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Trying to make sense of what Littlejohn was trying to tell him accomplished nothing but the beginning pressure of a headache. Massaging his forehead with one hand, Lt. Hanley held up his other to stop the flow of words. “Private, this makes less sense, the more you try to explain it.” “I know, Lieutenant, but it seems to be what happened.” Littlejohn couldn’t quite figure out what had happened either, but was extremely worried for his missing friends. “Sarge, Doc, Caje and two other guys left in an ambulance. Last anyone saw Barnarbo, he was with Sarge and the guys. Now he’s dead and they’re gone. Lieutenant, we gotta find that ambulance.” Suppressing a sigh with difficulty, Lt. Hanley tapped a pencil on his desk as he ran the ‘facts’ through his head once more. It still sounded screwy. Dropping the pencil, he reached for the field phone. Someone had to have seen that ambulance leave the village. “Captain Horton. Sir, this is Lieutenant Hanley. I’m trying to find three missing men from my platoon. I’d like to get some information on all ambulances your MP’s might’ve seen leaving the village since this morning. Over. Yes, sir. Okay, thank you, sir. Out.” Lt. Hanley dropped the headset back into its pouch and looked up at Littlejohn, who was frowning with worry. “He’ll check around and call me back. It might be a while, Littlejohn. You head back to the barbershop, and I’ll round up some men to relieve you and the others. When you’re relieved, come back here. I might have a few answers by then.” Raising his hand in a sloppy salute, his heart not in it, Littlejohn turned on his heels and left the office. Using his long legs to good purpose, the big private hurried back to Kirby and Billy. He knew they’d be anxious to know what the Lieutenant had said. Littlejohn would be the first to admit that he was worried. It wasn’t like Sgt. Saunders to just disappear without telling anyone. Come to think of it, it wasn’t like Caje or Doc either. The three missing men had at least one thing in common…they all possessed a quiet strength. Dependability was another shared trait. Which was why Littlejohn was convinced that his absent comrades hadn’t left of their own free will. Well, that and the dead body of Barnarbo lying on the floor of the barbershop. “Well, what’d he say?” Littlejohn slowed his steps and joined the younger man standing nervously by the front door. “He’s waiting for word on any ambulances that have left the village today. Someone had to have seen them. If we can get an idea on what direction they headed in, we’ll know where to look.” Swinging his foot in angry frustration, all Billy accomplished was stirring up a cloud of dust. He felt so useless. “I’m scared, Littlejohn. If they were okay, they’d be back by now. Or left word where they were going.” “I know, Billy. It isn’t like the Sarge to just disappear like that. Listen, Lt. Hanley’s going to send some men to take over for us. When he does, we’ll go find out if he heard anything.” Twisting his hands around his M1, Billy glanced up and down the street. “I sure hope they hurry. This is driving me crazy.” “Speaking of which, I better go tell Kirby what’s going on.” That at least got a small smile from the younger man. But, as Littlejohn turned and walked around the corner to the back, the smile left Billy’s face and his thoughts turned dark as the soot that smudged his hands. What are we gonna do if we never find them? Kirby’s thoughts were running down a similar track when the subdued voice of Littlejohn drifted around the corner. “Kirby, it’s me.” Lowering his BAR, Kirby’s eyes sought the taller man’s face. He didn’t like what he found. “You didn’t bring good news, huh?” “Maybe. Lt. Hanley’s checking to see if anyone saw them leave the village, so we know which direction to look. He’s sending some guys to replace us. I guess now we just wait.” “Great.” Unknowingly copying Billy, Kirby swung his foot in anger and kicked up a cloud of dirt. “You know if they hadn’t found that damn soap, none of this would’ve happened.” Leaning his back against he rough stones of the little shop, Littlejohn tried not think about the dead man inside. It was funny how something as innocent as a bar of soap, could set such terrible things into motion. Closing his eyes and laying his head back against the wall, Littlejohn answered his thought out loud. “No, it’s not funny at all.” Instinctively knowing