MOVE TO NEUVILLE AU PLAIN
Turner and his men move north while the battalion heads to St. Mere-Eglise.
The platoon moves quickly downhill and soon sees a church steeple and roofs ahead. Turnbull creeps forward with Sergeant Pickett and Sergeant Niland.
Farmers dot the fields and villagers pass between the spare buildings. The fields are full of oats and peaceful. War has not yet come to Neuville.
A bent old woman stops when she sees the paratroopers, frowns magnificently and then steps off the road into a side lane.
"Say, that's the same look my girlfriend's mother gives me," Sergeant Pickett says in mock surprise.
"Route 13 runs straight through 300 yard of open ground into the town. The Americans have a good view of approaching Germans", thinks Turnbull.
Two-story buildings, including a small church, lie to the road's east. The west is densely wooded with a low stone wall running away from the the town.
"We'll set up a linear defense, perpendicular to the road," Turnbull decides. "Sergeant Niland, take 1st Squad and establish a position at the edge of the orchard on the far left."
"Sergeant Pickett, put 3rd Squad in the hedgerow on the east. 2nd Squad is going to be right across the road. We'll also put the bazooka team with them."
Pickett quickly leads his team to the east, trotting between the stone buildings. Niland leads 1st Squad to the west, disappearing into an orchard.
Turnbull brings 2nd Squad forward and lets them settle in while looking again at the countryside.
Farmers at the field's far side move quickly away from the town. In fact, all the people have disappeared. The town is silent and empty.
"I can't blame them," thinks Turner. "They know there'll be a big fight here soon."
After a moment, the Lieutenant walks his entire line and checks on his men.
"We might be too spread out," he thinks. "We are defending a big area with a pretty small group."
"We'll have to be flexible," Corporal Kelly, the platoon medic says. He shadows Turnbull, scanning the ground himself for the best place to set up his aid station.
Turnbull nods, but says nothing, and looks up at the rising sun instead. The haze is gone, and the sun hits them directly. Though it's still cool in the shade, the temperature climbs in the open. Suddenly thirsty, Turnbull takes a short nip from his canteen.
The men all are in position. The bazooka team is slightly out front, masked behind a low stone building. The rest of the platoon is dug in or protected behind the stone wall.
"Good job," Turnbull says quietly. He squats fifteen feet behind 2nd Squad and waits in the shade of the town hall building. Absentmindedly, he picks up a handful of dirt and lets the cool earth filter between his fingers.
"We're in as good a place as any to meet the Germans," Turner decides. "Now it's just a waiting game."
