1LAZARUS
A Fury Fanfiction
by
MadTom
As far as I can tell, the first Fury fanfiction written by a real US Army tanker! After a brief rest, Norman returns to battle. At the end of the war in Europe, he awaits his turn to go home, or to the Pacific Theater for the invasion of the Japanese mainland.
I do not own the rights to Fury and write this for no monetary profit, purely for your entertainment. I am, however, a retired US Army Armor/Cavalry officer and consider Fury to be the best and most realistic tanker movie ever made. (The Tanks Are Coming, an obscure 1951 movie written by World War II European Theater of Operations infantry veteran Sam Fuller, runs a close second and is about equal in historical accuracy to Fury, but doesn't quite capture the grit and filth of tank warfare as well. Patton, which is actually about a Corps and then Army commanding general who had been a tanker in the previous war, with George C. Scott in the title role actually standing in the cupola of a tank for all of six seconds in a three hour movie, doesn't really count as a tanker movie!) The movie, however, is not without flaws, and I will address them in this fanfiction.
LYLE FRANCIS PADILLA
Major, Armor, US Army (Retired)
AKA MadTom
Reconstitution
"Machine," his original Nom de Guerre, had not stuck. Wardaddy, Bible, Gordo and Coon Ass, the four men of his original crew, had all died heroically only a couple of hours after they had christened him "Machine", having had no contact with any other Americans to spread the word of the new nickname. He did not dare to confer that name upon himself. But he'd been found alive among his four dead crewmates inside the immobilized, panzerfaust-punctured Fury, its olive drab paint pitted or chipped down to bare steel in over a thousand places by a relentless pelting of German rifle and machine gun fire, and surrounded by over a hundred dead Waffen-SS, and this gave rise to an even more fitting Nom de Guerre for Private Norman Ellison that did spread rapidly throughout the 66th Armored Regiment: Lazarus.
But Fury did not stay the tomb it had become. By that point in the war, the division maintenance depot had battle damage repair down to a science. It took only two days to clean out the interior, patch up the hole from the panzerfaust that had killed Coon-Ass, smooth out the deeper bullet pitting, replace the destroyed road wheels and track sections, turret hydraulics and radio, then quickly repaint both the interior and exterior. At the same time, Norman was given a thorough debrief by his company and battalion commanders and the S3 operations and S2 intelligence officers at the battalion Tactical Operations Center, and two days rest at the battalion aid station, and then assigned to a new crew being cobbled together. A tech sergeant from the battalion S-1 (Personnel) section directed him toward a medium-tall husky blond second lieutenant and a short, wiry corporal standing in a corner of the tent.
"Lieutenant Hofferber? Norman approached the officer, who nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm Private Ellison. I'm on your crew, sir."
The lieutenant smiled with approval and shook his hand. "Ellison? Lazarus Ellison! Glad to have you on board."
"Thank you, sir," Norman replied. He noticed that Hofferber didn't look much older than Lieutenant Parker, the platoon leader who was killed three days before, but had a more sagely look in his eyes. Norman also noticed that unlike Parker and himself, who both had field jackets, this lieutenant had an older waist-length tanker jacket like the now-dead others in his old crew; he had brand new gold bars pinned on his shoulders, but the faded and stained sleeves showed clean and unfaded chevron-and-rocker shapes where the seven stripes of a tech sergeant had recently been.
"This is our gunner, Fishy Haddock," Lieutenant Hofferber nodded toward the corporal, who likewise exchanged a handshake with Norman. "He and I are both coming over from Fox Company of Second Battalion. He just got discharged from a month in the hospital. I took the field commission that Don Collier turned down a couple of days ago. Hated to leave Fox Company, but I figured it was time to make room for my current gunner to move up to TC." He nodded toward the nickel-plated pearl-handled Model 1917 revolver hanging in Norman's shoulder holster. "I presume that's Don's revolver," he laughed. "I doubt if any gunsmith would've customized more than one of those eyesores, let alone that both of them would end up in this part of Germany!"
Norman cast his eyes downward and felt himself blushing. "Yes, sir. It was the only weapon we had with any ammo left in it by the time the doughs relieved my... our position. I'll see to it his next of kin gets it back when I get my own sidearm issued."
"Don't worry about it," Hofferber smiled. "Don Collier's closest living relative who isn't a Kraut is some aunt or cousin. He wouldn't mind you keeping it for good."
"Thank you, sir. How well did you know Wardaddy?"
