7.) Hell in a hand basket

It had been five months since we have been here. I had returned from the mansion I'm still a little fuzzy on the details, but from what I remember Lilith left me there and had Jason and Edward pick me up. The good thing is that I was able to find a new unit and not be declared KIA (killed in action). The weird part is that I haven't seen them. Maybe she did me a favor by making sure they weren't there. I didn't need any more eyes on me. In all honesty, I should forget I'm not going back to her. She scares the hell out of me just like those two. What makes me worry more is how long they have been lying? How long have they been playing a human? I want to push these thoughts out of my mind, but they weren't going away.

I got in a new platoon; it wasn't too bad this time, which was good, especially since I was in a mostly black group. Except for John, he was a good guy, He missed D-day, but he still was able to fight in the war. He was a bit short, 5'8, if I'm not mistaken, had white skin black hair brown eyes, and an overall average looking kid, he had a round face with a square jaw. His black hair pulled back. He didn't have a beard, so that wasn't much of a concern. He looked like he was no older than 21, maybe younger, though. He had a somewhat muscular physique very husky, I don't know how we became friends but seems familiar, but I'm sure I never met him a damn day in my life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a stranger to the rest of the world. I always felt out of place, but now I feel even more out of place than I did before. I had other friends, but that was weeks ago. One jumped on a grenade, saving me. He didn't even hesitate. He knew it was too late to throw it back, so he shoved me out of the way, and he jumped on it. I flew back four feet and ate a mouth full of dirt, but his fear in his eyes never really left me. He threw his life away for a friend. His name was Nathan Hale. The funny thing is is that I could hardly remember in his face. The only thing I can remember was fear on his face. His last words were still a bit of a mystery to me. I lost two men that day, Morgan and Nathan, both dying for their country. This winter was already brutal as fuck the death just made it worse.

'Hey, Corporal Roberts.' My thoughts were interrupted by John, which was a good thing for me. "Yeah, what's up, Private?" He smiled and said: 'I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion.' Well, I helped raid of building back on the first day of the invasion. I didn't think they would promote all the dead guys. "Plus, I don't think I earned it, they said they found me in a crater a few feet off where the building collapsed." John's eyes widened, 'how did you survive that?' I thought about it. I never told anyone the truth. "I Just got a rabbit's foot shoved halfway up my ass; that's it," I said while smiling. We both laughed, but I couldn't tell him the truth. For three days, I was basically on vacation with the Vampire Queen.

~~~ Gabriel

When I returned, we were sitting in a makeshift camp on the outside Of Omaha beach, The Germans finally let it go about five months back, after which we push them further back. We drove past Bastogne, the word from the brass says that Hitler is getting desperate he's losing almost all major fronts once we get deeper into Europe it's going to be a whole different ball game. We would be on their turf. I can only hope we can win, before that we had to get to Bastogne. I rechecked my guns, something I have found myself often doing. I've had the same guns since I been fighting. I haven't needed to get rid of them. Despite the M1 Garand's shortcomings, it was far better than the German equivalent. It also was easy to lure enemies into thinking I was reloading because of that ping sound it made. M1 was reliable even though it got plenty of soldiers killed that distinct ping sound used to tip enemies off only mated more effective. The perfect trap for idiots.

The MP 40 didn't take too much time to get used to and offered better accuracy than the Thompson (Tommy gun), and it had better, in my opinion. The only drawback was finding ammo for the damn thing. My M1911 was still my best friend for all up close situations. The trench shotgun was tremendous, but the constant need to cock and fire turned me off from using it. All it took was one miscalculation. I refuse to put my life in more danger with miscalculations.

We had multiple camps in the area, so us getting attacked was slim, but we were one of the best groups for attacking the krauts. With the radio chatter going on in the background, I can only imagine what unit we were going to back up next. We had been getting popular with the groups because we stood our ground when it was hopeless. Sometimes we took casualties sometimes we took no fatalities, I think we made a lot of The white guys worry about us. We had more tenacity than most of their platoons. 'Hey, Corporal, you think this was going to be over anytime soon?' I looked over to him, "No, not really." He then put a smile on his face and said It would be a good thing if these guys did surrender.' I laughed and said: "You and I both know these krauts aren't doing any kind of surrendering." He nodded in agreement. It was cold as fuck in this godforsaken country our water used to just taste like steel in our canteens. Now it was cold as hell, and would sometimes free could not stand how cold it was. But it was a good thing we had heavy coats.

Each operation we had was a success throughout the summer. It was winter already in those, and the summer months dragged by, I knew the winter months would be just as bad if not worse. We were moving deeper into the country; it seems like a lot of our troops were having trouble here, especially since they were pushing the enemy back. They're fighting like rats in a trap. It was to no success. Each winning victory that we worked for pushed us closer to Germany.

The Germans did not appreciate us pushing them back with this kind of tenacity. We got on a transport to get to Bastogne, which was taking a long ass time. We drove past a lot of civilians.

