Shadows in the mist, p.9
Shadows in the Mist, page 9
“Because this mission is completely off the record.” Wolf glanced at Fallon. “And my X-2 platoon doesn’t operate within the normal structures of the U.S. military. My sources said I could only take volunteers.”
Chambers leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “What exactly is the X-2?”
“I will explain that after you have both agreed. First, hear my proposal. If you volunteer your platoons and help us succeed in this mission, I will guarantee you both free tickets back to the states. And you each can take the men you volunteer to go home with you.”
LeBlanc’s face lit up. “You serious, sir?”
“You have my word.”
“Then count me in, sir.” LeBlanc turned to Chambers. “What do you say, padna?”
Chambers checked his gut, but all he felt was nauseated. “How about you send my six soldiers home, and I’ll lead a fresh platoon on your mission? Then when that’s complete, you give me an honorable discharge.”
Wolf shook his head. “No, Captain Murdock recommended you. I want a platoon that is unified and has a record of success. It is either all of you or none of you. So do we have a deal?”
Chambers looked across the table at Pierce Fallon. “It sounds enticing, but I have a problem with working alongside your lieutenant Hawk. He and I have some bad blood between us. And he has a dangerous temper. Quite frankly, I don’t trust him in the field.”
Fallon sat upright. “Captain, we’re wasting our time with him. I told you he wouldn’t go for it. I say we pick a platoon leader who’s more up for the challenge.”
Wolf said, “No, I want Lieutenant Chambers. In order for this to work you two will just have to put aside your differences for one mission. Let bygones be bygones. After this you two never have to see each other again. Lieutenant Hawk, you know what’s at stake here.”
Fallon grimaced. “I suppose I can tolerate the Grim Reaper for one mission.”
Wolf looked hopeful. “Chambers?”
“Will I stay in command of my platoon?”
“During maneuvers, absolutely. During combat, I’ll need you to work in accordance with the X-2. We’ve trained for this mission. We’ll be leading most of the assaults, but at times we’ll need your platoons as backup.”
LeBlanc said, “It’s no more dangerous than going on the push in two days. Either way, we’re heading back into the Meat Grinder. But with X-2 we also get our ticket out of here.”
Chambers looked from his friend to Wolf. “When can we expect to go home?”
“As soon as we capture and secure our main target. If all goes according to plan, your men can be on a ship by the end of the month.”
LeBlanc said, “Come on, Chambers, this is the chance we’ve been waiting for.”
“Okay, we’ll do it.”
Fallon, his scarred face in a half-grimace, pushed two contracts across the table. “Then if you gentlemen will sign here, everything will be official.” As Chambers and LeBlanc scanned the pages of legal jargon, Fallon explained, “It just says you understand this is a highly classified mission. Only you two will be privy to top secret information. No details of the mission will be discussed among the others. And anything you see or hear while on this mission is considered intelligence that can affect the outcome of the war, and leaking such intelligence is considered an act of treason, punishable by death by firing squad.” Fallon punctuated this last warning with a wink at Chambers.
Wolf pressed his hands into a steeple. “I need you to swear to secrecy.”
“I swear.” LeBlanc signed the document. Chambers held his breath, contemplating the odds of getting his men out any other way. They had patrolled behind enemy lines a dozen times without any reward for risking their lives. At least this mission had a bonus upon completion. He and his men could finally go home. Chambers signed the document. “I swear.”
Captain Wolf smiled. “Good. Then consider yourselves inducted into the X-2. We can now let you in on some classified information. Even Major Powell is not privy to everything we are about to tell you.” He sat forward. “Fallon and myself are not normal army intelligence. We come directly from a special clandestine division known as the OSS.”
“That’s the Office of Strategic Services,” Fallon explained. “We’re based out of DC.”
