The Condemn Soldier

by

M.L. Stidmon

The sky was just overcast when they had first gotten off the train at the nearby village. By the time they had marched the five miles to the camp under the ever watchful guards the sky had broken and a cold autumn rain had come down. The road had turned into a slippery passage of mud and water. Cavano ignored the discomfort of the weather and the road as fitting for his fate. He just hunched his shoulders up and tried to find as much shelter that he could in the thin coat he was wearing. Slipping and sliding about in the mud of the road, it was all he could do to keep his footing, considering he was chained to three other condemned men as well. On several occasions the group of them had been brought down because of the timid mouse that had been chained in the lead position. Cavano had fortunately been the one in the last of the line of four. He was therefore able to stay on his feet while the Mouse and the two next in line found themselves in the mud more often than not. Curses would then be flung more so than the mud. The guards would then get all excited at them and start clubbing at the condemn men till they regained their feet. Cavano escaped much of the beating but during the march was clubbed several times never the less. The guards were brutal and unmerciful and being strong country boys, their blows were bone crushing. Thus Cavano and the others were marched to the camp.

The camp was not imposing in its frugal design and the expedited way it had been built. The starkness of it insinuated the reality that faced the prisoners; there was no need to expend resources on men about to die. There was the double fencing of barbed wire that ran parallel around the compound with the obligatory guard towers. The long one-story buildings had all been built of logs. With the rusted sheet metal roofs and the gray exterior, the buildings made the compound gloomier than the weather did.

“Don’t look about, get going,” one of the escort guards said and smacked Cavano across the back of the head. Cavano smarting from the pain kept his head forward and used his eyes only to take in the scene.

As described, there was the outer fence that was designed not so much as to keep people out but to ensnare those who would try to escape. The towers were made of wood and metal and stood in between the two fences. Each had a man with a machinegun who was constantly watching inward into the compound rather than the approaches to the camp. Inside the compound he saw guards with dogs walking about. At one end he saw better built buildings with a number of the guards lounging about on the steps of the doorways. There was a row of five buildings in the center of the compound, windowless with only one heavy door facing the orderly building of the camp commandant. Then there was one small block building that was behind these buildings. That was all that Cavano could see with out risking being beaten. 

The four men were ushered before the orderly room and in a tight formation waited for something to happen. The guards that had escorted them from the train station took their leave as four guards came up and took over the chained up group of men. Before leaving, one of the escorts gave a packet of papers to a Sergeant that had just walked up. One of the new guards had a dog on a leash that barked and growled incessantly. Cavano standing at the end closes to the dog seemed to be the canine’s main focus unless one of the others made a sudden movement. They did not have to wait long when a Lieutenant stepped out onto the porch of the orderly room and glared down at them. His uniform was spotless and stiff from heavy starching. His bearing was ridged as even the guards came to a stiff position of attention.

“You four were condemned by the state and have been sent here to Camp 327 to await execution in ninety days. In that time your cases are being reviewed and you may be reprieved by the state. We have two rules here. First, you will speak only when spoken to by one of my guards or me. If you talk with out being spoken to you will die. Second if you resist any order given, you will die.”

The Lieutenant looked up into the sky and saw how miserable the weather was. He gave no indication of discomfort as he nodded to the Sergeant and turn back to go back inside. The Sergeant started to bark orders until one of the condemn men spoke up.

“Sir, please listen, there has to be some mistake. I should not be here. I am innocent,” the fool of a man implored.

The Lieutenant stopped as he was turning about and stared at the condemn man who had spoken up. A guard off to the side of the line of men stepped up and withdrew his sidearm. Without comment the guard stepped in front of the condemn man and put the barrel of the gun in between the man’s eyes and squeezed the trigger. The Mouse jumped at the report of the gun and looked with horror at the sudden execution of the man who had spoken. The dog was barking vociferously as its handler had a hard time trying to restrain it from attacking the three remaining prisoners.

Cavano looked at the body of the dead man who had stood next to him and then back up at the Lieutenant. He gave the dog no mind as he stared at the dapper officer in this forgotten place. He let out a slow breath and adverted his eyes away less he invoke unwanted attention.  The Lieutenant looked at Cavano with one of those condescending appraising looks before with out a word entering the orderly room.

The Sergeant started barking orders. “Take off all your clothes and the boots you are wearing. You will have to rip them off because of the chains.”

Cavano and the two other remaining men hurriedly stripped off their clothes. The sudden death of the man still chained to them motivating them despite the cold of the rain. In no time they were standing naked there on the parade ground of Camp 327^th. The Sergeant then told the guard who had shot the talking condemned man to inspect each man. This guard walked forward and told each man to open his mouth. The guard looked for contraband in each man one at a time and then walked behind them and none to gently barked at them to lean forward. Cavano gasped as a rounded wooden stick was shoved up his rectum. He regained his composure and stifled the hatred he had for these guards who had reduced them to meaningless animals. He did not want to show any emotion and betray his feelings.

When the examination was completed the Sergeant ordered that the dead man be unchained from the rest. Then still naked they were marched off to one of the block buildings. One of the other two men was shivering almost uncontrollably. The other one was stumbling in a trance as he looked at the door of the building with a forlorn expression of no hope. Cavano remained cool and reserved. The door was opened and they were ushered into a long narrow dark corridor. The only light came from the open door and a couple of lit oil lamps. They were taken to the far end of the block building and told to stop. On either side of the corridor were a series of solid cell doors with small barred windows built into them. Cavano could just make out the pale skin and hollow eyes of the inmates staring back out at him watching the proceedings of the new comers.

Three doors were opened up to three cells. The Sergeant then ordered the chains to be removed from the new comers. The wrist chains and leg shackles were released and Cavano rubbed at his freed hands trying to restore circulation back into them. The Sergeant then told each man to go to one of the doors. Above each door was a number. From the feeble light from lamps in the corridor Cavano could just make out the barren small confines of the cell. The only thing he could see were a set of faded striped prison clothes with a pair of shoes in the middle of the room. A rolled up blanket was also present. Other than that there was nothing else in the cell.

“There is a hole in the corner to shit in,” the Sergeant said. “Remember the number that is above your cell. That is who you are now.”

Cavano looked up and saw the number 17 faintly painted. The three condemn men were then told to get into their cells. Cavano did not look back as he heard the cell door slam and lock behind him. It was the end for him he realized. In ninety days he would be shot. He looked back at the door and in the darkness of the cell could barely make out the faint glow of the oil lamps in the corridor coming through the little barred window. In ninety days that door would open and he would be executed in a cold manner with no dignity or honor.

There was nothing for him to do but dress in the ill-fitting rags that were his prison garb. He then curled up in a far corner with the thin blanket and tried to sleep. However, sleep eluded him as the faint cries of the man in the next cell to him could clearly be heard. Then there was the cursing yell of presumably one of the longer serving inmates telling the crying man to stop or he would be his violent end. Cavano kept quite lost in his own thoughts before sleep did finally came to him.

The sudden crashing and banging and shouts from guards jerked Cavano awake. He jumped up to go to the little window to see what was going on. From his advantage point he could see that a cell across from him and down towards the main door was open. He had gotten to the window in time to see two guards enter the little cell. He could hear pitiful shouts of protest of innocence and begging for more time. Then the two guards came out with a naked skeleton of a man between them. The little middle age man pleaded for merci and bewailed his innocence. Cavano watched as the man was dragged out of sight. Another guard came in with a bundle of clothing and a rolled up blanket and placed them in the cell before closing it.

When all the guards left the man who must have been a resident longer in the other cell next to Cavano spoke up, “You new numbers will be just like him in ninety days.”

