Chapter Text
October 18th - Aachen, Germany
‘October.’ Daniels began in his journal, taping the pencil against the side of the leather-bound book as thoughts came to him. ‘We’re in Aachen. The Krauts are fighting like hell for it cause it's the first time one of their cities has been invaded by the allies.’ Daniels paused with a quick chuckle. ‘Won’t be the last.’
Daniels slipped away his journal as his vehicle began to pick up speed. He glanced from side to side, from Zussman driving to the ruined town, and sighed, the sound drowned out by the wind. Originally, he had thought that with the liberation of Paris, he would be one step closer to home. Boy, was he wrong. They were fighting in Aachen now, a town that the Krauts had a death grip on.
‘And for good reason,’ Daniels mused as he numbly watched two allied soldiers stack another limp body into a pile of others, laid side by side as if they were sardines rather than sons, brothers, and fathers. He brought his attention back to the ash-covered road ahead of them. They had been drilling a hole clear through their Western border for nearly two weeks non-stop. Colonel Davis had ordered certain teams to go block by block, house by house, and “knock them all down,” as he called it. And as fate would have it, Zussman had ended up paired with Daniels.
They had finished their section of the rounds for the day, finally driving back into the heavily guarded base. Zussman and Daniels shared an equally exasperated look as aggressive shouting came into ear range. Turner and Pierson hadn’t seen exactly eye to eye since they arrived in Aachen, which had only brought hell upon the platoon. Daniels held back a grimace as he remembered a few nights ago.
Normally, Turner would bring Pierson his rations for the nightly meal, but after a large scuffle earlier in the morning that day, Turner had completely ignored Pierson and had chosen to walk solo to his tent. Pierson had turned red, evidently pissed, snatched his rations from poor Stiles who had been assigned to ration duty that day, and stormed off. When he returned nearly an hour later, every single person in the platoon was assigned to a chore, some made up. Daniels got off with cleaning the cooking equipment while Zussman ended up shining the spare boots. Zuss had complained for hours after.
To an extent, Daniels understood. The grind was taking a toll on all of them.
Zussman hopped out of the now stationary vehicle, talking to Daniels over its sides. “Time for more beans and bullets.” He said, a sarcastic tone biting in the background as he nodded his head towards the arguing couple. All Daniels could do was shake his head. He didn’t know how anyone could survive in this environment.
“If I tell you to do it, it is the goddamn mission!” Turner shouted into the scowling face of Pierson, gesturing wildly with his pointer finger. Pierson’s already tense jaw tightened further.
Sensing the onlookers, Pierson pivoted his position to yell out, “Hey, pick up the pace! We gotta hit CP by nightfall.” With that announcement, soldiers began to resume their duties with a little more urgency as Pierson crossed his arms and turned back to look down at Turner.
Daniels shook his head lightly as he walked towards the back of the military truck. He let the bed door fall open and inched a chest off the edge of the truck. Daniels glanced around, before seeing a waving soldier, identifying the spot where he should place it. Just a few steps from the truck, Aiello walked by.
“Hey, found this lying around,” Aiello said as he threw an unopened letter on top of the chest that Daniels was carrying. “It’s from your…girl.” Aiello hesitated. Daniels’s eyes narrowed at Aiello.
“Though I told you not to go through my things,” Daniels mentioned, annoyance in his tone. Aiello had a nasty habit of going through everyone else’s belongings, which gave Daniels an awful fright a few months ago when he had caught Aiello lying on a bunk with Daniels's journal wide open. Since then, Daniels had made sure to carry the leather-bound book with him at almost every waking moment.
Aiello rolled his eyes. He had read Daniels's journal a few times through. Nothing but confusion, morbidity, and guilt-filled love. It was an awful read, but Stiles required it for his “research.” Whatever the hell that meant.
“What kind of chump doesn’t open a letter sent to them?” Aiello snarked, eyes trained on the letter. Fortunately, Stiles walked over to glance over the situation. Daniels had thought that Stiles walked over to save him from the fate of Aiello’s curiosity. Daniels thanked the heaven until Stiles began to speak.
“Uh, the kind who thinks it’s a Dear John,” said Stiles. Daniels huffed, moving the trunk his arms slightly away from their view. “See the address? She wrote ‘Daniels’, not ‘Red’,” Stiles pointed out, showing Aiello with the pointing of a finger. “Only one reason to be so formal...and I hate to say it, but I think she’s cutting you loose,” Stiles told him, close to being amused. Daniels narrowed his eyes at Stiles, thinking that his tone might have had a certain implication before letting it go.
Daniels clenched his jaw and took a few steps towards the supply table, trying to leave the awkward silence behind them, yet as Stiles normally did, he attempted to lighten the mood. “Or hey, maybe it’s like Schrodinger’s letter,” Stiles started, stuttering a little initially. Daniels reluctantly stopped to look at Stiles. “You know? You don’t open it, she still supports you.”
Daniels pursed his lips, an irritated look across his face. Daniels turned to Zussman who had been stationed at the table after leaving their truck, and joined him in heaving the chests onto the table.
