Well I have to write something..

Okay, so it's 22:13 and it's hot as hell. And not the pleasant kind of hot but the annoying, numbing kind of heat, this typical Dutch stuffy weather. I have nothing more to drink but I don't want to walk downstairs because I'm afraid I will not come back and do something for school, or just anything productive. So I'm just going to type something and see what comes out.

It was a chilly night in September. The had already set for a few hours, The sky was clear and the moon illuminated the abandoned streets. There flew a cold breeze trough the cracked windows of the old house on the outskirts of Arnhem. The sky was clear and the moon illuminated the abandoned streets. It used to be a gorgeous little home, with a nice frontyard filled with daffodils and tulips. The house itself was a two story building with a red tiled roof and the regular square windows that was common in the street. It also had a backyard with a little tiled path that led up to a small dug out pond. On each side of the path were some rosemary bushes and some old garden ornaments. But those things were all gone. At the place of the pond and the rosemary bushes was now a crater, a couple of feet wide and about waist deep. The garden ornaments were nothing more but scattered broken stones. Only half of the roof was still in place with many rooftiles broken or fallen. The windows were without glass and a curtain rusted in the wind upstairs. The frontyard was nothing more but a plowed ravaged patch of land. Some of the daffodils were still standing. Tom Westbrook counted them as he sat on a broken chair n the living room. This was the first time he got the chance to rest, and he took it with both hands. Beside him, on top of a broken table, lay on of his squadmates; Morris, snoring quietly. Sitting in the halway was sergeant Baker, their squad leader. Behind him in the kitchen he could hear Evans, the squad medic, coughing. Upstairs he heard the footsteps of Cooper and Peterson. They had dropped near Arnhem two days ago and today the had entered the city. They had lost the rest of the platoon and were, like many other units of the British 1st airborne division, scattered in small groups across the neighborhood. They weren't completely isolated, a few meters ahead there was another squad, and further ahead there were two squads that occupied a cafe. But Tom didn't have the strength nor willpower to care about their current position. He was just glad that it wasn't his guard duty. He looked at the daffodils until his eyelids closed and fell asleep. He was roughy awakened by sergeant Baker, who told him to get of his ass and grap a rifle. Tom didn't know how long he had slept, was it two hours, maybe more? Maybe less? I sure wasn't enough, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his back only to get slapped by the angry sergeant because he wasn't fast enough. 'What is happening?' Tom asked, 'We spotted some Jerries just there up the road, looks like they'll be coming our way.' Tom grapped his rifle, strapped on his helmet and moved quietly to the front window. He stuck his head out and spotted them. They were with 8, moving silently up the road. Their steel helmets and machineguns shone in the moonlight. One of them carried a heavy MG and another one a Panzerfaust, a disposable rocket launcher. It looked like they thought they were alone in the street. Sergeant Baker had gone upstairs to set up the machinegun, he had come back and told everyone to wait until the MG opened fire, then he went back upstairs . The German soldiers were coming closer, they were almost in front of the house. Tom held in his breath, he didn't dare to make the slightest movement. One of the Germans tripped and their sergeant, the one up front, cussed at him and muttered something under his breath. He looked around him, looking of someone had noticed the metallic *clang* of the machinegun that fell on the ground. Just when he thought everything was safe the machinegun upstairs opened fire. The peaceful quiet of the night was now filled with the sound of the machinegun. The street was lit up with flashes and the traces of bullets. The rest opened fire. One of the Germans was hit directly in the head and had fallen straight on the ground. Another two were hit directly after, one in the leg and one in the stomach. The fact that the rest wasn't hit was a miracle, maybe it was because of luck or maybe because of the exhaustion of the British paratroopers. The Germans recovered quikly and their sergeant ran to a house on the other side of the street and kicked in the door, the rest of them followed. There were now 5 soldiers in the house across the street, the British had lost their advantage. The Germans immediately opened fire with their rifles and machineguns. One of them set up the heavy machinegun on the 1st floor. The German with the Panzerfaust lay on the street, cluthing his belly. The other one had managed to get himself to the safety of the house. Tom fired rounds at the windows with his rifle, while Morris emptied his Sten gun. 'Fuck, shit, goddamnit!' shouted sergeant Baker who had come downstairs, 'Evans, why in God's name is the other squad down the street not helping us?! Go and see what those wothless pigs are up to!' Evans ran out the backdoor into the night. Baker looked at Tom and muttered under his breath. 'From the first day it all goes to shit, we lose half of our supply because some bloody pilot doesn't know how to drop something out of a plane into a field, and the we lose the rest of our platoon, taking away our radio communication! Shoot at the windows, we have to keep them occupied until Evans comes back with those other bastards.' The German heavy machine gun had now opened fire at their floor and the bullets whirred past them. Tom pressed himself against the wall, his only safety from the rattling bullets. There was a short break between the firing and Tom looked at the machinegunners and fired at them. He fired his whole clip even though the machinegunners were already behind cover, it was just fore the sake of supressing fire. He looked beside him when he heard a loud cry, Morris was hit in the shoulder and was laying on the ground, pressing his shoulder with his hand and gritting his teeth. The sergeant cursed and pulled him to the safety of the kitchen. At that moment Evans came back, yelling that the other squad would try to come close to the German position. Because the German machinegunners were still changing the barrel Tom looked at the street and saw the other British soldiers running across. The sergeant ordered everyone to fire as much they could. The other squad of British men were now one house away from the German position. One ran up to the windows, a grenade clutched in his hands and tossed it at the machinegun emplacement. Tom heared the gunners yelling before a loud dull bang cut it short. A cloud of dust bursted trought the windows and a part of the wall was scattered trough the street. The other Germans, still dazed of the explosion, were quikly disposed of when the British soldiers bursted trough the door and emptied their clips.
