Gone in a Flash

Chapter 2

Gone in a Flash

 

            As Phil Hurley and his gang of American soldiers huddled together in the trench, they held onto sticks and roasted marshmallows, telling stories to one another of their own experiences and thoughts. Phil was the commander of the 33^rd Division, consisting of 75 men. Phil was a kind man: but when it came to war, he was as strict and serious as anyone.

            Phil was thinking about his wife at home when Greg Wollitzer interrupted his thoughts. There were only four men around the commander’s campfire.

            “So Philly…” he said with a mouth full of marshmallow. He swallowed, and then went on. “What’s the next move, huh? We stayin’ or movin’?”

             Greg was the kind of person that when he started talking, you had to put your hand over his mouth just to get him to shut up. He was very intelligent, but at times he could be a real pain in the rear.

            Phil stared down at the marshmallow in the fire, being turned black by the heat. He spoke, still staring at it, and said, “I don’t know, Greg. Maybe you should learn how to swallow first.” The other men laughed. Tim Jeffers, Phil’s assistant, spoke up next to Fred. His face showed no emotion, and the fire cast a shadow over his face.

            “But seriously, boss. What do we do next? We can’t just sit here and wait to be attacked by the Germans. We gotta do somethin’. We must be the aggressors!”

            “Woah there, Timmy,” Phil said, still holding his marshmallow stick. “I’ve already received orders from General O’Hagan. He says he wants us to stay here for the night, and then advance in the morning. We’ll be safe here for tonight. No one knows about this place anyways.” He put the marshmallow in his mouth, threw the stick in the fire, and stood. “Alright, men. To your tents. We rise early in the morning to advance. 0600.” And with that, the men stood, saluted, and returned to their tents.

            Little did they know of the horror awaiting them when they woke.

           

•••

 

            A gunshot at 5:30 in the morning was enough for Greg to jump out of bed.

            “Wake up, men! We’re under fire! Grab and retreat!” Phil yelled. They had practiced this many a time, but this time it was real. The German Army was advancing quickly, and there was no resistance. The attack came as a total surprise.

            Greg grabbed his jacket, helmet and gun, and ran out of the tent. He looked in the German army’s direction, only to see a parade of enemies running down the hillside in their direction. Greg joined up with his division’s retreat.

            They reached another crest in the hill, and below it was a house. It was different from other houses, and big enough for most of the men to fit in. Greg reached the crest, and all of a sudden, his spine tingled and the last thing he remembered was seeing the ground rushing up towards him and rolling down the hill.

            “Don’t look back!” Phil yelled. “The house is just ahead!” And it was. The Germans were very near now, and men were falling like flies around him. He stopped Tim and yelled, “Timmy! Go see if anyone is in there! If so, tell them we must enter under military emergency!” Tim nodded and sprinted for the lab. He could sense that their division was going down fast and that the Germans were very close. He ran up to the window and pounded on it, yelling, “Hello?! Is anyone in there?” The last thing he remembered was seeing a man in a white lab coat staring at him. His head slumped down the window, leaving a red smear of defeat on it. All 75 were dead.

           

•••

 

When Markus Eisenberg shot down the last American soldier, he smiled and ran down to check on him and make sure he did in fact hit him. As he was running, he noticed a figure run by the window inside the building. He ran to the door and kicked it. It fell immediately, and he jumped into the room. Across the room sat a man inside some type of machine. With his gun ready, Markus fired. He had no time to react before he was on the ground, blood gushing out of his chest. The bullet had deflected off of the man (or at least that’s what it looked like) and hit him in the chest.

 

•••

 

Hugo Klug, commander of the German army 64^th Division, looked on as his best soldier, Markus, fired the shot that killed the last American soldier standing. Phil Hurley lay at his feet; a yell of warning that never quite escaped his now silenced lips lay across his face, frozen in time. “Du, Markus. Gehen sie sehen, wenn er lebt.” (You, Markus. Go see if he lives.) He ran down to the soldier, but slowed up a little when he neared. He skipped the soldier and went to the door. “Was macht er?” Hugo questioned (What is he doing?). He kicked the door down and jumped in. Hugo saw as his best man got hit with a bullet. He was about ready to charge the building when it erupted in a bright flash of green light. The German army was blinded, and they sheltered their eyes as Fred’s transport flew into the air in an amazing display of color and light.