Short Story Challenge (2)

Well, it appears that BellumQuo won't be able to conclude his short story, which is unfortunate. Thanks for reading, anyhow. I shall continue with my own. "Move!!!" The call pierced the noise of battle, and Allan deftly climbed the edge of his foxhole in two bounds. He brought his Sten gun to bear, but glimpsed no enemies through the dust. Crusader tanks rumbled past, kicking up immense clouds of the grit, which provided cover for the scrambling infantry. Allan's unit consolidated with the unit beside, forming their platoon and proceeding in the shadow of a Crusader. BOOM! With a roar the turret of the Crusader imploded as an .88 shell blasted it. The "brewed up" tank lurched to a stuttering halt, and the soldiers riding the armour jumped off and joined Lieutenant McDonald's Platoon. The soldiers hastily surged past the protective position that the tank offered, not waiting to see if any of the crew were still among the living. Bullets whistled past the men as they advanced, and Sergeant Allan opened fire with his Sten gun. A bullet felled the corporal who had been walking beside him, and something pinged off of the edge of his helmet, but Allan persisted forward. Suddenly, Private Relding pitched forward and fell headlong into a hole. Allan's fire team dropped into the foxhole, which had been defended by Germans - one of who was still alive, and feebly glared at the English soldiers. The man's blood was draining from him, and his rifle had been lost, and the man had quietly accepted the inevitable - though the intrusion disrupted his well deserved rest. He barked softly at Private Relding, whom had landed on top of him. "Shut yer mouth, Kraut. My leg is on fire!" "Probably twisted it. You'll have to stay here - keep your head low and guard our new prisoner of war. Give him water and try to bandage him up a bit." Allan ordered before popping out and triggering his automatic weapon, providing quick bursts of covering fire as a squad passed the hole. With a shattering explosion, an anti-personnel mine ignited, instantly killing the soldiers whom had stepped on it. "Hmm, that could'a been us, chaps." Allan noted somberly, as he ducked, and shrapnel showered their shelter, "They cleared a path for us - ‘ead through the lane!" Single file, the soldiers dashed through the narrow gap which was vacant of barbed wire or mines. The battle sounded fiercely around them, as tanks unleashed the full fury of their machine guns and cannon shells, as artillery shells and mortar bombs screamed overhead, as bullets and tracers whistled across the battlefield. Allan felt detached from the battle, observing almost as if he were a bystander as he spewed bullets, emptied a cartridge, reloaded and repeated the process - not aiming, but firing from the hip. He was nearby and saw when Lieutenant McDonald took a hit in the shoulder and Platoon Sergeant Ernest assumed command of the platoon, directing all men to capture a machine gun position. Allan was swept into the charge as he hurled a grenade and blasted the MG into smithereens. Suddenly, Allan's Sten gun jammed - a situation compounded by the fact that an enemy sharp shooter began firing at him. The beleaguered Sergeant kept his head down as he planted the stock of his weapon into the stand and bashed the firing pin with his metal canteen. He cursed as the canteen edge caved but nothing budged, "A blasted pebble in the bolt raceway! Bloomin' nuisance." Allan discarded his Sten after failing to dislodge the errant rock. He scoured the sandy ground and glimpsed a German corpse clutching a Schmeisser - two bars on his sleeve identified him as an officer. Allan dove for the gun just as the sniper finally pinpointed his location. A bullet embedded itself into the sand where he had just crouched. Allan picked up the MP 40 and pressed the trigger once - a bullet spat into the sand. The submachine gun would do for the moment, but as soon as his ammunition ran low, he would have to find another weapon, since he couldn't fight a battle with his Webley revolver. The platoon had not left him too far behind; in fact, they were skirmishing with bayonets in a square structure just ahead. A pocket of Germans were hiding in it and sniping as many officers as they were able, but now they were offering close range resistance with bayonets; by the time Allan weaved through the mines and arrived at the miniature fortification, the Germans had been routed - at heavy cost. The unit Allan had loosely commanded was almost entirely demolished, and word arrived by an aide de camp that Platoon Sergeant Earnest had been killed - Sergeant Allan was now commander of the platoon. Nevertheless, the company was performing well, the major hadn't withdrawn, and the Division as a whole was progressing. "Well, then, chaps," Allan stated wryly, "I guess we'll just have to jolly well sally on. Follow me!" Thanks for reading. : ) Cheers