Chapter I: The Bloody Road of Pieve di Cadore
~ October 6, 1945. Outskirts of the Italian village of Pieve di Cadore.
Captain Miller and his men walked along the old country-side road leading into the Italian village. The tall brush and green grass sheilded their movements as they moved in close. The US 17th Airborne Division was spread out all across the Provence of Belluno country-side. They men sat at the crossroads of the old worn-down Italian country-side, as the village held the only road leading south towards the city of Venice and the "Golden Taloons" were the only US combat division in the area to defend the Soviet war machine at the moment from entering the Italian city, which could cause a domino effect along the Italian Front and lead to another early Italian exit from a world war.
An American paratrooper in his green-cut camouflaged uniform ran up to Captain Miller with his Thompson machine gun in his hand and took a knee beside the battalion captain.
"Captain, Lt. Woods wants to push his squad into the flank of the village, make sure there is no chance to be completely caught in a cross-fire," said First Sergeant Paul Krause to his superior commander.
Captain Miller simply nodded and the sergeant ran back to the rear of the lines to relay the information. Justin Miller peared over the small hill leading into the village and rose his hand with a fixed fist and called out for this sniper to come forward, "Johnson! Johnson!?"
The American corporal ran forward, "Yeah cap?"
"See if there are any enemy snipers in that tower of the church."
Damien Johnson peared through his scope and could see nothing, he checked again and check a third time before quiting, "Nothing."
"Okay, stay down," Miller said as he looked behind him and saw Lt. Woods's men moving off to the side, "listen up, wait for my command. Corrigan, come up!"
"Yes?"
"We moving in, ready?"
"Ready."
The captain quickly stood up from the side of the dirt road where he was safely hidden from potential enemy soldiers and ran forward shouting, "Okay let's move!" The rest of the 300 to 400 men along the road pressed forward gripping their rifles all nervous of a Soviet ambush ready to be in place. The captain came to the side of the first building and called for his men to halt, he looked to his left and saw Lt. Woods advancing in the street, recognizing his captain he gave a solid head nod and continued into the village. "Alright, squad commanders take your men and fan out, sweep the village and clear it of anything supicious," Miller stepped out into the center of the street and began to signal his soldiers forward. For the next hour they found nothing in the village but some Italian folks whom haven't already left the village as the Soviets were closing in. "Get me battalion command!" he took a pause as he picked up the phone on the radio, "Colonel Stanley, there's nothing here. How about you."
"Empty."
"It appears as if we beat the Soviets here, I'm at the village of Pieve di Cadore, what are my orders."
"Fortify and stall any Soviet military forces."
"Thanks," Captain Miller hung up the phone and was in turn tapped on the back by Lt. Imes.
"There's no Russians here, just some Italians, maybe two or three hundred people perhaps. The priest still here says the other half of the people had fled south a few days ago in fear of the Russians, there are no Russians here."
"Lieutentant, position your men, we hold the town until further notice."
"Aye captain. Alright boys lets move!"
The night quickly fell over the small Italian village and the soldiers took rest in the many homes and shops in the village with their battle-stations ready. The moon was covered by a deep and dark cloud coverage, thunder could be heard over the distance.
~ Morning October 7, 1945.
A deafining screach could be heard over the skies and landed directly in the center of the village, a massive explosion ensued.
"Get up! Get up! Let's go! The Russians aren't throwing coffee at us! That means you Mild lets go!"
The American soldiers rushed indoors and waited out the Russian artillery which continued to pound the village.
"Johnson! God dammit, Shifty! Get over here!"
Damien 'Shifty' Johnson ran through the blanket of artillery fire and rested beside Captain Miller, "Yeah?"
"Can you get yourself into the church tower. Good, get her done. Alright everybody stay down!"
A thundering noise could be heard moving forward, it crept closer and closer and two American soldiers were casually talking in by a shop window when a massive Russian tank, T-34/85 appeared in the window.
