Continued from Part 1

The Stryker careened around the corner and the men inside, packed so tightly that they could barely breathe, swayed back and forth into each other. It was an uncomfortable ride, but not a one of them would’ve preferred the alternative. The Gunny couldn’t really see much, locked as he was in the mass of men packed into the APC but he did spot some few details as it continued to roar away from the crowd of dead left behind. (more…)

“Jesus Christ, this mud is thick!” said “Mississip” as his left leg became stuck up to his knee in the wet, viscous mud of the swamp that he and his two companions trudged through miserably. The temperature and humidity were so high and the air was so thick, that Mississip’ imagined he really could cut it with the long bayonet attached to the barrel of his Model 1859 Springfield Musket which he struggled to keep dry in the near tropical conditions.

He peeled the grey slouch hat from his head and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, which did little more than smear the mud and grime that covered every inch of Mississip’s face. He sighed and pulled at the stuck leg. It started to give and then with a wet slurp the swamp let his leg go and he was free to continue on after the single file line of his two friends. (more…)

This is the third story of a series that began with 1ST OHIO VOLUNTEERS.

1.

A wet, frigid wind tore at the long column of ragged men as they continued their march along a snow covered highway flanked on both sides by large white hills. The tops of those hills however were invisible in the grey haze of the miserably wet and cold weather. Their heads were bowed against the harsh bite of the wind and barely a word was spoken among them. Large flakes of wet snow whipped into them, liquefied, and ran down the seams of their combat fatigues. Icicles clung to the rims of their Kevlar helmets.

Their shoulders sported the screaming eagle of the 101st Airborne division and this detachment was composed of a platoon of light infantry. In total they numbered around 40 men and they trudged through the snow with the grim determination that only soldiers can muster. (more…)

This day, the Twenty third Day of July in the Thirteen Hundred and Forty Ninth year of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I, Father Maurice Apuzzi, do commit to documentation all of the events that I have witnessed heretofore with all the honesty and truth that Our Lord God would command of one of his servants.

I have under great pain of conscience been forced to risk excommunication from the Holy Church for daring to spread the absolute truth about the events outside Your Lordship’s mighty walls so that you may know and reflect, as all benevolent rulers who are trust by God with provenance over his fellow man may from time to time. So that you might prepare for the true enormity of what is slowly creeping towards you from the Italian March. (more…)

This is the second story of a series that began with 1ST OHIO VOLUNTEERS.

1.

Moonrise.

The darkened, almost pitch black landscape below began to shift into faint shadow as a nearly full moon climbed above the eastern horizon. The cold, white lunar light gave the entire forest surrounding the tiny compound of the 1st Ohio Volunteer Regiment an eerie, almost enchanted quality. The chorus of crickets was almost deafening in the cool night air, broken only by the occasional hoot of a solitary owl. (more…)

Sunrise.

Lou Raines, Gunnery Sergeant, USMC (retired),  scanned the crimson landscape below him through his binoculars from his vantage point on a high peak overlooking the eastern Ohio countryside.

Thick, white mist still clung in the gentle valleys. It enshrouded the small towns in a thick blanket, with only the tops of similar peaks to the one he was currently standing on visible through the otherwise clear morning air. (more…)