Mahoney was awakened by the sound of a ferocious explosion. He opened his eyes and looked around as bits of the ceiling fell down and the people in the cellar screamed in panic. Mahoney grabbed his rifle and stood, squinting and trying to see the doorway through the clouds of dust. He held one hand in front of him and made his way to the door, passing through the outside corridor and climbing the stairs.
He heard a great number of artillery shells falling in his vicinity and knew the Germans must be attacking again. Leaving the building, he saw that it was dawn and the street in front of him was filled with paratroopers running toward the center of the city. Looking to his left, he saw a horde of German soldiers coming round the bend.
He realized in an instant that the Germans had broken through someplace. An empty American armored personnel carrier fleeing down the middle of the street was hit by a German anti-tank shell, and its rear end was blown to shreds. Its driver jumped out of the cab and ran away.
Mahoney charged into the street, “Hold on!” he shouted to the fleeing paratroopers. “Stand your ground!”
But the paratroopers kept running. Their defensive lines had been breached, and they were falling back to new positions, although they couldn’t afford to give up much ground in a small, surrounded city like Bastogne.
Bullets ricocheted off the street and whizzed through the air as Mahoney tried to think of what to do. His eyes fell on the .50 caliber machine gun on top of the destroyed armored personnel carrier. It might be working, and if it was, it could stop the Germans long enough for the paratroopers to regroup and counterattack.
Mahoney ran into the street, pushing paratroopers out of his way. He leapt onto the back of the vehicle, climbed over the wreckage, and made his way to the .50 caliber machine gun on the roof of the cab. He looked it over, and it appeared undamaged. Leaning his rifle against the wall of the tiny enclosed spot where the machine gun had been mounted, he saw that the machine gun was loaded and that there were three crates of bullets on the floor.
Mahoney swung the machine gun around and looked down the sights at German soldiers swarming down the street toward him. He prayed the machine gun would work and pressed the thumb triggers. It fired thunderously, and the big bullets blasted out of the barrel. The bullets were almost twice the size of ordinary rifle or machine gun bullets and were designed to shoot down planes and pierce light armor. Each fifth bullet was a tracer so the gunner could see where he was firing.
Mahoney held the triggers down and swung the machine gun from side to side on its transverse mechanism. A hail of bullets illuminated by tracers flew down the street and ripped into the Germans, who were jammed together between the buildings that lined the street. The bullets were so powerful they could go through three or four Germans before they ran out of steam, and the front wall of attacking Germans collapsed before the hot lead, blood spurting out of their bodies.
Mahoney kept firing, the big machine gun shaking his entire body, and he shot down the second wave of Germans. But the rest of them kept coming. They were enthusiastic and felt heroic because they’d managed to storm the city’s outer defenses, but Mahoney’s bullets tore them apart and soon heaps of dead Germans lay in the street. The attack faltered.
Mahoney stopped a moment to give the machine gun a rest. “COME ON YOU COCKSUCKERS!” he screamed. “IF YOU WANT A FIGHT—HERE I AM!”
A German hiding behind a telephone pole fired a panzerfaust at the armored vehicle, and it hit low in back, blowing apart the metal armor and rear axle and jolting Mahoney so badly he was thrown against the wall of his little machine gun nest. His head would have been bashed in if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet, but he pulled himself together quickly and got behind the machine gun again.
Pressing the thumb triggers, the machine gun kicked and trembled on its stalk. In the corner of his eye, he saw some Germans trying to set up an anti-tank gun, so he swung the machine gun in that direction and poured lead into them until they all were lying on the ground with enormous holes in their bodies.
The German with the panzerfaust fired again, but this time his aim was wide, and his shell flew past the left side of Mahoney. However, Mahoney had seen him fire the weapon. Mahoney aimed his machine gun at the hapless German and directed a deadly stream of bullets at him. The German tried to hide himself behind the telephone pole, but the big bullets ripped the wood apart, and one bullet finally slammed into the German’s chest, knocking him off his feet. The rest of the bullets cut the telephone pole in half, causing the top half to fall on the dead German and break his bones.
The retreating American paratroopers saw what Mahoney was doing, and realized they had a chance against the Germans after all. They stopped running, took cover, and fired back at the Germans. Their sergeants and officers reestablished order and moved the men forward, utilizing the principles of fire and maneuver. Machine guns and bazookas were put into position.