Wolf nodded. “Our OSS branch, known as X-2, comprises seasoned fighters from the U.S. Army, British Special Forces, Polish, French, and Dutch Underground. We go by animal code names to conceal our nationalities. We are highly trained to carry out covert maneuvers, so odds are in your favor of getting your request granted. There are some high risks, however.” Wolf opened his briefcase and pulled out a map of the Hürtgen Forest. “Two weeks ago Lieutenant Hawk and I parachuted behind enemy lines and joined a team of German Underground agents. We got as far as this German town here—Richelskaul.” Wolf handed Chambers and LeBlanc some black-and-white photos of soldiers occupying a town square. “While the front line remains thin, the Germans are building a hive of reinforcements in Richelskaul. We believe this is the head command post for the entire seventy square miles that make up the Hürtgen Forest. We saw SS troops among Wehrmacht soldiers. They were gathering supplies, petrol, armored vehicles, and evacuating townspeople. My team was disguised as Wehrmacht soldiers. We talked with other soldiers. They were mostly young boys, fourteen to seventeen, and old men.”
Fallon jumped in, “The Wehrmacht were so ready for the war to be over, they were practically pissing their pants. But the SS troops were a different breed altogether. We asked them if Berlin was ready to surrender, and they laughed. Arrogant assholes.”
Wolf said, “They told us Hitler was only beginning and that the Allies and Russians would fall quickly when the Nazis unleashed their secret weapons.”
Chambers examined a photo of four Wehrmacht sentries manning machine guns at the town’s entrance. “Any speculation about these secret weapons?”
Wolf answered, “You have all the details you need at this point. What you and your men need to be aware of is that while the front line is still thin, the Germans are forming a hive in and around Richelskaul to defend the Hürtgen.”
“They’ll never get the chance.” Fallon cracked his knuckles. “We’re going to seize this command post and shut down the entire Hürtgen campaign by cutting off the bees from the hive.”
Chambers rubbed his jaw. “My men and I ventured that far behind enemy lines only once, and I lost over half my men that day. Major Powell considered the mission a disaster.”
Wolf put his files back in his briefcase. “Well, this time you’ll be in good company. You can tell your men they will be going home soon, but there will be no mention of the OSS. As far as they are concerned, this is a routine reconnaissance patrol. Are we clear on this?”
Chambers and LeBlanc nodded.
“Good.” Captain Wolf smiled. “Welcome to the OSS.”
Chapter 18
The wind’s icy nails raking at his neck, Chambers sauntered across camp. He passed a group of doctors trudging toward the chow line. Chambers stopped one of them, an older man with a tired-looking face. “Have you seen Corporal Goldstein?”
“Yeah, back at the Bone Cutter.”
Ahead stood a hospital tent that connected to the skeletal remains of a farmhouse. Over the front porch someone had painted THE BONE CUTTER. Inside the makeshift hospital all was dark, except for a lantern where a doctor sat reading as he kept watch over the sleeping patients—mostly men who had the flu or trench foot. Chambers weaved through the shadows of the dilapidated house, his boots crunching over glass, wood, and fallen shingles. He found Goldstein in a back supply room, sitting against a wall with his legs crossed and his hands resting on an open Bible. A chain with a Star of David pendant intertwined his fingers. A shaft of moonlight shown through a hole in the ceiling, illuminating his face. His eyes were closed. He was breathing deeply, his belly expanding, then contracting. He wore the most peaceful smile.
Remaining in the shadows, Chambers beheld the chaplain. Must be nice to tune out the war, even for a few moments. He tried, but chattering voices filled his head—Major Powell, Captain Murdock, and a dozen others. The sound of gunfire and bombs exploding, like ghostly residues of a war that had become one with him, echoed in his mind with a hollow ringing.
Goldstein opened his eyes, the chestnut brown appearing iridescent in the moonlight, like shiny gold coins. “Lieutenant, what a pleasant surprise.”
He smiled and rubbed his bicep. “Thought I’d get a fresh bandage.”
“Sure, sure, there’s a table in the next room.”
Chambers sat on a makeshift gurney and removed his shirt. Goldstein peeled off the bandage on his bicep and cleaned the wound.
“Everything okay, Lieutenant? Your arms are trembling.”
Chambers looked at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t just come here for my wound.”
“What, you need a chaplain?”