Behind their back, Aiello sharply turned to face Stiles, “‘Maybe it’s like Schrodinger’s letter’…what the hell is wrong with you?” He whispered harshly, slapping him on the back of the helmet.
“Quit screwing around!” screamed Turner, startling the four men. “We hit the State Theater at 0730 tomorrow.” Turner asserted, staring them each in the eyes before continuing to walk side by side with Pierson.
Zussman whistled lowly, his eyes tracking Turner’s walking form as Stiles's hand rose to lay on the top of his helmet. “Everybody’s got their limits,” Zuss said softly. “Everybody.” With that, Zuss, Stiles, and Aiello retreated to the tent.
Alone, Daniels looked down at the letter in his hands. Leave it to Stiles to hit the problem on the head. Daniels ran his thumb over the address. Hazel had only ever used his real name when it was serious. After a moment, he took out the journal and tucked the letter into it. If Daniels was going to continue in this hell of a war, he needed to believe that everything at home was the same as he had left it.
~~~~~
The hours that preceded went by horribly, leaving Daniels with only flashes of memories. Despite this, he could recall the smell of burning rubber and gunpowder in the air. And how there was constant shouting.
“Come on Daniels!” Pierson called out behind his back. Daniels could only focus on his breathing, he had been running for what felt like ages. His labored breathing was almost more prevalent than the gunshots in the background. He should have been more focused on the landscape around them as he tripped over a stray root from a nearby, upturned tree, falling nearly face-first into the piled sandbags.
Thankfully for Daniels, Zussman was always there when he needed him. Quick as the bullets surrounding them, Zuss shot his hand over the makeshift barrier, grasping Daniels’s hand tightly before hauling him over the wall. “Got you, Daniels,” Zuss yelled over the deafening sounds of war. “Keep your head down!” He continued, his eyes searching Daniels as his mouth became set in a tight grimace.
A yelp came from just in front of Daniels. A bullet had hit the demolished, metal car that Stiles was ducking behind, startling the soldier with glasses. “Goddamn it!” Stiles yelled, frustrated. “We keep crushing ‘em, and they just keep coming back,” He complained.
Daniels's eyes flickered around the current scene. “We can’t hold the plaza much longer!” Daniels said. Their small group from the original platoon had been separated and was being hit nonstop by gunfire, tanks, and falling debris from the ruined buildings.
“Artillery’s on its way. They’re saying ten minutes, tops.” Pierson said calmly, jerking his head down to prevent his large frame from being exposed to enemy soldiers.
Pierson’s expression did nothing to calm the panic radiating from Stiles and some of the other soldiers. “Might as well be ten hours!” Stiles shouted. “Lieutenant Turner, we need tank support now!” Stiles directed to Turner, who was sitting just inches away.
At Stiles's outburst, Pierson responded frankly, “The tanks are covering our flanks.” All talking paused momentarily as a bullet buried itself in the center of their makeshift circle.
Lieutenant Turner groaned loudly. “Everybody pipe down and let me think, goddamn it!”
Before he was even done speaking, Zussman yelled back, “Sir, we don’t have the time to think!” Daniels silently agreed. Every second they used to think more was another second for a bullet to lodge itself into his chest. He’d prefer to not think if it kept him alive.
Regardless, Turner carried on his line of thought. “Alright Daniels, you and Aiello go with Pierson and call it in. Move!” Turner commanded.
As they got up to run, Turner called for the remaining platoon to provide coverfire. As soon as they all jumped the sand barrier, dust flew up as bullets rained down. Once stunning Roman-inspired pillars lay cracked on the ground surrounded by shattered concrete stained maroon. The previous beauty of the German town was what Daniels noticed as he sprinted across the opening towards the field phone. Once it was within reach, he dived behind a pillar missing chunks of its old material with Pierson just seconds behind. Daniels tossed his sergeant the phone as he wound the machine to work.
“Dagwood White 2/7 to Villain! We’re drawing fire! Requesting immediate support to phase line 2, over!” Pierson strung out, keeping his eyes on the clearing.
A quieter voice responded immediately. “Copy that, but we’ll be leaving our flank exposed, over!”
As Pierson looked over the battle in front of him, with his men dying, he couldn’t find it in him to care. “Alright, just get your asses here as soon as you can!” With a quick affirmative, Pierson returned the phone to Daniels and prayed that he could keep his men alive this time.
~~~~~
The minutes passed as if years had: slow and unrelenting. The Krauts had only grown closer while the rest of Daniels’s platoon had grown smaller. Each of Pierson’s frantic call-ins seemed to do nothing. All were answered with reassurance that they were on the way. Some of the tanks had run into opposing ones, causing the deaths of a few both within Daniels’s platoon and from the drivers. When a German Panzer tank appeared from the right side of the court, Daniels thought he was certain to die.
However, Perez, the allied tank driver finally arrived, and in the nick of time. They had been surrounded and losing ground by the second. When Perez announced that the plaza was clear, Daniels could feel relief radiating from his fellow soldiers and friends, thankful to be living another few minutes.
