The date was January 8, 1944. The time was 13:13 (1:13 PM). They still did not have a name for me yet. We were going to a new base because our old base got spotted by an enemy patrol two days ago. I was upfront with Maj. Rage. (The reason he got the name Rage is that he never gets angry. He is always happy.)
We were talking about what plans we had for when we got back home. About two kilometers from the new base, I heard an explosion go off in the distance. I really didn't take note of it, because we were so used to it. About two minutes later, I heard another one. This one was closer than the other one. Out of nowhere, a sniper popped off a shot, just missing my foot.
We could not get a read on his position, and Capt. Smith (The reason he was named Smith is that it was his last name and he was a gunsmith, so that made him our gun expert) could not tell what gun it was or which direction it was coming from. I don't think it helped that we were wearing enemy uniforms. So if it were our guys, we had to let them know that they were shooting at us. If it was the enemy, then why were they shooting at us if we looked like them and we were speaking German until they started shooting at us? Luckily, we were in a bombed-out village, so we could find at least some decent cover.
Recoil set up his MG-42 by a burned out car. Jury-Rigged hid behind a shield he made from a car door. Everyone else hid behind whatever they could find for cover. I decided to make a run for the church. I figured if I could get there, I might be able to find out which way the shots were coming from. Before I could get to the church, I got shot in the leg. Before I could get back up, I got another bullet in the arm.
"Well, I can tell where the shots are coming from now!" I yelled to the others, sarcasm dripping from my tone.
I dragged myself behind a burned-out car. Each day, we chose a medic. I grabbed the short straw today. (I guess I should count myself lucky, considering I got shot and all.) I patched myself up and finished making the run to the church. I made it this time, but the doors were shut, so I got IED to throw me the breach pack he had on him. Once inside the church, I changed back to my own uniform then climbed to the top of the bell tower so I could get a better view, but I forgot my gun scope for my rifle and my binoculars, so I was next to useless up there, but oh well. In the distance, about 300m away, I could see light on the top of the hill. Out of nowhere, another shot went off, hitting me in the shoulder. (Seriously? Again?)
"GET TO THE CHURCH!" I yelled to the others.
As they ran over to the church, Recoil got shot in the leg, but I don't think he noticed. Bulls-Eye got shot in the arm and fell to the ground. Luckily, Jury-Rigged was right behind him to help. Another shot just missed my head. I decided to go back down into the church.
Once everyone got into the church, Jury-Rigged blocked the door with his shield (That shield saved our asses in the past many times. I think it's our good luck charm, but no one else does.) The church was well fortified on the inside, but it looked like crap on the outside. A well-placed shell or two would obliterate it. It was a good spot to hunker down and mend our wounds for now.
Six hours later (19:15), we were still held down in the church, so Jury-Rigged and I decided to go look around for supplies. All we found were about 12 cases of what appeared to be incendiary ammo for a Karabiner 98k. IED took three cases so he could make some landmines. Jury-Rigged took three so he could make flares for his flare gun. Recoil took three for his MG-42. Blade ask Jury-Rigged if he could make him a knife out of the casing. The rest of us took nine clips worth (about 45 rounds each). There were two rounds left, so I took them and made pendants out of them — one for my girl back home and one for me. We hadn't heard anything from the sniper, so I went out to look for more supplies. Luckily, it was still light out, so I could at least see. Forty-five minutes later, I was making my way back when they started shelling again. The first shell hit about ten feet away from me, and I got some shrapnel in my right arm. As I fell to the ground, another shell came from directly above me.
"Son of a bitch." That was the last thing I said before everything went black.
I woke up about five days later (January 13, 1944, 12:34) in a field hospital. The whole group was there, except Bulls-Eye. They said that the sniper shot him as they were exiting the church.
How the hell am I still alive? I should be a fine pink mist by now. That was a direct hit, I thought.
I put my hands on my head and realized my left index from the first joint up was gone. I asked what happened, but they didn't say anything. As I looked around the room, I noticed that it did not look like a field hospital. It looked more like a POW (Prisoner Of War) camp.
Later that day (around 1:24), the guards let me go outside (For a POW camp, it didn't look bad). I met up with Jury-Rigged and Recoil, and that was when shit hit the fan. There were two Russian POW's standing next to them, and they looked pissed. I didn't say anything to them, but they looked like they were going to kill me. I was talking to Jury and Recoil, then one of the POW's grabbed my right shoulder, turned me around and threw a punch, hitting me in the jaw. As soon as I hit the ground, the other POW picked me up and put me in a master lock. The POW that threw the punch then pulled a knife out of his boot (I don't know how the hell he got it, because they searched us before we entered the camp, and it didn't look like he made it out of a piece of metal) and threw it and got me center mass, the POW that was holding me back let go. As I fell to the ground, I pulled the knife out my chest and realized that it was one of Blade's knives (The one he got Jury-Rigged to make for him).
