“Your fireteam is all that’s left of 2nd Platoon?” Captain Burr, the commander of the 29th Infantry Division, 116th Infantry, Fox Company, asked us gravely. “Everyone else is KIA? Even Lieutenant Paxton?” Burr was a tall, tough looking officer with an old scar cutting across his left cheekbone.

“Haven’t seen him since we got off the boat, sir,” I said. “ Haven’t run into anyone else. Our medic is back at basecamp, and we have two wounded. Besides that, it’s just the four of us.”

“Christ. I’ll probably fold you into 1st Platoon then; 3rd Platoon’s losses were minimal. But today I want you to go on patrol. Join up with Squad One from 1st Platoon, they’re down to about half strength. Sergeant Lane has his orders already. Just report to him, immediately.”

“Yes, sir!” We all replied, then left to find the members of 1st Platoon.

“How did you figure out our unit, anyway, Lee?” Keith asked me, as we headed for Fox Company’s 1st Platoon’s camp.

“It shows up in one of the tabs on the watch. In the Mission section, there’s a tab for the Players’ backstory in the Mission world. Did you never notice that?” I asked, somewhat taken aback. I found it just by fiddling around with the thing after breakfast, while we were wondering what we were supposed to be doing. Keith said he’d been a Player for two months, and he’d never found it?

“I guess not…” He muttered, then scoffed. “Whatever. Let’s get this show on the road!” Impressed with his high-class deflection technique, I agreed and we increased our pace, nearing the 1st Platoon guys. They’d been set up about half a mile down the beach from where we’d slept the night before.

“We are looking for a Sergeant Lane?” I called out, as we approached the men I assumed were the 1st Platoon.

“I’m Lane. Who are you?” A tired-looking blonde man asked, as he put his helmet on.

“We’re 2nd Platoon,” Keith began, “Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

“Jesus. Just the four of you?” The sergeant asked, wincing.

“We’ve got two wounded, and our medic is okay,” I answered, Keith nodding. “Everyone else is KIA or MIA.”

“Damn. And I thought we had it bad… Okay. You are all with my squad, then. We’re going on patrol soon.”

“That’s what Captain Burr said,” Keith replied as we joined up with Lane’s squad. They had a corporal and five privates, aside from Sergeant Lane.

“Maxley, you stick with them,” Sergeant Lane said to a young private. “Introduce yourselves quick. We’re heading out in five minutes.”

“Got it,” Private Maxley nodded, and came to introduce himself to us. “I’m Private Shane Maxley. I’m, uh, the only one left from my squad, so…” He seemed younger than Miles, probably a teenager, but he must have had a year or two on Zach. He was maybe 5’8” and his wide blue eyes and freckled-face were topped off with short, bright orange hair.

“Welcome aboard, Maxley,” I said. “I’m Quinn. The other guys are Norton, Wexler, and… Uh, Porter,” I finished, having a bit of difficulty remembering Miles’ last name.

Our group chatted with Maxley for the next couple of minutes, finding him to be a funny and intelligent, if a little awkward, kind of guy. We were also allowed to restock from the 1st Platoon’s supplies, replenishing ammo and refilling our canteens. Keith, Davey and I even picked up a few grenades and Miles swapped his M1 Garand out for a BAR. Soon enough it was time to head out, though. Sergeant Lane had assembled his squad, so we were all set.

“The Rangers and a few other units are still advancing the front line as we speak. Command reckons there are pockets of Germans hiding out all over the countryside. We’re headed east, patrolling a section of our territory and hunting them down while the big guns are busy winning the war. We are to capture any officers if we can, kill any that resist. Got it?” We each nodded or replied in the affirmative. “Good. Let’s move out.”

---

I’d been admiring the French countryside for the previous ten or so minutes of our patrol, before two scouts belonging to the other fire team came running back to us in the main group.

“We’re about… Half a mile…” One of them began, out of breath as the other bent over, hands on his knees. “Half a mile from a German pillbox. I could only see one guy inside.”

“Stay alert. I doubt he’s really alone out here. Do they have a machine gun? How many windows?” Sergeant Lane asked gravely.

“Looked like one machine gun, Sarge. A big window to the north, two small ones on the other sides. We didn’t see the east wall, though. Do we, uh, call in the Air Force? Have them blast the thing away?” The other scout asked, having normalized his breathing.

“The Air Force ain’t gonna bomb one guy in a bunker out in the middle of nowhere,” Keith, or Corporal Norton, answered.

“Right. We’ll take care of it ourselves.” Sergeant Lane nodded. “Good work finding the thing Hayes, Johnson.” They nodded and filed in, our squad moving forward, slower this time.

As the small pillbox came into our sight, we slowed down. We had been approaching it from the west, so we went a bit further south, to try to stay out of its line of fire. There were still two window slots on the south side of the structure, but they were too small and too high up to fit a machine gun through. As we closed in on the miniature fort, a few shots rang out!