"Shit, get down!"
The tank completely obliterated the shop which collapsed on the soldiers, both got up and fled the area as the Soviet tank moved in. The streets erupted into pitch and heated gun-battle between Soviet tanks, infantry and American paratroopers. Another Soviet tank moved down the street towards a broken down building inside full of American soldies pouring fire upon the enemy.
"Don't repant! What the hell? Sergeant get your a** back here are you mad!?"
Sergeant Krause ran out in the middle of the street with his Thompson in his firm clutch and boarded the Soviet T-34 alone and opened the hatch and screamed out, "Czinger get over here, I need a grenade!" Private Michael Czinger rushed out of the torn business shop and entered the crossfires of the street.
Out in the bright morning sun the Soviet tank, in full camoflauge continued to stroll down the street. Sergeant Paul pointed his Thompson inside the tank turret and blindly fired inside, Private Czinger climbed on the same side of the tank and chucked a grenade inside, the sergeant shouted in response, "Alright let's get the hell out of here!" The two American soldiers jumped off the tank and the sergeant turned back and squized off a short burst and a Russian soldier turning the corner fell straight to the street dead. A few moments later the Soviet tank exploded in a great ball of smoke and the hatch flew open again as the Soviet crew began to exit the burning tank.
Staff Sergeant Franklyn Corrigan stepped up from the cover of a wrecked shop and shouted, "Okay boys, give 'em hell!" Twelve American soldiers opened up a hail storm of bullets at the Tank men who simply appeared from the hatch and fell down the sides of the turret and landed on the road beneathe them.
The village road was covered with Russian soldiers in their long and drapping green uniforms aiming blindly at American soldiers and were falling at an astounishing rate. In the hail of bullets Corrigan looked out into the streets, "What the hell?" he fell to the ground as a Russian tank shell whizzed past his head and shattered the building directly behind the Staff Sergeant. He quickly got up with his Thompson and lit up a nearby Russian soldier and fled into an alley between the destroyed building and another. In the center of the street an American bazooka team moved directly in the line of fire, and both men quickly fell from Russian fire and the T-34 moved straight towards a squad of American men.
Lt. Imes grapped by the shoulder Private Adam Wirkus and tossed him into the street and then climbed out of the shattered window and ran forward, "Follow me, we need to get that bazooka!" The two soldiers ran directly into a storm of Russian bullets, "Take the gun, I'll load you Adam! Come on!"
The private nervously picked up the bazooka and aimed it and squized the trigger in a haste, nothing happened. "Are we jammed?"
"No! I didn't load it! We need it to come closer or we won't do any damage. Aim for the small slit between the turret and the hull! And wait for my command."
The tank advanced to within 30 feet of the men, crawling forward and firing off a massive thunder roar from its' 85mm gun. The young private shouted back, "God dammit lieutantant! You're going to get me killed!"
"Okay now!"
The rocket shot out and nailed its mark, a small but effective explosion erupted knocking the turret of the T-34 loose, no one exited the tank. Soon afterwards the Russians began to fall back from the village under the cover of 2 remaining tanks screening the infantry who suffered dearly in the assault. After a quick brush with death, and 20 minutes a fighting the village was clear of firing, littered with 3 downed Soviet tanks and around 100 Russian soldiers. Captain Miller called his commanders together, a lone Russian conscript ran from his cover beside a fence back for the Russian lines and was picked off in the head in a flash by Shifty in tower of the church, only gaining a quick glance from Miller and the other squad commanders.
"Report."
"All here," said Sergeant Krause.
"Casualties?"
"Twenty-one," said Staff Sergeant Corrigan, "seven dead and fourteen wounded."
"Not bad, enemy?"
"Easily at least one-hundred," commented 2nd Lt. Woods.
Captain Miller walked forward into the middle of the road and looked at a destroyed Russian tank, and turned back to face his commanders, "This is just the beginning."