“You said Captain Murdock used to come to you…”
Goldstein put away the roll of bandages. “From your lips to God’s ears. You have my undivided attention.”
“Okay.” Chambers swallowed hard, staring at the sleeping patients.
“Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
Chambers focused on the dirt floor and shook his head. “Nah, this is stupid. I don’t know why I brought it up.” He stood and grabbed his shirt.
“If there’s something bothering you, perhaps I can help. To be quite honest, I’m a better chaplain than I am a medic.”
Chambers stared at Goldstein for a long pause, then sat back down. “This is just between you and me.”
Goldstein held up his palm. “You have my word.”
“Okay…When I was carrying Captain Murdock through the forest, his last words…well, he said some strange things to me. And…I thought I saw something when he pressed the cross into my hand. But I can’t remember. And on top of everything, I lost the one man I could look up to…it’s got me all tied up in knots.”
“I see.” Goldstein looked up at the ceiling. “Can I share this with him? Yes, I have permission.” Behind his glasses, the chaplain’s eyes seemed to glass over. “When Captain Murdock came to me for consultations, he was a nervous wreck. He told me that every night since we arrived at the Hürtgen, he had nightmares. He came to believe they were visions of what was to come.”
“Visions?” Chambers looked at the chaplain askance.
“How shall I put this?…I suppose there’s no way to say it but to say it. Murdock believed the reason our forces haven’t been able to penetrate the Hürtgen Forest is because we are no longer fighting just the Germans. In his visions, Murdock saw an army of dark assassins—shadow soldiers, he called them—attacking from the woods, slaughtering our GIs.”
Chambers snorted. “Those were just war dreams. We all have them.”
“Murdock’s dreams were the same night after night. He claimed he was visited by a ghostly figure wearing a hooded robe who told him of a secret war going on, a war within the war. A battle of light and darkness. In Murdock’s dream, the robed figure told him the shadow soldiers were not killing just GI soldiers but Germans as well. The robed figure handed Murdock a glowing bronze cross and said he had a mission to fulfill. God is the general, and he’s recruiting soldiers of light to battle a darkness greater than Hitler.”
“No offense, Goldstein, but this sounds like a bunch of hooey.”
“Don’t you believe in God?”
Chambers shook his head. “God and I had a falling out years ago.”
“Well, maybe now he’s trying to reach out to you.”
“Disguised as a robed figure. Right. And maybe Hitler will surrender tomorrow and we can all go home.”
“Seriously, Chambers. Maybe that’s why Murdock passed on the cross to you. God has chosen you to fight this battle.”
“Sorry, Goldstein, but this is more than I came to hear.” He stood and grabbed his coat.
“Wait. There’s something you should know about your cross.”
Chambers paused at the door.
“When Murdock woke the next morning, he was still holding the cross the robed figure had given him in his dream. And it had burned the same scar into his hand.”
“Chaplain, don’t feed me bullshit.”
“I’ve never been more truthful.” Goldstein raised his palm. In the center was the familiar cross-shaped scar. “I had the same dream.”
Feeling his knees shake, Chambers quickly turned away. “Good night, Chaplain.”
“Just consider what I’m saying, Chambers,” Goldstein’s voice called from behind. “God may be trying to reach you.”
Part 4
Into the Mist
There are moments in battle when a platoon leader has to make decisions that will affect the destinies of his soldiers. I command orders that lead to good men falling dead in the mud. I suppose these sacrifices are necessary to win the war, but in the coldest, darkest part of my being, I feel like I’m nothing but a servant to the almighty Grim Reaper.
—LIEUTENANT JACK CHAMBERS, WAR DIARY
Chapter 19
Chambers’s body burst through the wall of pine needles. Branches slapped at him like spiked tentacles. His legs kept running, running, running. Something shimmered up ahead, floating in between the trees. Glowing like a firefly, it shaped itself into a ghostly figure wearing a hooded cloak.
What sounded like a pack of ferocious wolves approached from behind. Gasping, Chambers glanced over his shoulder. Downhill, branches slapped together. The hungry growls drew closer.