All of them looked like they had seen the worst of humanity; some of them had symbols stitched on there clothing; it looked like the Star of David. I had no idea what it meant. What was happening in this country? A lot of the clothes aren't suitable for winter. You could see some of them huddled together to remain warm while walking. I was honestly worried. Will these people make it through the winter, or would they freeze to death? I hope that they had a place to go outside of this hell zone an I was honestly worried, would these people make it through the winter?

Or would they freeze to death I would hope that they had a place to go outside of this hell for a country. They all looked empty; their faces blank as they were moving away from the war well we were going in. The children's faces were sad as if they forgot how to smile. Some of them were speaking German and looking at us. I was an American helping to liberate the people, but it also made me sad that I could do nothing for these people. The area was large and vast, there weren't many trees, but there was plenty of grass. I could hear my group talking about what would one of these women do for a chocolate bar, and in all honesty in the back of my mind, all I could think is what the fuck wouldn't they do? They have no food, no water, and they're seeing a bunch of foreigners tears apart their land. No matter how much of this is for the greater good, these guys are getting the raw end of the deal.

It was December 20, 1944; We were almost to Bastogne; it was a little city occupied by the allied forces that were pushing the enemies back.

Later it was snowing but not heavy, and between John talking my head off and the fact that I was anxious for battle, I didn't know which was worse. Maybe I got my wish because as soon as we got there, you could hear gunfire happening all over. We jumped out of the transport, we're only 2 miles off, but the way they were fighting it sounded closer maybe they were. I got my gun ready, and my group went towards the noise. Then for some odd reason the impossible seems to happen we were getting pushed back, I was coming into contact with groups of people, and then it smacks me in the back of the head. They were trying to push us back. We had already made it into Bastogne, We were pushed in, and we realized we had no more allies to help us. It was us, and 100 other men. We were stuck. We kept on fighting, and we held out. The enemy has surrounded us-a perfect encirclement.

December 22, 1944, We have been fighting for two days in this fucking town, moving from building to fuckin building. They stopped their march to the outskirts of the town. It was dark, out and they knew we weren't going to give up easily, The 100 men were split up, we had a technician with us he also had a radio. His name was Joseph; he was a sergeant, so he outranked me. He had blonde hair gray eyes. He was also a little bit taller than me and had a thin physique; he almost always had a calm demeanor. He had a buzz cut with a box face and a sharp chin. There was also John, who somehow, through all the bullshit, stayed right next to me, and then there was this fellow. He was quiet, and he was black like me though not as dark. He had dirt all over him. I'm guessing he was in a close radius to a grenade; he's lucky. He was a bit short around 5'9 and had a bald head. He had a round face with a square jaw. He was light-skinned, and I believe his name was Carter Davidson.

We were in a two-story house. It was still mostly intact. It was a good thing we weren't too close to the outskirts, something that I enjoyed. The furniture riddled with holes, and the paintings and pictures were all over the place. Some of the wallpaper was even peeling. It kind of reminds me of Lilith's mansion where she ate a guy. The strange thing is I think John looks kind of like him. Can't say that to him now he looked at me like I'm some kind of crazy negro. We're not even that close of friends, He was a nice guy, but when we go back to the states, he's going to go back to Florida, and I'm going to go back to Maryland I hope. It gets tiresome watching people die, and you never get used to the friends you have. I'm tired of watching all this death part of me just wishes I could get wounded so I can go home.

After about a day or so, they flew planes over us but did not drop bombs. Did they drop fliers? I went outside to grab one hell they were a few of us outside catching them. The flyers said "(Sich ergeben oder zerstort werden)" I looked at it, and I was baffled what the hell was these krauts saying. I looked up, and the commanding officer was standing right there, and asked 'what the hell does this say?' A soldier who knew German walked up to the commanding officer and said, 'it says surrender or be destroyed.' He looked up and said, 'are these guys surrendering to us?' he scratched his head and said, 'No, I don't think that's what they meant, sir, they want us to surrender.' He then smiled, and with a loud voice for us all to hear even the Germans; 'Well those krauts can eat a bag dicks.' He then crumpled the paper up and threw it to the ground. I agreed with this son of a bitch, and I did the same. We went back into our raggedy house and get ready for the next assault.

It had been another day of fighting, we heard on the radio we were about to get reinforcements to hold out a little longer. Afterward, we all heard a bang, but it was too close, I turned to look out the window we were about to get flanked. John grabbed his trench shotgun and cocked we are ready for a breach. The tactics to Germans were using was something entirely new to us. Soldiers who spent a lot of time found out some countermeasures, so all we had to do was bait them. I grabbed an empty clip for my M1 Garand and threw it on the ground. They were whispering in German and then threw something into the room; it landed right next to me. It was in a grenade; it happened for the first time in a while I wanted to live again. It was a natural urge, but something that had never come over me like before. Instead of trying to throw the grenade, I moved back towards the window. John then threw the grenade out of the window. The boom shook the house and blew out some of the boards in the windows. He then said, 'they're about to come in corporal.' All of this happened within A span of a few seconds; I grabbed my MP-40 and fired at the wall. They had to be on the left side because it came in from the left side, but for insurance, John fired on the right side. We fired for a few seconds and heard them yelling, they returned fire but missed.

