*It was another cold morning on this forsaken beach. I could not tell you why I was put here or why it was important; the Fuhrer told our superiors to go here, and so they did. There weren’t enough of us available for his demands, necessitating the need to fill the battlements with Poles to help us should something happen. And then it did happen.
I was inspecting my well-used MG-42 when I heard the call. My captain yelled at the lieutenant to get everyone shooting blindly down towards the beach. Confused and still tired from being jolted out of sleep earlier with little warning from my superiors, the slew of commands refused to make sense to my brain, fogged as the beach below. All I understood was “Kill them all”.
Ach, the stench of death around me! I watched in horror as dozens, nay, hundreds of Americans bounded from their British-made landers and opened fire on us. To my left, my right, everyone was shouting. A dissonant clammor almost drowned out the sound of the rifles exploding from the guard posts just outside of the concrete bunker. Finally realizing with a great revelation what was happening, I tightened my grip on the machine gun, breathed deep, and pulled the trigger.
A tremendous roar was momentarily the only thing I heard. My ears felt like they were exploding. My comrades’ cries of agony, anger, and confusion were now merely mute gestures delivered by lips that seemed to me to move slower than before. My weapon rattled furiously as if it were a restrained animal giving into it’s instinct to stampede. I could barely control it.
Then it ceased shaking. It ceased spraying the large brass shells all over the floor. It smoked and a characteristic click sound was the only thing I heard with every trigger pull. I had to reload before the yankee scoundrels gained any ground. I did so. Drawing the bolt back with a satisfying* ca-chink*, I beheld in horror the scoundrels I had thought halted yet again pushing forward mercilessly. The determination in their eyes was apparent at even this range.
I depressed the trigger again and aimed for the first man to stand up. He fell quickly and almost painlessly, having died as soon as he was hit. The poor man was only doing his job, and I could not blame him. The momentary distraction drew my attention too far away from the battle. My captain was screaming in my ringing ears, horrible curses, telling me I had failed. I had let the Americans past the bunker.
In a moment I felt a rifle barrel against my head. With a reluctant sigh I surrendered. What deceived man had declared war on these brave souls?*
An edit of the picture (I need opinions on this):
C&C. Hope you guys enjoyed the story.