| The characters of “Combat!” are the property of ABC. The lines marked with asterisks are from the episode “The Hostages” written by Richard Adams. Copyright 2003 by Mel Roberts The Aftermath of Freedom A man's dying is more the survivors' affair than his own. ~Thomas Mann ~~~~~***~~~~~ Hands. Long slender fingers, dirt covered with abraded knuckles on his right hand. Hands used to heal and comfort. Hands he’d used to kill. Kill? His mind skittered away from it. He wasn’t there to kill. That’s why he’d entered this man’s army as a non-combatant. He didn’t believe in taking a life. He served his country, but by peaceful means. No, he was there to save lives…not take them. His hands looked different, somehow. As if covered in blood he couldn’t see. The blood of a life he’d taken himself. But there wasn’t any blood. He hadn’t even used a weapon. Just his hands. His hands. A voice from far away penetrated his thoughts. Faint, but insistent. * “Doc, I’m wounded. Help me.”* Tearing his eyes away from his hands, Doc blinked. Wounded? He dragged himself back to the here-and-now and slowly, hesitantly, moved over to check on Saunders’ leg wound. He was off-kilter. Nothing seemed to make sense, but wounds he knew. Wounds he could deal with. He unbuckled the sergeant’s boot and started to raise the trouser leg, then realized what he was doing. What was he doing? The Sarge had been hit in the thigh, not the lower leg. Shaking his head, hoping to clear away the fog, Doc scooted up by Saunders’ hip and widened the hole made by the bullet from Saunders’ own Thompson. It didn’t look too bad, all things considered. The bone didn’t appear to be broken, and there wasn’t any profuse bleeding so if they were lucky, the femoral hadn’t been touched. Of course, if he’d been quicker, maybe the Sarge wouldn’t have been hit. Or if he’d done a better job when trying to throw that German out of the truck, things would’ve turned out differently. Or if he hadn’t cracked his head on the windshield, he would’ve been able to do something about the German after the accident. Maybe. There were too many ‘or’s, too many ‘what if’s. Maybe he should’ve told the XO what was going on in the first place. Thinking about all the possibilities made his head throb. All he was sure of was he’d made a colossal mess of the whole thing. Caje and Saunders had depended on him to make the right choices to get them safely out of the Germans’ hands…and he’d gotten them both wounded. He’d caused the death of two men, and the injuries of two more. And now he had to figure out how to get both injured men back to the village. His decisions that day left a lot to be desired. It didn’t leave him with much confidence in his ability to make the right choice this time. As he finished tying the bandage, retrieved from the dead Aptmeyer, over the wound on Saunders’ leg, Doc could feel the sergeant’s penetrating gaze. He used his bandage scissors to cut the belt that bound Saunders’ hands together. Avoiding the Sarge’s eyes, he stood, leaned down and helped the wounded man to his feet. Without a word, his thoughts already a mile away, Doc pulled the Saunders’ arm across his shoulders and took the wounded man’s weight as they made their way slowly back to where they’d left Caje. The boom of artillery still echoed from the west, and Doc briefly wondered if it sounded a little closer. Not that he needed something else to worry about. He was already agonizing over how he was going to get help for Saunders and Caje. He couldn’t take them both. He wasn’t even sure he could get Caje back to the village by himself without causing further injury to his friend. Even if he could, it would take twice as long and the whole time Saunders would be left behind and in danger. If he took Saunders, Caje might die of shock before he got back. Though the medic hadn’t uttered a word since jumping the German officer, Saunders could hazard a guess as to what was running through Doc’s head. Killing your first enemy soldier affected every man, but it had to have been worse for a man who’d dedicated himself to helping others. On top of that, Doc was probably second-guessing himself about the choices he’d made along the way. Saunders was briefly sidetracked by that thought. Just how did Doc get that ambulance, anyway? His thoughts were brought back to the moment when they came out of the trees and Saunders could see Caje sitting propped up against the tree where they’d left him. The sergeant wanted nothing more at the moment than to join him. His leg throbbed with every limping step. When they reached Caje, Saunders was relieved to see the wounded man still awake. Although he was pale, and his face was showing his pain, Caje was alive. Saunders bit back a groan when Doc helped him sit down next to the wounded Cajun. Resting his back against the rough bark