"He and I went through Fort Knox and then came to the 66th together. I was with him when he bought that revolver in a pawn shop in Columbus, Georgia." He smiled nostalgically. "That was back in '42 when General Patton was our division commander, so Don wanted an ivory handled 1873 Peacemaker just like his, but that secondhand pawnshop Model 1917 was the closest to it that he could afford. Worked out better for him in the long run since it takes the same rounds as the automatic and the submachineguns." He paused with a chuckle. "But the next time General Patton was out in the field with Love Company, he took one look at that pistol, burst out laughing and said, 'Son, only New Orleans pimps carry pearl handled pistols!' Took a while for ol' Wardaddy to live that one down!"
Norman laughed. After a pause, he asked, "Anything I need to be doing right now, sir?"
"Hang loose for now. We're waiting on two rookies from the reppl depot to make up the rest of the crew. Then we go to the maintenance depot and pick up your old tank."
Norman gulped. "Is it definitely my original tank, sir?"
"Relax. It's obviously a lucky tank. At least for you." He slapped Norman on the shoulder, then nodded toward Corporal Haddock. "As I was explaining to Fishy here, we meet up at the repair depot with another crew from Love Company also picking up their tank. When we get to the Company, we pick up one tank each from the other two platoons and reconstitute your old platoon. At least that's the plan for right now. Things do change rapidly in our line of work." He glanced again at Wardaddy's revolver. "Oh, I just thought of one thing you can do while we're waiting. Go over to the supply tent next door and try to scrounge up a few more half-moon clips for that forty-five. You might need a few more than the two that are still in it."
"Half-moon clips? Yes, sir," Norman nodded as he and Hofferber exchanged salutes. He stepped back out the tent opening and found among the small town of tents around the muddy field a nearby sign that read
Battalion S4/HHC Supply
After standing in line behind two sergeants and waiting his turn, he said to the supply clerk, "I'm heading back to Love Company. My lieutenant suggested I pick up a few half-moon clips for my forty-five revolver."
"Revolver?" the clerk squinted at him. "Didn't they issue you an automatic at Love Company?"
"They didn't have time when I got there," Norman explained. "This was my tank commander's. I'd like to keep using it."
The clerk raised his eyebrows on seeing the pearl handle. "That was Sergeant Collier's! You're the guy they call Lazarus!"
"I guess I am," Norman shrugged. "I imagine Collier had a few more clips, but I presume they buried them with him."
"Why didn't you say so?" the clerk replied. "We keep a few on hand for guys like Collier and a couple of old World War I retreads in the battalion who insist on carrying revolvers."
Norman returned to the S1 tent just as about a dozen men were getting off a truck parked outside. The S1 tech sergeant had come out with a clipboard, reading off names and telling the men which company they were assigned to.
"Anglim! Gronewold! Both of you are going to Love Company, but go inside the tent and report to Lieutenant Hofferber."
At the mention of the name Gronewold, Norman raised his eyebrows as he recognized a tall, lean blond Germanic-featured youth his own age, who would have looked as equally at home among the Waffen-SS troops Norman had helped to slaughter the other night as he did here, following a shorter, stockier dark-haired man into the tent. Norman skirted around the others gathered behind the truck and followed the two into the tent as the shorter man approached his other crewmen and said to the lieutenant, "Sir, are you Lieutenant Hofferber? We were told to report to you."
"I'm him," Hofferber nodded. "This is Corporal Haddock, our gunner, and the gentleman behind you is Private Ellison, now known as Lazarus."
The tall blond private whipped around to face Norman. "Norm?"
"Jimmy!" Norman said. "Where the hell were you three days ago when they snatched me up?"
"Still on my way to Combat Command HQ, I guess," Gronewold shrugged. "That's where they asked for volunteers for tank crews."
Norman turned to Hofferber. "Sir, this is Jim Gronewold. He and I went through clerk school and shipped over together."
"Okay," Hofferber said with a barely perceptible sigh, then turned to Anglim. "Please tell me you went through Fort Knox!"
"Yes, sir, I did," Anglim replied.
"Good! You're our driver. Gronewold, you're the bow gunner. Lazarus, you get him trained up on the bow gun. You're now the loader. The co-ax gun is the same as the bow gun, Corporal Haddock and I will train you up on main gun ammo and how to load, disassemble and maintain the main gun breech. The radio is pretty simple."
"Yes, sir," Norman nodded. "Corporal Swan and Private Travis, the gunner and loader on Fury, gave me a quick trainup on main gun ammo."
"Good," Hofferber nodded. "Disassembling and reassembling the breech block is a two-man job anyway, so Fishy can teach you as you go along." He looked at the other crewmen. "Let's wait for our ride outside."
The crew followed him out. As they stood around, Gronewold turned to Norman. "So, Norm. What's with the new nickname?"
He looked at him for several seconds before saying, "Trust me, Jimmy. You don't want to know. Not on your first day."
