HuntingGround

All Combat! Names and indicia are licensed to: ABC entertainment company, and Selmur Productions… I think

COMBAT!
Hunting Ground
Copyright, August 10th, 2004, Jessica A. Worley

It was turning out to be a miserable ride back to the Command Post. His back ached from the fall he’d taken, as did his ribs, and with every bump the jeep hit, he thought he might die of the sharp pain.

They’d been out on patrol, and climbing up a small hill when he stepped on a rock that wasn’t as steady as he thought it was, and he slipped and fell, finally finding a tree to stop his tumble.

Even though he hadn’t been hurt badly, the Sergeant had taken Doc’s side, and insisted that he take the jeep ride back to the CP, that a passing Corporal offered.

“How you doin back there?” The Corporal shouted back to Kirby, who, sitting in the back seat, grimaced as they hit another pothole.

“Oh, just fine,” he told the Corporal, wishing he’d slow down a little.

“Yeah, you sure are lucky boy,” the driver told him, “I almost took the other road… you might not have gotten a ride!”

Yeah, lucky me, Kirby thought to himself as they hit a bump that actually made him leave his seat, coming down hard.

They turned a sharp corner quickly, and Kirby found himself wishing he’d been allowed to continue on with the patrol, and simply walk back, like he’d wanted to in the first place. It was only half a days walk, nothing he couldn’t handle.

The shocks had obviously been worn thin on the jeep, to put it lightly. But to Kirby, it wasn’t surprising, as the jeep looked like it’d been run over by a hoard of angry elephants. It was missing the front passenger seat, and there were numerous bullet holes all along the outside. He guessed that the windshield must have been shot out as well, because it had been taken off completely.

“Hey!” Kirby shouted up to the Corporal, as the wind blew in their ears. “Don’t you think it’s about time this jeep was retired!?”

Corporal Springstien laughed. “Nah! Ol’ lightning here’s been with the 362nd too long! She’s been crashed, shot at, lost tires, and last month she even caught on fire!”

Oh that’s just what I want to hear, Kirby thought. I’m riding in a death machine.
Kirby watched the trees fly by, his gun in his lap, ready to shoot it if they ran into any German soldiers.

A few minutes passed by in silence, when finally the jeep slowed, but Kirby knew it was too early to have reached the CP yet. He looked forward to see what they were slowing, and finally coming to a stop for, and he watched as the Corporal’s jaw dropped open.

“Holy…” Springstien said quietly.

Kirby nodded. The road in front of them had been blasted to pieces. It looked like a hundred little meteors had come down and made gigantic potholes. “Happened last night,” he told the driver.

The Corporal shook his head. “Krauts?”

“Yeah, we’d like to blame it on the lousy krauts, but these were ours,” Kirby finished, looking at the craters.

There was a moment of silence, and the Corporal asked, “How far up the road does this last? I have to deliver this stuff from my CO to Hanley.” He motioned to two boxes on the floor next to him where the other seat should have been.

“Mile or so,” Kirby told him. “But we can go around on the left. It’s not mined.”

Springstien looked to the field Kirby was pointing to on their left.
“You sure?” he asked.

“Sure that if it were I wouldn’t be talking to you right now,” Kirby told him, “We went through that this morning on the way out… didn’t feel like going crater climbing all the way down the road.”

The Corporal nodded, and put his foot to the gas again, turning off the destroyed road, to drive around to the flat part of the grassy field.

They cleared the destroyed road in a few minutes, and continued on. Kirby had thought the road was bad, but was thoroughly glad to get back to it after the even bumpier field.

“Say, what’s in those boxes anyway?” Kirby asked after a short while.

“Maps I think… two of them hidden under some of the other stuff in there.”

“Kraut OP’s?” he asked.

The Corporal shrugged as he drove. “Don’t know. One of the squads was sent out on a recon to bring in a couple of guys from the French Resistance, and a kraut defector a few days ago. They brought ‘em back, and then spent the whole night in the command tent with our CO making these maps.”

Kirby nodded, that made sense enough. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and Kirby seized his gun and ducked.

The Corporal didn’t slow down though, and when Kirby heard him laughing, he stuck his head back up to take a look. “Engines just having a little trouble, that’s all. Happens all the time.”