Cavano recognized the voice as the angry threatening one from before. He did not say anything, but the other condemned man that Cavano knew as the Mouse asked, “Does anyone ever get a reprieve?”

“A reprieve?” the angry one asked mockingly. “This is 327^th. No one leaves this place alive.”

Cavano turned away from the window and went back to the corner where his blanket had been tossed. He wrapped himself up again and tried to go back to sleep. He was haunted by the spectacle of the little skeleton of a man being dragged out. He was bothered by the coldness of it all. It was not long after when he thought he heard the muffled pops of several guns. It was a long time before the imagine echoes faded and he had returned to the realm of sleep.

The next time Cavano awoke it was to guards crashing into the cellblock and opening the cells and shouting for everyone to get up and out. Cavano obeyed blindly as he was trying to fight off the last vestiges of sleep. With all the condemn inmates he filed out of the building not knowing what to expect. All the guards were shouting at them to hurry up while beating anyone with their small leather blackjacks that was not perceived to be moving very fast. Not knowing what to expect Cavano had left his blanket in his cell. When he emerged into the cold early morning he saw that just about everyone had their blankets wrapped about them.

A guard walked past him and hit him over the head. “Next time remember your blanket. We don’t want you to die from pneumonia.” The guard was being a brute and did not care about Cavano’s health.

Cavano stole glances out of the corner of his eye as he took in the unfolding scene. From the five buildings all the inmates were being formed up into five groups. Each group had four even rows of inmates. Guards walked about and beat at the condemn men for minor transgressions. Each man was expected to stand still while they waited. Those that moved even the slightest were pounced upon with blows. If the man fell to the ground he was kicked at and a dog snapping ferociously would bite till the man was either killed or stood back up. Most did not regain their feet. Cavano had just gotten to the camp and was in relatively better shape than most of the others and could stand as still as a statue.

There the condemn men from the five block buildings stood for what must have been two hours. Despite the occasional beating nothing was said or done. From the corner of his eyes Cavano saw the broken shells of men all about him endure this waiting in the morning cold. One man nearby him stood wrapped in his blanket shivering looking like a hunched over little old lady. The man’s eyes were disturbing, because of how vacant they were. It was the same mindless stare that he saw on many of the condemn men, one of total apathy towards the circumstances that they were in. Cavano sighed heavily at the prospect that this was to be his fate. He would be executed, only a hollow shell of his former self, body and soul.

As he stood there not trying to let the cold cause him to shiver so much as to attract a guards beatings the sun rose ever higher in the morning sky. Then the Sergeant from the day before came out of the orderly room and took up a position in the middle of the formation.

“Report!” he shouted in a long draw. Then guards in charge of each building reported the grim details of how many were present and alive, how many had been terminated, and how many had died attempting to escape.

At first Cavano was confused about the number killed while escaping, till he figured these were the ones beaten to death. He had thought of this place as a prison, but it was really a death camp. He looked about as much as he could with out moving his eyes and wondered if escaping could be done.

After the Corporals reported to the Sergeant, the senior noncommissioned officer turned about and faced the orderly room. He stood at a ridged position of attention. Cavano was not impressed by the soldierly display. The man was a butcher at a slaughterhouse. For Cavano the man was an insult to true soldiers fighting on the cold fronts to the west. Men who were scared beyond belief accomplishing heroic things while dying in droves, all for the State that was thankless and heartless to the individual while falsely reveling for the masses. It was this display of artificial martial ceremony that got Cavano’s blood going enough that he actually forgot how cold and miserable he was.

Not long after the Lieutenant that had greeted them and spoke to them about the rules, stepped out on to the porch of the orderly room. He looked about with that slow icy stare as he took in the scene of the ragged formation that contradicted his spotless appearance. He looked down at the Sergeant.

The Sergeant barked out, “Sir, condemn inmates all present or accounted for, Sir.”

“Very well Sergeant, feed them,” the callous officer said and turned around sharply and went back inside.

The process of feeding the inmates was just as regimented as everything else in the camp. A bench was set up and the condemn men were called out by columns from the formations they were in to line up for their daily ration. As they filed passed the bench a conscripted inmate handed them a beat up dented tin bowl. In this was ladled a watery soup and then a piece of hard bread. By observing the other condemn men Cavano saw that they kept the bread in the bowl and drank the soup as fast as they could, because as they got their bowl they had to hurriedly get back to their respective blockhouse. As they got to the door they were told to leave the bowl. But they were allowed to keep the bread as they went back to their cell. It was there that Cavano finished eating the piece of bread now soft from soaking up the soup.

The day passed with no other incidents. Cavano sat in the corner that he had adopted as his sleep area and tried to pass the time lost in more pleasant thoughts. From the cellblock there were conversations between the inmates, which he did not participate in and just ignored. There were also the haunting cries of men bemoaning their last couple of days. And then there was the angry man yelling at everyone to shut up or he would be the death of them. A hollow threat considering he was just as locked up as they were. To all of this Cavano ignored and kept to his own thoughts.

About midday a guard walked in and rattled the window. He had a ladle of water and Cavano forgetting all dignity opened his mouth to receive the precious liquid. Most of it dribbled all over his face and the guard laughed at him as he moved on to the next cell. Cavano just stared at him and watched how the other inmates drank; both hands cupped catching the precious liquid. The next day he would get more water.

   Late in the afternoon as early evening approached the condemn men were ushered out onto the parade ground yet again. This time Cavano remembered his blanket. The same Guard hit him again. This time for being to smart and remembering what he had been told to do. The Sergeant went through the ritual of obtaining a report from the Corporals and then the Lieutenant came out to receive the report. When this was done the Lieutenant stood quietly for a moment and then ordered the feeding of the prisoners. Again they were ushered by the table to get a bowl of watery soup and a piece of bread. Not long afterwards Cavano was back in his cell eating the piece of bread slowly. He had only eighty-nine days left till he was scheduled to be executed.

The days and nights passed with the cold regiment as the first day. Cavano resigned himself to the fate that the state had placed him. While other condemn men conversed amongst themselves, Cavano kept to him self. He tried to keep from getting beat by being compliant and following along with the orders of the camp. Each day he saw the revolving door of incoming inmates and those who were terminated. It was not long till he saw himself on a conveyor belt heading to a cold doom.

On the twelfth day since coming to the camp Cavano stood dutifully in front of the orderly room. This time when the Lieutenant came out to receive the report he had a Captain from the dreaded Security Police with him. The report was given and the Lieutenant with out comment or introduction stepped back and the Captain stepped forward.

“Comrades of the motherland, I am here to tell you that you will have a chance to render glorious service to the country and state that you love. You will be taken from this camp and turned into a special fighting unit.”

There was stunned disbelief amongst the condemn men as they heard that they were leaving the camp. Even Cavano reacted to the news by looking at the Captain instead of focusing on the ground just ahead of him. Forgetting where they were at a couple of the condemn men moved there heads and bodies about enough to be quickly beaten by hovering guards.

“Tomorrow you will be marched from here and will join our heroic forces at the front.”

The condemn men were given their morning breakfast and sent back to their cell. There was hope now to carry them through the wretched daily isolation of their dark cold cells. They were given an actual noon meal, instead of just water and then for supper they were given double rations. Cavano saw that several of the inmates were at a lost and bewildered by the extra food. He just took it in stride and ate the extra food with only the thankful appreciation of being able to.