of the tree, the sergeant rolled his head to give Caje an encouraging smile. “You doing okay, Caje?” Shifting a little to make room for Saunders, Caje squeezed his eyes shut as Doc began checking his splinted leg. Opening his eyes after taking a deep breath, Caje looked from the silent medic to Saunders, curiosity winning over the pain. “What happened to the captain? How’d you get hit?” “Capt. Aptmeyer had intended to use the two of us to find a safe way across a minefield. We didn’t think much of that idea. Aptmeyer gave me an ultimatum and when I didn’t do what he wanted, he shot me. Probably would’ve killed me, but Doc jumped him. Aptmeyer dropped the gun, they fought, Doc…he didn’t have any choice. The captain’s dead.” “Good.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but that was how Caje felt. He was glad the German SS officer was dead. An eye for an eye. Payment for the death of Barnarbo. The way Doc’s hands stopped what they were doing told Caje the medic wasn’t as happy about it. Caje looked at Saunders with a puzzled frown. The sergeant gave a small shake of his head and closed his eyes briefly with weariness. Wincing when he shifted his leg, Saunders shrugged his Thompson off his shoulder and laid it across his knees. He finally managed to catch Doc’s gaze and sighed. The medic’s normally expressive face was a mask. Whatever he was feeling, Doc was keeping it buried for the moment. First things, first… “Doc-“ “I know, Sarge.” Sitting back on his heels, Doc ran a hand through his hair. “I have to leave you guys here and go for help. I’ll be as quick as I can.” “It’s the only way.” “I know, I just wish…I should’ve…never mind.” With one more sorrowful glance at Caje, once again wishing he had more medical supplies than what he’d shoved in his pockets that morning, the medic rose to his feet and wavered a moment. Blinking away the momentary dizziness, he waved off the look of concern from Saunders. He broke into a jog back up the road the way they’d come, trying not to look at the body of Echtman as he passed. He wondered if that motorcycle MP was still patrolling the road. He hadn’t yet given a thought to the confusion he’d left behind in the village. ~~~~~***~~~~~ Meningitis! The linesman ran back to his buddy with a look of horror on his face, the very name of the deadly disease lending him speed. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that barbershop. Scrambling back up to the roof, he watched the ambulance disappear around a corner. “Hey, what’s the matter Avery?” Unconsciously rubbing his palms on his trousers, Avery looked up at his partner in disbelief. “That medic I borrowed the lighter from was loadin’ a couple o’ guys into an ambulance. I asked him about it and some sergeant told me those two guys have meningitis. Says they’ll have to fumigate that whole place.” “Meningitis?” Shielding his eyes, Avery’s partner looked over at the barbershop. Something screwy was going on. “Shouldn’t they put a quarantine sign or something on the door? You know…keep anybody from goin’ in there before it’s fumigated?” He had a point. Avery was sure something strange was happening in that little French shop. “Maybe I should go ask somebody about it. Hey Charlie, keep an eye on the place, will ya? Make sure nobody goes in.” Just in case those guys really did have meningitis. ~~~~~***~~~~~ With a sigh, Hanley untangled his long legs from the jeep he’d hitched a ride in to get back to headquarters for King Company. Lt. Hanley was certain that if he got killed during the war, it would be in an accident. It seemed all he did these days was drive back and forth between headquarters and battalion. Removing his helmet, Hanley stepped through the door and released a sigh. He hoped the XO didn’t have anything urgent for him to deal with. He desperately needed a few minutes of peace. He barely got through the door before the 1st Sergeant started rattling of messages. “You have a meeting with the Exec at 1800hrs, ah, he stepped out about twenty minutes ago. Ah, he wants you also to send out a patrol to sector Bravo tonight at 2100 to confirm movement to the west. Also, here’s a kinda strange thing: Doc came in here wanting to talk to you, ‘cause he said Saunders needed a truck. I told him you weren’t here, but he could talk to the new Exec and he just left. He looked real worried about something.” “Why would Saunders need a truck?” Frowning thoughtfully, Hanley checked his watch. The meeting with the new XO was only two hours away. “Send for Saunders. If you can’t find him, get one of the other guys in here.” “Yes sir.” Lifting a pile of folders from his desk, the 1st Sergeant gave Hanley an apologetic smile. “Ah, these need your John Hancock, sir.” Taking the stack of files, Hanley winced at the weight. This would take him hours. “Perfect. Come rescue