| The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. No profit is made. Copyright 2004 by Jestersang I'd like to thank everyone in the group for their continued support and encouragement, it's been quite a while since I've written anything for the public eye. Thanks to Mel for piecing this together for me from all of the dribs and drabs that I've sent here, as well as for keeping the fanfic site(s) going - Thanks Mel! And in the grand tradition of saving the best for last, I'd like to thank Doc II. I first contacted Doc off-list when she welcomed me to the group before I 'de-lurked' and she has been nothing but wonderful ever since. So Doc, thanks for your support and encouragement about writing, thanks for your help with beta-ing and thanks for being Keeper of the Manuscript when my computer lost it - thank goodness you did! Hope you all/ya'll/y'all enjoy the story! Jestersang Echoes of an Evening The night's stillness slipped over him, seeping through his brain, replacing conscious thought. It settled upon his shoulders and sighed its burdens into his ear. Shivering at its weight, he tried to shrug it off. Without thinking he swung his feet in an effort to make it all stop. As the old porch swing creaked back to life, he started; he hadn’t realized how far he had gone. At last today was over. He hadn’t thought he could make it, wouldn’t have bet a dime that he could. But he had, as he had through so many other times he thought he wouldn’t either. And now that he was finally alone he could let the day wash over him, absorb it more fully. Some of the guys had come. Caje, lithe as ever despite their years. His wife had been unable to make the trip, time hadn’t been as kind to her. Doc, not saying much, his still clear-conscience blue eyes speaking for him. Billy hadn’t wanted to leave home, he and his wife were expecting their first great-grandchild. That still made him laugh, the ‘kid’ was now a patriarch. Littlejohn, well, some of them had made a similar trip for him a few years ago. He bowed his head as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. This was so much harder than the others before it. He reached over and shook another cigarette out of his pack, just the motion already soothing him. Smoking – the one habit he had never been able to give up no matter what they told him. Hell, he had given everything else up, some days this was all he had to keep him sane. As he snapped the lighter shut, the quiet hiss of the butane propelled him back again, back to a time when cigarettes served as a handshake and he remembered how many they had shared. Back to their first meeting… “Hey buddy, you got a light? Is this King Company, second platoon?” He had been directed to an orchard where nothing was left but tinder. A tall lieutenant with tired eyes and string still hanging from recently ripped sergeant stripes looked him up and down. “I’m a replacement – sir.” Without taking his eyes off him, the lieutenant yelled around the cigarette hanging out of his own mouth, “Saunders!” A man ambled over from a group of soldiers lounging just out of earshot. “Saunders, this is your replacement. Get ready to go.” A short nod was all the acknowledgement the sergeant gave his lieutenant as he crooked his head for him to follow. So he did, over to that group, the group of strangers who would become his family. “Men, this is our replacement – what was your name?” “Kirby – Private William G. Kirby.” “Ok, Kirby. Men saddle up, we’re moving out.” And they did – all the way to Germany. Kirby shook his head. He had found out later – much later – that Saunders had known all about him when he joined the squad. Knew that he had been promoted on D-day plus 1 and knew that he had been busted on D-day plus 4. A little too much cognac had helped his tongue twist and his fists fly – all over his new CO. Luckily for Kirby and unluckily for the CO, the lieutenant had been killed before ever starting the paperwork for Kirby’s courtmartial. The new new CO hadn’t wanted to be bothered, but he also didn’t want the bother of Kirby. So he had been shipped off to another company, K Company. Hanley hadn’t wanted him either but beggars couldn’t be choosers back then. Years and years later Hanley had told him that he had given Saunders a choice. “This guy is on his way out. They want to put him in Graves Registration but we need riflemen. It’s up to you really, do you want him or not?” “Everyone deserves a second chance lieutenant.” True to his word, Saunders had given him a second chance. And a third, and a fourth. Kirby had lost count somewhere along the way. He looked out over the expanse of lawn stretching before him, barely visible as it met the night sky. Mowed and manicured, it little resembled his world of long ago. As he stared off into the distance he noted the old stone building that nestled on the edge of his property. He recalled another stone building so long ago, Caje trying to bar his way from entering, Kirby’s panic growing with each denial. Eddie. He hadn’t thought of Eddie in a long time. That had been a turning point for him, Eddie’s cold death. All he had wanted was to maim and kill, hurt like he had been hurt. He found the sadist responsible and was ready to pull the trigger. At the last minute he hesitated, he didn’t then know why. The SS colonel was begging Saunders to save him and Saunders did nothing. He just stood there, letting Kirby make his own choice. Kirby never knew if Saunders guessed the way it was going to go. All he knew was that Saunders stood behind him, barely breathing, a silent conscience. Kirby didn’t kill the colonel and it