The battle of Normandy

Hansel Samson was the commanding officer of the 153rd assault infantry, or better known as the 'stiffs'.

He was a short man, barely out of his teenage years. His conduct was both inexperienced and inept. But, the few months of command had left his hair grey and eyes bloodshot from cheap whiskey and lack of sleep.

To his acute dismay, he and his men were shipped to an unknown location to provide ground support to an infiltration op.

Which, basically meant, his men were fodder to the heavier defences, and simple pawns to get the wizards to expose their location.

Hence the name - 'stiffs'; they were already good as dead.

The truck he was in, crumbled to a halt, after what seemed like days and a passkey unlocked the doors from the outside.

He noticed the pitch black cascading the expanse infornt of him. If not for the nervous ramblings of his men, he would have had no idea, that they were a few feet away.

Commander Samson turned on his night vision, checking the safety on his primary weapon, he switched on his coms to address his officers.

'Alright men! This is not a drill. Our target is 5 treks from here. The air support will light up the area with smoke and IR bombs, so the wizards will be expecting us.' He finished.

'Whats our play, commamder?' Asked one of the officers.

'We use the sickle formation. Move in a perfect arc. Heavy weapons in front, explosives stay to the centre and long range assault, hold back. Officers guide your own squadrons.'

'Rules of engagement?'

'Leave no hostages, burn all wands, and kill all deserters.' Commander Hansel finished grimly.

The notion of unwarranted death made him sick to his stomach,but it was necessary with the wizard kind. Their powers were dangerous, and manifested even in the young.

A series of loud explosions, rocked the ground beneath their feet, and a fireball rose to burn the night sky.

'That's our cue, stiffs move out.' Hansel barked into his radio.

The infantry, though, inexperienced in combat, knew one thing to their core, discipline and the compulsion to follow orders.

The men took to their ranks, and marched in absolute synchrony, covering ground at a rapid pace.

That was until the fighting began.

The first attack came in a few minutes or so. Several unforgivable curses rammed into the ranks of men with heavy assault weapons.

'Take cover.'someone yelled.

'Enemy contact dead 1 o clock. Death eaters .' A granedier screamed and let his weapon free into the dark.

Others followed suit, walking over the dead, using them as cover when more curses came their way.

Crucio - finitum rigori - crucio - imperio

Steaks of lights rammed into the line of men advancing towards the fire lit target area.

Wails of pain, punctuated the burning stench of unwashed men.

An explosion went off within the rear of the sickle formation. An officer had begun executing his long range gunmen with his 'glock.'

When his horrified squadron, finally realised, that he had been working under the imperious curse. They emptied their clips into their officer , setting off an explosion of grenades and C4 that took out the entire assortment of men.

'Rear squad 3, down. Rear 2, reset and stretch, to cover their ground.' Commander yelled at his officer.

'Aye commander'

The officer answered.

'squad spread thin, cover ground and keep formation. Enemy approaching at 12, go...go..go' he screamed back.

Explosive technicians took to the offensive, scouting out wizards taking cover behind trees and building, and blasting them with devastating charges.

Fire and smoke moulded the sky, covering the glimmer of stars and covering the air with heavy stench of death.

The snipers in the ranks began to take out take out death eaters holed up at higher positions, putting their adversary, momentarily, off balance.

This came as a welcome relief and the commander bellowed ' That's it! Showerhead dogs what we do! Heavy assault keep ranks focus on fortifications. Explosives take out buildings, others provide cover.'

This lasted only a few moments more.

Loud 'cracks' began to issue from within the the ranks of men, as wizards began to apperate right amongst them.

Before the infantry to could react, they disapparated dropping crystal balls with dark mass swirling within its bowels.

'Grenade' an officer yelled.

The crystal balls exploded all within the ranks of the infantry. Some released, steaks of lighting while others had shrapnel that seems to follow its target like a heat seeking missile.

The 153rd infantry was devastated. Men lay dead or dying in all directions. Fires burned higher still, and the streaks of lights kept on coming.

' give no quarter! Band together... to order....to order!' Commander Hansel yelled.

The men with guns began to close ranks taking cover being burning buildings.

There were only a handful of them remaining . The ones at the back pulled their dead to form a blockade wall against the exposed spaces.

The wall crept on,quite high.

' contact.. 12' some was yelled.

'Medic... officer down!' The other berated.

'Contact rear... contact rear' a few of them cried.

The wizards were closing in.

Commander Hansel Samson, a high born son of an English royal, was to breathe his last on this pigsty of a place.

Or so he thought.

Crucio - finitum rigori - crucio - imperio

More curse flew at their flanks taking out the machine guns, the moment next, silence fell.

No curses were being fired at the infantry, nor was there any exchange of heavy fire.

'Commander... where are they? I see nothing...'

'I don't know... maybe they are retreating...'

'Do we dare think...?'

'No we don't! But it seems the wizards have fled.Hold your line and shut up... for now it seems we have won!' The commander exhaled, daring to venture boldly over the wall of corpses.

That is when it all went to hell.

In an instant, a large thorny plant came to life all around them, ripping through blood and bone of everyone it could reach. It spread out all round them, pinning them to their current hold.

Large vicious tentacles grew out, and and slithered all around them, slowly making their way toward its prey.

The more, they fought , the fauna replied with equated violence.

Yet, the men, gave their all.

They were afraid and they had no intentions of dying such a horrific death.

Bullets tore through the hungry flora, until, the last lead was spent and the tentacles darted towards their prey, engulfing them in sacrilegious darkness.

But, the end was far from near, the pain came first.