“Oh,” Relief spread over his face. The car had only backfired. Kirby nodded again, wondering if it was too late to salvage any of his dignity that might have been left from the day.

There was another bang though, and the two men suddenly found themselves in a jeep that was swerving out of control. Springstien overcompensated in his steering, and the jeep tipped over, dumping both the Corporal, and Kirby.

With his now aching head, Kirby reached for the gun he’d dropped a few feet away. That had been no backfire. Somebody had shot out one of their tires.

He looked to his left to see the Corporal sprawled out, and asked, “Hey, hey, you alright?”

The Corporal opened his eyes and reached up to his head, which had a nice gash across the left temple. “Was that a sniper?” he asked Kirby.

Kirby shook his head and grabbed his helmet. “I don’t know.”

They waited for a moment to see if they could hear anything, before Springstien asked, “Are you sure the tire just didn’t blow out?”

“I heard the gun shot and the tire blow out,” Kirby told him.

“Well, do you think it’s more then one guy?”

“Only one way to find out,” Kirby said. He looked around on the ground and found a thick stick.

“I hope you’re not planning on throwing that at him,” Springstien said.

Kirby gave him a look, but otherwise ignored him, placing his helmet on top of the stick, and proceeding to raise it slowly into view above the jeep. There was another loud gunshot, followed by a ping, as the bullet glanced off the side of the helmet. The helmet fell back to the ground, and Kirby looked back at the Corporal. “Answer your question?” he asked.

“Any ideas?” the Corporal asked him.

Kirby looked at him. “Are you a soldier or not?”

“Hey! I’m only courier and a company clerk!” he told him. “I don’t see a lot of combat action, and when I do it’s usually somebody else who takes care of it!”

Kirby rolled his eyes. He picked up the Corporal’s handgun that he’d dropped, and tossed it to him. “You just do what I tell you and we’ll be ok,” he said.

“Right,” he said, ready to follow the Private’s orders.

“First off, grab those maps… out of the boxes,” he added as the Corporal tried to pick up one of the big boxes.

“But they want them hidden,” he protested.

“I don’t think it’ll matter if they’re hidden if they don’t get them at all.”

Kirby crawled as quickly as he could with what was probably his broken rib, to the right edge of the truck, while the young corporal pulled the maps out from under some medical supplies.

“Stuff them away in your coat somewhere,” Kirby told him. The Corporal again did as he was told, and then Kirby reached over and dumped one of the boxes out the rest of the way.

“Now when I give you the signal, throw that box as far as you can down the road without giving the kraut a human target… got it?”

Springstien nodded, and Kirby got ready to jump out and take aim. He just hoped the box would draw his attention long enough that he wouldn’t get shot.

The Corporal watched Kirby anxiously, waiting for his signal, and Kirby said, “Now!”

The box went flying towards their destination, and Kirby rolled out and started firing at the kraut in the tree. He fell, still firing, and Kirby rolled back to the cover of the wrecked truck.

“Did you get him?” Springstien asked.

“I think so,” Kirby told him. “He fell at least. Now all I think we gotta do is hope there was only one of ‘em.”

They waited silently for a moment, and heard nothing. But then, from across the road in the trees, a voice called in a heavy accent, “We have-you-surrounded!”

“Ah hell,” the Corporal said.

“No,” Kirby said quietly, “I don’t think he does.”

Springstien looked over at him. “Him? One guy can’t have us surrounded.”

“Exactly. I don’t think he’d be yelling that if there were more of them. I think he’s hurt and is just hoping we’ll surrender.”

“So what are we gonna do then?”

Kirby thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Put some of those bandages and sulfa packets in your pockets… we might need them.”

The Private’s order made Corporal Springstien look up with a worried expression, but he did it anyway.

“Got any grenades?” Kirby asked.

“One.”

“Good, fork it over.” The Corporal handed his grenade to Kirby. Kirby pulled the pin, and said, “Stay put until I call for you, got it?”

He nodded, and Kirby launched the grenade as far as he could throw it towards the wrecked box. They heard it explode, and he made a mad dash for the trees on the other side of the road. When he reached them, he dove head first into the woods, and took a look around. He was alone because he’d run diagonally up the road a ways so he wouldn’t end up right in the kraut’s lap.

