Chapter 59
Senator Anderson’s hands trembled as he poured himself as glass of whiskey. The glow of the full moon pierced through the windows of his Georgetown home as fear griped his troubled mind. It’s been forty years since D- day, but he could still remember the faces of all the German soldiers that he murdered during the second world war. Though Jeff has stared at the face of Reaper before, he has never been so scared until he looked into Martinez’s eyes. Trepidation lurked in Jeff's soul as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. Despite the scares and burnt marks on Martinez’s disfigured face, Jeff could still remember those eyes. They were the eyes of a man he knew was killed forty years ago.
Fear crept back into Jeff Anderson’s heart as his reflected on the worst day of his life, June 6,1944. He fondly remembered the brave soldier of the eighty-six airborne platoon. Pride, honor and loyalty were in the hearts of all those brave soldiers that made the ultimate scarifies for the country they loved.
The sergeant remembered the youthful man he once was in 1944. Back then the sergeant had thick, wavy brown hair, a rock hard belly and spring in his step. The sergeant's youthful body contradicted drastically from the gray hair, arthritic knees and flabby belly that stared back at him in the mirror now.
"Those were the days," Jeff thought to himself as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. Jeff was a young soldier trying to survive a brutal war..
The sergeant fondly remembered leading a group of young soldiers of the eighty-sixth Airborne platoon in the D-day invasion. The Sergeant was only twenty-one. Just a naïve, innocent kid from Brooklyn responsible for turning thirty new recruits into killers.
The Senator remembered the young, acne filled face of every soldier in his platoon. An unsuspected tears trickled into his whiskey as he remembered leading boys no older than seventeen to their death. They were brave boy, ready to serve their country and died if they must to protect the greatest country on the planet.
The memory of forty years ago infiltrated Jeff’s mind as recalled the faces of all those dead soldiers. The senator softly fell asleep in his leather chair and dreamt of the mayhem he lived through on June 6, 1944.
“Captain Novak,” The Sergeant Anderson yelled.
“Yes, sergeant Anderson sir.”
“Get your men together captain Novak, we are heading east along this road.”
“Yes, sir sergeant Anderson.”
“I will take these ten men to this pointed on the map. You take the rest of the men and cover our right flank captain.”
“Yes, sir," the captain said as he ran toward his troops.
“Corporal Robert Banner front and center,” Sergeant Anderson bellowed.
Corporal Spencer saluted his sergeant. “Enough of that Corporal I know that you used a fake name to enlisted in the army son because your underage.”
“Yes, sir but I-”
“It okay kid, I don't blame you for wanting to kill some krauts, but what name would you like me to call you Robber Banner or your real name?”
A smile adorn the corporal’s face as he proudly said, “My real name is Kevin Spencer”
The sergeant smiled back at the corporal and said, “All right corporal Spencer, unrolled your map. I want you to take these ten men and head to this road. We are here. The town we are invading is ten minutes away in enemy territory. Take your men to the right side of the road and I will lead the other ten soldiers to the town on the left side of the road.”
“Yes, sir,” Corporal Spencer replied as he saluted the sergeant again.
“Corporal Spencer, keep your butt down there are thousands of krauts out there that would love to blow your ass off corporal.”
“Yes,” the Corporal chuckled with a large grin on his face.
The march to the village of Sainte Mère Église was a slow and tedious journey. The German artery shelling illuminated the night sky as Anderson and his airborne troops trudged their way to the village.
The Sergeant Anderson's squad came under heavy fire. The men scatted for shelter as German machine-gun fire erupted from behind a grove of elm trees. A barrage of bullet pulverized the German as Corporal Spencer's squad came to Sergeant Anderson’s aid.
“Glad to see you Corporal Spencer,” Jefferson screamed.
“Yes, Sir Sergeant Anderson.”
A flash of headlight suddenly appeared as another German patrol added their gunfire to the battle.