Atop the ruined personnel carrier, Mahoney fired the machine gun until he came to the end of the belt, and it flew off into the air. Bending down, he opened the second crate of ammunition and fed the fresh belt into the chamber. As he was standing, a German anti-tank shell hit the personnel carrier, and once again he was thrown to the side by the explosion.
He regained consciousness with a terrible headache and blood oozing out of a cut on his forehead. Staggering to his feet, he heard tank engines, and turned to see one of General McAuliffe’s roving tank units tearing down the street. The American paratroopers made way, and the tanks passed Mahoney, charging toward the German soldiers, who scattered in all directions and ran to safety. The tanks fired their cannons and machine guns at the Germans, and when they caught up with them, they knocked them to the ground and rolled over them.
The American paratroopers shouted and bellowed as they brandished their rifles and ran to mop up what remained of the Germans. Mahoney slung his rifle over his shoulder and climbed down from the ruined personnel carrier. Standing beside it, he lit a cigarette and wondered where to go for breakfast. Then he remembered Madeleine at the hospital. He looked at his watch. It was eight o’clock in the morning. Maybe she was on duty now!
Mahoney oriented himself and set off in the direction of the hospital, thinking of Madeleine and her frail beauty. He yearned to gather her into his arms and kiss her curvaceous lips, but after that, he couldn’t imagine what he’d do. He thought that to screw such a creature would be like a violation of the pure food act. There was something pristine and wonderful about her despite her profession. She only did that to stay alive, but he knew she was no whore at heart. He believed that despite all the soldiers she’d been to bed with, the essential part of her remained pure and always would be pure. He saw her face before him and began to run. Paratroopers moving about on the streets saw him and figured he was carrying a message of the utmost importance.
Finally, he came to the civilian hospital, which had been hit by several more shells since he had seen it last. He went inside, and it was more crowded than before, with wounded people stacked like sardines in the reception room and corridors. Mahoney stepped over their bodies as he made his way to the children’s ward.
It too had become more crowded, and the chubby woman with big boobs was on duty. Some of the children noticed Mahoney, and their big eyes widened.
“Hey GI,” one of them said. “You got candy for me?”
Mahoney felt embarrassed because he knew he should have brought something for the children, but he’d been thinking only of Madeleine.
“Sorry kiddo,” Mahoney said cheerily. “Next time I come, I’ll have some candy for everybody.”
As the words left his mouth, he wondered where he was going to get candy for all these kids. The chubby woman saw him and walked toward him in the narrow space between the beds.
“Hello,” she said with a smile. “You’ve come to see Madeleine?”
“Yes, is she around?”
“She’s in the pharmacy. I’ll go get her for you.”
The woman walked away. Mahoney took off his helmet and tried to think of something clever to say to Madeleine when she showed up. He racked his brain for a suitable line, but nothing came to him. I guess I’ll just say hello, he thought. I’ll ask her how she’s been doing.
He began to worry that she wouldn’t remember him. Maybe she hadn’t even liked him and had been friendly because that was her job. She might not even be in this hospital. It might be another Madeleine, and his Madeleine might have left Bastogne before it was surrounded.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. His heart sank as he saw a brunette around Madeleine’s height, but it wasn’t Madeleine. Oh shit, he thought, I knew it all was too good to be true. This is a different Madeleine.
The woman wore a wrinkled dress and looked exhausted, but she tried to smile. “May I help you?” she asked.
“No, that’s all right,” Mahoney replied, shuffling toward the door.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes ma’am. Thanks anyway.”
Mahoney turned to walk away, feeling sick and demoralized.
“Hey GI!” yelled one of the kids. “Don’t forget the candy next time!”
“I won’t!” Mahoney replied.
Mahoney shuffled sadly through the hospital, thinking that Madeleine had slipped through his fingers, and he’d never see her again. But at least he could get some candy for the kids. I think she would have wanted me to do that, he thought.
~*~
The hospital’s pharmacy was located in its basement, and the chubby woman, whose name was Jeanette, found the Madeleine that Mahoney had been looking for in the long line.
“Madeleine!” said Jeanette. “That big soldier I told you about is up in the ward looking for you!”
Madeleine’s eyes lit with joy. “Right now?”
“Yes! I’ll take your place in line! Go up, and see him!”