Littlejohn was reacting to something he’d been thinking, Kirby kept his comments to himself. They were all on edge. A guy talking to himself didn’t seem so out of place, under the circumstances. The two men simply listened to the distant sounds of war, and kept their thoughts to themselves. It was hard enough admitting to their selves how scared they were for their missing friends, much less admitting it to someone else. Time seem to stop. Or, at least, crawl as slowly as it could. Just as Kirby’s fidgeting was about to push Littlejohn over the edge, Billy came running around the corner. Barely taking the time to announce his presence, the younger man rounded the edge of the building and slid to a less than graceful stop. “Our replacements are here. Let’s go!” Without bothering to respond, Kirby and Littlejohn took off with Billy on their heels. Ignoring the looks of curiosity cast their way as they sprinted down the streets, the three made it to Lt. Hanley’s office in record time. Starting at the sudden noise as Kirby, Littlejohn and Billy burst through the door, Lt. Hanley drew a deep breath and prepared to tell the others he had no news. He let the air out in a rush at the jingle of the field phone. “Lt. Hanley. Yes, sir. Over. He did? Where? Over. St. Velaz? No sir, not that I know of. Over. Thank you, sir. You’ll let me know the minute you hear anything? Over. Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it. Out.” Looking up into the anxious faces of his men, Lt. Hanley wished he had better news. “Well, an ambulance with a medic, three wounded and a sergeant claiming to be Sgt. Saunders was seen heading for St. Velaz.” “St. Velaz?” Kirby glanced at the others in confusion. “But, that’s near the front.” “I’m aware of that, Private. Captain Horton said he’d send a couple of MPs down the road they were last seen taking, to see if they find anything. He’ll call me back if…when…they find anything.” “Great, now we wait some more.” “I’m afraid that’s all we can do, Kirby. We just have to wait.” ~~~~~***~~~~~ “We have to wait.” Settling back down against the tree, Caje panted with the effort of controlling his pain. It was becoming a losing battle, and the failed attempt at standing hadn’t helped a bit. “Doc’ll come through, Sarge. Just wait.” Saunders could see the misery etched in Caje’s face, and regretted the idea of trying to make it back on their own. He should’ve known it was foolish to even try, but fear breeds desperation. The shelling seemed to be getting closer, and the sergeant was beginning to doubt Doc’s ability to get them help in time. Seeing the doubt and self-recrimination on Saunders’ face, Caje took a deep breath and tried again. “Have faith, Sarge.” Have faith. Well, he could try. After all, they weren’t dead in a minefield…or prisoners of war, for that matter. Not yet, anyway. “I didn’t exactly show him a lot of confidence, did I?” Startled by the sudden question, Caje momentarily stilled his efforts to get more comfortable. “What do you mean, Sarge?” Wiping some of the dirt and sweat from his face, Saunders tried to collect his scattered thoughts. “He felt so bad about you getting hurt when he wrecked the ambulance. I didn’t exactly sound convincing when I told him he couldn’t blame himself.” “We all had a lot on our minds, Sarge. I don’t think he would’ve believed you right then, no matter how convincing you sounded.” “Maybe. I guess I just don’t like it when things are out of my control. It should be me out there, looking for help. What if he runs into more Germans? At least I’d have a weapon.” “Maybe he needs this, Sarge. A chance to, in his eyes, make up for what happened.” Trying once more to ease the pain in his leg, Caje shifted his weight. It didn’t work. Looking over at the sergeant once the world stopped spinning, Caje smiled inwardly at the expression of contemplation on Saunders’ face. “Redemption only comes from God and ourselves, Sarge. Coming from anybody else…it’s just forgiveness.” Searching Caje’s face for anything that resembled blame, Saunders defended the absent medic. “He doesn’t need either, Caje.” “You know that, and I know that. But it’s what Doc believes that matters.” For a short while the two remained silent, just listening to the booming of not-distant-enough shelling. Caje had almost drifted into an exhausted sleep when he heard the quiet irony of his sergeant’s voice. “I wish I’d never found that damn soap.” ~~~~~***~~~~~ Dust puffed up off the road as Doc panted for air. He’d been pushing himself, trying to get as far as possible before having to take a break, when the road and his own weariness betrayed him. He’d stepped too close to the edge of the road, the loose dirt shifted and he’d hit the ground hard enough to drive what air he had left out of his lungs. Doc stared at a small stone a few inches from his nose, as he struggled to control his breathing. Taking a deep breath, the medic planted his hands and shoved himself to his knees. The ground tilted and swayed for a moment, before settling back down on its axis. Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Doc briefly wondered if it was a result of cracking his head on the windshield, or from pushing himself so hard. Not that it mattered. Staggering to his feet, Doc took another deep breath and broke into a ragged run. Sarge and Caje were counting on him. He tried to get his rhythm going again, but it was no use. He set his sights on the curve up ahead and promised himself that he’d rest as soon as he rounded that curve. He hadn’t quite made it, when he thought he heard the sound of a jeep. Stumbling to a stop, he braced his hands on his knees and tried to slow his breathing so he could listen. His ears hadn’t betrayed him…it was a jeep. And it sounded like it was getting closer. Stepping over to the edge of the road, praying it was the sound of an American vehicle, Doc nearly melted with relief as the jeep rounded the bend and headed in his direction. His arms felt like lead as he raised them over his head to flag down the two MPs. When the jeep pulled up to a stop beside him, Doc wasn’t exactly surprised when the passenger kept his weapon ready. He was sure their absence had to have been discovered by now. Raising his arms and hooking his hands behind his head, he accomplished two things: help in drawing air into his lungs, and showing the two MP’s that he was unarmed and meant no harm. Furiously chewing the wad of gum in his mouth, the driver looked the medic up and down. “You with Lt. Hanley’s platoon?” Blinking the sweat from his eyes once again, Doc finally managed to get his breathing under control. He coughed the dust from his throat and tried to work a little moisture into his mouth. “Yes. How’d you know?” The corporal’s sun-weathered face wrinkled as he smiled, his Texas accent thick and drawling. “Hell, son, the whole damn village has been lookin’ for you.” Not as convinced of the medic’s innocence as his partner, the older MP narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Who’s your sergeant?” “Sgt. Saunders. Listen, he and another guy from our squad are hurt pretty bad and the shelling’s getting closer. We need to hurry up and get them out of there.” Popping his gum and rolling his eyes at his partner, the corporal waved toward the back of the jeep. “Well quit wastin’ time, then. Get in and show me the way. I’d ask ya what the hell’s been goin’ on, but I figure you’ll be answerin’ that enough times today as it is.” Grateful for both his help and his understanding, Doc climbed wearily into the back and pointed in the direction from which he’d come. “Up this way. When you see a road to your left, take it.” “You got it, Doc.” Now that he’d acquired the help he’d so desperately needed, Doc found it hard to concentrate. His head throbbed and he’d never been so completely wrung out and exhausted in his life. If Sarge and Caje weren’t both still alive, he’d never forgive himself. He snapped awake when he felt someone nudge his leg, and the memory of his dream swiftly began to fade. Something about pigs, soap, and Caje singing some French song over and over again. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep. “There’re a lot of blown up vehicles around here. Look familiar?” “We should be close, Corporal. Look for an ambulance…over there. There it is, the one on its side. Sarge and Caje should be just over there.” And, sure enough, they were there. Both moving. Both still alive. With the burden of their lives lifted from his shoulders, Doc found it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. He scrambled from the back of the jeep and led the two MP’s to his wounded friends. Staring at the three men running toward them, Saunders squinted. “Am I seeing things, Caje?” Despite his pain, Caje smiled in relief. “I knew he’d come through.” “Faith?” “Faith.” ~~~~~***~~~~~ “They did? When? Over. Thank you, sir. We’ll meet them at the