me when you find Saunders.” Hanley headed into the office, the sergeant’s soft chuckle making him grimace in annoyance. Keep chuckling Laughing Boy. I’m sure I can find some odious task to wipe that smile off your face. Lt. Hanley hadn’t been through many of the files when he glanced up to see the 1st Sergeant poking his head around the doorframe. “I found three of Saunders’ men, Lieutenant. You want to see them now?” “Send them in, Sergeant.” Sliding the unfinished reports to the side, Hanley leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs under the desk. When the three soldiers stepped through the door, Hanley waved them closer. At least Kirby, Nelson and Littlejohn had been found. “Have any of you see Sergeant Saunders?” The three men exchanged worried glances then shook their heads. Kirby was the first to voice the obvious question. “Haven’t seen him, Lieutenant. Is he missing?” Sitting up and leaning forward, Lt. Hanley picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk. “We’re not sure yet. Seems Doc came in here trying to get a truck for Saunders, and I’d like to know where your sergeant is and why he needed a truck. Look around and see if you can round up Saunders, Doc or Caje.” Kirby shrugged, darting a glance over his shoulder at Littlejohn. Something was going on. “Sure, Lieutenant. They’ve gotta be around here somewhere.” “Then go find them, Private.” “Yessir.” Lt. Hanley allowed a small smile, shaking his head, as the three soldiers all but ran from the room. The smile slipped from his face, however, when he let his thoughts shift back to the missing sergeant. If anybody had a knack for finding trouble…it was Sgt. Saunders. ~~~~~***~~~~~ Adjusting the strap once more, Kirby settled the BAR so that it finally stopped chaffing his neck. If it wasn’t the strap, it was the collar of his wool uniform. Once more, Kirby swore to himself that if he every made it home from this extended hell, he’d never again wear wool. Rubbing the sweat from the back of his neck, Kirby thought longingly of bathing with the cake of soap Sgt. Saunders was rumored to have. If they could just find the Sarge, that is. Kirby spotted the towering frame of Littlejohn and jogged across the street to catch up to his squad-mate. “Hey, Littlejohn. You seen the Sarge?” Pushing his helmet back, Littlejohn frowned down at Kirby. “Not a sign. Billy’s checking the next street, and all I got was that the Sarge was with Doc and Cage. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of those two, either.” “Swell. We could be sittin’ around, taking it easy, but here we are wearin’ out our boot leather looking for the Sarge. Wonder what Hanley wants with the Sarge, anyway?” “I just hope it’s not a mission.” “Nah, we just got through takin’ this village. Hell, they’re still trying to catch a few snipers. We’ll be here a couple of days, anyway.” Catching sight of Billy, Kirby waved him over. Judging by the puzzled look on the younger man’s face, Billy hadn’t been any more successful than the other two. Kirby gave it a shot, anyway. “You find out anything?” “Second platoon’s medic said he saw Caje, Sarge and Doc talking to Barnarbo. You know, the guy from Sgt. Pratt’s squad?” Kirby shifted the BAR yet again and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve played cards with Barnarbo once or twice. He was probably trying to wheedle a piece of that soap.” Hefting his M-1, Littlejohn checked his watch for the time. “He say where he saw them, Billy?” “Three streets over, to the north.” Heaving a martyred sigh, Kirby took the lead. “If they’re holed up in a hot shower somewhere, hogging that soap, I’ll shoot ‘em myself.” ~~~~~***~~~~~ Slowing to a walk, Doc pressed a hand to his aching side and thought it completely ironic, if not totally in character, that he couldn’t find an MP now that he needed one. Not a soul had been by since he’d left Caje and Sgt. Saunders. He was growing more and more concerned about the distant shelling…becoming less distant even though he was getting further away from where he’d left the others. He needed to find help, and find it fast. Raising a hand to wipe away the sweat dripping down into his eyes, Doc paused and stared at the dirt-covered fingers. He couldn’t believe he’d killed a man. Two men. How did the others deal with that day in and day out? Was he so different? Was it this hard for Caje or Kirby or the others, the first time they took a life? Doc pulled his thoughts away from those questions, wiped his face and started jogging again. He was running out of time. He concentrated, instead, on the rhythm of his pace. Breath in, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three-out, two, three. The pounding of his head echoed the pounding of his feet on the hard dirt, which in turn echoed the thumping of the artillery. ~~~~~***~~~~~ The medic wasn’t the only one becoming concerned about the artillery. As the sound grew steadily closer, Saunders began to give serious thought as to how he would be able to walk and support Caje. If Doc didn’t get back before long, Saunders wasn’t going to have much choice but to try to move to a safer distance. “Sounds like it’s getting closer, Sarge.” Caje’s voice was becoming weaker, as the pain climbed to nearly unbearable. “Don’t worry, Caje. Doc’ll be back soon. If he could con one ambulance, he can get a second one. At least now he can tell the real reason he needs one.” Smiling weakly, Caje swallowed to try to relieve the dryness in his throat. He was so thirsty. “How d’you suppose he managed to get that thing, anyway?” “I don’t know, but I think Kirby should be glad Doc never plays poker. I do know he didn’t get that ambulance legitimately. Not without explaining what was going on, and Hanley would’ve had that shop surrounded with GIs if Doc had told the truth.” Caje grimaced as he tried to shift his weight without moving his injured leg. He hoped Doc would be back soon. Thinking about the medic, Caje remembered Doc’s reaction when he’d mentioned the dead German. “Hey, Sarge? Killing Aptmeyer…it really got to Doc, didn’t it?” With a sigh, Saunders looked over at the still-smoldering ambulance and nodded. “I don’t think it’s just Aptmeyer, but yeah…it got to him.” “Do you think he did the right thing, by not telling Hanley what was going on?” “I had to tell Doc to let Hanley know what was happening, but…I was fairly certain he wouldn’t. We would’ve both been dead if he had, and Doc wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it. I was trying to give him a way out.” “He did the right thing, then, because we’re both still alive.” So far, he didn’t add. Looking off in the direction of the shelling, Saunders frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure Doc sees it that way.” Listening to the rumble of exploding artillery, Caje closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree. “That shelling’s really getting closer, Sarge.” “I know, Caje.” I know. Once again, Saunders wondered how he’d get Caje out of there. The same ‘what if’ questions that were running through the mind of his medic, began to run through his own. The sergeant couldn’t help but wonder if he could’ve done anything different that would’ve changed the outcome. Two dead Germans, himself and Caje wounded, and his medic trying to deal with having taken another man’s life…the last, Saunders regretted the most. ~~~~~***~~~~~ Jerking the BAR strap once more in frustration, Kirby shifted his weight and waited impatiently for Billy and Littlejohn to return. They’d split up once more, in order to cover more territory. The longer it took to find the others, the more concerned the three had become. Jogging over to join the smaller soldier, Littlejohn frowned in confusion. What he’d heard so far just didn’t make a whole lot of sense. “You find anything, Kirby?” “What I found just left me with more questions. You?” Scratching at the damp hair on the back of his neck, Littlejohn wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Well, I talked to a couple of MPs, and one sergeant said a medic went through the village in an ambulance in such a hurry, he nearly got shot by a sniper instead of waiting for the all-clear. Said the medic had a southern accent, but that’s not much to go on. The MP didn’t see anyone with him.” “Huh. This just gets stranger and stranger. I caught a guy a few blocks over, said he saw an ambulance a while ago and it looked like it was headed out of town. Said it looked like a medic and a sergeant were up front, the medic drivin’.” Sharing a puzzled look with Kirby, Littlejohn shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, Kirby. The Sarge wouldn’t leave the village like that without checking in with Hanley or the XO.” Kirby shrugged and waved an arm to gesture behind Littlejohn. “Maybe Billy found out something.” If they’d thought that things were strange before, they were in for a surprise. Shaking his head at the question on his friend’s face, Billy pushed back his helmet. “Well, one guy told me he saw Doc drive past him in an ambulance, so I went to the motor sergeant to see if he knew why Doc got one. Seems Doc told him Saunders needed a truck. When he couldn’t get one, he helped the sergeant out by changing the tire on the ambulance then suggested a test drive. The sergeant said he told Doc he could use the ambulance for whatever Sarge needed it for, before bringing it back. Only, he hasn’t brought it back.” Heaving a sigh, arms akimbo, Kirby thought for a moment. “Look, if Doc left the village in an ambulance with two wounded, it must be on orders from a doctor. Let’s head over to the aid station and see if they know what’s going