The remaining platoon soldiers gathered at the theater entrance, where Pierson, Daniels, and Aiello had been stationed to call in for help. Turner looked over the small group. “Alright, Perez is going to hold the position at the theater to cover our flank,” he asserted. “We need to push towards the Hotel Allendorf without Armor support. Let’s move.”
At Daniels’s left, Zussman nudged him. “Alright, let’s do this.” Together, they all took off towards the hotel.
Passing by the rubble from their recent battle, Turner explained the severity of the situation. “This hotel has been a Nazi stronghold for weeks. We need to capture it to take the city.”
Zussman scoffed. “Well, it sure would be a lot easier if we had a couple tanks with us.” Turner had nodded his head slightly, acknowledging Zuss’s statement. They continued through streets filled with cars on fire and nearly demolished buildings.
“Perez needs to hold this ground. Unfortunately, we’re the spearhead on this one, Private.” Turner explained. Daniels understood his point. They had almost died trying to take the theater from the Nazis. They could not afford to lose it.
As they approached what seemed like a shopping district, the platoon slowed down. “Eyes up,” Pierson hissed, crouching behind a charred car. Turner directed their attention to the numerous windows and advised them to be careful.
Zussman lagged just a foot behind Daniels, finally catching up. “I don’t like this. Something’s wrong. It’s too quiet.” He muttered to Daniels, his weary eyes flickering from window to window. Daniels placed a hand on his shoulder, stabilizing him.
“Just…keep sharp.” Daniels returned.
The platoon took a turn left into a small street littered with cars, lamp posts, and pieces of buildings. The deceiving silence was shattered by the gunfire of an MG at the end of the street. From the window, the MG had the perfect vantage point to gun down every one of them.
Daniels gritted his teeth as he flung himself from one side of the street to the other to hide from the rapid fire. When it seemed like the MG was distracted, Daniels peaked out to shoot a few rounds into the open window. Despite his well-placed shots, none of them hit, leaving him and the platoon to dive into a nearby building. The Nazis had been waiting for them and had ambushed them.
His adrenaline and support from his other platoon members allowed them to take down the Krauts easily, moving from room to room until they were stopped in a shop.
Zussman ran up the inconspicuous stairs in the back, before shaking his head. “Stairs are a no-go.”
Stiles paced back and forth. “We sure as hell can't go back into the street!” The continuous sound of the MG outside served as evidence.
Turner approached a nearby wall, hit it, and listened for something. “This wall seems to be weak. Daniels, use the launcher to clear a path.” Turner commanded, walking back to the rest of the platoon. Daniels nodded his head, retrieving the launcher they carry with them for emergencies. He steadied his feet, leveled his shoulders, and released the rocket. The wall in front of them exploded as Turner thought it would.
The wall opened up to reveal another street, this one free from the wrath of machine guns. However, the occasional Kraut sprung up from around a corner or from a window in an attempt to deter the First Platoon. Finally, the onslaught led up to a former balcony that had simply become pieces of wood and concrete sticking out of the side of a wall, but more importantly, it had a near-perfect view of the hotel.
“Daniels, take a closer look,” Turner commanded, handing him a pair of small black binoculars.
Daniels noted the cleared-out buildings and skies. ‘Guess our bomber did their run.’ He mused. He focused the binoculars on the hotel ahead of them. Dark smoke billowed out from the top, and four torn Nazi flags hung from the frame of the hotel. It had seen better days. Ones that weren’t run by Nazis and full of death. Daniels inspected the appearance a little more. “No troops on the balcony. Not seeing em’ anywhere else either.” Even though they would likely be able to approach easier than they had cleared out the plaza of the theater, trying to secure the hotel would certainly be hell.
Turner directed his attention to the nearby building. “We’ll need to take the apartment first. Could be swarming with Krauts. We need to sweep it to cover our rear, then advance to the hotel. Now, fall in!” Turner commanded the men in front of him, his eyes sweeping over them all individually.
Pierson, who was only a few feet behind Turner, paused and said “Daniels, Zussman, you two will take point. Let’s go!” Daniels put away the binoculars and nodded his head. Daniels glanced over at Zussman, who was already crawling down the balcony onto a pile of bricks below. Daniels copied his movements, grasping at the splintered wood to slowly let himself down. They moved carefully as they both began to take the lead of the platoon, letting the rest of the First Platoon follow behind.
“Stay alert!” Turner called out Daniels and Zussman, who had just entered the apartments via a blown-away wall. If Daniels wasn’t constantly in fear for his life, the structural integrity of the building might have raised a few concerns. “These apartments could be crawling with the enemy.”
Daniels could hear Pierson huff behind him, “That’s a damn understatement. More like the whole two blocks.” Daniels silently agreed. It had been almost nothing but gunfire since they moved out of their camp this morning.
The only sound was the shuffling of the First Platoon’s feet as they advanced from room to room. Daniels had learned months ago to not look too hard when he walked through family homes, lest he see family portraits shattered along the ground.