The next morning was somewhat confusing since they slept through the night with out the nightly execution ritual. They were led out of the blockhouses and formed up in a mass formation instead of the usual five groups. When they were ready and the guards had reported to the Sergeant, only then did the Captain from the Security Police and the Lieutenant come out of the orderly room. This time they actually stepped down to where they stood and walked up to the Sergeant. There the Captain spoke to the two camp guards and then the Sergeant turned about.

“When you are told to fall out you will form up over by block house five.”

With that said, the Captain followed by the Lieutenant and Sergeant started walking down each row of men. Occasionally the Captain would pause and look at a man and then order the poor soul to fall out of formation and go to where a few other men were standing. Cavano saw that these were truly broken men. He doubted if they could make the march to the train station that they were sure to make today. The brief inspection was soon over and the empty places in the formation were filled in.

When all was ready the Captain went back to the front of the formation and in a loud voice said, “Soldiers of the motherland we are going to join with our comrades at the front today. Sergeant take charge; move the company to the rail station.”

The Sergeant saluted and started barking orders. Along with the Captain and Sergeant, there was an escort of ten guards with dogs. Cavano saw that the Lieutenant stood like a statue as he saw his former charges leaving Camp 327. A senior Corporal was respectfully standing next to him. Cavano wondered if they would join up with them at the front.

Walking through the gate Cavano actually had a sense of relief of saying farewell to this place. He was under no disillusionment that freedom awaited him. They were going to the front and there was no freedom there but death. At least the way he reasoned, if he were to die it would be not from the cold sanitized method of the state executing him. At least on a battlefield he would be able to have the comfort of knowing that he was going out fighting. As he looked about the other condemn men he was dismayed that some of the fools thought they were marching to some sort of salvation.

Cavano had officially been convicted of treason against the State. He had threatened a commissar at gunpoint for interfering in the planning of a counter attack. Cavano had been a Major commanding a battalion of Guards Infantry. It had been his experience that when those idiot political watchdogs got involved in operations disaster usually followed. This particular one had been a thorn in that particular sector for sometime. He had even caused several reversals that threaten the collapse of the entire theater. Cavano had usually been reserved around the commissars, but this idiot had said something stupid that had set him off. The whole incident was a convergence of circumstances that ultimately had sent Cavano to the death camp. Because he had been a Hero of the State and well connected within the chain of command, it was deem inappropriate to execute him back at the front. He had to go through a five minute show trial and then was sent off to the far rear to be killed, all in the name of justice.

The march was just like the day he arrived at the death camp. It was raining and probably colder than before. The shoes that they had were not suitable for marching and it was not long when men started to get blisters. At one point the Captain called a halt of the march and went up to one particularly complaining man and shot him before anyone realized what had happen.

“True soldiers of the motherland do not complain of a little discomfort,” the Captain sneered.

Before they continued on, Cavano wiped at the specks of blood that had sprayed onto him from the dead man. The incident with the complaining man was sobering to the mood of all the other condemn men. They may have cheated the death squad, but not death itself. Two other men were shot before the group reached the train station, all for straggling.

At the train station they were lined up in a formation and told to stay where they were while they waited for the train. The Captain then went off to the station house and came back a little later to declare that the train was expected later that afternoon. They were allowed to break ranks and sit off to the side of the station and wait for the train.

“I see the trains still don’t run on time,” a rat face man next to Cavano said in a barely audible whisper. Cavano stole a glance at the man for putting him in jeopardy by talking to him. The rat face man smiled at Cavano knowing what the former major was thinking.

Cavano sat away from everyone else, distancing himself from the rat face. He remained silent as he watched everything that was going on around the train station. There was no talking as the former inmates were under the understanding that they could not.

“You men are soldiers now, not dead men,” the Sergeant said mockingly. “You will do as you are told, you will follow soldier rules. The rules of the prison are back there. As soldiers you will obey and do what you are told. If you don’t, you will be shot.”

The men looked at each other with questions. The Sergeant went off with the guards that came with them. One of the guards came back and stood over them. In no time the clear sounds of low whispers could be heard as the men began to converse with one another. Typically the questions were short and to the point with few satisfying answers. For Cavano he decided to keep quiet and wait and see what would happen next. It was not that he was afraid, but rather just cautious. Some tried to talk to him and were rebuffed with his noncommittal silence.

The day dragged on and the men shivered as they huddled to keep warm. No food or drink was provided and because of the rules of the camp not to ask for anything the men endured without. In the afternoon a train whistle could be heard in the distance and the men at first craned their necks and heads to look for it down the rails. Soon as the train was coming in sight the Sergeant came storming up screaming orders for the men to fall in and get into a formation. The Captain who had been lounging in the warmth of the station house came out looking at the formed men. Satisfied that all was in order they waited as the train came puffing slowly into the station. Clouds of steam filled the area as the train stopped. Those that were close to the steam appreciated the warmth that it provided.

The train had several boxcars and a railroad man had come up from the only passenger car, to where the Captain was standing in front of the men. The Captain after conversing with the railroad man turned to the Sergeant and told him to load the men onto two cars. With that the men were order to get on to the indicated cars and in a mass confusion of shouting and cursing they broke ranks and clambered up. When all were aboard the doors to the cars were shut and bolted lock. Minutes later the train was pulling out of the station heading off to the west where the front was.

Cavano was huddled along the side of the car freezing, despite the closeness of the other supposedly redeemed men. Once in the car the men started to talk more freely. With no guards hovering over them and not being in isolated little cells the talk was unceasing about everything. Cavano just tried to stay warm in the cold air not wanting to talk to anyone. For him he understood his life to be at an end. At the camp there was always a chance of a reprieve. However, once they got to the front they would be thrown into a meat grinder and it would be over just like that.

“What you think?” a man next to him asked, while nudging him in the ribs.

Cavano looked at the slight man with biddy little eyes on a ferret face. He did not like the man. He talked way too much and was annoying to be around. The man cared little for any decorum or tack. Cavano looked at the man and kept silent. For the ferret face man he misunderstood the silence as uncertainty.

“My comrade, you should feel great that you are free. You are getting a second chance to prove yourself,” the ferret face man talked loudly to be heard by practically everyone. “Back there, you were dead. Up at the front, you have a chance of surviving.”

Cavano could not contain himself any longer. “Surviving at the front? Is that what you really think? There will be no surviving the front. We will be thrown against heavily defended positions so that the commanders will no the enemies weaknesses and strengths, all the while using up the enemies ammunition. And if we survive and actually take these positions our reward will more than likely be being shot afterwards or something, because the few of us that would be remaining would be a bothersome to keep around and guard. All we are is expendable.”

Cavano looked about as the realization of what he had said sunk into everyone that had heard. The casual banter ceased as the men looked inward trying to find comfort from how Cavano was more than likely right.

One young man looked from the other side of the train car at Cavano. He had fear in his eyes and asked to no one in particular, “Is it true what he said? Are we expendable? Will they actually make us charge machine guns like he said?”

No one answered the young man and he went quiet. As for Cavano he closed his eyes and tried to sleep as best he could. Sleep eluded him, but he kept his eyes shut listening to the clankety-clank of the train going down the rails. He was remembering all the engagements and battles that he fought. All the men he had known and how some of them had died. He remembered the Security Police Captain getting into his face screaming at him to keep attacking when his battalion faltered. They always seemed to be Captains he thought. Like the one who had declared that he was a coward and condemned him to the Peoples Court. Then there was the Peoples Advocate, a Captain in rank, which presented the declaration. And now the damn Security Police Officer that was bringing them all back to the front was yet another Captain. And he had been a Major of the People’s Guard. The train kept going and Cavano kept letting his thoughts roam all over his past thinking of what could have been.

