The easy way to neutralize a pillbox was to sneak up and put a grenade through one of the slits. A good man could probably crawl to the nearer one unobserved. But Woody needed to take out both at the same time – otherwise the attack on the first would forewarn the occupants of the second.
How could he reach the farther pillbox without being seen by the patrolling sentries?
He sensed his men getting restless. They did not like to think their leader might be unsure as to what to do next.
‘Sneaky Pete,’ he said. ‘You’ll crawl up to that nearest pillbox and put a grenade through the slit.’
Pete looked terrified, but he said: ‘Yes, sir.’
Next, Woody named the two best shots in the platoon. ‘Smoking Joe and Mack,’ he said. ‘Choose one each of the sentries. As soon as Pete deploys his grenade, take the sentries out.’
The two men nodded and hefted their weapons.
In the absence of Defoe, he decided to make Ace Webber his deputy. He named four others and said: ‘Go with Ace. As soon as the shooting starts, run like hell across the bridge and storm the pillbox on the other side. If you’re quick enough you’ll catch them napping.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ace. ‘The bastards won’t know what’s hit them.’ His aggression was masking fear, Woody guessed.
‘Everyone not in Ace’s group, follow me into the near pillbox.’
Woody felt bad about giving Ace and those with him the more dangerous assignment, and himself the relative safety of the nearer pillbox; but it had been drummed into him that an officer must not risk his life unnecessarily, for then he might leave his men leaderless.
They walked towards the bridge, Pete in the lead. This was a dangerous moment. Ten men going along a street together could not remain unnoticed for long, even at night. Anyone looking carefully in their direction would sense movement.
If the alarm was raised too soon, Sneaky Pete might not get to the pillbox, and then the platoon would lose the advantage of surprise.
It was a long walk.
Pete reached a corner and stopped. Woody guessed he was waiting for the near sentry to leave his post outside the pillbox and walk to the middle.
The two sharpshooters found cover and settled in.
Woody dropped to one knee and signalled the others to do likewise. They all watched the sentry.
The man took a long pull on his cigarette, dropped it, trod on the end to put it out, and blew a long cloud of smoke. Then he eased himself upright, settled his rifle strap on his shoulder, and started walking.
The sentry on the far side did the same.
Pete ran the next block and came to the end of the street. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled rapidly across the road. He reached the pillbox and stood up.
No one had noticed. The two sentries were still approaching one another.
Pete took out a grenade and pulled the pin. Then he waited a few seconds. Woody guessed he did not want the men inside to have time to throw the grenade out again.
Pete reached around the curve of the dome and gently dropped the grenade inside.
Joe and Mack’s carbines barked. The nearer sentry fell, but the farther one was unhurt. To his credit he did not turn and run, but courageously went down on one knee and unslung his rifle. He was too slow, though: the carbines spoke again, almost simultaneously, and he fell without firing.
Then Pete’s grenade exploded inside the nearer pillbox with a muffled thump.
Woody was already running full pelt, and the men were close behind him. Within seconds he reached the bridge.
The pillbox had a low wooden door. Woody flung it open and stepped inside. Three men in German uniforms were dead on the floor.
He moved to a firing slit and looked out. Ace and his four men were haring across the short bridge, shooting at the farther pillbox as they ran. The bridge was only a hundred feet long, but that proved to be fifty feet too much. As they reached the middle, a machine gun opened up. The Americans were trapped in a narrow corridor with no cover. The machine gun clacked insanely and in seconds all five of them had fallen. The gun continued to rake them for several seconds, to be certain they were dead – and, in the process, making sure of the two German sentries too.
When it stopped, they were all still.
Silence fell.
Beside Woody, Lefty Cameron said: ‘Jesus Christ Almighty.’
Woody could have wept. He had sent ten men to their deaths, five Americans and five Germans, yet he had failed to achieve his objective. The enemy still held the far end of the bridge and could stop Allied forces crossing it.
He had four men left. If they tried again, and ran across the bridge together, they would all be killed. He needed a new plan.
He studied the townscape. What could he do? He wished he had a tank.