They searched the first floor, oddly finding no signs of life other than themselves. They hauled themselves to the second floor through a section of flooring that had collapsed, providing a makeshift staircase. Once again, they were greeted by a thin-looking wall that was easily knocked out by the launch Daniel had carried with them. The moment that Daniels and Zuss had walked through the spot where the wall had broken through, dust and stray bricks flying, enemy gunfire had come through. The soldiers of the First Platoon dove for any available cover. Daniels crawled towards where their path should be and he felt what Zussman announced.
“Path is blocked! Gotta sweep these Krauts!” Zussman peaked his head over the dressers preventing them from moving forward, only to be met with dozens of bullets aimed towards him. “Only one problem. Can’t see them!” He yelled back to the rest of the platoon.
They all stayed covered until Pierson shouted, “Smoke’s clearing! Get ready to fire.” Daniels readied his weapon. When the dust settled, he popped up and his jaw nearly dropped at the sight.
The hole in the wall had led them to a room that was just one wall away from the outside. Unluckily, that wall separating them was not much of a wall anymore. It faced what must have been 30 other rooms, several Krauts in each of them. If this was how the Krauts fought for territory around their base, Daniels did not want to think of how capturing the hotel would go. Regardless, Daniels gritted his teeth and aimed methodically at any enemy body he could see. Within a few minutes and just a few close calls, the exposed apartments seemed to be cleared out.
Turner peered out of the side of the broken wall and up into the surrounding rooms. “We’re clear. Everyone, rally here!” He announced, pointing to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway. “Roger, you take point and secure the next room.”
Roger walked to the door, pushing gently, only for nothing to happen. He pushed a little harder, putting his weight into it. “Door’s blocked,” he said. “We’re gonna have to squeeze through.” Just as he had said, Roger, held his gun upright as he pushed himself through the small opening.
Daniels eyed the door wearily. “Looks awful tight.” He wasn’t necessarily claustrophobic, but his training in Basic had taught him to be cautious when entering a place where you can’t see the other side.
From behind Daniels, Aiello inhaled sharply. “Not sure I can make it.” He patted his stomach, looking over the door.
Daniels snorted. “Maybe shoulda’ layed off the corn beef,” Daniels replied. Zussman walked up to Aiello and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“He has got a point,” Zuss said sympathetically. Aiello rolled his eyes and shrugged off his hand.
“Yeah, real funny you two. A couple of clowns..” Aiello’s voice trailed off as Daniels approached the door. He braced his hands on the wood and slowly squeezed himself through. ‘Aiello would need to be careful, he might get stuck,’ thought Daniels.
“Here, I’ll go next.” Zussman offered, pushing himself to the front. With Daniels partially through the door, Zussman began to squeeze through, his side pressed against Daniels. They both indulged in the momentary comfort it brought before coming out the other side.
The door opened up to a front room, where Daniels could see an antique couch propped against the door. Adrenaline coursed through him as he heard Roger shout out, “Shit! Shit!” Daniels pushed off the door, into the adjoining room where a Kraut was attempting to tackle Roger. With a well-aimed shot, the Kraut was dead and Roger was freed from his momentary capture. That was only the beginning of their problems.
Daniels dove behind another couch in the center of the room with Zuss not far behind. “Krauts are everywhere!” He called out to the rest of the Platoon that was still making their way through the blocked door. As backup began to pile in, Daniels and Zussman moved up, working together seamlessly as the Kraut ducking behind a table was killed and the Krauts on the upper floor fell limp.
As the floors cleared out, the Platoon climbed the fallen debris to the upper floor. They entered a room that looked like any of the others: barely held together by its original support. Directly across from the room was the hotel. Everyone took a moment to breathe and look over the massive building in front of them.
Turner leaned against a wall, his chest heaving. He looked over the soldiers covered in dirt and blood. “Okay, we good?” He asked, largely receiving affirmatives.
Pierson huffed a breath, “Good enough,” which was how Daniels felt. When did anyone ever feel good in the middle of a war?
Turner pushed himself off of the wall and walked to the window. “Okay, the hotel’s right there. We need to keep quiet ‘til we hit ‘em.” It seemed like the Krauts had the same idea. It was dead silent on the street with the hiss of the burning cars being the only sound.
Turner waved them all to a side of the room and led the Platoon down the first set of functional stairs that Daniels had seen since leaving France. On their way down, an aid pack came into view over Daniels’s shoulder. He looked over to see Zuss holding it out. “Hotel is gonna be rough, thought you might need this.” Daniels allowed himself a smile.
“Thank you, Nurse Zussman.” Daniels joked, tucking the aid pack into a spot within the pockets of his military coat. Zuss huffed amused, patting Daniels on the back as he moved to the front of the building they were in.
Watching their surroundings, the platoon moved out of the building and into the soot-covered street, only to be met with a German truck. Daniels tensed until Turner affirmed that the truck was empty.
Aiello inspected the vehicle and the clearing they were effectively blocked into. Airplanes on fire and hefty chunks of nearby buildings halted them from moving forward. “That truck’s blocking our path.”