Smiling happily, Madeleine ran from the pharmacy and headed for the stairs. When she’d learned that Mahoney had come looking for her yesterday, she’d thought it marvelous because he’d been on her mind ever since that night in the cafe in Clervaux. She’d thought him extraordinarily handsome, resembling the American actor John Garfield somewhat, and he’d been so sweet and charming, not vulgar like most of the other GIs. He’d fought for her honor, on top of everything else. No man ever had done that for her before. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
She flew up the staircase, wondering what to say to him. At first she thought of saying, “Hiya—I see you’ve come back for your five dollars’ worth,” or something else clever like that, but no, that would be a whore’s remark, and she didn’t want to be a whore anymore. She’d felt useful since she’d been working in the hospital and intended to continue there as long as they’d let her.
She reached the main floor of the hospital and raced toward the children’s ward. I’ll just be honest with him, she thought. I’ll say, “Hello—I’m glad to see you again.” That ought to do it. He’s a man and he’ll be able to take it from there.
As she neared the children’s ward, her heart beat like a drum. She felt a mad tickle in her stomach, and her mouth was dry with anxiety. She charged into the children’s ward, looked around, and saw only Annette with the children.
“Where is he?” Madeleine asked Annette.
Annette was washing the face of a little girl. “Where’s who?”
Madeleine’s brown eyes darted all over the ward. “The American soldier who was just here!”
“Oh him? He left.”
“He left!” screamed Madeleine.
Annette looked at Madeleine. “Yes, he left. What’s wrong?”
“Where did he go?”
“How should I know?”
“Didn’t he say anything?”
“I asked if I could help him, and he said he was sorry, and walked away.”
“What!”
Annette narrowed her eyes at Madeleine. “What’s wrong with you, dear?”
Madeleine sighed, closed her eyes, and pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, wondering why Mahoney had walked away and whether or not he’d ever return.
~*~
Mahoney was melancholy and had lost his appetite. Wearily he climbed the steps to General McAuliffe’s headquarters and entered the building. He made his way through the corridors and finally arrived at the conference room.
General McAuliffe stood around the table with his top commanders and aides. Mahoney joined them silently and soon learned that the situation had become perilous in Bastogne. The 101st Airborne was low on artillery ammunition, and some cannons only had one or two shells left to fire. There was also a shortage of regular ammunition, and not much food was left.
“Sir,” said an officer at the table, “we simply can’t hold out much longer.”
“Baloney!” said General McAuliffe. “We’ll hold out even if we have to throw snowballs at the bastards.”
“If only the weather would clear,” somebody said. “Then we could be resupplied by air.”
“Well,” replied McAuliffe, “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you. This weather we’re having looks like it’s going to continue for quite some time.”
“Sir,” said a major, “maybe a few men in trucks could break out of here at night, get some supplies, and come back.”
McAuliffe shook his head. “Too risky.”
“We wouldn’t be risking much, sir, and if we succeeded, our situation here would be considerably improved. I could ask for volunteers.”
“Well,” said McAuliffe, “I want you to make it clear to the volunteers that the mission is a real long shot.”
“I’ll do that sir, and I’ll lead it myself.”
McAuliffe looked at the map. “Let’s see what the best direction would be for you to go.”
All the officers looked down at the map and pondered the matter.
“I’d say,” said McAuliffe, “that your best chance would be on a road heading south.”
Mahoney cleared his throat. “I was on that road yesterday, sir, and there were Germans all over it.”
“Can we go north?” asked McAuliffe.
“Too many Germans to the north, sir,” said a colonel. “That’s where the bulk of their forces are.”
“How about to the east?”
“That’s no good either,” said a captain. “Eighth Corps reports that there’s a wall of Germans between them and us.”
“Hmmm,” said the major, looking at the map. “You said you were on that southern road yesterday, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir. In the morning.”
The major looked at General McAuliffe. “The picture on that road might have changed drastically since yesterday morning, sir. Patton is attacking from the south, and it’s highly possible that troops have been pulled off that road and moved farther south to fight him.”
“You might be right, Johnny,” McAuliffe said. “If you want to try it, you have my permission, but don’t take more than three trucks and six men.”
“Thank you sir,” the major said, and then turned to Mahoney. “Since you were on that road yesterday, you must know it pretty well. Care to come along and help us out?”
Fucked again, Mahoney thought, but he smiled and said, “Yes, sir.”