“You missed!” came the distant and taunting voice of the German, somewhere to his left.

Kirby crawled forward on his stomach until the kraut came into view, and then he stood. “We have you surrounded,” Kirby said triumphantly.

The kraut turned slowly, and dropped his gun, hands in the air, watching Kirby’s dirty face.

“Alright kid! Come on over!” Kirby shouted.

A few seconds later, the Corporal came dashing through the trees from across the road. He looked down at the kraut laying there, hands a little ways up in the air. “Hey,” Springstien said happily, “not bad!”

Kirby’s smile broadened.

From the markings on his shirt, they could tell they’d caught a buck private, who wasn’t looking as cocky as he’d sounded a few minutes before.

“You speak English huh?” Kirby asked.

The German nodded. He looked to be about the age of the Corporal. Nineteen, maybe twenty.

“What’s your name?” the Corporal asked him, kneeling down to look at his wound. It was obvious that Kirby had shot him in the stomach, from the pool of blood that resided there.

“Hans Mueller, Private, number 638294.”

Kirby and Springstien looked at each other, before they looked back down at the Private, and Kirby said, “Relax kid, we’re not going to interrogate ya. We just wish you wouldn’t have shot at us, that’s all.”

The German soldier’s face seemed to relax a little bit, but he still looked a little worried. He glanced over at a pile of bushes to his left, and Kirby and the Corporal looked too. Kirby took a few steps toward them, gun aimed, and finally saw a dead kraut lying on his gun on the other side.

“Hey! It’s a Lt!”

Springstien looked over at him, and walked forward to take a look, as Kirby stepped back, gun aimed casually back at their prisoner.

“I didn’t fire that many shots,” Kirby said, looking down at their prisoner.

Springstien stepped back to look at him again too.
The German soldier looked down, and then said, “He shot me. Then you came, und he thought you heard it, so he shot at you.”

“Now that doesn’t make any sense,” Springstien said. “Why would a Lt. shoot one of his own men?”

Kirby was giving the kid on the ground a funny look, trying to figure out if what he thought was right. “Because he wasn’t one of his men anymore,” Kirby told him. Then he said down to the soldier, “You’re a deserter aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes gave him away. “Then I shot your Lt,” Kirby finished.

“Oh yeah, then why would he be shouting at us that we were surrounded and keep shooting if he was tryin to come to our side?” the Corporal asked.

“The Lt. made the decision to fight for me. I did not see that there were only two of you. I thought, I might scare you off if I gave warning shots.”

Kirby laughed, and the Corporal gave him a funny look, but finally seemed convinced. He kneeled again to take a look at his wounds, and Kirby did the same, having already removed the gun from his possession.

“Still got those bandages?” Kirby asked.

Springstien pulled the bandages and packets of sulfa out from the front of his coat, and handed them to Kirby.

Kirby pulled open the wounded man’s shirt and ripped open one of the packets, sprinkling liberal amounts of the white powder on his wound. “Sorry kid, I’m no medic,” he said when the kid grimaced as he tried to wrap the bandage around him. The Corporal had pulled Hans to a sitting position so Kirby could wrap the bandage all the way around his midsection.

“That’s the best I can do. We’ve got to get you back to the CP.” Kirby sat back on his haunches, and picked his gun up again.

“I don’t know that that will be possible,” Hans told him.

Kirby looked back down into the boy’s face. “Why not?” he asked cautiously.

“Because that was not just an ordinary Lt. He was with others… looking for me.”

“Looking for defectors?” Kirby asked. Hans nodded.

“Great,” Springstien said, “just great. We’ve got the whole SS down on us now!”

“I killed two of them,” Hans said, trying to be helpful.

“And how many others were there?”

“The one your man shot, and one other.”

Kirby fell back onto his hind end, chuckling. The thought of being one of Corporal Springstien’s soldiers was too much.

“Sorry Hans,” Kirby told him at the look Hans and Springstien were giving him, wondering why he was laughing. “It’s just that… well, let’s just say that rank isn’t everything.” He broke up laughing again.

“Hey! I still outrank you Kirby, and let’s not forget who gave who a ride.” Kirby just laughed harder.