Turned nodded. “We’ll push it. Aiello, pop the brake and steer. The rest of you, put your backs into it.” Aiello climbed around the front, making a soft squeaking sound as he sat down. Zussman braced his hands upon the truck, letting his gun strapped around him hang limply. Daniel joined him quickly, copying his motions. Before long, the entirety of the platoon was groaning as they worked together to move the truck.
Aiello hopped out of the truck as it came to a rolling stop. “It's got some gas. The battery works too. We need a ride outta here, Lieutenant, I think I could hotwire it,” he said, patting the side of the vehicle.
Stiles bumped Aiello with his arm. “Big surprise there,” he replied.
Aiello simply rolled his eyes, shoving Stiles away. “Yeah, whatever, shove it, College,” Aiello snarked.
The platoon carried on, crouching along the path while avoiding stray rebar and smoldering pieces of metal. As they advanced, they came along another weak wall, which Daniels was getting better at identifying. Turner nodded toward Daniels, who retrieved the launcher. It was the last rocket, hopefully they wouldn’t need it any longer. Daniels took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the storm that was about to follow. With a pull of the trigger, the wall was destroyed, and the platoon swiftly pushed in.
Turner rushed in through the newly opened corner of the hotel with Pierson directly behind him, the rest of the platoon trailing along. Instantly, they were met with intense gunfire. Men dove for pillars, upturned tables, and anything that could be used as cover. Daniels slammed his back against a marble pillar, bullets whizzing by on either side of him. When the bullets let up, even only for a second, Daniels leaned around firing blindly at the Krauts in the hallway.
No matter how many Daniels took down, more replaced them. He had never seen this many Krauts holed up in one spot.
He pushed forward, Zussman just a few feet behind him to provide cover. Other soldiers followed him down the right hallway, working together to reach the back corridor behind the grand staircase, just as Turner had instructed.
Ten minutes must have passed before their platoon finally cleared out the lobby enough to spread out along the back hallway. Many were groaning with sore bodies, but Stiles was the loudest. “God, I hope that’s all of them, “ he complained.
Turner hushed them with a waving of his hand. “Rally on me!” He called out. Daniels, Zussman, and the rest of the First Platoon circled their Lieutenant. “The Second Platoon is sweeping the upper floors. Our job is to secure the basement. On me.” Turner told the group, before swinging open the door that revealed stairs in a dank hallway to the basement. The soldiers moved through the hallway, keeping their guns trained ahead in case of an enemy appearance.
They stopped in front of the last wooden door in the hallway, taking just a second to prepare themselves. Daniels stepped up and swung open the heavy door. The room within was nearly pitch black, with only the light from the hallway illuminating the entrance. Regardless, Daniels couldn’t see how far back the room went. Pierson pushed through to the front. “Lights on,” the sergeant said as he brought out his flashlight from his back. It barely made a dent in the thick darkness, but the light from nearly a dozen flashlights allowed the platoon to see. They crept forward, light revealing crates, barrels, and old furniture.
Their footsteps halted at the sound of a voice. “Sounds like a kid,” Turner muttered. He looked over his left shoulder to where Daniels was moving forward. “Hey, Daniels, still got that chocolate bar?” Daniels nodded, pulling the bar from where he had stashed it earlier, and moved ahead of Turner.
Like calling a dog, Daniels held the bar out in front of him, crouching where he heard the voice. “Bet y’all are hungry. Go on, take it.” It didn't click in his head that they most likely spoke German, and had no idea what he was saying. Despite the language barrier, a young girl ran up to Daniels and snatched the bar from his hands, immediately sinking her teeth into it.
A young woman was not far behind, running after the child. “Anna!” She shouted, panic evident in her voice. She pushed the child behind her. Her sudden appearance, especially since she was carrying a rifle in hand, frightened some of the platoon, causing the men to raise their weapons on the girls.
Turner quickly interjected himself to de-escalate the situation. “It’s alright, it’s alright!” He called with an arm out, forcing the men and young woman to lower their weapons. “We’re not gonna hurt you, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Turner said in a soft voice.
The young woman stuttered for a second, eyes flickering from armed man to armed man. “No food,” she said after a second with an accent, “my sister,” she continued, eyes turned down towards the young child. “Please, help us,” she pleaded.
Pierson shook his head and moved toward the center of the commotion. “No. No. Kraut reinforcements’ll be here any minute. We don’t have time to be babysittin’ civilians,” Pierson said harshly, pointing at the girls. Zussman creeped out from behind Daniels off to the left. Daniels glanced at him before turning back to the scene in front of him.
Tuner paused for a second, licked his lips, and looked up at Pierson. “There’s only two of them.”
Someone cleared their throat. Daniels looked to his left to see Zussman standing, holding a curtain open. “Uh, sir, you better come see this.” Pierson pushed his way forward, lit a lamp, and held it near the curtain. The light revealed several other civilians, many old and hurt.
“Ah, that’s just perfect,” Pierson bit out, falling to sit on a nearby crate as he slammed the lamp down.
“Shit,” Turner hissed, dragging a hand across his face. He thought for a moment. “We passed that truck a few hundred yards back. We can drive it back here and we can get ‘em all out,” Turner decided.