The train had traveled for two days only to stop and pick up fuel and water for the engine. The men were hungry on the third morning and dehydrated. The train was moving slowly as it wound its way up a steep grade, when the first indication of them getting close to the front occurred. Over the noise of the steam engine laboring along, a high pitch scream could be heard. Most of the heads jerked up and looked at the ceiling as if it were transparent. Then there was a frantic scramble as the men realized how trapped they were in the boxcar. Several went to the door and tried in vain to open it.

Cavano took advantage of the chaos of the moment and made his way down to the end away from the engine. He also made a point of crouching down, when the first bomb ripped into the engine blowing it up. The rails were also ripped up and even though the train had been moving slowly there was enough momentum for the remaining cars to derail past the wreckage of the engine.

Inside the boxcar all was wild with fear as the car careened to one side and came to a stop. A large hole had been ripped into the front part of the car allowing an avenue of escape. Cavano had not been injured and saw the light coming in through the hole. He reverted back to his days of being a leader and started ordering men out of the car. Since he had to wait his turn he was able to see how the wreck had killed a couple of men. The high screaming noise from above returned as he poked his head out of the hole.

Looking up Cavano could see the seagull shape wings of the dive-bomber coming in low towards him. He got caught in some debris at the hole and was stuck. As he struggled to get out he saw the flashes on the wing. The first rounds landed far to the front of the remains of he derailed train and ripped up in a stream of fountains towards the hulk of wood and steel. Cavano ducked back in and felt the rounds impact the cars to the front and then the one he was in. He tried to curl up as tight as he could to avoid being hit, but chunks and splinters of wood and steel still found him. Then the impacts ended and all that could be heard was the screams of the dying and frighten along with the receding noise of the plane.

Cavano looked about and quickly moved through the hole. He found that he was not seriously wounded and made for a tight knot of his fellow released prisoners. The plane he saw was done with them receding away in the overcast sky. The respite was short live as the Captain and a handful of Guards came running up and herded them into a controlled little group. Cavano gave the ferret-face man a knowing look that even a train wreck would not change anything. They were soon put in a column of three and marched along the railroad in the direction they had been traveling.

As they marched a special equipment train rushed by down the tracks the way they had come. The men watched it go by in amazement that something could be dispatched to fix the rail and recover what could of the wrecked train so soon. When they got to the next station it was on the outskirts of a large town.

The Captain reported to yet another Captain of the Security Police. This Captain gave the ragged looking lot of men a once over and directed them to a warehouse. For the rest of that day they were put to work hauling things from the warehouse to train cars or vice versa. That night the men were allowed to changed out of their prison garb and put on what turned out to be used uniforms, some of which still had bullet holes from the previous owners. Then they were able to get some rations and water. After eating the men were taken to a half empty warehouse filled with tank parts where they were to sleep the night away.

Sleep was the furthest from many of the men’s mind as they talked late into the night about what they were going through. Cavano tried to keep out of the discussions, however; he was recognized to have once been an Officer. Other Officers and men were trying to get organized. They were trying to maximize their chances. However a good number of the men such as Cavano were numb to the ways of the Army and were resigned to their fate of dying. At one point a former Colonel rose up and made an impassioned plea to the men for them to conduct themselves like noblemen instead of as animals going to the slaughter. Few were won over. As for Cavano he rolled over onto his side away from the Colonel and closed his eyes.

The next day they were loaded onto another train early in the morning. The sun was barely up and in the gloom of the dawn the men stumbled about as steam from the engines fogged the area up effectively. With shouts and threats from Officers and guards everyone was loaded and doors to the boxcars were once again shut and secured from the outside. Again the men were imprisoned in the close confines of the rail cars. This time though they wore warmer clothes and actually had full bellies. They rode on and on, not knowing how much longer till they got to the front and what the situation was awaiting them.

The train had been going along the tracks for several hours when the distant thumping of artillery could be heard over the noise of the machines passage. Some of the men stared about as the distinctive sounds were first recognized. They looked scared rabbits expecting to be carried away by an eagle at any moment. Some became skittish while others sweated profusely despite the chill in the air. Others even prayed forbidden prayers for salvation and mercy. For Cavano he just stared straight ahead and rubbed his thumbs on the side of his pointer finger preparing himself for whatever may come next.

The train came to a lurching stop and the distinctive explosions of nearby artillery hits caused some inside the cramp confines of the boxcar to cry out. Over head the men could here the screaming and droning of airplanes, not knowing whose side they were on since they seemed to be dropping bombs and firing cannons at nearby targets. Every now and then a sharp crack of a rifle could also be made out. Cavano thought they must have been brought right up to the battle zone and were to debark into a firefight. The truth was not to far from the speculation.

The door was thrown open and Security Police were screaming at them to get off. Those who were slow were clubbed with rifle stocks. There was no effort at putting the men into an organize formation. As the last of the men were clubbed out off the train they were moved under a guard at a fast jog down a road away from the rail yard. As they left the area the train they were on came under attack from the air, as the vicinity of the rail yard was strafed. The pilots either ignored the large group of men or did not see them hurrying away. Many of the men who had resented the treatment they had received when they first got off the train were now looking favorably at moving quickly away. The fear of being at the front was amplified all that much more by the attack.

The group of men were taken to an old factory and filed through large access doors. Inside they were halted and formed up. The Captain reported to a Major in the Security Police. The Major was haggard looking and barely acknowledged the Captain. For being in the same branch of service they were different in bearing and appearance. The Captain was the ever vigilant spit and polish guardian of the Motherland, the user of any means in performing his duty. The Major on the other hand was not at his parade uniform best, but there was no mistaking he was the means of guarding the Motherland. Seeing the Major, Cavano hung his head in despair.

The Major in a few quiet words acknowledge receipt of the formerly condemn soldiers and dismissed the Captain. New guards from the Security Police were assigned and the escort guards withdrew with their Captain.

The Major looked at the group and shook his head. A Lieutenant came up and the Major gave him orders and walked away. His posture was such that he demonstrated a lack of empathy towards the condemn men. The Lieutenant started barking orders and the men came alive as they were ushered out of the factory and hustled down another road and towards the sounds of heavy fighting.

They came to a plaza in the city where a number of trucks were gathered. The surrounding buildings were all mostly bombed out ruins. Some of the better structures were occupied by what looked like a headquarters unit. Officers and soldiers of various ranks were hunched over maps and papers, while messengers scurried to and fro. As they came to a halt Cavano noticed a tight group of officers conversing and looking over to the newly arrived soldiers. The Lieutenant went over to this group to report in and was met by yet another Major. This Major was with a regular infantry guards unit. The Lieutenant was given instructions and saluted the Major before returning to where the group of formerly condemn soldiers were gathered in a loose formation.

“We will draw weapons and ammunition and will be given further instructions. After getting your weapon if you load it you will be shot on the spot. Sergeant move the soldiers out,” the Lieutenant order.

The Sergeant that had been in charge of the new detachment of guards over the former condemn soldiers took over from the Lieutenant and started to bark and yell out orders. The condemn men rushed over to where the trucks were and first grabbed a gun from one of them and then five rounds from the other truck. Then as they got there arms the men were placed in a formation in columns of four. Cavano found himself towards the rear of the column. The rifle he saw was an old bolt-action long rifle that had not been taken very good care of after seeing many years of service. There was pitted rust over much of the metal receiver and barrel. The wooden stock was chipped and cracked. Cavano wondered if it would even fire like it was supposed to. The rounds he saw were simple lead bullets pressed into the casings, he basically figured that they were worthless. Looking about he saw that the other men were equally armed and disgusted with the quality of the weapons. They would be cannon fodder with the possibility of inflicting some damage.

