Well it is mid week of my first prompt as host of the SPF and i have yet to spin my tale. I usually try to do mine before reading any others on Friday Fictioneers and SPF just so I am not unduly influenced (or intimidated) by others’ work. While that will likely still be my mode of operation I will confess i read through some of the SPF already and must say the qulaity represents each of you very well. Okay, enough huffing and puffing, on with the show.
That bridge. What a piece of history it would be, if that is they could hold it until morning. All that stood in their way was three armored battalions, a half dozen infantry regiments and twelve hours. The British thrust would arrive before daybreak, with Patton’s boys racing to beat that. It was all well and good on paper and spoke through the radio, but he was the one who had to hold it for now. He rubbed his chin as he looked at the pieces laid out before him on the map board, checking and double checking his strategy. Over five thousand lives were littered on this battlefield so far and he prayed it wouldn’t be triple that by sun up.
A pang in his stomach alerted him to something seemingly amiss. Why was he looking at two sets of armor for Patton’s plan?
“Yes, General Richmond?”
“Did you add this second armor group?”
“No sir, you must have.”
Richmond felt suddenly very ill. One of the markers was false, but which one he knew not. The strain of this crucial campaign was finally to hit home. The truth would come with the first light.