Pierson simply looked at Turner. “With all due respect, our mission was to secure this hotel.” Turner took one step towards him when the young lady began to speak in German rapidly to her sister, then towards the platoon, approaching Pierson with an outstretched hand. Pierson sighed frustratedly, “I don’t speak German, lady.”
Zuss stepped up and began to speak. “Ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch. Mach dir keine Sorge. Es wird gut werden.” The entire platoon fell silent as the woman nodded, placated. Pierson shot off the crate he had been sitting on.
“You speak German? When the hell were you gonna tell us that?” He said, astonishment in his voice. Zussman adjusted the strap of his rifle. Even in the dim light, Daniels could see his cheeks turn a little red.
“I wasn’t,” Zuss admitted. Daniels understood that. Being able to speak their language meant more trouble than it was worth. From being entrusted with more work to being considered suspicious as a spy. It was something he had learned after the few weeks of growing closer with Zussman. Regardless, Daniels trusted him with his life.
Turner broke the silence. “Alright. We’re getting these people out of here. Daniels, Aiello, you take that truck and rendezvous with us on the West side of the hotel. Get moving!” He called to the rest of the group, setting off rapid movement as soldiers filled out to follow orders.
Zussman walked with purpose, trying to avoid any eye contact. Pierson trailed him. “Hmmm. Makes me wonder what else you’re hidin’ from us, Herr Zussman.” He muttered. Zussman stiffened slightly, sighed, and rolled his head.
“Cut me some slack, sarge.” Zussman defended. Daniels wondered for a second if Pierson knew something.
Pierson chuckled. “Ehh, not on your life, private, not on your life.”
Aiello and Daniels pushed to the front of the platoon and ran up the stairs.
“Man, I can’t believe Zussman didn’t tell us he spoke Kraut,” Aiello said astounded. Daniels inclined his head as they reached the door at the top of the stairs.
“Well, his family’s German-Jewish. He just didn’t want anyone to know about the German part,” Daniels confessed. He had just learned that recently. They had spent time reminiscing about their family back home.
“Guess we all got something we ain’t proud of, yeah?” Aiello asked, glancing over to Daniels.
Daniels cleared his throat as they moved through the lobby of the hotel, upturned furniture surrounding them. “Yeah, I guess so.”
They continued their journey in relative silence with heavy breathing and boot sounds against the tiles, then mud outside. Once they reached the truck, Aiello jumped in. “Give me just a second to get this going.”
Daniels and some other soldiers covered the vehicle, shooting down any Krauts that appeared as Aiello took his sweet time to hotwire the truck despite the frantic shouts from Daniels and the others.
When Aiello finally got it started, Daniels hopped on. “Man, what the hell took so long?” Daniels wheezed, out of breath.
Aiello just shrugged. “Never hotwired one of these before.” He stepped on the gas pedal, jerking Daniels back momentarily. He drove the truck through the torn-up streets, steering it through the hotel pick-up and into the street as Pierson commanded.
“All right!” Turner yelled. “Get the civilians outta here! Let’s go!” Turner waved the German citizens on, directing them to the back of the truck where soldiers from the First Platoon were helping them.
Aiello jogged up to Turner. “Sir, we gotta move. Reinforcements are on the way!” He told him, knowing from the ambush that had appeared while Aiello was hotwiring the truck.
The young woman had been helping an older man when she looked around her. Her eyes widened in fear. “Anna?” Once she realized the young child was no longer with her, she took off sprinting towards the hotel lobby. “Anna!” She called out, desperation evident. However, she was stopped by an aggravated Pierson.
“Hold on, where ya goin’?” He questioned. She yelled out frantically in German. Pierson simply looked over to Zussman.
“She thinks her sister went back to the basement.” He translated. Pierson clenched his jaw and his eyes hardened.
“Well, then that’s where she’s stayin’. We gotta get these people outta here. Come on.” Pierson said, pushing her gently toward the military truck.
Daniels looked between the woman’s face and Pierson's. He turned towards Turner. “Lieutenant. Let me go.” Daniels rasped, feeling for the woman.
“Nobody’s going!” Pierson cut him off with a raised tone. Turner ignored him.
“You got two minutes. No more than that.” Turner said, pointing a finger at Daniels, staring him down. Pierson rolled his eyes, walking away to escort the young German lady to the truck.
“I’m going with you,” Zussman appeared from behind Pierson, staring Daniels down with an intense look.
Turner’s eyes flickered from Zussman at his side to Daniels in front of him. He sighed, almost unnoticeablely. “You two get back here fast. Two minutes, or we’re leaving with you.” Turner told them, his commanding tone going unquestioned. The two soldiers nodded briefly, before taking off through the side door of the hotel.
Zussman and Daniels walked carefully and in time, ensuring their boots on the linoleum floor did not give their position away. They moved in between antique furniture, shattered glass, and pieces of wood that had been set aflame.
Daniels glanced at his partner. “So, officially out as German?” He muttered, keeping his tone low. Zussman breathed out harshly.