Refusing to look back, he raced after the cloaked figure, into the dense woods. A winding trail led to a spiked wrought-iron fence covered in ivy. Beyond, an enormous graveyard spread across a hillside. The mist drifted between stone crosses and tombstones like specters.
Chambers opened a rusted iron gate, its hinges squeaking, and stepped into the cemetery. He meandered between crosses and tombstones, some of which had oval photos of the sleeping dead. Hearing gunshots, he hunched behind a tombstone. At the top of the hill the vapor parted to reveal a medieval church. A war-damaged bell tower jutted upward above the fir trees. Lightning shattered the bruised sky, illuminating the church’s battered, jagged roof.
“Where are my men?” He scanned the tombstones and crypts dotting the hillside up to the church. At one grave, an object stabbed up from the soil, glinting in the moonlight.
A voice echoed behind him, “Forget your men, Chambers.” He whirled around to see the cloaked figure standing beside a crypt. “You have a bigger mission to fulfill.”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“The cross holds all the answers.”
Shadows charged from the mist, wielding submachine guns. Bullets kicked up mud around Chambers’s feet as he bolted across the cemetery. Ahead the small object glowed radiantly—a metal cross sticking out of the mud.
Guns clacked. Boots splashing through mud charged up the hill.
Chambers reached for the cross. A rifle butt struck his temple. He fell face first onto the grave. Dazed, the tombstones spinning around him, blood trickled into his eyes.
The robed figure’s voice whispered in his mind. “You’re our only hope, Chambers.”
He reached for the cross again. A boot pressed his wrist flat against the soil, cracking the bones.
Chambers wailed. His heart pounding, he looked up. A shadow soldier studied him with glowing red eyes. More shadows gathered around. Chambers stared at the bronze cross that stabbed up from the soil just inches from his face. It faded in and out of focus. Then he looked back up to see the red-eyed shadow drawing something long and silver…
Chambers sat up, wheezing. It took him several seconds to settle his breath and realize he’d been dreaming. He fell back on his pillow and rubbed his face. “Jesus…”
Boots squished in the mud outside his tent.
“Everything okay in there?” Sergeant Mahoney whispered.
“Yeah, Papa Bear. Nothing to worry about.”
Mahoney knelt, peering into the tent. “Listen, I hate to ruin your beauty sleep, but my watch reads oh four-thirty. Think it’s about time we get the boys up?”
Chambers yawned. “Let ’em snooze another fifteen. They’re gonna need it.”
“How about you?”
“Be out in a minute.”
Mahoney’s boots marched away and the night became filled with sounds of him rustling in his tent. Chambers lay on his pillow, staring at the shadows that clung to the drab fabric of his tent. He scratched his bandaged hand and recalled his dream, the cloaked figure, the bronze cross. Was there something to Goldstein’s warnings? Was God trying to contact Chambers through the dream world just like Murdock had experienced? A more chilling thought pricked his skin. The cloaked figure was the Grim Reaper leading me to my death.
No, it was just a natural reaction to losing several men in combat. Chambers had had dozens of war dreams.
Then what about the shadow soldiers?
Goldstein, with all his good intentions, must have planted those thoughts in my head. Whatever the case, they weren’t real.
Then why aren’t you getting out of bed?
His body lay there, refusing to budge. He dozed off again and woke up to Sergeant Mahoney kicking the heels of his boots. “Rise and shine, Lieutenant. We got us another foggy day in the Meat Grinder.”
Chambers stood at the edge of the trees, watching and listening. No distant gunshots disturbed the dead calm. Overnight silence had fallen across the Hürtgen Forest with the heaviness of the morning dew.
Gray light, cocooned within a damp fog, spilled over the mountain’s crest like the breath of a great beast. The mist drifted down the steep incline, sifting through the Dragon’s Teeth that bordered Germany.
He checked his silver watch: 0520. Ten minutes till game time.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder. He turned to see Goldstein wearing his Red Cross helmet. “Morning,” the medic said, barely a whisper, and offered a steaming tin of coffee.