“Scatter!” Sergeant Lane shouted, as Private Johnson cried out in pain and fell to the ground.

Miles and I dove behind a large rock, and I peeked over it to check out the box. There was a rifle sticking out of the small window, firing off a shot every few seconds. The others all managed to find some kind of cover, though a few of them were just lying in tall grass. The rifle was retracted, presumably to reload, so several of us tried to charge the pillbox, me included.

Another wave of gunfire, this one from the other window, stopped us short. This one was some kind of submachine gun; the closest of us to the pillbox, the corporal from the other fireteam, was riddled with bullets in seconds.

“Fuck! He’s not alone!” I called out, diving to the side and rolling over twice. I sat up, my back to a big tree, and tried to watch for the others. Presumably the other guy was reloading while the submachine gunner fired on us, as the rifle came back out again, firing a few more shots in Maxley’s and Davey’s general direction. They had slid down into an old impact crater, while the others hid behind an assortment of trees and large stones. Several of us fired back, but most of our shots just ricocheted off the building.

“Miles! Give me some suppressing fire!” I yelled back at Miles, still behind our old rock. “Wait for the SMG to reload!” He gave a thumbs up and we waited. We had no idea how many Germans were in there, how much ammo they had, or when and if any more were coming. I figured it’d be better to just get the fight over with ASAP, rather than wait till their ammo ran dry.

“Now!” I shouted, as the SMG finally withdrew. Miles popped up, concentrating his fire on the left window, before the rifleman had time to line up a shot. I made a mad dash for the west wall of the pillbox, grabbing hold of one of my new grenades. I ducked down with my back against the wall I pulled the pin and chucked the explosive through the west window, repeated the process for good measure, then ran like hell. It was a good thing I did, it turns out; they had managed to toss the first one out of the box, blasting a hole into the ground and scorching the west wall of the small structure. The second grenade, however, went off inside, just as I’d hoped. The south wall and part of the west wall were blown apart, the roof collapsing immediately.

I slowly walked to the ruined pillbox, affixing my bayonet to my rifle. One of the Germans was clearly dead, both of his legs blown off and his upper body torn up by shrapnel. The other was bloodied and burned, but still alive. He struggled to raise his right arm, a pistol in his shaking hand. I stabbed my bayonet into his chest, then pulled back and stabbed again for good measure. He groaned and went still.

I heard a whimper, followed by a string words I didn’t understand. In the far corner of the destroyed mini-fort sat another Nazi soldier, this one wearing a cap instead of the grey helmets the other two wore. An officer, then. He was partly buried in rubble and covered in concrete dust. He raised his hands and, presumably, pleaded for his life. I kept my rifle trained on him, and motioned for him to get up. He slowly rose to his feet, the rubble falling away.

I noticed his sidearm then, strapped to his belt. I pointed to that next, the rifle still trained on his chest. He nodded fearfully, shakily removing the holster from his belt and placing it on the ground. I had him walk outside now, slowly, where the rest of my squad had congregated. I claimed the officer’s discarded sidearm, and even I could recognise it: a Luger! I unloaded it, wrapped the gun and the ammo up tight in a cloth, and gently set them in my pack.

By the time I had finished, the rest of my squad was ready to go. They had tied the Nazi officer’s hands behind his back, and we were ready to march back to camp. Johnson had been hit in the side and was still critical, so Sergeant Lane had Keith, clearly the strongest among us, carry him. Corporal Heller, I found out his name had been, was long dead, having taken a shot in the neck along with one near his heart and two in the abdomen. Private Hayes volunteered to carry him back. Sergeant Lane had his other men carry the machine gun and all the ammo they could carry. The mood was subdued as we retraced our steps, very little in the way of conversation occurring. We made haste back to camp but, despite our best efforts, Johnson bled out on the way. Maxley and I handed the prisoner off to the MPs, and we reconvened at the 1st Platoon’s camp.

Sergeant Lane was noticeably absent; he’d gone to HQ to report the presence and destruction of the pillbox. We sat down and had a quiet meal, mentally exhausted by our brief but intense patrol and firefight. Sergeant Lane returned as we finished the meal, visibly angry.

“Everyone get some rest. We’re on duty again tonight. Guarding the perimeter, they said.”

“Even though we just lost two of our guys?” Asked a disgruntled private, one whose name I still wasn’t sure about.

“They don’t care, Wendon.” That settled that one. “Everybody’s lost a lot here. Just hunker down for now. Our watch starts at dusk.”

We couldn’t do much more than grumble, so we tried to get any rest we could. Maxley and Miles even managed to fall asleep, while Davey, Keith and I discussed our situation a bit more.

“When do we get to the real story? The rescue mission?” I asked, a little concerned at our lack of progress so far.