“As German? No. Speaking German? Unfortunately, yes.” Zuss whispered back. Daniels held back his amused chuckle. “But, the lady was panicked, couldn’t let her alert every Nazi in the block,” Zussman added. Daniels nodded in agreement, even though he attributed Zussman’s intervention more to an act of empathy than anything else.
They entered the back hallway, approaching the large wooden door that led to the basement. Daniels slowly pushed the door open.
“Shit!” He rasped, as a German soldier, looking just as surprised as Daniels felt, knocked Daniels's weapon out of his hands and tackled him to the ground. The fall slammed the breath from Daniels’s lungs, leaving him gasping and dazed as the Kraut raised his weapon above his head.
The Kraut’s weapon never came down as the stock of Zuss’s gun made contact with the back of his head. The soldier instantly slumped on top of Daniels. With great effort, Daniels pushed the soldier off of his chest and onto the floor. Zussman’s hand flew down to grasp Daniels’s, heaving him onto his feet.
“You alright?” Zussman asked, his eyes wide and grip tight.
“Yes.” Daniels wheezed after a moment. He picked up his weapon from the floor. “We have to keep moving.” Not wasting another moment with the incapacitated German soldier, the two men jogged down the concrete stairs toward the basement. “Fuck, I hope she’s down here.” He whispered. ‘Better down in the basement than upstairs with the German soldier,’ Daniels thought. Zussman muttered in agreement.
Zussman pushed open the large cellar door, taking in the room before moving to where he had found all of the other citizens earlier. The curtain opened to show empty sleeping mats and makeshift tables. Zussman looked back at Daniels and shook his head. Not here. Daniels cursed silently before creeping further into the room. Several smaller doors lined the back wall. Daniels began to open them while Zussman began at the other end.
At the sound of a small gasp, Daniels walked swiftly to Zussman where he found Anna recoiling to the wall. Zussman crouched, opening his arms widely. “Es ist okay. Wir werden dir nicht weh tun,” He said in a soft voice. Anna hesitated momentarily before climbing into Zuss’s arms, a tattered stuffed bear hanging loosely from her hands. Zussman turned towards Daniels. “Let’s get….” Zussman started when he heard German voices. Fuck. They had been so preoccupied with finding the girl that they had forgotten to hide the German soldier upstairs.
Anna squirmed in his hands, her little body beginning to tremble. “Shh..” Zussman attempted to comfort her.
The sight was a little heartwarming for Daniels, despite the imminent danger in the room.
The two men and child in tow crouched along the stacked crates, peering around the corner to watch the advancing soldiers. After waiting for the closest Kraut to move, Daniels led the way, ducking behind another set of crates and an antique couch. He waved Zussman over. They huddled together as two men with flashlights crept by, on the lookout for someone. As he passed, Daniels and Zussman slipped by, sneaking out the door that they had entered through.
The two men picked up pace as soon as they were out of the door, stuttering to a halt halfway down the hallway as German voices echoed down the stairs. “Dammit,” Daniels huffed. Zussman pulled open the side door that Aiello had pointed out earlier, grasped Daniels by the arm, and tugged him into the closet.
The girl, panicked by the quick movements, dropped her bear in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely. However, the German soldiers had already entered the hallway, leaving no time to pick it up without drawing attention to the door. “Fuck….” Daniels breathed, his internal clock ticking. Zussman pulled Daniels back further, bringing his back into contact with his chest while Anna, whose eyes were trained on the toy, was essentially resting on both of their sides.
Three Krauts stopped out in front of the small window of the door. They began to argue heavily.
“...Americans outside…backup needed…” Zussman translated, whispering into Daniels's ear. “Officer is reprimanding them.” He summarized, keeping his voice almost silent. Daniels stuttered a nod. He looked down at the toy on the ground, praying that it wouldn’t give them away. A calloused hand landed over Daniels’s jaw, steadying his head straight. “Stop moving,” Zuss hissed. Daniels realized a second later that his sudden movements weren’t helping. So, Daniels kept still despite the Germans in front of him and the half-German behind him.
After a final word from the officer, the other soldiers ran off up the stairs. Yet, the officer lagged behind, eyes spotting the ragged bear on the floor. Both Daniels and Zussman’s breathing halted. They watched as the German crouched, hand reaching towards the bear. By the grace of God, a scream from upstairs caught his attention, leaving the toy to join the others upstairs.
Daniels pushed open the door, handing the bear off to Zussman who gave it to Anna. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Daniels said.
They ran up the stairs, screaming and gunfire growing louder as they reached the wooden door. German soldiers ran past. Daniels had no idea where the hell they were coming from. It was almost as if they had never captured the hotel in the first place.
Daniels moved first, running towards the left hallway. As he spotted a concealed area, he waved over Zussman, who shielded Anna the entire time. They advanced, almost diving behind a bar counter as a grenade erupted. The child cried out in German, alerting a soldier running nearby. His distraction allowed stray gunfire to take him out.
