Captain. J. Winters, Allied Forces, 1941

A short story about Cpt. J. Winters during 1941. Its the first of two short stories I'm writing that are set in World War 2. And yes, they are also based off a game I play.

 

1941, London

Captain Winters, a young man not long into late twenties walked down one of the many inner corridors of Parliament. He felt uncomfortable being here, he’d never considered himself to be anything more than a career soldier fighting on the front lines against the Nazi forces that had been steadily pushing their way through mainland Europe. But he’d been given his orders; he was to report to Section 14 of Whitehall for debriefing and reassignment. Now Captain Winters was an intelligent man, some might say exceptionally intelligent. He knew when something was amiss, and also knew that there was more to this next assignment than he was being told. Why were his new orders to come from Whitehall and not from his regional commanders, or even some of the other higher up military officers still stationed in Britain? It frustrated him not knowing what was happening to the troops that had been put under his command, a group of men that had practically become family to him. Indeed only a few weeks ago he had saved the youngest member of his unit from a sniper attack as they were moving through what had seemed to be an abandoned village near the centre of France.

A few weeks ago, somewhere in France

    “Everyone down, NOW!” The order was shouted just as a single shot rang out from somewhere, anywhere. Immediately the squad of 7 men dropped behind cover, trying to make themselves as small a target as possible for the sniper. The rubble from the recent shelling had left enough of it scattered around for them to dive behind. They couldn’t tell how many of the enemy there was, or where the shot had come from. Captain Jonathon Winters checked over his men, looking at each one in turn to make sure that they had survived the attack. The men all nodded back, a little stunned but alive nonetheless. This wasn’t the first time there captain had saved them from danger, and they considered him a bit of a good luck charm. But they were soldiers of His Royal Highness first and foremost and acted as they’d been trained to. One of them, a corporal by his shoulder badge, was already attempting to get through to the rest of the detachment from the 101^st Light Artillery regiment, but by his face they knew that there wasn’t any luck. It was almost as if the radio waves over the entire area where being distorted, nothing was getting through.

“Save the battery corporal, we’ll need it to get out of here.” Captain Winters had made his way over to where the corporal was hiding, as had the rest of the squad. They were a little nervous but nothing that they weren’t trained to deal with. They readied their rifles, new models just introduced to the army, with practiced ease. Captain Winters checked the radio one last time before turning to his men.

“Okay lads, this is the way it works. The enemy has taken refuge somewhere in what remains of this little village, right. And they have a rifle and thought they could pick us off as we walked in there. I’d all that smart, but they made one mistake.”

“And what was that, sir?” asked the youngest member of the squad, a Private Roberts. The kid was still shaking a little, this being the first time he’d been in a situation like this. Captain Winter’s smiled; Private Roberts was still wet enough behind the ears to ask questions at times like this.

“Thanks for asking Private. It’s simple, the idiot in there doesn’t realise he’s dealing with the British army. Probably thinks it one of the local lads as they’d know the area better than we do. So, what we’re going to do is make him regret that mistake.” The captain looked over what was they currently used as cover: half of a house blown into pieces by an artillery shell. He looked at the ruined buildings that led into the centre of the village, towards a large building that could only be a church. He ducked his head back into cover, not wanting to risk too much exposure.

“Sergeant, I want you, Smith and Jones there to head round the north side of what remains of this place. See if there’s anything, anything at all, that we can use to get out of here in a hurry.” The three men started to move, keeping low and in cover.

“Oh and Sergeant, if you see any more of those Germans you have my express permission to        shoot the b******s dead.”

 The sergeant smiled, nodded and gathered his men before running towards the building.

     “Okay next. Corporal, take Thompson and the kid here and make your way back out of town. See if you can get through to someone from the regiment and let them know what’s going on here. And no Private, I’m not going with you and before you ask I’m not going to tell you what I’m going to do. Just be a good lad and follow the orders and try not to get shot at!”

The captain had stopped looking at them and was once again looking over the rubble towards the church tower. It was the best place if you wanted to set up and take shots at anyone coming into the village. The problem was it was one of the buildings they’d used as a reference marker for the shelling, and was in a horrible state. That and something else was nagging at the back of his mind, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. He looked over at his men as they made their way out of the village. They were good men; he knew they’d follow his orders to the letter. He checked over the rubble one last time, counted to ten and then started running towards the ruined house. He reached it before the first shot was fired, missing him by inches. The guy was good, just missing a running target by such a small amount. Captain Winters didn’t stop running, diving through the ruined wall and into the next house. The cover provided by the buildings was enough so that the sniper couldn’t get a better shot on him, though that didn’t stop the sniper trying. He made it to the end of the buildings without being shot, but now he had to get to the church. Pulling up strength he didn’t realise he had he broke from the cover of the ruins and dove into the church, rolling as he landed and pulling out the revolver he’d been carrying since the beginning of the war. 

