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Showing posts from December, 2017

A Merry Christmas, Mr Hemingway - A Short Story

The snow lay deep and crisp and even. In fact it wasn't that deep, or crisp, and after the morning's shelling by a couple of German 88s it was very uneven indeed, and in places, many places, still  crimson from the battering the US 4th Infantry Division had been taking over the last few days.
But at least I'm still alive, thought a shivering, exhausted Private Ernie Miller, even if I'm freezing to death in this cesspit of a foxhole that any self-respecting fox would have given up years ago. But Captain Cotton says it'll soon be Christmas, so things can't get much worse can they?
They got much worse almost immediately when those same two 88s, plus a couple of their Krupp kameraden, opened up with an accuracy that Ernie had to admit was pretty good, for Krauts. Several shells landed within a few feet of his foxhole as dozens of others in the forest took direct hits. Trees were split in half, or completely uprooted in the ferocity of the barrage, and the screams of …