aid station. Out.” Happy to be able to give good news, something he hadn’t had a lot of faith in being able to do, Lt. Hanley stood and grinned at the three waiting soldiers. “They found them. Injured, apparently, but alive. The MP’s will take them straight to the aid station.” “Well, what’re we waiting for?” Not sticking around for an answer, Kirby was the first one out the door. Of course, once they got there, Kirby paced back and forth, waiting for the jeep to arrive. “You guys hear a jeep?” It was the tenth time that Kirby had asked that question. Lt. Hanley and Billy automatically gave him the same answer they’d given the previous nine times. “No!” Pausing a moment, Littlejohn’s face split into a smile. “I hear it, too.” When the jeep pulled up next to them, their three friends looked a little worse for the wear, but it was the best thing they’d seen in a long time. Reaching out to lay his hand on his friend’s shoulder, as if seeking reassurance that Saunders was really there, Hanley frowned in concern. “You, my friend, have some serious explaining to do.” Lt. Hanley shifted his gaze to Doc. “And you have even more explaining to do. To a lot of people.” “Lieutenant. Later.” Something in Saunders’ voice got Hanley’s attention. Something more serious than the obvious had happened that day. His curiosity, and his report, could wait a little while longer. “Let’s get you guys inside. We’ll get everything straightened out later.” Hanging back as Saunders and Caje were carried into the aid station, Doc snagged Hanley’s sleeve. “Lieutenant, Barnarbo…” “I know, Doc. We found him.” Looking into the medic’s troubled blue eyes, Lt. Hanley asked the first of many questions to come. “Doc, I need to know who killed him.” “A German. I don’t know which one. We were taking a shower. Just taking a shower. Doesn’t really matter, I guess; Barnarbo’s dead, either way. So are they.” Confused and troubled by the medic’s answer, Lt. Hanley nevertheless kept further questions to himself. It was obvious Doc was swaying on his feet. Whatever else they needed to know would have to wait for later. ~~~~~***~~~~~ Looking up from his cot, Doc knew he could no longer avoid it. Lt. Hanley had come for some answers. Automatically glancing across the aisle at his sergeant, Doc fervently wished Saunders would wake up and do this for him. Sgt. Saunders didn’t stir. Caje was awake, nearby…but Caje hadn’t been there. Not when he’d killed a man. Doc stared at his hands; now clean of the dirt that had been there before. Unable to look Lt. Hanley in the eyes, he listened to the scrape of the wooden chair as the lieutenant moved it closer. The rustle of material announced that Lt. Hanley was now seated and ready to get the full story. Funny, he’d never really looked at his hands before. Where’d I get that scar? I can’t remember... “Doc.” Brought out of his reverie, Doc took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. “Lieutenant?” “I need to know what happened.” “I know.” Clenching and unclenching his hands for a moment, Doc took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He only wanted to have to tell this once. Picking at the scab on one of his knuckles, Doc told his story. “Sarge found a cake of French soap. I guess news spread pretty fast.” Uh-huh. Good news travels fast, doesn’t it?* Squeezing his shut momentarily, Doc chased away that memory. “Anyway, Barnarbo came up and offered to show us where we could take a hot shower, if we’d share our soap. We all agreed, and he took us across the street to the barbershop. You’d think Caje would’ve seen it.” Doc succeeded in pulling off the scab, and watched in detachment as the small wound began to bleed once more. “Sarge and Caje checked the place out and everything seemed okay. Sarge told Barnarbo to stand watch while the three of us took showers. I…I don’t know what happened, but two Germans came in and told us to get out of the shower. He…he asked which was the medic. I told him I was. He told me to get dressed and go find a truck. Sarge told me to tell you what was happening. The German officer told me he’d kill them if I did.” Wiping the blood from his knuckle with the index finger of his other hand, he watched it ooze once more. So much blood…pooling from under Barnarbo’s body. “Barnarbo was dead. I…I saw him there on the floor. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to risk Caje’s and Saunders’ lives, but Sarge had given me an order. I went to the motor pool, but the sergeant wouldn’t give me a truck. I went to see you, but you weren’t there. The clerk said we had a new XO and he was by the book. I couldn’t risk that, so I left. I thought about stealing a truck, but that didn’t work out. So, I went back to the motor pool. I lied to him…I don’t even remember what I said…and helped him change the tire. He told me to do whatever Saunders’ needed me to do, then bring it back.” Needless to say, he hadn’t returned it. “I went back to the barbershop. They had Caje and Sarge all bandaged up and tied. I was scared to death for a minute that the Germans had hurt them while I was gone. It took so long to get an ambulance. I got held up by a sniper.” He was losing track of his thoughts. “Anyway, they had them all bandaged up. The German officer, Aptmeyer, told me to get the stretchers out of the ambulance and bring them inside. He said we’d just drive outside the village and he’d let us go. I guess, deep down, I didn’t really believe him.” But he’d wanted to. Oh how he’d wanted to. “We loaded Caje and Sarge into the back and I drove. I almost got us away from Aptmeyer once, but got stuck in the mud.” Doc unconsciously reached up and rubbed the bruise on his collarbone. The German officer hadn’t been happy with that little stunt. “We got closer to the fighting, and Aptmeyer said he’d put us to the use he’d brought us for. I knew he was going to kill us.” So, instead…I killed him. “He told me to stop, and started to get out. While he was halfway out the door, I hit the gas. I swerved around, trying to shake him off. I lost control, though. Wrecked the ambulance.” Things got a little foggy for a few minutes after that. “Aptmeyer pulled me out of the ambulance, and I thought he was gonna kill me. I remember thinking he might as well. I’d done everything I could, and still hadn’t gotten us anywhere.” I didn’t accomplish a thing...* “He dragged his friend out of the back, but he was dead. His neck was broken. I’d killed him when I wrecked the ambulance. I tried to get up and do something while Aptmeyer’s back was to me, but I couldn’t get my legs to do what my mind was yelling at me to do.” He’d felt so useless. “The ambulance caught on fire. Aptmeyer just stood there. I finally got my body to move and got Caje and Saunders out of there before it exploded. Caje had hurt his leg pretty bad, though. They’d left my bag back at the barbershop, so all I had was some gauze and tape I’d stuck in my pocket that morning. I did what I could, but Caje needed help.” You can thank your medic friend for that…* “Aptmeyer forced us to walk off and leave Caje. He led us to a minefield and told us to cross it. We refused. He said he’d tell Sarge one more time to go, then shoot him. He told us to push on. We didn’t. He shot Saunders. I jumped him. I just wanted to stop him shooting Sarge again. He dropped the gun. We fought. I…I grabbed him by the neck…and I killed him.” And that was it. Doc wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decisions. Though, if he had it to do all over again, he wasn’t sure he’d do things differently. Nothing made sense. It was as if one way or another, two men were meant to die that day. He and Saunders…or Aptmeyer and his comrade. His only choice had been which two. “What did you do?” When Doc finally heard the question, he was sure it wasn’t the first time the Lieutenant had asked it. “What?” “Throughout the whole thing, what did you do?” What did he do? “I did what I had to do, to keep Sarge and Caje alive.” What else was he going to do? Whispering, almost as if he was hearing it for the first time, Doc repeated his answer. “I did what I had to do, to keep Sarge and Caje alive.” Meeting Lt. Hanley’s eyes for the first time since the lieutenant had sat down, Doc thought he’d lose control of his emotions at the sudden release from despair. He’d done the right thing. He’d made the right choices. He hadn’t really meant to kill the German officer, but that’s what had happened. Would he rather it had been himself? No. Would he rather it was Sarge? No. Then it was something he’d just have to live with…live with and move on. Unclenching his fists, Doc looked at his fingers as he stretched the ache from them. Long fingers deft at tying bandages, clamping shut bleeders, or simply wiping away a young man’s tears of pain. The only blood he saw on them…was his own. ~~~~~***~~~~~ END |
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