After a few minutes of their standing and trying to stay out of the way of all the personnel and vehicular traffic, a jeep followed by a 6x6 truck pulled up in front of them. Norman recognized the officer in the front passenger seat as Captain Rapetti, the company commander. As the captain stepped out of the jeep, they all went to attention and saluted.
"Lieutenant Hofferber," he said, "I see you have four warm bodies with you. I presume this is your whole crew."
"Yes, sir," Hofferber nodded. "Corporal Haddock is my gunner, coming with me from Fox Company, Private Ellison I believe you already know, Private Anglim and Private Gronewold just arrived from the reppl depot."
"Excellent!" Rapetti smiled. "Gentlemen, I'm Captain Rapetti. Welcome to Love Company. Slight change in plans, Lieutenant. Everyone grab your gear. Lieutenant, come with me, the rest of you get in the truck."
Norman and the other enlisted men went to the rear of the truck just as someone inside lowered the tailgate. Norman was expecting another tank crew of five men to be inside but instead saw fifteen, with several duffelbags and other gear on the floor between the bench seats, containing what he assumed to be their personal gear, like himself and the rest of the crew were carrying.
"I hear you're the new platoon leader's crew," a staff sergeant said as they climbed aboard. "Any idea what's going on?"
"We just heard about the change in plans just now," Haddock replied. "We and another crew were supposed to pick up our tanks from the repair depot."
"Yeah, that was us," the staff sergeant nodded. "Then these two other crews were told to pack up everything and get aboard. Sounds to me like we're all getting new tanks. Maybe all Easy Eights. Supposedly all new replacement tanks are Easy Eights."
"That wouldn't make sense," Haddock said, then turned to Norman. "Hey, Lazarus. Isn't your tank an Easy Eight?"
"I think so," Norman nodded. "I was in it less than a day before we got it shot out from under us."
Haddock turned back to the staff sergeant. "So that wouldn't make sense. Why fix a tank and then replace it with a new one?"
"Maybe they found something wrong that it wasn't worth fixing," the staff sergeant said. He turned to Norman and extended his hand. "So you're Lazarus Ellison. Let me shake your hand."
"Thank you, Sergeant."
"MacQueen," the staff sergeant replied. "Bagpipes MacQueen."
"Why 'Bagpipes'?" Norman asked.
"NOOOO!" several of the others groaned loudly, one of them yelling to Norman, "Ya had to ask, didn't ya!" as MacQueen reached down for what appeared to be a small suitcase tucked among the duffelbags, opened it and pulled out a set of bagpipes decorated in red and black tartan.
He put the mouthpiece to his lips to more groans and then acquiesced and folded the instrument back up. "All right, all right!" he laughed. "I'll be a little more reserved and dignified. After all, I am the new platoon sergeant. At least the last I heard!"
Haddock extended a hand to MacQueen. "Sarge, I'm Fishy Haddock. Gunner. Coming from Fox Company." Gronewold and Anglim also introduced themselves, just by rank and surname.
By then the truck had started rolling and they watched out the open rear of the compartment as it turned out of the battalion compound driveway onto a major road. MacQueen picked up the bagpipe and, before inflating it, acquiesced the men again by saying, "Now, we don't know how long this drive is, so let me at least entertain you guys. I'm not going to play Scotland the Brave or Garryowen. At least give me credit for having a wider repertoire!" The drone pipes hummed as the bag inflated and then he went into a passable rendition of Glenn Miller's In the Mood.
They drove through farmland, passing through a few small villages with varying degrees of war damage that otherwise reminded Norman of the more rural areas of his native Pennsylvania. Haddock proceeded to instruct Norman on basic fire commands and other Loader duties and crew procedures. Several of the other men continued in scuttlebutt above MacQueen's music, most of it over what the "change in plans" was. After about a half hour's drive, and MacQueen's renditions of several more Swing hits, they made a turn inside a village square and headed out another road. Another mile out, they passed four tank transporter lowboy tractor-trailers parked at the side of the road, their flatbeds empty. MacQueen stopped playing in mid-tune as the truck made a turn off the road past the lowboys, while someone called out, "Definitely new tanks!"
Rapetti and Hofferber stepped up to the tailgate and indicated for Norman and Haddock to lower it. "Gentlemen," Rapetti announced, "leave your gear and gather in front of the truck."
The nineteen men did so. They found themselves at the edge of a large field and, as they went around to the sides of the truck, were greeted by the sight of four tanks parked in a single rank, pointed away from them. Their turrets had the same general shape as those of later model Shermans but were considerably larger. The hulls were also wider and longer than those of a Sherman and it took a while for them to notice what the difference was with their hulls besides size: there was no huge rise in the hull above the tracks, so that the turrets sat almost flush with the sponson boxes on top of the fenders and making the whole tank shorter in height than a Sherman despite the larger turret. Instead of the Sherman's smaller road wheels on three sets of two-axle bogeys on each side, there were much larger road wheels on six sets of independent axles. There was a crescendoing murmur as more men caught sight of them.
