The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 38

We moved through the snow as a group. Men and vehicles made sounds that belonged to each, their grunts the only one in common. I walked nearby Daniels and Zussman—who were keeping a close eye on one of the German prisoners—slightly ahead of their steps and made patterns out of the breath appearing from between my lips. It was a rather entertaining way of walking, maybe bordering insanity, as I made up little beats to the clouds of breath. For me, it was the only way to ignore the stiffness of my joints in the freezing weather.
The Nazi spoke in low German, his voice pleading. Zussman told Daniels he wanted water and I glanced over my shoulder at the situation. As Zuss moved to hand the prisoner a canteen of water, Pierson stormed past to knock it to the ground.
"Goddammit, what are you doin' Zussman?"
"Lay off, sergeant."
I fully turned to watch the situation. The Nazi went to the ground, reaching for the water in faked innocence. My finger went to the trigger of my rifle as I watched him and only him.
"What's that? Huh?" Pierson suddenly shoved Zussman to the ground in between the prisoner and myself. "How's that? How's that work for ya?"
"Much better."
"You son of a bitch."
Daniels moved forwards, defending Zuss. "Sergeant!"
"Hey," Pierson shoved him, "you stay outta this."
I opened my mouth to intervene. Perhaps this first test for Pierson's promised words would be perfectly timed. We hadn't spoken since I'd patched him up earlier in the day.
"Pierson—"
Before I could completely catch his attention, the sly prisoner knocked the back of Pierson's head with a rock. I widened my eyes as the prisoner took off, his legs stiff from not moving quickly. Daniels was on the German's heels as they took off back towards the way we'd traveled.
"Fuck," Pierson spat, straightening himself as he and Zussman regained control over the situation.
I took off into an easy sprint before either of them could. While smaller than the guys—Zussman was debatable—I was also quicker and more agile. It had always been a skill of mine to run quickly; the track coach had always been bitter about me not joining for running events. I rounded a slightly different course from the nearing prisoner.
Bursting around the short wall of boulders, I gripped the weapon in my hands tighter. Daniels attempted to strike the escaping prisoner, merely missing, but I was there to cut him completely off. The Nazi, who's head was turned to glance back at Daniels, never saw me coming.
Which was exactly why I couldn't help but wince when the butt of my rifle rammed his face.
The German let out a whimper as he looked up at me completely stunned. I aimed at him as Daniels pressed his boot down onto the enemy's chest, generating a plea of German language.
"He's not worth it," Zuss ran up, panting and trying to convince Daniels to not shoot him right then and there...if I didn't beat him to it.
"Dumb Kraut," Daniels spit. "Why'd you run? Must be hiding somethin'."
I gripped my rifle tighter as Daniels crouched to feel around on the little weasel. I glared at the man as if he had been the very thing to start the war; it was entirely his fault. He continued to hold up his hands in surrender, his disgusting thin face pale in fear.
Daniels pulled out a note, handing it to Zussman. "Son of a bitch was holdin' out on us!"
Pierson joined the situation, his dark eyes a glare of daggers and hatred. Without hesitation, he proceeded forwards and kicked the Kraut once in the side, letting out a frustrated grunt. Though I winced, I found a part of myself almost enjoying infliction of pain.
"Gimme that," Pierson panted, looking at the sheet of paper. He reeled back and held the paper back to Zuss. "The fuck this say?"
Zussman scanned the document as he spoke. "These are orders to plant explosives on the bridge in Remagen. Ordinance is going to be loaded onto the trucks five miles north of here. If I'm reading this right, it's the last bridge standing across the Rhine."
I let out silent gasp, taking a half step forwards. The German was frantically gazing up at Pierson as if personally knowing the sergeant wasn't one to be messed with. It wasn't likely he'd end up in a good place after clocking Pierson with a rock.
"Well ain't that something Fritz," Pierson's voice was weary from running, but he steadily moved to kick the Nazi once more.
The Kraut was almost out cold from the harsh kick to the side of the face. I found myself standing more alertly, never flinching to the second strike from Pierson. The bastard deserved it. If he'd gotten away the entire war would've changed for the Axis powers.