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Sometime during the night German panzers had moved into position overlooking the town of baupte in northern france. We didn't know it till the next morning when jerry began to shell us and mortars rained down on us like hell and brimstone. One officer, he was a captain i think, was hit by an entire screaming meemie inside a sandbagged machine gun nest. God it was horrible in there. After a little while the fire let up but the heat increased and the smell of scorched flesh seeped into everything. Inside our clothes, our helemts, even our gas masks. The worst part about it was thinking about you yourself laying there in the middle of a rubble strewn street with your guts hanging out and your eyes getting eaten by the crows. I sometimes wonder how anyone was able to stand it. Fortunately I was only a corporal at the time and my sargeant led us through it. It was june 15, 1944 when we had to get through after the invasion or we would be pushed back across the english channel. Most of my squad never made it out of the plane. I was hung up in a tree until i could get a good hold on my bayonet and cut myself loose. Then i had a seven foot fall carrying seventy pounds of gear. Damn lucky i didn't break my ankle. But then again I would have been back on a medical ship by then. instead of being in that damn town. We had a few strafing runs from the german's favorite crop dusters and bombers. We were dug in by then, and we were safe from the tanks but not the meemies. They had a flat trajectory so when they came down they came down straight into a foxhole or a trench. Eventualy we were able to get up and advance to the base of a hill. I remember one thing though, mines. A private about twenty yards ahead of me stepped on one and rained down for about three minutes. Never knew what happened, lucky b*****d. We lost our medic on the drop but got another along the way. A little jew named Grenzenstein or some sort of spelling like that. He was good at repairing wounds and such, even decent at treating the clap. But that day he couldn't do anything for that poor GI. We made it to the top of the hill finaly, only to find that they had fallen back. As soon as the sarge topped the ridge the machine guns ripped him to shreds. Being the highest in comand then i decided we had suffered enough and called in artillery on the sonsabitches. Last thing i remember before i woke up three weeks later was flying...about six feet in the air and landing in a pile of rubble. They told me one of the soldiers had stepped on another mine, but it had been on his right side, opposite where i was walking and it saved me even though i lost alot of blood and flesh. That little jew saved my life by god. It's been sixty-one years now, but i will never forget private Grenzenstein. He died last year, at the age of ninety two.

Another one of my stories. A bit longer and more developed.

Editted by t0paz. Questions,comments, concerns? Cheese?

Everyone gets careless once or twice, and when you do that's when you get hurt.