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IAN FLEMING'S JAMES BOND
IN
COVERT OPERATIONS
PART ONE
BASTONGE, 1944
Staff Sergeant Haines looked up in the dull and icy skies to sneak a glimpse of an American C-47 dropping supplies to the 101st Airborne Division.
Haines lifted himself out of his foxhole and lit a cigarette. He had been unsure of why they had to take the Bulge. It was hell, backwards. However, the Americans were a valuable ally in Belgium, the paratroopers seemed to well trained. Haines had spoken to Commander McAuliffe the day before yesterday.
At this point he despised Hasso von Manteuffel, several infantry troops has been ambushed on patrol.
“None of your
in’ business!” PFC Polonsky said, spitting into Captain Nixon’s face. Nixon backed away and went over to Sergeant Winters for some coffee and a cigarette.
Dick Winters handed Nixon a mug and glanced at the numerous foxholes and men who have hypothermia.
“How many casualties?” Winters turned to Nixon.
“We don’t know yet, we think that many of the bodies are buried under the snow.” Nixon sipped his coffee as he handed Winters a piece of paper.
“That latest intelligence on the krauts.”
“They’ve got mortars firing on our frontlines. Just wonderful.”
Winters folded the paper and through it into the fire.
Nixon signed and knelt down to the fire, warming his pale hands.
Sergeant Winters looked down at Nixon, his friend of many years, ever since Sobel was transferred from Easy Company, “any allied reports?”
Nixon nodded and stood up, “there’s a new guy, just got here from Europe at the SAS. He’s a Captain. Uh, Bond? Yeah James Bond.”
“Good, I need the reports by tomorrow before we move to the frontlines.”
Nixon nodded once more, “yessir.”
After Nixon left, Winters finished his coffee and began to re-sharpen his knife.
We are screwed, he thought.
Captain Nixon woke up to the sound and scent of a military Jeep drive by his foxhole.
It stopped and he peeked through the edge of his snow-covered blanket. It was Colonel Sink.
He quickly rubbed his eyes and tossed the blanket to his side, “Colonel, when is the allied intelligence officer arriving?”
Sink briefly smiled and backed away to the side to reveal a tall man, truly unmistakeable. His hair was fair, and could be considered very handsome with the ladies. This caught Nixon by surprise.
The man came forward and offered a hand to Nixon. The Captain looked at the hand and then at Bond, “Lewis Nixon.”
Bond pulled him up.
“James Bond.”
Nixon smiled and shook his hand.
“Lets get you some coffee.”
“GET DOWN!”
Sergeant Haines screamed over the mortar fire coming from the enemy.
He ran across the forest telling everyone to get in his foxhole and stay there until he blew his whistle.
The whistle was one of his strategies in warfare. Blow the whistle, ‘get off your
’ and run for your life back the nearest command post.Haines suddenly fell to the ground.
A serge of an impossible amount of pain went through his legs, “Dammit! MEDIC! MEDIC!” He blew the whistle as loud as his could and his men went running past him covering the medic so he could get to him.
“Its OK sir you gonna be fine, just stay calm.”
“Don’t tell be
ing calm, my damn legs are gone!” Haines began to let small tears out of his eyes. The men could tell he was fighting against them so hard.The medic gave him a shot of morphine; “alright help me get him out of here.”
Blood splattered onto Haines face and watched into horror as his only medic slumped over in the snow. That made the pain only worse.
“GO! GO!”
“But sir?”
“GO!!!!”
OMAHA BEACH, D-DAY PLUS ONE
James Bond arrived on the beach at 1200. This was his first deployment from the SAS training back in England; it was also the first time he’d been to France. And so far, he was in horror.
A wave of American blood washed up to the sand around Bond’s feet. All the bodies. So much death around him.
A massacre.
He couldn’t possibly imagine what this blood shed was like, but only tell of the emotions he felt on the day after June 6th, 1944.
*
“Captain Bond?”
Nixon whispered just out side of James’s foxhole. He quickly awakened and wiped the nightmare away.
“Yes?”
“Its Nixon, its urgent.”
Bond quickly pulled on his jacket and stood up.
Nixon led Bond over a Jeep.
“Where we going?”
“Hospital.”
Towards the hospital, James leaned over to Nixon, “what happened?”
The American turned to face him, “our frontlines were bombarded with mortar fire, the man in charge, Sgt. Haines had both his legs blown off, and their medic was shot in the back of the head and the back. And two other casualties.”
“Oh my god…”
It was Omaha all over again. But worse…
Once they arrived at the hospital, Nixon followed one of the nurses to soldiers.
Bond’s eyes widened.
Screams. Cries of pain. Blood.
Nixon pointed, “Haines.”
Bond ran over to him. The man was still alive, but he was in much pain, and fading.
“We were attacked by mortar fire,” Haines struggled to say, with blood gurgling in the back of his mouth.
“I know, Captain Nixon told me. Listen, do you know if the Krauts were close?”
“Yes…uh…they were at least 50 yards away from the frontlines…”
Haines stopped the talking.
The gurgling stopped too.
Chapter Three
James Bond stood up from Haines’ bedside.
“They were all our frontlines?”
Captain sighed, “I’m afraid so. The damage looks pretty bad to. But we’ll have to wait until this damn fog goes away so our planes can bomb the
out of the bastards.” “Christ.”
***
Winters glanced up from his fire to see Bond. He stood up and held out a hand.
“Richard Winters.”
“James Bond.”
Bond stopped the American from continuing his greeting.
“As you know, our frontlines have been taken out. And because of the fog we can’t bomb them.”
“Correct,” Winters was curious of where this was going.
“We could distract the Krauts by attacking their fronts while some guys place bombs around their bases and transportation.”
“This isn’t SAS. Citizen soldiers don’t exactly conduct covert operations.”
Edited by Greene Planet, 22 April 2009 - 01:48 AM.