As soon as I hit the ground, everything went black for about two minutes. When I woke up, I was still on the ground, and the POW who threw the knife was standing on my back, giving a speech. Every time I tried to get up, he would push me back into the ground. I looked up and saw two other Russian POW's beating the shit out of Recoil. The POW that was holding me back was doing the same to Jury-Rigged. Out of nowhere, Lurker tackled the POW that was on my back (Thank God. I was getting tired of listening to him talk). As I was getting up, I looked down at my hand. Up till the second joint was gone, and on the ground was a small pile of ash.
What the fuck? I thought.
The POW flung Lurker off him and got up, and then he spoke in almost perfect English. "All these Americans do is start shit so they can prove that they are better than the rest of us. Well, not this time. We will not let these American pigs take our victory from us."
I walked up to him. "I have one thing to say to you."
"Oh? And what is that?" He laughed slightly.
"I'm Canadian, you asshat!" (Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words.)
A riot broke out, and the guards were called in to break it up. (The German way of doing this is different than the American way. The Americans normally let the POW's fight it out, but the Germans will put a bullet in you.)
I heard a loud bang as what appeared to be a bullet passed between my eyes and went into the POW's skull. (Serves him right for calling me an American.) I fell to the ground again. (This is starting to get old.)
When I woke, two of the guards were dragging me to what looked like an incinerator. (You're probably wondering why there is an incinerator in a POW camp. Well, we were in one of the killing camps. Lucky us, right?)
Well, fuck, I thought.
The guards were talking to each other. I couldn't really tell what they were saying. (My German was not the best at the time, and I was a tad bit drowsy.)
I groaned as the guards dropped me like a sack of potatoes and pulled their MP-40's on me.
"Wie die verdammte Hölle ist er noch am Leben?" One of the guards said in amazement. (Loose translation: 'How the bloody hell is he still alive?')
I asked them not to shoot me again. I think they misinterpreted that as 'please shoot me until you run out of bullets' because that's exactly what they did. This time, I didn't black out. (Thank God. At this time, I was starting to believe there was one).
I got up. The guards and I looked at my hand in amazement as up to the first joint of my thumb turned to ash. The guards looked at me and noticed that all the bullet holes disappeared instantly.
By that time, they had reloaded. I tried to speak to them in German, but all that came out was a jumbled mess, and then they unloaded into me again (I'm really getting tired of this shit), but nothing happened this time.
Maybe they missed, I thought. I looked down. There was blood. They didn't miss.
(I can't explain what happened next.) They loaded and unloaded their clips into me again. One bullet hit me in the heart. Another bullet hit me in the head. I fell to the ground and blacked out.
I fell into darkness and all I could feel was heat for about thirty-six minutes, then nothing. They must have thrown me in the incinerator, I thought.
(Well, duh.) As I floated in the darkness, I heard a voice, it sounded like a young female (19 or 20 years of age) To this day, I still remember what it said. "Your time is not now. Rise from your ashes, and become anew."
Just then, a bright light appeared and I fell into it (Not really. It moved to me). Once I passed through it, I woke up in a huge pile of ash inside the incinerator. (Called it.)
I reached out to the door, and to my surprise, my left hand had fully healed.
"What the hell is going on?!" I yelled, my lungs filling with the ashes of all the former POW's.
Just then, the door opened and I fell out, wearing nothing but my dog tags, my pendant, and my glasses. (Yes, I wore glasses. Shut up.)
Standing by the door was Maj. Rage. "What the heck happened to you?"
Being the smartass I was (still am), I replied, "Oh, you know, got shot sixty-five times and burned alive for the last...what time is it?"
Rage looked at his watch. "14:12, give or take a minute. "
I nodded. "Interesting."
I was in there for one hour and forty-six minutes, and I am still alive, I thought.
"Well, I think we have a name for you now." He said in a slightly enthusiastic voice.
"Oh really? What is it?" I asked.
"Phoenix." He said.
"You mean the bird, right?" I said.
"Yes, the bird of myth." He said. "Now, how about we get you some clothes?"
And that is how I got my name. (I had to die to get it, but fuck it.)