They were moved out by the Lieutenant and the Infantry Major down the road. As they were marched at a double time they passed massed groups of regular infantry that were taking shelter in trenches and other improvised defenses. The looks on the faces of the infantry towards the former condemn soldiers were one of pity. Cavano figured they knew about what was going on and understood that he and the other former condemn men were to be the first in an assault. Some of the men were getting excited and were talking about redemption and proving themselves. Cavano remained quiet. Then a terrific bombardment opened up before them.

The group of soldiers squatted down more out of reflex than out of need as the shells from their own artillery could be observed landing some five hundred meters to their front. The shells were pulverizing the remains of a series of row houses. Great plums of dust from the explosion erupted into the air and soon the area was flooded with a cloud of dust. Then the distinct smell of fires could be smelt through the dust. As the artillery pounded away, several machinegun crews came up behind them and set up their rapid-fire guns. Some of the men saw this and soon everyone was looking at the several barrels pointed at them. Cavano had seen this before and understood the meaning. They were going to be attacking soon and if they came back they would be gun down. A couple of foolish men stated they should take over the guns since they were armed. Others pointed out to these dimwits that the machinegun crews would cut them down before they could even fire a shot.

Cavano carefully loaded his rifle trying not to be scene. As he inserted the last round into the internal magazine well, the bombardment was lifted. Suddenly, a number of loud whistles could be heard and the Sergeant of their guard got up in front of them and yelled.

“Get up and charge, keep going till you are told to stop. If you don’t charge you will be shot. If you retreat like cowards you will be shot. Now get going. Charge those damn bastards!!”

Some of the other guards started beating at those near at hand to start the charge. Being in the middle of the column and towards the rear Cavano escaped the beatings. Some of the men in front hesitated and that is when the Sergeant started to shoot. Four of their numbers were gunned down in rapid succession. Faced with the certainty of dying if they stayed versus the uncertainty to their front the men chose to go forward. As one group they surged passed the screaming and beating guards.

Cavano found him self running along within the midst of the group of formerly condemn men. While rushing forward, the excitement of the charge came over many of the men as they screamed out war cries of victory for the motherland. Cavano lingered back and tried to take in the scene of what they were trying to accomplish. The row houses that had been fired upon by the artillery were still mostly standing even though they had suffered much damage. A number of the buildings were on fire. On either side of the road they were charging down were the rubble remains of other buildings. Also there were accouchements of war and the bodies from previous assaults. At one point a wounded man left behind called out to them as they passed. The man locked eyes with Cavano pleading for help. Cavano kept going on, he could not help a dying man when more than likely he was going to be dead shortly himself.

As the group of a few hundred men ran the remaining distance to the bombed buildings they came under fire. Both machinegun fire and small arms ripped into them. The bullets ripped into the charging men with a wet thud. Those bullets whizzing by unchecked sounded like a buzzing bee. Cavano had heard them before and he was now amazed at how they seemed to be more of them. Cavano leapt over the bodies of those who had been struck down first, forging ahead expecting to be hit at any moment.

Running as fast as he could to reach the ruined buildings that the enemy was defending, another soldier stumbled in front of Cavano. The falling man caused Cavano to also lose his footing and he too went down. He fell with a hard jarring impact as the zipping sound of a bullet went right over his head. Then there was a moan behind him as the bullet found another mark. Rolling over behind a pile of rubble he brought the rifle up and took aim.

Targets were hard to find in the shadows of the ruins at first. Keying on muzzle flashes Cavano was able to find where a machinegun crew was working with devastating proficiency. He took aim and fired the old rifle and was glad to feel the weapon bucking in his hands as the report of the shot rang out. He worked the bolt as he saw that he had hit his target. The assistant gunner was in the process of moving his wounded gunner when he too was hit. Cavano searched for more targets.

Others of the formerly condemn men were now crouched behind cover and firing at the enemy. Some were trying to call out orders to get some semblance of coherent action going. Attempts to rush the defensive line were made but armed only with the heavy bolt action rifle the amount of suppression fire that could be brought to bear was not enough for effective covering fire. Despite the feeble shooting a couple of soldiers were still able to reach the main rubble of the ruins with its defending forces. Cavano saw that there was no attention in his general vicinity and took the chance to reach those who had made it to the rubble.

Gathering himself up by bringing his legs under him, Cavano took a deep breath as he sprung up and rushed the remaining distance to the other two men. Immediately bullets started to whiz by him and one even tugged at his sleeve under his left arm. He did not hesitate or pause and was soon safely at the rubble pile next to the two men.

“God, did you see that?” one of the men shouted in amazement. “I bet every gun was on you.”

Cavano ignore the man while looking about for any immediate threat. They were in a defilade position and momentarily safe. He knew if they did not act soon they would be counter attacked. He poked his head up and saw a group of five of the enemy blazing away at some of their comrades who had still not made it to the rubble. Cavano pointed this small group out to his two companions and together they popped up and fire upon them. Three of the five were hit. The other two enemy soldiers spun about and fired off rounds at the attacking trio. The one to Cavano’s right was hit. Cavano and the remaining man were able to work their bolts and fire at the remaining two, hitting them too. Cavano worked the bolt and jumped into the fighting position. His remaining compatriot followed.

In the fighting position two of the soldiers were dead. One other was seriously wounded with a gaping hole in his neck spurting a fountain of blood all over. Cavano was heavily showered by the crimson fluid. Of the two remaining enemy soldiers, one tried to flee while the other tried bringing up his rifle. Cavano batted the rifle to the side and brought the butt of his rifle down, crashing it into the man’s skull with a sickening crack. The man slumped down into the bottom of the position convulsing as he died. Cavano brought his gun up and leveled it at the last man who was just clearing the lip of the fighting position. He squeezed the trigger only to have nothing happen. Cavano had a brief moment of panic as his rifle failed him. He worked the bolt and ejected the worthless round. Seeing he was empty and knowing he had no more ammunition for the rifle he reached down and grabbed an abandon gun of the enemy. Bringing up the weapon he was too late as his companion had fired at the wounded retreating man.          

     A bullet smacked into the fore arm stock of the rifle he held spinning it out of his hand. He ducked down and grabbed for another weapon. Peering cautiously over the lip of the position Cavano saw that in another adjacent position an enemy soldier was looking to fire at him. Cavano ducked and looked about the position. He saw that one of the enemy dead had grenades on him and he grabbed for one. Pulling on the pin he waited two seconds before tossing the little bomb up and over to the other position. A second later there was a scream of pain intermixed with the blast of the grenade. Cavano made a point of stripping more ammunition for his confiscated weapon. The other soldier that came with Cavano was arming himself like wise.

Cavano looked about and saw there was no enemy immediately threatening him. He then took the time to take in the situation and see what needed to be done. For the most part the enemy was holding a tenuous line in the rubble of the ruin buildings. They were firing away at his companions who were mostly taking cover as their attack stalled. From the direction that they had come from he could see follow on forces approaching. He also saw intermix with the follow on forces the black uniforms of the security police.

“We need to get more people up here, so we can exploit what we got,” Cavano told the man. The man looked at him. He was scared and was willing to follow somebody who knew what they were doing.

Cavano ordered, “Take a position to cover us as I try to get people to come to here.”