Daniels searched for a way out, eyes landing on a side room that had not yet been touched by the acts of war. He grabbed Zuss by his unoccupied arm and guided him to the side room. They paused for a second to breathe. The taste of gunpowder and iron in the room wasn’t particularly appealing. Daniels dropped Zussman’s arm to wipe his sleeve across his face.
The exit was a straight shot from the room.
“Ready?” Daniels asked Zussman. He nodded grimly.
“Let’s go.”
They got up from where they had been crouching. Together, they ran across the front lobby while trying to ignore the alert yells from the Nazis behind them. As they crossed the doorway to the outside, soldiers came running towards them. Daniels pushed Zussman behind him.
“Wait! They’re one of ours,” one of them shouted. Daniels relaxed considerably. The truck was in sight as they dodged oncoming soldiers and fallen trees.
Zussman set Anna down as she saw her sister, who was being held back by Pierson. They shared a quick hug as Anna began to ramble in German. The older sister looked between Daniels and Zussman.
“Thank you..” She said softly.
Pierson watched for a moment, before raising a hand. “Okay, they can take it from here. Let’s go,” he finished, walking away.
Turner looked over his shoulder at Pierson. “We’re escorting them and that’s final.” He told everyone. Pierson stopped to stare down Turner, an indignant look upon his face.
Zussman cleared his throat from beside Daniels. “Pierson’s right, sir. If we got with them, chances are they’ll draw fire. Seems like a risky move..” Zussman reasoned. Pierson walked back towards the group, body stiff.
Turner only narrowed his eyes. “Private Zussman, we are clearing this street, and then getting them out! Understood?” Daniels watched as Zussman’s jaw tensed.
“Oh, I understand sir. I just think they might be safer on their own.” Zussman retorted. Pierson stepped up next to Zussman.
“And, if we let the Germans reoccupy this hotel, every squad that comes through here will be in danger.” Pierson continued, pointing towards the soldiers surrounding the hotel.
Turner looked over at the squad outside of the hotel before turning back to Pierson. “This is not Kasserine.” He affirmed. “We have the upper hand. Now, get them on the truck.” Turner ordered.
Pierson shrugged loosely. “It’s your show.” He muttered helplessly.
Gunshots rang out, ricocheting off of the truck. Immediately, the platoon ran to cover as German infantry appeared from a nearby street.
Daniels ducked behind some stacked boxes, leaning out to shoot at German Shepherds who had been gunning for him. The Krauts moved swiftly, advancing towards the First Platoon and the truck full of citizens that lay behind them.
They continued to defend their position on the street until the last of the German attackers dropped dead. Luckily, it had been a minor attack compared to what they had experienced within the hotel.
Pierson yelled out towards where Zussman and Daniels were. “See if anyone can drive the truck!”
Together, Zuss and Daniels lowered the back door. “Kann jemand von euch einen LKW fahren? Wir brauchen einen Fahrer!” Zussman asked the citizens. A middle-aged man slowly raised his hand. Daniels urged him to the end of the truck with a waving hand. He jumped down and ran around the truck, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Sudden gunfire hitting the side of the truck startled Daniels. He retrieved his pistol to shoot down the two German attackers who had lived.
A shrill scream from the truck had Zussman nearly climbing into the truck. Anna was kneeling over her older sister, who had collapsed to the floor, red seeping out of her once-white blouse. Zussman pushed an older man off the floor to get a better look. Daniels knew it before Zussman ever said anything.
“She’s gone,” Zussman said numbly over Anna’s crying. Pierson marched over, taking one glance at the dead woman, before slamming his weapon on the side of the truck.
“Go on! Go!” Pierson yelled to the driver. The truck sputtered for a second before taking off down the street.
Turner jogged to him, voice raised. “What the hell are you doing?”
Pierson stared him down. “Following orders. Everybody back to the hotel! Move, move, move!” He ordered, his voice hardened. Nearby soldiers took off in the direction of the hotel. Zussman and Daniels move slower than the others, their eyes watching the two men.
Turner watched as the truck drove off, glancing at Pierson, before taking a step towards the truck. Pierson caught him by the arm. “Hey. There is nothing that we can do,” he said softly. Turner continued to watch the truck drive off. Pierson simply shook his head and waved the two men towards the hotel.
The rest of the day was a blur after that. The First Platoon secured the hotel, once and for all. Near 2200 o’clock, they set up camp on the upper floor of the hotel, managing to find some adjoined rooms that were not completely destroyed.
This time, Zussman didn’t ask before walking in and throwing himself on the bed. Daniels pulled off his boots, outer jacket, and helmet before following suit and letting himself fall back onto the bed. That’s how they fell asleep until morning.
When Daniels woke up at the first hint of sunlight, he carefully removed Zussman’s arms and took out his journal. He thumbed at the letter sticking out of the pages. He didn’t dare open it yet. Ignoring it, he flipped to the next available page and began to write.
‘We secured Aachen. Opened a western corridor to the Rhine. But the rift between Turner and Pierson is growing wider. And it’s not just our lives hanging in the balance.’ Daniels paused and glanced over at his, his friend still sleeping in the bed. ‘And I am doing everything I can to ignore him. It only gets harder by the day.’