just seen Murphy ride outta here on a jeep with a pressure bandage holdin’ his insides in. Hell, there probably aint enough left o’ D Company to make a damn platoon out of”.</p><p> </p><p>Jansen takes a deep breath before he replies. </p><p> </p><p>“Dammit John, don’t ya think I know all that? We have reliable intelligence that there are some high-ups riding in that caravan, maybe even with assets essential to this whole damn operation, and I don’t have time for your belly-aching, soldier. You will take command. You will scrape up whatever you can out of your company and the remainder of D, and you’ll leave here within the hour. The Brit’s are sending along a couple Cromwell’s, under your temporary command, to help out along with enough gas to get you there and back. But right now, the Jerry’s are moving fast, and you here are all I’ve got.”</p><p> </p><p>Captain Michaels’s eyebrows raise slightly, “Hmph. Must be damned important if someone’s got the Brit’s *offering* to help us”.</p><p> </p><p>He starts giving orders to his officers as he pours over the map, mind already at work. Major Jansen steps back into the shadows, lights a cigarette, and silently thanks whoever is listening that he’s not the one going out this morning. But then, being an S-2 does have it’s advantages, and so does an Ivy league education.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ledded, post: 1353844, member: 12744"] [b][PLAIN]We were like gods once... [Introduction][/PLAIN][/b] France, somewhere near St Lo, June 1944, 4:22 am. Major Jansen, US Army 1st Division, entered the room in his usual brisk, efficient manner, his relatively clean uniform and freshly shaven face a testament to just the kind of officer he was. “Ok boys, here it is. We’ve got some fellas reporting in with a recon platoon of the 503rd about 12 miles from here that they’re tracking a Panzer Grenadier platoon that broke out through our advance and are high-tailin’ it back towards the Reich land”, he fires off in his unmistakable Massachusetts drone at the combat officers in the small barn now serving as a temporary command post. Weary and battle-stained, they quiet to impudent murmurs and look on with resigned acceptance. Unruffled, Jansen gestures towards several points on the map spread before him on a makeshift table of .50 cal ammo cans and bullet-riddled splinters of old barn door, and looks up to make eye contact as the officers gather around. “The colonel says we’re to take one of Captain Michaels mechanized platoons and D Company’s 2nd platoon and head up there ASAP to provide support…” “Beggin’ the major’s pardon, sir, but aint we a bit thin right now for that sorta thing? Sir?” interrupts Captain John Michaels. His tone takes on the quality of a hard whisper as he continues through clenched teeth. “We barely got enough gas to get my boys into town, and 4 outta my 5 remaining Shermans is down for essential repairs. Those 88’s a couple days back caught us nappin’, and we’re due a rest and refit, or we aint gonna be able to push the door offa this barn, much less a line across this gol-darned peninsula. An’ I also know that Murphy’s D Company took it pretty hard from Omaha up till now, ‘specially since I just seen Murphy ride outta here on a jeep with a pressure bandage holdin’ his insides in. Hell, there probably aint enough left o’ D Company to make a damn platoon out of”. Jansen takes a deep breath before he replies. “Dammit John, don’t ya think I know all that? We have reliable intelligence that there are some high-ups riding in that caravan, maybe even with assets essential to this whole damn operation, and I don’t have time for your belly-aching, soldier. You will take command. You will scrape up whatever you can out of your company and the remainder of D, and you’ll leave here within the hour. The Brit’s are sending along a couple Cromwell’s, under your temporary command, to help out along with enough gas to get you there and back. But right now, the Jerry’s are moving fast, and you here are all I’ve got.” Captain Michaels’s eyebrows raise slightly, “Hmph. Must be damned important if someone’s got the Brit’s *offering* to help us”. He starts giving orders to his officers as he pours over the map, mind already at work. Major Jansen steps back into the shadows, lights a cigarette, and silently thanks whoever is listening that he’s not the one going out this morning. But then, being an S-2 does have it’s advantages, and so does an Ivy league education. [/QUOTE]
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