Among the Goliaths
A soldier panted as he leaned against a wall. He clenched onto his rifle and gritted his teeth before running out into the open and dragging another wounded soldier to cover.
"Stretcher!" Fritz shouted as a spray of bullets hit the other side of the wall he hid behind.
"I'll take care of him, you move up and help suppress the enemies." The medic ordered.
"Get him back to Eugene and the others." Fritz replied before standing up and running towards a house on the other side of the street.
"Private, where the hell have you been?" Kurt exclaimed.
"I got pinned down back there, sarge. How's the situation?" Fritz asked.
"That MG position is tearing us up. Unlike the other platoons, we won't have the supersoldiers to support us." Kurt replied.
"We'll just have to show them that we won't lose just because we're a bunch of nobodies." Fritz added before jumping through the window and into the house.
They were one of the few platoons that would assault enemy positions without the help of other units. They relied on each other and the supervision of Edward. This always lead to their platoons suffering the most casualties during a battle. They're made up of average and below average soldiers, only being originally part of the old 116th because of their strong will to keep fighting despite in the face of unparalleled danger.
"The three of you! Get behind that wall and keep shooting at the MG!" Kurt exclaimed.
"Where the hell are our radios? Someone call a mortar strike on that MG!" A soldier shouted.
"I gotta silence those guns. I don't have an angle from this house." Fritz tsked before pulling the pin off a smoke grenade.
Fritz threw the smoke grenade onto the street and waited for the smoke to cover the street before running across. He ran into an alleyway and went further into the city to flank the machine gun placement. As he tried to navigate the alleyways, he could hear the voices of Russian soldiers near him. Fritz took one of his grenades and cooked it for a few seconds before tossing it on the other side of the wall. He heard the enemy soldiers scream followed by an explosion. He took this chance to sneak pas the group and into the ground floor of the building where the machine gun placement is. He quietly walked up the stairs with his gun aiming directly on the flight of stairs above him. Fritz could hear the sound of the gun getting louder as he climbed further up the staircase, just a bit more and he can relieve his unit from enemy suppressive fire.
"Перезагрузить!" The enemy gunner shouted as he opened the gun's receiver.
Fritz poked his rifle into the room and took a deep breath before shooting the loader in the back. The enemy gunner sprung up and pulled his sidearm out and shot at Fritz. Fritz ducked down as he cycled his bolt-action rifle and shot the enemy soldier, hitting him on his abdomen but not killing him. The enemy gunner kept shooting but missed all of his shots, giving Fritz the opportunity to shoot again. But he didn't shoot, instead, he charged towards the enemy soldier and began beating him with the butt of his rifle.
"You communist fuck! Fucking die!" Fritz shouted as he kept beating the soldier with his rifle.
Kurt noticed that the machine gun went quiet so he immediately gathered his men and organized the other squads to rush the enemy position. They charged out into the open street and only met small-hand fire from the buildings. Kurt and his squad ran up the building where the machine gun placement is and arrived at the scene of Fritz wrestling with the enemy gunner. Kurt rushed to the two of them and pulled the enemy soldier off of Fritz before kicking him out of the window.
"Thanks, these guys surely don't go down with one shot." Fritz said as he stood up.
"Let's keep the pressure on them. The Major's squad is right behind us." Kurt stated.
"Got ya, Sarge. Let's clear the alleyways so that the Major can move through the streets with ease." Fritz suggested.
"Let's keep the Major safe! Link up with the other squads and keep the enemies off the streets." Kurt ordered.
Right behind them was Jacques' squad who were using the streets to navigate through the city. They were stronger in terms of firepower but their convoy was open to a sudden enemy ambush. It was now up to Kurt's platoon to secure Jacques' flanks.
"Watch the windows! Keep those guns on point!" Jacques exclaimed.
"Sir, we're approaching a barricade." The driver stated as he slowed the armored car down to a halt.
"Dismount and demolish the barricade." Jacques ordered.
The men dismounted from the half-trucks and approached the barricade with caution. It could be a trap so they carefully checked the surroundings for any signs of the enemy. A gunbarrel poked out of one of the windows and began shooting on the soldiers on the street. Immediately, four of them dropped dead on the ground as the others braced behind what cover they could find. Jacques ordered the gunners to cover the men's retreat and so they did. Jacques looked over to his left and saw Fritz holding a grenade. Fritz ran out into the street and threw the grenade into the window before going prone on the ground. The grenade went off and it was followed by silence as the dust settled.
"Get the wounded to the medics and demolish the barricade." Jacques ordered.
"Major, we'll escort your squad through the city." Kurt stated.
"That's a good idea, Sargeant. You can fill in for my squad's wounded." Jacques replied.
"Sarge, it was only that gunner and no one else. The vicinity is clear." Fritz informed Kurt before saluting to Jacques.
Jacques also saluted and watched as Fritz helped with the others who were demolishing the barricade. He then looked over to Kurt and smiled.
"Sargeant, your platoon never ceases to amaze me." Jacques commented.
"Thank you for the compliment, Major. We're only doing what we're being asked for. We're far from being as strong as the other platoons." Kurt replied before chuckling.
"We're one unit. Everyone does their part and you're platoon is remarkable at that." Jacques added.
"I'm at a loss of words, I really am. Thanks again." Kurt replied before smiling.