"Pershings!" Anglim exclaimed. "Yes!"
After the men reached the front of the truck, Hofferber called, "Platoon! Tench-HUT!" as the battalion commander, whom Norman remembered from the debrief, approached and exchanged salutes with Hofferber and Rapetti. Behind him were another captain and a man who wore no insignia on his uniform or helmet.
"At ease, gentlemen," the battalion commander announced. "Good morning. For those who don't know me, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Austin, commander Fourth Battalion 66th Armor. Welcome aboard. Now, before we get to what's going on here, let's get the introductions out of the way first. Captain Rapetti, please introduce these gentlemen to their new platoon leader."
"Yes, sir," Rapetti replied. "Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant Hofferber, coming to us from Fox Company. He's brand new as a second lieutenant but he'd been a platoon sergeant since shortly after Normandy. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant MacQueen, your platoon sergeant, and these are Sergeants Nahf and Homan, your other tank commanders." After Hofferber shook the others' hands, he nodded back to Austin.
"Okay, gentlemen," Austin said, "the reason you're here, as most of you know, is that you are the reconstitution of First Platoon of Love Company." He gave a reassuring nod to Norman. "Let's not dwell on why the platoon is being reconstituted. It also just so happens that the Second Armored Division's allocation of the new M26 Pershing tanks arrived a couple of days ago. The other battalions of the 66th and the 67th Regiments have already been trained on them and have put them into action. The 3rd and 9th ADs got theirs back in February and went into action at the end of that month, with some impressive results. These gentlemen..." he gestured toward the two men behind him "...will get into the details of that shortly. The thing is that all the other battalions parceled their Pershings out in ones and pairs to their companies. Except for one battalion in the 9th Armored that put all theirs in one platoon. Now the 3rd AD Pershings have seen their share of tank-on-tank action, and these guys will give you the statistics later. Those in the 9th AD, not so much of the tank-on-tank. But their one all-Pershing platoon... they were the first US unit to reach the last intact bridge over the Rhine at Remagen, just as the Krauts tried to blow it up. Somehow the bridge held together and the Pershings provided suppressing fire, and the doughs they were supporting took the bridge. Now, would they have been able to do that if they had Shermans? Probably, but who's gonna argue with success? Doctrine on use of the Pershing is being written as we speak, and since we've got a new platoon here but made of mostly very experienced crews, you guys are now the second all-Pershing platoon in the ETO."
A grunting cheer ran through the gathering. Norman accompanied his cheer with a sigh of relief. He would hopefully never see the inside of Fury again. He hoped that either it would be given to another unit, or at least that the repair crew would paint over its old name on the gun tube so that if it stayed in Love Company it would be indistinguishable from any other Easy Eight Sherman.
Author's notes:
Almost all the surnames of original character tankers in this story are those of men who either served with me in the 3rd Battalion 102nd Armor and/or the 5th Squadron 117th Cavalry, New Jersey Army National Guard, or were classmates in my courses at the US Army Armor School. (Anyone in the Nebraska National Guard who happens to read this and recognizes the name of one of your retired generals, yep, it's same guy!) Any similarities in attributes of the fictional characters to their real-life counterparts, I reserve the right to claim as being entirely coincidental.
The real life 66th and 67th Armored Regiments of the 2nd Armored "Hell on Wheels" Division were made up of three battalions each, three companies per battalion: First Battalion made up of Able, Baker and Charlie Companies; Second Battalion made up of Dog, Easy and Fox Companies; Third Battalion made up of George, How and Item Companies. Since in the movie, Fury belonged to a fictitious Love Company based on their radio callsigns, that implies a fictitious Fourth Battalion in that fictitious universe. Which gives me a lot more leeway in conforming to historical accuracy. The real-life 66th and 67th Armored Regiments actually did, according to reliable sources, take their new M26 Pershings into battle with only a couple of hours of classroom instruction. No reason why a fictitious Fourth Battalion couldn't form a whole platoon and get more thorough training for them.
Admittedly, I'm taking advantage of this opportunity. The M26 Pershing would be developed and evolved over the next four decades into the entire Patton-series of US Army Main Battle Tanks. Which includes the two models of tanks I had the most experience with, the M48A5 and the M60A3, and while there was considerable evolution in the guns, fire control system, engines and armor, the basic chassis saw very little change.
Feedback is invited. I'm walking a fine line between providing good authentic accuracy about tank warfare while at the same time avoid falling into what I call the "Herman Melville Syndrome". (The majority of Melville's original unabridged version of Moby Dick was a very boring textbook on whaling.) I need feedback to know if I've crossed that line.