The man nodded affirmative and got into a position where he could shoot at any counter-attacking enemy. Cavano crawled over to the front part of the fighting position and started waving to other formerly condemn men to make their way to him. In short order there were several of the once condemn men around and about the fighting position. Cavano started directing them to take out nearby enemy positions with great affect. Soon the enemy was being killed or driven back. Cavano realized he was leading the remnants of the group of men from the execution camp. Soon they had the buildings cleared and the enemy was routed and falling back. Cavano was looking at his next course of action when a regular infantry officer and the Security Police Lieutenant came upon him.

“Stand down soldier,” the Lieutenant ordered. “You and the other condemn men need to form up before the buildings on the other side.”

Cavano looked about realizing that he was being addressed as a leader of this motley band of soldiers. He saluted the Lieutenant and started yelling for the men to follow him back to where they had first breached the enemy defenses. Along the way they policed up several of their wounded. When they got back they stood about in a loose formation as a detachment of Security Police led by the Lieutenant came up to them. A Sergeant barked orders and those who could stand at attention did so in a tight formation. Then they were told to stack arms and moved away from the weapons piled up. Then to everyone’s horror two Corporals from the Security Police walked up and shot the wounded men who had hung back unable to stand in formation or thinking that medical attention was on the way.

“You are still under the authority of the State,” the Lieutenant barked out.

There was only about a hundred of them left of the original three hundred from the camp. Cavano looked at the rifle he had liberated and wished he could have kept it. He still had a grenade and decided to keep that a secret even from the other men. He now understood that their sentence had not been commuted just the method of execution had changed. As he looked around he saw that a number of his comrades had also come to the same realization. What a shame he thought. They had fought well today and could be one of those elite units to go to when no others could get the mission done. Instead they were to be used as fodder.

The Sergeant bellowed out for them to come to attention. Just then a regular infantry officer came over to the Lieutenant before they could be marched off.

“What unit is this?” the colonel asked cheerfully smiling at the men. “Never before have I seen such bravery. I need to know who you men are for my report.”

A man next to Cavano spoke up, “We are from Camp 327 formerly condemned to be executed by the state.”

 “Penal soldiers?” the Colonel was now looking at the Lieutenant whose face was turning red with anger.

“These men are under the jurisdiction of the State Security Police, Colonel. Their actions in your report are not necessary,” the Lieutenant answered in a menacing tone.

The Colonel straightened up, stiffening at the implied threat from the young Security Police Officer. Despite out ranking him, the Colonel knew that this despicable little rat of a man could turn his life into a true hell. Instead of trying to survive the battles and fighting of the war the Colonel was also trying to survive the insanity of the Security Police and the draconian purges that followed even the thinnest of accusations.

“You and these men did well today. They saved lives by their action I just wanted to acknowledge their effort, Lieutenant.” The Colonel stated.

“It’s noted Colonel,” the Lieutenant said smugly. Then ignoring the Colonel the Lieutenant ordered the penal soldiers out. In silence they marched down the road leaving the day’s battle with many contemplating their futures and what their next actions might be.  

Several days later Cavano and two other men were crawling through a ditch on the outskirts of the city. The army had been successful and had mostly pushed the enemy out of the city. There were still trapped pockets of the hated enemy holding out, but their comrades were just not able to come to their rescue. The fighting had been bloody and desperate most of the time. There were only about twenty-five of the penal soldiers left. Now they were on the outskirts making their way along on a force recon of enemy positions. Cavano led the other two along the ditch towards a reinforced bunker. There was a scout car parked near by with its coaxial heavy machinegun pointed away from their approach. They could see firing ports in the bunker, but no guns sticking out. There were a number of radio antennas sticking above the concrete roof. Like wise a number of telephone cables ran from the bunker’s entrance. One of the men with Cavano had a rocket-propelled grenade and the other had a flamethrower. Cavano had been issued yet another bolt-action rifle, which he had dropped somewhere when he had come across a dead comrade of the motherland and his submachine gun. He had also acquired along the way a handful of grenades.

The three soldiers were to move up and secure the bunker if they could or destroy it. Cavano had honestly had to think about what he wanted to do. If he just went out and destroyed the bunker, then the risk would more than likely not be as great as trying to capture it. He looked back where the rest of the formerly condemn soldiers were held up and saw the distinct black uniform of one of the Security Police NCOs. He was being watched and knew that if he just attack to destroy then it would be reported and he and the other two would be shot. He looked back at the scout car and moved even closer.

As they got to a point where if they moved much closer they would for sure be spotted by anyone manning one of the bunker firing ports, they stopped. The penal soldier with the rocket propelled grenade got up on a knee and took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger igniting the propellant and sending the rocket on its way. The missile crashed into the side of the scout car and blew up. Before anyone could react the three men rushed the bunker entrance. As they approached, Cavano threw two grenades into the entrance. The little bombs exploded when they reached the side of the door. Cavano leading the other two, pointed the machinegun he had and let a long burst spray the entrance and beyond. Cavano saw that despite the damage of the rocket propelled grenade the scout car was not out of commission. He pointed to it for the soldier with the flamethrower. The man stepped forward and let loose a stream of flame that engulfed the armor vehicle. Screams could be heard from within as the scout car burned. Cavano then took another grenade and rolled it into the bunker. After it exploded he rushed in firing his weapon. The soldier that had fired the rocket-propelled grenade had followed him in. He was reduced to having to assault the bunker with the old rifle he had been issued about an hour before.

Inside there had been a number of the enemy soldiers. Some had been killed by the initial grenade blasts. Still several had survived and had been dazedly preparing for the expected assault. Cavano and his compatriots had been quick and violent and succeeded in over powering the bunker. Looking about they grabbed codebooks lying by the radios and telephones. They also took maps and a logbook of orders received and sent. Then as quick as they had entered they were out making their way back to the rest of the penal group.

When they got back, the Lieutenant and Sergeant of the State Security Police that had accompanied them took the books and maps that had been retrieved. Cavano smiled at the man who was looking over briefly what they had brought back. The Sergeant was looking about making sure nothing was a miss with his charges or that the enemy was not about to attack.

Cavano had to say something to the Lieutenant, “Not bad for some penal soldiers, huh?”

The Lieutenant looked up at Cavano and with a sneer, “You’re nothing special, you got lucky. Shut up and get back with the others, we have to return.”

Cavano looked at the man and understood that no matter what they did they would not be appreciated for what they were doing. They had been ordered on one tough mission after another, everyday since arriving at the front and they were able to complete those missions. Granted they had lost many but that was in the first couple of days and what remained were some very capable soldiers. Cavano looked at the Lieutenant and shook his head in pity at how ignorant of the possibilities that this small unit could be when it was just being thrown away. He went back to the group of penal soldiers and together they made their way back to the rear for the night, their mission accomplished yet again.

They were staying in a bombed out building that had seen much fierce fighting. The ceilings had been collapsed from bombs leaving little more than the brick walls. All of the men were huddled over several small fire pits, cooking simple stews. Before entering the buildings the returning men were disarmed by the ever present Security Police guards. Once again Cavano was able to retain the grenade. Cavano was then motioned over to one of the groups and offered to eat with the men gathered. They were situated towards the entrance of the building and were able to see what was happening out front. Cavano sat and took a large spoon and dipped into the communal pot. A canteen was then passed to him and to his surprise found an adequate vodka to drink. He looked at the man who had passed it and gave him a nod of approval.

“Misha, what I really want is a smoke. I don’t care what it is. I would like to just have one more smoke.” Cavano said looking at the man who was surprising everyone with his ability to acquire things of rarity.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Cavano took another bite from the stew. Then out front of the building there was a commotion as a couple of staff jeeps pulled up. Several officers got out with their armed escorts. The Sergeant that was in charge of the guard detail for the penal soldiers came in and ordered them all to fall out into formation on the double. Some of the men had been sleeping and it took everyone sometime to get ready. The Security Police guards were yelling and screaming at the men to hurry. The Sergeant was even beating at the slower responding men coming out last.