A quietness fell upon the street. 'Tom, see if they're all dead.' Tom hesitantly stood up and climbed trough the window to the street. He looked at the two bodies that lay on the street, one with a little bullethole in the head and the other with the perforated stomach, he had died of his wound during the fight. He walked to the house, nodded his thanks to the other British soldiers, who acknowledged it also with a nod. He went inside to the living room, the bodies of 4 germans were spread upon the ground. One leaned with his back against the wall, his chin on his breast. Another lay face down on the ground, his hand still cluthing his rifle. The last two lay against each other, both bodies riddled with bodies. Tom walked upstairs, were the remains of the machinegunners were. One lay on his side, his arm ripped of by the explosion and his pants were bloodstained rags. The other one lay in a doorway. He had run for the safety of the next room but was too late. The back of his head was ravaged by shrapnel. Tom had seen enough and returned to the sergeant. 'They're all dead sir.' Baker nodded 'Poor sods, but it is them or us. Grab your gear, Westbrook, we and the other squad have to push futher.' Tom left the sergeant with the corporal of the other squad and went back to grab his gear. When he went inside he saw Evans treating Morris, who leaned against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth. 'How are you holding up, buddy?' Tom asked, 'Never better.' Morris said with a slight grin. 'Yeah well you're lucky it didn't hit you a little lower because that would have destroyed your lung. This will just leave a scar, you lucky bastard.' Evans said while he was bandaging the wound. He turned to Tom, 'What are we up to now?' 'I don't know, were probably going to try to link up with battalion.' Evans sighed 'I don't know Tom, first we lose half of our supplies and then we lose our unit. I think I'll go talk to those other men, maybe they know more of what's happening in the rest of the city. Come on Morris, stand up we have to get moving.' They went out of the house, the rest was already waiting for them. They moved trough the streets in silence, still wary of any German units. They stopped at a crossroad, sergeant Baker talked with the corporal, the latter pointed at the street left of them. Baker nodded and shook his hand, then he walked back to his squad. 'The captain and his unit are at the end of that street, we'll link up with him and ask where the rest of our unit is.' They walked down the street, at the end in a now abandoned hotel a light was burning. 'That must be HQ, let's not keep them waiting.' Baker went in first, Tom after him. The minute he stepped in he was greeted by a pleasant light. The reception was filled with officers, walking from one end to the room to the other, answering phones, filling in reports, there was so much activity compared to the abandoned streets. In the middle of the room stood Major Campbell, with his grey moustache and pipe in his mouth. He gestured Tom and Baker to come closer. 'Baker, Westbrook, how have you been holding up?' 'Not good sir, we lost contact with the rest of our unit.' Campbell grimased, 'So I've heard. Apparently you're not the only one, it's not going well I tell you. We still haven't reached any of our objectives and the Jerries seem to be everywere. I've got good news and bad news. The good news is, that the rest of your unit is located a couple of blocks ahead. The bad news is, half of them is running back at this very moment, and the other half is pinned down in a church. So I'm sending you and some other men to relieve them. The only problem is-' The door flew open and a private came rushing in, 'Major, German artillery have discovered our position, we have to leave the building!' The Major was quiet for a split second, then he began shouting orders and giving directions. They all ran out of the building, they saw the British soldiers coming their way from the street , those that the Major talked about. Then the shells hit, the first blew of the roof of the house next to the fleeing soldiers. Another exploded some 100 yards next to the hotel, filling the street with bricks, dust and shrapnel. 'Quik, run to the left, find shelter in the houses at the end of that street!' Major Campbell bellowed. Baker was shouting at the British soldiers, now just 150 yards away from the hotel, and he kept urging the on. Then a shell hit them directly, knocking Baker of his feet. Everyone dropped to the ground. The street turned gray from all the shattered glass, the ground was shaking. 'Fuck! Jesus Christ!' Baker yelled, 'Everyone run!' Tom hesitated not a single moment, he picked up his rifle and started running down the street. He didn't look behind him, he didn't stop when another shell hit the street, he kept running towards safety. Suddenly he was picked up from the ground, an invisible force threw him trough the air. There was a deafening sound, and it was as if the world came to an end a second. The explosion hurled him into a window and threw him against a wall. He coughed, his chest was burning, his arms and legs were bleeding from cutwounds, his throat ached and his ears rang. He tried to stand up but his legs gave away. Two hands turned him around, and he looked at Baker, he saw his mouth move but he didn't hear the words that came out. Evans head also emerged, he and Baker talked to each other, then they picked him up. Tom saw the ceiling of the house change to the night sky. His hearing had come back a little, because he couldn't hear any explosions anymore and the others weren't running anymore. Then the world turned black.
He woke up in a clean hospital bed greeted by a smile of a beautiful nurse.

Sorry if this is a bit cheesy or bad written, it's pretty late and Seinfeld is on. I want to watch Seinfeld because I think it is awesome. Don't judge me.