“The day after tomorrow. They get the mission on June 9th, D-Day plus 3. I hadn’t realized we’d get dragged around like this until then, though. Our ‘duties’ as soldiers here are a wholly unnecessary risk to our Mission as a whole. If any of us had died there, or bite it tonight or tomorrow, the rest of us are fucked! It’s already gonna be a tough sell getting an army fireteam into a squad of rangers.” Keith was pissed, his expression making it clear enough even if he hadn’t said anything.

“Hey Keith, how do you know so much about this movie anyway?” I asked; I’d thought he was suspiciously knowledgeable for a while now. I’d seen the movie three or four times, but his understanding of it seemed to go way beyond mine. “Do you get to hear it in advance? On the Island?”

“Yes, we do. I told you there’s two weeks between Missions, right?” We both nodded at that, so he continued. “After the first week the new Mission is revealed, and we get the second week to prepare. Anything from the old world can be bought with enough points. DVDs, TVs, even computers and an internet connection.” My eyes widened at that, but he stopped me before I could say anything. “It’s read-only, of course. No chance of sending any information back. I’ve watched the movie a dozen times at least, and read all the info I could find. IMDb is a godsend for us, really.”

“I can see that,” I sighed, wishing I could have done some real preparation for this. “I’ll join you with that for the next time.” If there is a next time, I added silently.

“Me too. Preparation is the key to success, after all,” Davey added. At that we were joined by Zach and Cora, who had been helping out the medical team all day.

“Hey, Lee, guys, guess what!” Zach asked, much brighter than he had any right to be. “Our seventh guy woke up!” He continued, before any of us could guess.

“Good,” Keith said. “Did he tell you his name?”

“Jae-jin Choi, he said. Usually he just goes by Jae.” Cora answered, taking a seat. Zach sat down next to me soon after. “We told him a bit about what is going on. We were not sure how much to tell him. He can not do anything with only one leg, obviously.” She took her helmet off then, and I got my first good look at her. It had been dark when we met and this morning was so chaotic that not much actually registered. She had olive-colored skin and fairly short black hair. Her eyes were dark green and she had a smattering of freckles across her reasonably cute face. She probably would have been very attractive, if it weren’t for all the dirt and dried (and some not-so-dried) blood staining her uniform.

“That’s true,” I said. “This world is probably fucked up enough without knowing just how deep the rabbit hole goes,” I sighed, then immediately regretted my word choice. I glanced at Cora, who tilted her head and looked a bit and confused. “Anyway, let’s discuss strategy, since we’re all here.” Everyone agreed so we went over the events of the movie in order, starting from June 9th.

“The main points are:

June 9th - Captain Miller’s team get their mission and leave. June 10th - Captain Miller's team fight in a skirmish in Neuville. June 10th - They rest for a few hours in a church in Neuville. June 11th/12th - They run into a group of Airborne troops and learn Ryan’s location. June 11th/12th - They attack a German MG-42 position. June 13th - They meet Ryan and fight the final battle at Ramelle. Most of them die.

“That should do it. Our first order of business is getting into the mission. We ain’t rangers, and only a couple of us have even met Captain Miller.” He eyed me and Zach before he continued. “Any ideas?”

“I think the best chance we’ve got is to hang around the rangers on the ninth and volunteer as soon as Miller tells them about the mission,” I said, shrugging. “The only other way I can think of is going AWOL. That should be a last resort; I’d feel a lot better if we travel through wilderness with seven US Rangers, rather than just us. We’re not even real soldiers…”

“Hey Lee,” Zach started, “ You said you studied French, right? Are you fluent?”

“Just about fluent, yeah. I did a semester in Paris. My accent isn’t perfect but I could get around with just French.” I replied, seeing where he was going with this.

“Great. Anyone speak German?” He was met with silence, all of us glancing back and forth at each other. “Damn. None of us speak German?”

“I do…” We heard, and we all turned only to see Private Maxley sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “You guys need a, uh, translator or something?” He yawned and scooted towards us a bit, to join the conversation.

“Who are you?” Zach asked him, then glanced at Maxley’s hands. Zach seemed confused after that.

“Private Shane Maxley. Sergeant Lane assigned me to this team. You’re one of the guys that was wounded, then?” Maxley asked, then nodded at Zach’s right arm, still bandaged and in the sling.

“Right. Uh, I’m Zacha- Private Zachary Michaels. Good to meet you, I guess…” Zach said, nervously.

“T4 Cora Siskou,” Cora said, with a deeper tone than she usually spoke with. “Medic.” She’d put her helmet back on when Maxley spoke up, and kept her head down. I hadn’t really thought about it until then, but she must have been hiding her sex from the real army that whole time. That certainly wasn’t an appropriate time to ask about it, though.

Maxley waking up had pretty much killed any discussion about the movie’s plot, so we just made small talk and waited. Pretty soon the sun began to set, and Sergeant Lane returned.

“You’ve had enough rest,” He said, nudging Miles awake with his boot. “Or so Captain Burr tells me anyway. Get your gear and get ready. We head out in five.”