Asking questions and talking back was never done with the formerly condemn men since being at the execution camp. However, looking about covertly out of the corner of their eyes was the norm. The men knew they were at the mercy of the State and whenever anything happened out of the normal routine the men became worried. Some actually braved a backward glance to see if machineguns were being set up.

    As they stood there in a tight formation wondering what the commotion was all about the Major in charge of the Security Police for that sector came up to a tight group of officers standing next to the small convoy of staff jeeps. As he walked up, Cavano could see that the man was not pleased at being summoned and was even a little worried. Then as the crowd of officers parted Cavano saw why the Major was not happy to be there. A full Field Martial stepped out of one of the jeeps and stood at ridged attention. Not so much because he had to, but because he did. All the officers including the Security Police stood at attention too. Cavano chuckled to himself seeing that even the Security Police were not as all powerful as they thought.       

The Field Martial said a few words to the Major and then was brought over to where the men were formed up. The Field Martial eyed the men as they were ordered to attention, even though they already were standing at attention. Cavano saw that the practice eye of a battlefield commander was looking them over, appraising them. Surely, Cavano thought, he saw beyond their ragged appearance and saw the true soldiers that they actually were. Skilled and deadly in their abilities to accomplish tasks given to them that others were unable to or unwilling to do. Cavano figured this Field Martial knew what he was looking at. He had the look of a truly great commander. He was not some popinjay who through political maneuvering was able to attain the position that he held. Cavano knew better, that in this war only the true leaders were promoted.

The Field Martial took a deep breath and then addressed the formerly condemn men.

“You men were once damned I am told, by the State. Then you were given the opportunity to die fighting like the men you are, rather than by being shot like dogs. But you have done better than die gloriously for the Motherland; you have been instrumental in driving the barbarians from our once beautiful city on the majestic river of our country.

You have one more task I am told in the morning. You will be the spear tip to seize a bridgehead over the river. When you have done this I will see to it that you men will be restored to honor and your sentences commuted. As a token of my gratitude I give you gifts for the duty you have done for our motherland and for that which you will be doing on the morrow.”

The Field Martial nodded to an aid and a Sergeant brought up a case of vodka and a couple of cartons of cigarettes. The Field martial gave one last order for the men to fall out and enjoy the gifts before going over to the staff jeeps. The Security Police officers in charge of guarding the men looked to the Major for guidance. The Major only smiled and nodded to let the formerly condemn indulge themselves. As for Cavano, he was one of the first to help him self to the cigarettes.

As he stood there smoking and relishing the tobacco, Misha the scrounger came up to him and said, “How’s that smoke?”

“I never thought I would ever get to smoke another cigarette again, it’s wonderful.”

After the Field Martial left, the men were given another five minutes and then the fun was over. The Major ordered that the men be brought under control and the vodka confiscated. He allowed the men to have the cigarettes. Then with order restored then men were filed back into the building for the night, once again under guard. This time though they had vodka to warm them and cigarettes to smoke. The thought of fighting in the morning made no difference since they had been condition to take on hard missions. Cavano looked around and thought this was probably the last night that many of them, including him, would have. He did not think very many of them would survive a river assault.

The sun had not even come up yet when they were aroused and told to form up. As the men from the execution camp filed out of the bombed out building they were handed their rifles. Lately they had been given about twenty rounds of ammunition per man and a hand grenade or two. Some of the men had even been issued a rocket propelled grenade launcher with a couple of rockets. This time they were all issued only rifles and ten rounds.

Once they were all armed they were marched down towards the river and halted at a forward assault point. The Security Police Lieutenant reported to a Captain from an infantry guards unit. Cavano being towards the front saw the look on the Captain’s face as he looked with pity at him and his fellow soldiers. The Captain motioned the Lieutenant to bring the men down to the bank where some canvas boats were awaiting.

Cavano looked in disbelief at the flimsy looking crafts. They had flat plywood bottoms and canvas sides. Each boat had only four oars and a tiller. A soldier from the engineers stood by and explained that each boat could hold twelve men. The engineer stated that if they wanted to go faster that those without paddles would have to use the stocks of their rifles. Skepticism was murmured through the ranks as the men looked at the canvas boats and the wide river that they were to cross.

For the first time since being let out of the execution camp several of the men asked about the operation. The Lieutenant, who had never shared any operational information declined to say anything other than to say that the men would load up and cross the river. To add emphases to this simple plan the Security Police guards leveled their submachine guns at the group of fifty soldiers. That quieted the men down while they were broken up into groups for each boat and hunkered down next to it.

Cavano had saved one last cigarette and lit it. He kept it cupped so that the guards could not see him smoking, but a fellow soldier nudged him and he shared it. Regrettably the butt was past around and he never saw it again. Not long after the Captain that they had first reported to came up to them and explained that they were to reach the other side and secure a beachhead. They were to expect machinegun nests and mortar pits amongst a trench line. The Captain said that when they saw a red flare that they were to grab their boats and enter the river. Cavano looked across the water to see if he could make out the enemy.

The first glow of dawn could just be discerned when a terrific bombardment was unleashed on the far bank. The earth shook and ripples in the water actually made the river choppy. The men went from crouching next to their respective boats to lying next to them seeking whatever cover they could. The loudness of the bombardment was such that it felt like their heads would explode as well. Some of the shells fell short and landed in the river. Great geysers of water would shoot up into the air and rain down harmlessly. Cavano looked in wonderment and fear at the display.

As one the men shouted as rose up and stated hauling the boats down to the river bank. The promised red flare was disappearing into the gloom of the early morning. Cavano had not seen it at first and was at first bewildered at why everyone was getting up. He followed suit though and grabbed a hold of the canvas gunwale and helped drag the flimsy craft down to the waters edge. As the bow of the boat entered the water, men scrambled into the craft and started paddling frantically.

Cavano was using his rifle butt to help propel the boat. He had never done this before as well as most of the others in the boat. They flounder at first till some sort of rhythm could be established. Soon they were making headway going across the river. The current was slow and not so strong, therefore the boats were not being carried to far down stream.

The bombardment was still continuing as the boats crossed and the men began wondering if they would land on the far bank amidst their own artillery. At the half way point they started to slow down. They then heard over loud speakers to continue on or they would be fired upon. Cavano looked back and sure enough a few heavy machineguns had been set up. A collective decision was made and the men continued on. One boat that seemed to have been heading more down stream than crossing the river was fired upon. Even as the men were paddling frantically to correct their course they were gunned down. In no time that boat was a floundering hulk of lifeless bodies as bullets ripped into the dead bodies ensuring that death was dealt.

One of the soldiers in Cavano’s boat stood up and shouted back at the shore they had come from, “They were heading to the other side you didn’t have to shoot them.”

A couple of others yanked at the man before the gunners start shooting at them.

Cavano and the group he was with paddle even more frantically looking at the geysers of the bombardment with trepidation. Then the tide of the bombardment switched as the enemy started to answer the attack with their own artillery. Despite the barrage, the defenders started to expose themselves by firing upon the on coming boats. Exposed in the open on the river the men in the boats pulled on oars and rifles to propel the canvas boats as fast as they could before they all died. Bullets cut into flesh without losing any momentum going through the canvas. Helpless on the water the remaining soldiers could only row so fast.  