The church was a mess, the shelling must having taken a heavy toll on the building. Walls were missing, there were holes in the roof, the remains of stained glass windows crunched underfoot as he walked through it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the church, but that didn’t make the uneasy feeling he’d had since the squads arrival go away. Shaking it off he headed for the stairs. As was expected they were ruined, just like the rest of the village. So how had the sniper gotten to the top of the tower? Carefully Jonathon climbed, taking his time and making sure not to make any sounds he reached the top of the stairs and looked into the room at the top. It was bare; a few crates lying around, the rubble from the building littering the floor. And a man, dressed in a black German uniform training a line of sight onto a target. Jonathon checked the revolver, it was fully loaded. From where he was standing he could see what the German was aiming for.

     “Damn that kid.” He whispered out of despair and rage. Private Roberts wasn’t paying attention to the danger as he ran between the buildings, looking for something. Quietly Jonathon crept up behind the German, aiming his pistol at the man. It wasn’t good manners to shoot the man, not when he could be taken prisoner. The sound of a car engine starting up brought the man out of his fixed attention. Jonathon didn’t have any time to react, he snapped off a few shots hoping for one to connect but his target was too fast, dodging behind some crates to avoid being hit. Needing to reload he ran back into the stairwell, giving himself a bit of cover. A few shots ricocheted off the walls and floor, this guy was good. He waited, counting to ten before turning round the corner. His opponent hadn’t made it behind another set of crates before he’d fired off a few rounds. One of the rounds connected with the man’s shoulder, knocking him over before he could make it behind the crate. Not wanting to waste this chance Jonathon ran into the room, kicking away the German’s rifle so that he couldn’t use it. Kicking the man onto his back Jonathon planted his foot onto the man’s chest, pinning him to the floor.

“Don’t even consider moving, I’m in a very bad mood and you’re…” he started to say, but noticed something was wrong. The wound on the man’s shoulder was healing, the flesh on his arm re-knitting itself back to normal. Within minutes the wound was healed, with not a scar or any mark to show that he’d been shot. Whatever this man was, he wasn’t exactly human. And this scared Jonathon. It terrified him.

“What are you?”

“Well, I’d love to stay and talk with you, but it seems that your own army is going to shell this place again.” The German said, punching out with his arm and knocking Jonathon from standing on top of him.

“Oh and Captain,” he was standing now, looking towards one of the shattered windows, “you might want to run now.” The man jumped out the window, dropping to the street floor before Jonathon could get to the window. He could see the man running away, down one of the side streets.

“What the hell are you?” Jonathon wondered aloud, noticing that Private Roberts was looking up at him in awe.

“Private, next time I tell you to get out of the village you had better damn well get out of the village!” he shouted down, taking out his frustration on the unlucky kid.

“Sir, the sarge found a German jeep, sir. He’s got it running; we have to get out of here, sir!” Private Roberts shouted up, the nervousness in his voice gone in the heat of action. He’d make a good soldier, Jonathon knew he would.

“Then why are you standing there private?”

“Sir, we got word from the regiment. They’re going to shell this place again, sir. We have to leave now, sir!” his voice was nearly drowned out by the sounds of the incoming shells. Captain Jonathon Winters started running back towards the stairs.

“Ah shi…”

A room inside Whitehall

“Thank you for your report, Captain. It was most interesting. It’s good to know you got your men out of that village before the shelling started.” A man in a military suit said, sitting at a round table with a few other men and women. They all had the bearings of people who knew more than they were saying, but also of people that had to make hard decisions on a daily basis. This war was taking its toll on everyone, be it the soldiers in Europe or the families left behind at home.

“And your sure about what happened with the German officer you met?” one of them asked, a younger man roughly the same age as Captain Winters.

“Sir, yes sir. Everything that happened was in my report, sir!” he answered, crisply and concisely as was expected when dealing with officers.

“So, it’s started then,” the woman, attractive and with eyes that seemed to strip away the soul when he looked into them, “they’re sending them to the front lines now.”

“It would appear so, my lady. I don’t think we have any choice left to us, we have to find them. All of them.” Said the military officer, though the captain couldn’t help but wonder at the amount of reverence the speaker had had for the lady when addressing her. She nodded, her eyes wet. This was not an easy decision for her to make. She looked at him, their eyes meeting for only the briefest of moments. But it was enough, whatever she would ask for him he would have done.

“Captain,” she started, “we’re putting together a taskforce. A team of specialist individuals, men and women who, shall we say, are exceptional in a number of different ways.”

“Thank you ma’am, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” A folder was slid over to him; it had the words ‘Strategic Combat in Operational Nature’ was written on it, with a big red ‘Top Secret’ stamp on.

“That’s simple captain. You are a man who is capable of protecting his men and getting them to perform some might say exceptional feats in the face of danger. We’ve looked over your file Captain, we know this isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in an event of this nature before. Captain, we want you to lead this team and bring out there best for us. The nature of this war may very well depend on your actions, and those of the people under you command. Can we trust you with this?”

Jonathon looked at the men and women around the table, weighing up his options. He looked at each one of them, hoping to find an answer in their faces, but getting none. He looked back at the table, at the file in front of him. He looked back to the woman that had spoken, knowing then what his answer was going to be.

“I have one request, if you will grant it.” He said his voice calm and collected. She smiled, and nodded for him to continue.

“I pick the team.”

“Captain Jonathon Winters, we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Author's Note

Its a first draft. Oh and please comment will you...