In this part, Our three main characters, Manuel, Hector, and their new friend, Enrique, are suddenly learning about war. They are trying to stop the Cuban’s Russian T34 tanks from advancing down the road they are guarding.
The side with lighter armor was now exposed to Manuel. Bam! Whosh. On the other side the bazooka fired twice at its fully-exposed treads. Again another damaged tread and a stopped tank. Manuel fired point blank at the tank body just below the turret again. This time it bounced off.
Manuel yelled, “Quick Hector! Reload!” Blam! There was a terrific explosion...the smoke cleared. Not much damage but no movement anywhere.
“What’s happening, Manuel?” Hector asked.
“I don’t know, but there must have been the concussions, nothing’s moving,” he answered.
“Look there’s another tank!” Enrique screamed.
“Quick! Load me, Hector.”
Both the bazooka and the .57 fired in unison. They exploded on the third tank’s
front corner.
“They're going back up the road and taking the infantry with them!”
They both fired twice at the retreating tank. It stopped, and some men climbed out of the turret and ran up the road after their fast-disappearing infantry.
“Let’s eat, and get some rest,” Enrique commanded, “They’ll be back. We’ll put two men in my position at the curve and change every two hours. Bazooka team first, then .57.”
They woke up in the early morning hours. The ground was shaking again, even more this time!
“Here they come again! Tanks as far back as we can see!”
“Get in your positions, men!” Enrique commanded. Here are the other two rounds I’ve been carrying. How many more have you guys got?”
Manuel said, “We’re out. We shot six.”
“Make them count.”
“Ok, Corporal,” they all said.
Just then the two dead tanks in front of them exploded as the tank coming up shot round after round into them. This made somewhat of an opening. All of the men dropped down and hugged the bottom of their fox holes. Then two tanks came through the smoke as they started to push down some large trees on either side.
Enrique hollered, “Take the one on the right first, then the left. Fire right! Fire left!” Ok, pick up your gear, and let’s get out of here!”
They all seven grabbed their weapons, ammo and packs and ran back the way they had come in. No one looked back. Suddenly there were explosions all around.
“It’s incoming artillery!” Enrique yelled.
The rounds were dropping in the swamp, on either side, ahead of them and even behind the tanks they had just faced. It seemed that the safest place was on the narrow road they were on!
“They don’t have any forward observers,” Enrique said as they slowed down and walked to catch their breath.
We’ll set up on the other side of that bend ahead,” Enrique commanded.
“Corporal, what are we going to shoot? We’ve got weapons but no shells. We used up all we had and weren't resupplied,” Sam asked.
“Set up just like we’ve got ammo. Remember the major said he was going to send us reinforcements when he got ready. Let’s pray he does!” Enrique said.
As they were digging in, the whine of a motor was heard approaching from behind.
“Is it us?” Hector asked.
“Hope so,” a couple of them said.
Just then a jeep with the major roared up.
“Corporal, I’ve got a machine gun, grenades, ammo, and a few men. Set up guys!”
“Any shells or rockets for a .57 or bazooka?” Enrique asked hopefully.
“No, nothing back at the beach. It all went up with the Rio Escondido.”
The ground began to shake.
“Here they come!” Sam yelled.
They could see a line of Russian T-34s approaching.
“Give me a couple of grenades, Sir, I’ll hit them from the side. Jump out from the swamp,” one of the major’s men said.
The tanks were just about upon them. They had not seen the men dug in.
“Hold your fire!” The major yelled, “Wait just a bit more. On my word!”
Just then from behind them the Freedom Fighters heard, POW! POW!
The Russian tank in front of them burst into flames. Another tank started to push by, POW! POW! The second tank stopped, and it too burst into flames. The entire road and some nearby trees were burning. It was all a raging fire with lots of black smoke.
They all looked behind them. An American M41 tank* had pulled up and taken out both of the Russian T-34s.
The M41’s turret hatch opened up. A man with a cloth helmet jumped down and ran up. “That’s it, Major. No more shells! I’ve got just enough fuel to get back part of the way to the beach! I’ve got bad news. The Red Beach is just about to give it up.”
“All right men, gather around,” the major said, “I’m authorized to tell you this. You have a few options; You can surrender or head back with us to the Blue Beach. We’re going to either get out by water or go past the Red Beach, and head to the mountains. But that is going to be difficult. It’s more than 80 miles!”
“What about the swamp, sir?” Hector asked.
“It’s OK with me if you think you can do it. Here.” He ripped off part of a map and gave it to Hector.
“Good luck, guys. Now let’s get out of here!”
The tank driver got back up into the idling tank, spun it around, and roared off, with Sam and David on top of it. The major’s jeep kicked up sand and shot off.
There they were, three, standing in the center of the road, a bunch of burning tanks behind them. “Hector, what now?” Manuel asked.
“I guess you are going with us?” Hector said, looking at Enrique.
“You bet! Let’s get into the swamp here. Go easy, and try not to leave a trail,” Enrique suggested.
“Sounds good! They will think we went back to the beach,” Hector added.
They went into the thick underbrush. The swamp was dark with the trees’ canopy far up out of sight. For some reason, it must have been seasonal, the ground was strangely dry. Some of the brush was prickly. It was slow going. They plodded along and hooked and scratched themselves as they struggled to get some distance between them and the road.
From the author:
My second full-length book , Florida Keys’ Watercolor Kapers is composed of 336 pages. There are 12 stories running from 6 pages to as many as 72 pages. It is fully illustrated with 88 watercolors and sketches. The watercolors I made roaming around Key West after I finished my 750 mile hike from Georgia to Key West. (See book or Don Browne’s SouthWest Florida Online News records, A Walk Across Florida.) As you read these stories you will experience Key West, the Keys, and the Caribbean. These stories span the time of the early 1800’s to 1969. bkranich.wixsite.com/
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