Cavano was towards the back of his boat and had been sheltered by those in front of him. Several had been shot in his group and it had been all that much harder to row the boat. The dead and wounded were left where they were, those still alive not wanting to risk slowing in their progress to chuck a body in the river. When the boat finally reached the opposite shore with a bump there had been a mad rush to get off of it and seek cover. Cavano got up to rush off as a mortar shell exploded at the bow of the boat flipping it up and backwards. Cavano landed in the water with a heavy splash. As he oriented himself and made to stand up he was knocked under again by another boat. He was lucky, cause as he went under a burst of machinegun fire raked the boat. He would have surely died.

Cavano was able to crawl up onto shore with no other mishaps. Keeping his head down, he saw that they were taking a terrific amount of counter fire. He surveyed the scene and took in what they had to do. Several of his comrades had taken up a position in a shell hole and were laying down a base of fire. Before this group could really be effective a burst of machinegun fire took out half of them. Cavano saw that the enemy had placed gun on high ground that commanded the area. If they were to secure the beachhead this emplacement would have to be taken care of. 

He was able to crawl up to a crater that offered better protection. Others nearby were also making their way to the same crater. Cavano took charge and started directing the pitiful few men that were left. Some he directed to fire in order to suppress the gunners and their support. While he had others rush forward using shell craters for cover. In this manner they were able to get close. Because of the few rounds that they had been issued, they were quickly running out and unable to truly suppress the machinegun. Cavano figured that if they could not get to the where the enemy’s line was and take guns and ammo from them then they would more than likely would be slaughtered.

After several leapfrogging rushes while comrades provided covering fire, Cavano and three others found themselves near the machinegun position and off to the side. They were in a defilade position and momentarily safe from fire from the enemy. Cavano took out the grenade he had kept and took a quick look to see where to throw it. A bullet hit a fist size rock literally by his nose spraying him with shards of rock and dirt. If the stone would not have been there he would have been mortally shot. Cavano ignored the dirt, pulled the pin to the grenade and tossed it towards the machinegun nest.

Ducking down he felt the concussion of the grenade going off. He looked up again and saw that he had thrown it short. The machinegun had been disrupted but had not been knocked out of commission. He looked down at the bottom of the crater in frustration. Looking about he saw some of the others still trying to move forward. As they popped their head up the machine gun fired at them. Cavano directed the others with him to rush with him to yet a closer shell hole. They were able to reach it right before the machine gunner turned his attention to them.

Using the leapfrogging method to confuse the gunner Cavano and his companions working with another group of other men were able to get close to the deadly emplacement. Two of the men with Cavano were eager to rush again as the gunner seemed to be distracted by the other group. However as they got up to rush they were cut down in a hail of rounds. Cavano and the last remaining man were showered with blood as the lifeless bodies fell back into the crater. The other group also tried to rush at this time and the gunner switched to them. Cavano jumped up and fired at the gunner and his assistant. He shot the enemy gunner who was slouched over the butterfly controls of the machinegun. The man was pushed out of the way by the assistant gunner who then swung the barrel back towards Cavano and the man with him. Cavano worked the bolt and tried to squeeze off another hasty shot before the machinegun barrel could bear down onto him. Unfortunately the poor quality of cartridges again nearly caused him to loose his life when his gun did not fire. Cavano could only drop down behind some blown chunks of ground. The new gunner let a long steady stream of bullets dig into the cover that protected them. Then the firing stopped.

Cavano jumped up and shouted to charge. He had guessed right and the gun had either malfunctioned or ran of ammo. Cavano and his partner and three from the other flanking group rushed the position killing the enemy soldier as he scrambled to pick up a submachine gun to shoot the attackers. Cavano grabbed the gun from the dead mans hands knowing that he was out of ammo. The other soldiers with him grabbed what weapons and ammo they could find. One of the men kept the rifle he was given and took all the remaining ammo for it from the others.

Cavano looked over the sandbags and saw that several enemy troops were trying to counter attack. He then looked to the river shore to see that they were all that was left from the assault. No one else had made it. In the water he was relieved to see the main attack forces half way across. They were taking a terrific shelling from the enemy and long-range small arms fire. Cavano figured that they had to hold out for five more minutes before the lead boats would be across and the friendly soldiers up to the point where he was.

The four formerly condemn men held out against an attempt to eliminate them. They had been able to get the machinegun turned about and were using it with great devastating effect. The enemy it could be seen was throwing an organized counter attack at them. At one point the man manning the gun was killed as he took a bullet to the head. Another man jumped to the triggers and kept pouring on the hot lead into the counter-attacking ranks. Cavano burned through ammunition magazines for the weapon he had confiscated at an alarming rate. The enemy kept coming though and he was forced to fire. At one point the man with the rifle said he was out of ammo and started chucking grenades he had found. When they were gone he searched frantically for another weapon with ammo. It was then that the second gunner was killed and the last companion of Cavano’s jumped on the gun to continue firing.

Cavano took a moment to look back at the river to see where the reinforcements were and was happy to see that the first boats were landing. The fight was becoming extremely intense as even more of the enemy was thrown at them. Bullets and grenades flew through the air like a summer rain shower. Just as the first of the relieving soldiers came up to his position the last of his comrades from the execution camp was killed. Cavano took his turn behind the gun and not letting up on the trigger hosed the area to his front.

Within minutes the relieving forces were moving forward having beaten back the enemy. Cavano slumped down into the fighting position shaking from the effort. He was exhausted and thirsty. His mine was numb from the intensity of the engagement and the fact that he was the last of the condemn men from the execution camp. In a stupor he saw a canteen in the mud of the machinegun nest and reached for it. He took a long refreshing drink, emptying it. He then looked for the submachine gun to continue on. What was there to do, he thought.

“Just stay there and I’ll be back for you,” the Lieutenant from the Security Police said to him. A Corporal from their guard detail was left with Cavano. He sat the weapon down and slumped back to the bottom of the fighting position to rest out of harms way.

A Colonel came up to them followed by a gaggle of runners and aides. The Colonel looked down at Cavano and smiled at him. “You are a Hero of the Motherland. I saw what you did with that machinegun. If it was not for you we would not have been able to land. We would have been shot like dogs in those damn boats. You are a hero and I intend for you to be rewarded.

Cavano nodded at the officer as he spied a pack of cigarettes slipping out of a pocket from a dead enemy soldier. He reached for them and fished one out. He offered one to the Corporal who declined the offer. Cavano shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

Just then the Lieutenant came back to his position with the hard nose Major. The Lieutenant pointed at Cavano and said, “He’s the last one. What do you want me to do with him?”

The Major looked at Cavano in contempt as he took in the still raging battle. Then without discussion or second thought and not even with any emotion he said, “Shoot him.”

The Lieutenant hesitated for just the briefest moment. Cavano realizing that he was to die dropped his hand away from his mouth holding the cigarette. But a voice from the side interrupted the order to have him killed.

“What, he is a Hero of the Motherland? He saved my men,” the Colonel protested. “You will not shoot that man.”

“Colonel, this is State Security business go about defeating the enemy. We are handling this situation,” the Major said coolly.

“I out rank you and I say stop this at once,” the Colonel said screaming at the top of his lungs and getting threatenly close to the Major.

The Major shifted his body to confront the Colonel and was going to meet the man’s challenge to his authority when a bullet smacked into the side of the senior officer’s head. The Colonel had an instant blank stare come over him as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. For the Major he just turned away and nodded to the Lieutenant to carry out his orders.

The Lieutenant turned to the Corporal and ordered him to shoot Cavano. Cavano looked over at the Corporal realizing this was the end. The Corporal had a look of pain on his face as he brought his rifle up to his shoulder. He took careful aim as he pulled the trigger.