wasn’t until much later that he understood his own unconscious decision. He knew that he couldn’t become like them. He knew that despite the cruelty and death around him it wasn’t yet of him. He knew that if he had pulled the trigger he would be unable to return from where he had gone. He realized that Saunders knew all this the whole time but also knew the decision had to be freely made. Kirby wondered at what point in time Saunders had been faced with the same choice. When the war ended they all parted, each trying to piece together some sort of normalcy despite the nightmare shattered dreams that seeped into their days. They kept in sporadic touch, some better than others. It was no surprise that it was Doc who realized Kirby was in trouble. He wouldn’t accept Kirby’s silence and tried to break it with a long-distance phone call. Kirby had tried to play it off but Doc knew. And he told the Sarge. Of course. Somehow they found out about Ruth. Ruth had never gotten over Eddie’s death. Outwardly she was fine – a little too fine. She dated – many and often. Kirby had tried to talk to her but she shut him out with a smile and a kiss on the cheek as she ran out the door. It wasn’t long after that that he found them. After she came home one night she turned on the oven – and left it on. Kirby didn’t know if she realized their mother was home from work, sick. All he knew was that they were both dead when he got there. After the funeral George took off and Kirby was left alone to deal with his grief. So he numbed it. Like he had numbed his memories, with ass-kicking and alcohol. Only now it ruled him. Halfway through one of his nightly tears – and let’s face it, they were daily too – he was shooting his mouth off while shooting pool. Big bucks were on the table, big balls were in the pockets and Kirby was on a roll. Laughing, he turned, stick in hand, and signaled for another drink. As he did so he saw Saunders, framed in the doorway. It was true, the Sarge was there. “Kirby, you’re coming home with me.” His friends had laughed. “Kirby, you still gonna listen to that tightwad? He doesn’t outrank you anymore, give him the beating you’ve always wanted to.” And truth be told, Kirby did consider it, was halfway across the room to do it. But as his befuddled mind tried to function, a blurry face crept through his brain. The SS colonel . He turned his face from his jeering friends to the unwavering stare of his sergeant. And he went. The ride was torture. Nothing was said for so long that Kirby was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake. Then Saunders had started talking. He talked to Kirby of the life that lay before him, not the death that lay behind him. He told Kirby that he wasn’t going to leave him behind with so many others. Saunders had taken him to his home and stayed by his side, from beginning to end. He stayed with him through the gut-wrenching, paralyzing DTs and the long, sobbing nights. Saunders’ wife, heavy with their second child, had borne Kirby’s presence with never a word of reproach. Kirby looked at the iced tea on the table beside him. He hadn’t touched a drop since that night but for the first time in a long time he felt tempted. He reluctantly chuckled at the thought of Sarge clawing his way out of his grave to confront him if he ever did. “Bill? Are you ok honey?” Karen’s soft voice reached out to him, followed by the back of her hand gently smoothing his cheek. Kirby reached for it, palm up, and brought it to his face. He sighed and kissed it. Of all the things he owed Saunders, Karen was the one thing he could never re-pay. She reached around him and buried her face in his neck. “I’m here if you need me.” She kissed him quietly and left the porch. After he was able to stand without a drink, Kirby had turned his thoughts to finding work. Saunders had introduced him to the owner of a road construction company. The guy was looking for someone who would work long hours for little pay in a stinking job. Kirby took it – less time to think. Three years later when the old man was looking to retire, Saunders had lent Kirby the money to buy him out. Kirby hadn’t wanted to – it was more responsibility when he was just getting to the point of being comfortable passing by a bottle. But then Saunders never was one to let someone get comfortable. So Kirby went from drone to boss and never looked back. He buried himself in his work, pausing only long enough for a few dates here and there for one reason only and an occasional dinner at the Saunders house. It was at one of those dinners that Saunders told him he had a date that Friday night. “You’ll go Kirby, and you’ll treat her well.” And that was how he met Karen. They married within six months and Kirby had never regretted it. The funeral today was hell. How he was chosen to deliver the eulogy he couldn’t guess. The church was packed, and Kirby wondered again how a simple man, living a simple life, had been able to draw so many to himself. Looking out at the sea of faces it was all he could do to keep from breaking down. Caje and Doc looking at him, trying to lend some moral support, was what got him through. The rest of the day was a blur. And now he was here, on his porch, trying to get his mind around the fact that Saunders was really gone. His life had been so altered so many times by the man. As silent tears rolled down his cheeks he thanked whatever powers that be for including him in his life. Then he wiped his face and turned to go inside, leaving the death behind him to face the life that lay before him. END |
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