World War Two soldiers discover a secret horror from the past. Dedicated to Rafaela.
The soldier at the front with the Thompson was panting now and sweat poured down his face as he chugged along past the houses and into a field that led to a strange looking house that overlooked what appeared to be a large, fenced in garden, which was surrounded by two towers. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be some sort of camp. Perhaps, this was a rescue mission and these soldiers were here to rescue some imprisoned comrades?
This thought occurs to us for a moment but something about the operation is too frantic and disjointed to suggest what should have been something tighter and carefully constructed. This was something altogether different and seemed to be practically spur of the moment.
Fire opens up from the top windows of the black building before them, small bursts of light coming out of black. Two soldiers behind the lead trio, hit the floor behind them, not from being shot, but instinct. They sport Browning Automatic Rifles and open fire on the windows with fully automatic force and tear apart the second floor of the building. The lead runner opens fire on the first floor, aided by the other two soldiers who fire their rifles from the hip and on the run. One tosses a hand grenade and the door of the building gives and falls off its hinges slightly, as the sky suddenly darkens above them and a lightning flash illuminates the battle at hand, as dozens of American troops descend upon the house and the camp like ants.
The lead soldier fires again and reloads once more, before hitting the wall of the building and pulling out a grenade and tossing it through a destroyed window. The explosion sends dirt and wood in his direction, but he just closes his eyes and grits his teeth, firing through the window, along with his two men, all until they are empty. There’s no sound inside the building and the air is smoky and thick, only the sound of a light rain and the approaching soldiers from the rear show many sign of life in the area.
There’s a look of hate on the lead soldier’s face and he takes another fresh magazine from his ammunition pouch and places it into his weapon. He is joined by six other men and turns to them, just nodding to them. They all have stern looks and it’s clear that whatever is inside from the expressions on their faces is something that they have fought to get to for awhile.
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