File- Medal.of.honor.allied.assault.incl.dlc.zi... Now

Powell sat on the back of a Sherman, unwrapping a stale ration bar. Barnes handed him a canteen.

“Barnes, suppressing fire on the machine-gun nest. Hawkins, you’re with me — we go through the bocage, left flank. On my signal.” File- Medal.Of.Honor.Allied.Assault.Incl.DLC.zi...

Near Saint-Lô, Normandy Date: June 10, 1944 — D-Day +4 Powell sat on the back of a Sherman,

Lieutenant Mike Powell pressed his back against the cratered stone wall of a shattered farmhouse. The ping of his M1 Garand’s empty clip ejecting was still ringing in his ears. Three German soldiers lay motionless in the tall grass ahead, but he knew more were coming. Somewhere to his left, Sergeant Hawkins was shouting into a broken radio, trying to reach battalion. To his right, Private First Class Barnes was feeding belts into his Browning .30 cal. Hawkins, you’re with me — we go through

“You ever think we’ll see something besides this?” Barnes asked, gesturing at the smoke and ruins.

They moved. The enemy MG42 chattered, chewing leaves and stone. Powell dove behind an overturned cart, waited for the gunner to pause, then popped up and put two rounds into the slit of the bunker. The German gun fell silent.