Buron by Zen Karp (excerpt from H.L.I. and WWII)

"Oh well, we had to get up anyways"
The twenty five pound guns of 19 Battery opened up just before 0500, they wanted the first volley of rounds to land in Buron to signal the beginning of the attack right on time. The same thing was happening to battalion targets across the entire British/Canadian front at that very moment; a gigantic shower of high explosive over miles of frontage. Men peered up out their slits to see Buron being dusted up.
"Time to move...this is it!".
But as they emerged and headed to the assembly area, counter fire from the Germans soon rained down on them; intensive fire. The men were supposed to be up and moving, protected by the artillery pounding the enemy; but instead, they were pinned, somewhere between their trenches and the assembly area.
"Oh well," Private Bill Marshall recollected later in life, "we had to get up anyways."
Griffiths woke up with the earth around him erupting. The Germans were trying to stymie any attack as best they could with counter battery fire. When he looked around at his surroundings in daylight for the first time, he realized he was next to a large pile of stacked mines put there by British engineers. Well, if a round came in here, he wouldn't know what hit him before he went straight up to kingdom come.
Griffiths quickly ordered his companies back into their trenches until the exact time to move. Tankers sealed their hatches and carrier crews dove back to the earth or underneath the tracks for protection.
For two hours the shelling went on; and they waited, and listened, on both sides.
By 0700, the companies were up and moving over to the right hand side of the village, the start line. The enemy shelling was not as effective over in this dead ground, and so they could wait and continue to listen to the shells exploding.
The companies formed up as in orders. It was to be B Company on the left led by Captain Vince Stark and Harry Anderson's D Company on the right, the first two up. Both Majors Ray Hodgins of Charles and Dave Durward of Able Company would wait for the CO's word to move up. Major Geordie Edwards would stay behind as a Left Out of Battle, along with a host of other officers and NCOs. It would be necessary to spare some of the leadership in case of heavy casualties.
On one knee, in the dead ground, they waited for the order to advance. The last minutes, like in training, were spent adjusting kit, and talking to the man to the right and left of them. The section commanders and platoon sergeants made visits to their men, reassuring them and inspecting their kit.
There was a fearful air amongst everyone, a sick feeling in the pits of stomachs or a lump of bile in the throat. People showed it in different ways. Some kept talking most said little. Some looked pale and hands shook and were sweaty. Others, especially the leaders, concentrated on projecting coolness. But wide eyes looked over at each other everywhere, giving away the fear of death and mutilation from the officers commanding to every private rifleman. Everyone carried a curette of morphine to help numb pain of an injury. Living in the orchard for a month had shown them what an injury could be on the battlefield.
Sergeant Jimmy Kelly of Guelph didn't feel scared at all. What the hell is there to be scared about, he thought. They knew they had to take them, so they would. Besides, three weeks of watching the Germans go about their daily routines without any consequences burned him up. He was sick of waiting. Now, he looked over his platoon, making sure the men were steady and prepared during the last moments, that was his job as platoon sergeant.
He was a natural leader; one of those types you'd look to when things got rough. They would need him, and so would his platoon commander, Lieutenant Dodd, formerly a school teacher back home. If Dodd went down, Jimmy Kelly was in charge.
Privates George Mummery and Don Geroy looked to their platoon commander in #13 Platoon, C Company. Lieutenant McCormick was a young officer with a real go-getter attitude. But it was about this attitude which didn't necessarily inspire men, rather they regarded his keenness with caution...would he do the right thing under fire?
Smokey Griffiths looked up at the sky; it was turning out to be a beautiful clear summer day. But over in Buron, it was a churning cauldron of exploding earth and debris. Good.
In front of the companies sat the flail tanks, engines idling, waiting for their order to advance, when they would thrash their chain flails to destroy mines before someone stepped on or drove over them. They knew they were a choice target for any German field gunner or tanker. In their cramped confines, the battlefield was different. It was a claustrophobic world seen through vision slits, as the vehicle moved and as the engine labored and the crew compartment filled with dust and smoke from discharging weapons. If they were hit by something big, it would happen suddenly and likely maim or kill someone, or all of them.
0730-Advance
Each platoon spread into arrowhead formations as they waded through the knee-high field of grain. Sporadic mortar fire exploded around them, but they continued on.
Buron was coming closer as they walked. It could be seen plainly, still being dusted up by Twenty five-pounders. The explosions were visible but the sound was partly drowned out by the laboring engine and clattering tracks of the flail tanks, which continued to whip and shred the wheat as they advanced. Once the wheat field was crossed, the anti-tank ditch would be only a few hundred yards ahead. At this point, the advance companies had nothing to do but march in steady pace, anticipating the inevitable retort of enemy fire.
Z
The teenage HitlerJugend kept their heads down under the lip of the trench, waiting for the order to open fire. The day of the allied attack had finally come; and after weeks of preparation, they were as ready as they could be.
These Canadians were in for a surprise. There were mines placed to the front, both anti-tank and anti-personnel. Hidden 88s and tanks were in Buron, holding their fire until the time was right, like them.
This was Number 10 Company of the 25th Panzer Grenadiers, 12th SS (Hitler Youth) Division. Their two hundred man company was mainly in the anti-tank ditch and the trenches forward of Buron=s old wall. Elements of Number 11 and 12 Companies were spread out behind them in the orchards, in a series of well dug and well camouflaged machine-gun posts. A troop of tanks and anti tank guns were also hidden inside Buron as well.
The whistling overhead of shells cutting through a clear sunny sky was nerve-racking, but Number 10 Company happened to be well forward of the bombardment Buron was receiving.
This was their chance to hurt the Tommies. It had been a long month of taking casualties from the aircraft and artillery. The trench they occupied was the result of hard digging every night by youth soldiers, and it was the first line of defense. If the Canadians were lucky enough to overrun them, then mortar fire would dump straight into the trench, assuring mutual destruction of Germans and Canadians alike.
Eighteen and Nineteen-year old veterans of the East Front might not have looked forward to the battle as much as the even younger additions, put into service to make up for losses in Russia. The newest of them were 15 to16 years-old, and untested in combat. But Hitler was their hero and this division was their direct link between them and him. They were HitlerJugend, the finest example of the Anew@ Germans and on this day they would have their opportunity to prove themselves.
There were a lot of Canadians advancing, but these weren't just any soldiers. They were SS; which meant this position would hold, or they would all die. That simple; I am nothing. We are everything.
Getting closer, wait...