excerpt from The Rockwells

“Get a medic up here!” I said into the radio and I gave them our address— “roger, out.”

Anzio was making us sweat, scared shitless. A Kraut machine gun nest had the unit pinned down good. Poor Charlie was screaming and holding his crotch. He’d stepped on a German anti-personel mine, the ones that take your family jewels.

Brack had a look at him. “He’s lost a goddamn nut, Jackie!” he yelled.

“Stop the bleeding and keep quiet, stupid!” I said as the piercing sound of rifle fire echoed in the street.

Brack threw up as he put a field bandage on Charlie’s crotch hole. Poor Charlie, at least still had the other one.

“Psst— Hey, jackass?” It was Rock’s voice from a pile of rubble to my right.

“Yeah?” I hushed back quickly.

“You know where they are?”

“Yeah, about ten yards up on the left… a window, second floor,” I said.

“You got good cover there, Jackie?” He sounded like a quarterback in a huddle.

I looked around. We were dug in pretty good.

“Well, I’m not shot or blowed up yet, Sarge.”

He laughed that classic Rockwell laugh and suddenly there were bullets ricocheting around my ears—

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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