on.” Falling in behind Kirby, Billy hoped they’d finally find an answer to the mystery. “By the time we finally find out what’s going on, Doc, Caje and Sarge will be waiting for us in Hanley’s office.” ~~~~~***~~~~~ Removing his helmet as he slipped through the door, Kirby couldn’t help the slight shudder he felt at being in the aid station. There was always the specter of death lingering nearby. It gave him the willies. The three soldiers stopped and looked around, trying to find someone who looked to be in charge. Kirby spotted a group near a door to the right and headed toward it, waving for Littlejohn and Billy to follow. As they got closer, they could hear the heated words from the soldier with the tool belt. “I’m telling you, the sergeant said that building was gonna have to be fumigated ‘cause those two guys had meningitis.” Gesturing for the soldier to lower his voice, the doctor nodded his head slightly. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m telling you that we haven’t had any cases of meningitis in this village that I know of.” Holding up a hand to forestall further argument, the doctor continued. “However, we’ll check the place out if you’re sure of what you heard.” “I’m sure. How many times do I have to tell you that? They took two guys out of that building, all wrapped up in bandages and told me they had meningitis.” Before the doctor could respond, Kirby joined them and held up a hand. “Wait a second, you said the sergeant and someone else loaded up two guys? Into an ambulance, right?” Glad to find someone who obviously thought he was telling the truth, the commo man turned to Kirby in relief. “Yeah, a sergeant, a medic and another guy with a bandaged face loaded up two other guys on stretchers into an ambulance and took off. The sergeant told me they’d have to fumigate for meningitis.” “Where?” “A barber shop, a few blocks over. I’ll show you. I sure haven’t gotten anywhere here. I think I’ve talked with everyone from the lowest corpsman on up. That medic is probably half-way to the next town by now.” Slipping his helmet back on, and giving the confused doctor a look of determination, Kirby shifted his BAR with purpose. “Don’t worry about it, doc. Whatever’s going on, it ain’t meningitis. We’ll go with him to check it out.” Without bothering to wait for a reply, Kirby gestured for Avery to lead the way. Maybe now they’d finally get some answers. As he fell in step with the commo man, Kirby shot him a few questions. “What did the sergeant look like?” “Blond hair, blue eyes.” “Sounds like Saunders, alright. You said he had two guys with him, ‘sides the two on the stretcher?” “Yeah, a medic and another guy. The medic was acting kind of nervous, but I didn’t hear a word from the third guy. His face was bandaged, though, so maybe he couldn’t talk or something.” Or something. Kirby tried to sort through all the information they’d gathered so far, but none of it made sense. It was obvious that Saunders, Doc and maybe Caje had left the village in an ambulance…but why? Where did they go? Who were the other two guys? By the time they’d reached the barbershop, Kirby hadn’t come up with any answers. Holding up his hand to bring everyone to a stop, Kirby pointed to the left. “Littlejohn, you and Billy circle around back. I’ll go in the front. I don’t know what’s going on here, but better to be careful than dead.” “You got it, Kirby. Shout if you find anything.” “You can take that to the bank.” Once he’d given the others time to circle around, Kirby shot a glance at Avery then stepped quickly to the side of the open door. Raising the BAR, swallowing back the bile that suddenly rose in his throat, Kirby darted through the door. What greeted him didn’t bode well for his missing squadmates. Kirby tore his eyes away from the body of Barnarbo when Littlejohn and Billy burst into the room. “Sarge?” “Nothing back there but some showers, a tub and small room off to the side that leads to the back. No sign of Sarge or the others.” Littlejohn knelt down to take a closer look at the body on the floor. “Looks to me like he was knifed.” “Hey, look what I found.” Recognizing the medical bag Billy held in his hand, Kirby and Littlejohn exchanged worried glances. Kirby was the first to find his voice. “What the hell happened here?” Shaking his head, Littlejohn stood and took the bag from Billy. “I don’t know, but the Lieutenant needs to know what happened. Billy, let the linesman know he doesn’t have to worry about meningitis, then stand guard by the door. Kirby, watch the back. I’ll go find Lt. Hanley and tell him what we found out.” “Which is?” Choosing to ignore the sarcasm, Littlejohn nevertheless answered Kirby’s question. “Sarge, Caje and Doc left the village…but I don’t think it was by choice.” Part Two |
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