"I beg to dream & differ from the hollow lies."
Omaha
The Belgian Malinois sat tall, surveillant ears erect atop his skull as always. At his back were the remains of what used to be a nice little brick and concrete house, now reduced to half of a crumbling wall from the constant mortar fire. At his front was a cracked road connecting to an adjacent stone bridge. This area would have been quite a lovely place, pre-war. Not too close to the city, not too secluded. Omaha gave his slim head a shake to rid himself of those distracting thoughts, and refocused on his objective. Blinking, he turned and stalked towards his partner, Lieutenant Parks- who sat, back against the old crumbling wall, along with three other soldiers- all of them clutching their weapons, and preparing to venture into the vast rubble remains of the house to sweep it for any opposing forces who might be hiding there.
"On your guard." Lieutenant Parks whispered to his accompanying soldiers before nodding his helmet-protected head at the Malinois standing before him, then gesturing the company onward with a brief movement of his hand. Quickly picking up the signal, Omaha started forward first. It was his duty to trek somewhat ahead of the company because his keen nose and ears could pick up the signs of an enemy or explosive far quicker than his human counterparts.
Each pawstep made a crackling noise as it was set down upon the collapsed concrete heaps. Behind the canine, the four soldiers crept at a crouch, always scanning the area. Omaha continued to cautiously climb the pile of crumbling debris, all the while his nostrils quivering and ears flicking at the slightest sounds. The faint sound of the radio attached to the backpack of one soldier made the Belgian Malinois freeze. The soldier quickly answered it. "It's the other team- position four is clear." The man announced at a hushed whisper to his commanding officer, who responded with a nod then refocused. Shaking his head, Omaha carried on, picking each paw up high as he climbed up the concrete rubble. Suddenly, a crackling sound made the large dog freeze again- his muscles tense and tail held rigid and vertical. That wasn't the sound of his or his company's footsteps- it came from the other side of the rubble hill.
The stiff motion Omaha held was a silent signal to his company there was trouble, and they immediately- yet silently- found cover. Out of nowhere, a German soldier popped up from behind his own cover and instantly opened fire upon the regime. With a snarl, Omaha clambered aside to get out of the rain of bullets, then launched himself forward, tackling the enemy soldier to the ground from the side. As the two struggled, Omaha's company returned fire at the few other foes who had shown themselves. The soldier with the radio slumped down behind his concrete slab cover and snatched the receiver from the radio itself "We got trouble at position three. The Krauts have us overwhelmed, here. We need backup, I repeat, backup requested." The man shouted above the fire of bullets.
[[Btw, I wish no offense upon anyone of German origin by the use of the term "Kraut"- 'tis simply slang that the Americans used to refer to the German soldiers in WWII.