When we opened the door, every one of the krauts was dead; it was time we get out of here. I looked to the men, we were all shaken up, but we knew if this is happening to us, they were doing these tactics to others. "It's time we went outside and give these sons of bitches a fight." John loaded his shotgun and said, 'what on the to-do list, sir?'

"You'll lead from the front we're going in each house, and we're going to check them. We want to be able to get this done quickly if we don't hold out the allies are going to punch through into territory with a bunch of krauts."

We were surrounded; the only reason why they couldn't overrun us was that the sacrifice would be too high. We went to our fifth house; all the other houses were clear. It was chaos all around us so many bodies, The enemy was pissed, and they kept on trying to pick us off one by one, but we kept fighting. We lost a few, but we would not break not now, not ever. We went in, and we split up to search the house, I went through the living room and noticed a door. It led to the basement. I went downstairs, and it was dark; there was no one down here. It looked like it was a shelter at one point in time. Before the battle happened, they must've left and taken what they could carry. I took a deep breath, and knee war must've been hard for everyone, and I can only imagine how much innocence was lost because of this.

I made my way upstairs away from the basement. The house was empty. There was no one else here, not many signs of life. That was a problem; there was no one else here. Then it happened. I was blindsided; it was so fast I hardly had time to pull my pistol. I was pinned to a wall. I only saw a blur. When everything became clear to me, I noticed he had an elbow to my chest saw, and I saw his face. He had a pale complexion, he had blond hair pulled back, and his eyes were piercing blue. He had sharp fangs growing out of his mouth, a vampire I thought I was done with these fuckers. With that speed and power, I knew I was fucked. He wore a German uniform. It was black, though. It had an emblem on it. If I'm not mistaken, it was the Nazi party. Was this guy some kind of SS officer. I had seen it before, but it was because I was in Lilith's basement that guy was at her mercy, though. This was different this time I was at his mercy. He was 6 feet tall. He had veins, and pale though he wasn't pale as her.

'So you're Lilith's bastard child' His German accent was thick, but his voice was calm, but his breath stunk of blood. Did he kill my team? Why would he go that far for me? Could this point have been so crucial for the SS to be here? "What the fuck do you want, you kraut?" He smiled. 'I wanted to see her bastard frankly. I'm not impressed. Who would have known she would've slept with a negro?' I got angry. I started struggling, and he didn't even show signs of budging. Both of my arms were free, so I began to put my 1911 to his chin.

He smiled even wider 'at least you have balls, but do you think that'll work on me.' I put my head closer to his almost to the point where our foreheads would connect. "It's been working for every other kraut I've been putting down." I grinned. 'Go ahead and give me your- ' Me and my M1911 decided to finish his sentence. He still had a grip on me, but it was loosened. He could barely speak, seeing as I fired a shot through his head. For a second, there was a pink mist above his head. He was still looking at me. I fired my gun again and pushed them off me. He was doing a lot of twitching, but it seems like he was regrowing his skull. I had to slow him down. I shot five more times in the chest and left. I did a quick check around the house. This house felt like a mansion; it felt like I could not get to the next room fast enough. Each room was clear. I don't know where they went.

I went back to the living room; his body was gone. "Fuc-" I then felt a hand, and I got a grab from the back of my head, and I found myself face-first on the ground. 'Did you think you could escape me?' His knee was pressed hard against my back. His hand was on my face crushing it against the wooden floor, head a smile on his face; maybe he was getting enjoyment out of this. I then said with hate in my chest, "If you're going to kill me, just do it, you fucking kraut." At this point, I was fed up with everything that happened in my life. Then I hear a stabbing sound and, the piece of shit then proceeded to fall on me.

Whoever did the stabbing then helped me get the piece of shit off me, it was John. The kraut started healing; I didn't even know how to put someone like him down. I also didn't want to waste time. John handed me a smoke grenade and said, 'We should drop this before we go.' Before we got ready to go we shot him multiple times, and then we dropped the smoke grenade. I didn't care if he was going to regenerate, it just felt good shooting that piece of shit. We went outside only to find out our Squad had been missing either that or die. I turned the house was covered in smoke and we left. I was debating whether not I should go and find a group to link up with or If I should contact Edward and Jason. I almost wish I would've stayed back at the damn mansion. I had to face it, I would need to contact them to contact Lilith, and the only way to do that was through Edward and Jason.

End of chapter 7 to Hell in a handbasket.