“Retreat your men back behind this wall Corporal Spencer,” the Sergeant ordered.
“But sir, we can take them now Sergeant.” “No corporal, retreat. We will take them on each side of their flank as they chase after us.”
Realizing the sergeant smart maneuver, the corporeal order his men back behind the wall.
The sergeant plan was to draw the German troops closer to the wall than attack them from both sides. The sergeant brilliant strategy hit the German with deadly precision. The twenty German soldiers were soon fragmented into tiny bloody pieces within minutes. The Sergeant’s plan was successful, but not without some deaths and injuries.
“Corporal, get your men into that warehouse building over there now.”
Once safe within the warehouse building, Sergeant Anderson ordered Corporal Kevin Spencer to inspect and heal the injured soldiers.
The Sergeant looked around to find that several members of his group had survived the German patrol attach. “Captain John Kelly and Private Todd Beacon, secure this warehouse,” Jefferson bellowed.
It finally became clear to Jefferson Anderson that it was here at the warehouse that he first met the mysterious man in the wheelchair that now calls himself Martinez. Unfortunately for Jeff, he still couldn’t remembered the private’s name, but the memory of the private’s brown eyes where burnt into Jeff’s soul.
“Private,” The Sergeant yelled. “Check out the right side of this building and secure it.”
“Yes, sir,” The private said as he ran. The next hour was the most momentous moment in Sergeant Anderson’s life. “Sergeant Major Anderson over here,” Corporal Kevin Spencer yelled.
As the Sergeant approached Corporal Spencer, he feared it was another dead soldier. The Sergeant pushed aside a couple of soldiers that had gathered around a pile of wooden crates. For a moment the Sergeant stood there in silence as he cast his brown eyes upon the crates. From that moment on, Jeff Anderson’s life was forever changed.
Greed grasped hold of the Jefferson’s soul as he stared uncontrollably at hundreds of wooden crates stacked on the warehouse floor.
“German patrol,” a private yelled.
Sergeant Major Anderson quickly mobilized his platoon into attack formation. A lust for mayhem and murder enshrouded Jeff’s mind as he prepared his men for another skirmish and their possible death.
“Get down private.” The sergeant yelled as he grabbed the private’s arm and screamed, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
A small patrol of Germans approached the warehouse unaware of the airborne troops inside. Silently, using only hand signals, the sergeant ordered Corporal Spencer, Private Todd and the rest of the platoon to approach the warehouse door from the other side of the building.
Sergeant Anderson and his platoon laid in weighting as the Germans opened the warehouse doors. The soldiers took aim and waited for the sergeant's order to fire. The sergeant was a patient, well trained killing machine. With a swift flick of the sergeant’s hand, the soldiers let out a hailstorm of bullets.
The unsuspecting Germans fell quickly to their death as the bullets pulverized their bodies. German blood soon flowed like a small red stream down the warehouse drain.
The American soldier’s victory was rapidly dissipated as they turned their attention back to the wooden crates.
“What are we going to do about the wooden crates?” The private inquired.
John Kelly used his bloody bayonet to pry open a wood crate to reveal the treasure inside. Greed enthralled the platoon as they gazed upon the treasure inside the wooden crates.
Greed penetrated sergeant Anderson’s soul as contemplated stealing a fortune hidden within the crates. “Corporal Spencer, secure that truck. Private Beacon and John Kelly transfer these wooden crates in to the truck. We are stealing the treasure for ourselves.”
Sergeant Anderson's men cheered as they rapidly gather hundred of wooden crates full of riches beyond their imagination.
As he slowly woke from his nightmare, Jeff started to cry. He soon came to the realization that he would soon be brutally murdered because of the sins he committed forty years ago. Tears trickled down Jeff’s face as he contemplated how many people’s lives were cut short because of his choices that day. For the last forty years, Jeff’ has been tormented for the sins he has committed in 1944. Soon Jeff will answer to god for his sins when Martinez takes his revenge upon him.