“Corporal, how long you been over here? A month? Two? I came in at Omaha Beach!”

Springstien gave him a sour look, but couldn’t hold the face. He cracked a smile too, and stood up. “Alright, so you know more about this than I do, but so what. I can still order you around.”

Kirby slowly stopped chuckling, and said, “Oh, not if you want to make it back to the CP alive you won’t. You just trust me, ‘Ol Kirby won’t steer you wrong.”

He looked back at Hans, who was still there on the ground in his half sitting position, and said, “Do you think you can walk?”

“I will try,” he said.

“Good,” Kirby nodded, and moved forward to help the private up. Springstien did the same, and together they pulled him to his feet. Hans swayed, and they didn’t let go.

“Well?” Kirby asked, “Can you walk or do you want a litter?”

“I will walk,” Hans told him.

~~~~~***~~~~~

He jumped over a log that had fallen across the path. He had heard an explosion, and gunfire, and he needed to know if the job had been done. His Krueger held in his hand, he continued on. He had to be getting close, because he looked down in the dirt, and found not one, but two sets of boot prints leading further into enemy territory.

To Ernst, it was extremely important that he not let the prey he was tracking get away. It was also important that he found the first man tracking the deserter before he got to him.

As he neared the area he thought the gunfire had come from, the smell of burnt rubber and smoke met his nostrils. It was an assaulting odor, but he ignored it. He had just found a red puddle near the base of a tree. A few feet off, the first tracker was lying dead in some bushes. They had stopped here, and his prey was injured, but still able to move…with help.

The tall man noticed two fresh sets of tracks leading away from the scene and onto the road along with the injured ones. They must have been supporting most of his weight, because their footprints were heavier than the ones in the center.

He peered through the trees and saw the overturned jeep. It was American. They had him, and he would give them the information he held once they got back to their base.

Ernst peered up through the trees to the sky. His watch had been damaged hours before in the struggle, but he knew it couldn’t have been more than late afternoon, or, if nothing else, early evening.

If they were on the road, than it would be easy to follow them, and get at the two American’s through the trees. He set off at a quicker pace this time, determined to do what he didn’t want to.

~~~~~***~~~~~

“Doin ok there kid?”

Hans nodded in answer to the taller man, supporting him on his right. His stomach ached from the bullet wound, but he didn’t say anything.

The American on his left looked to be about his age, and had a gash on his face, which Hans wondered why he hadn’t treated, but he didn’t say anything about that either. He was just happy to be going towards the American lines. There, he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

He had never wanted to fight, but when the call came, he did as his father told him, and signed up, rather than waiting for them to come and drag him off to training. His father had said it would go easier if he went peacefully, and so he did.

“I don’t know, you look kind of pale,” the one who had introduced himself as Kirby, said.

The Corporal looked to his right and nodded in agreement as he saw Hans’ face.
“Think we should take a break?” he asked.

Kirby nodded, “Yeah, but we’d better find some good cover first.”

They looked around, and found a nice patch of trees on their left to rest in. They’d finally run out of fields on their left, and now had forest on both sides. Kirby knew it would still be another few hours walk back to the CP. Suddenly he wished that there were a few of the checkpoints he often complained about along this stretch of road, so that they’d be able to radio in for a jeep.

They set Hans down, and Kirby and Springstien plopped down onto the ground as well.
“Boy, I knew I should have stayed back with the patrol Springstien,” Kirby told him.

“Well how was I supposed to know, eh? Besides, if you hadn’t of come along, they might have killed me.”

Kirby smiled, he knew it was probably true.
“Hey, what’s your name anyway Corporal?”

“Jonathan Peter Springstien… friends call me Johnny.”

“Oh,” Kirby said, still a little out of breath from supporting Hans to where they sat now. It was hot out, and helping to carry somebody that far wasn’t helping his ribs or back any. “William Kirby. Most just call me like you been doing. Just plain ol’ Kirby.”

Kirby extended his hand to the Corporal. “Good to meet you Johnny.”

Johnny took it, and said, “Good to meet you Kirby.”

Feeling it would lighten the mood considerably, Kirby also extended his hand to Hans, and said, “Hi Hans, I’m Kirby.”

Hans took his hand uncertainly, and Kirby shook it.

“You probably think us American’s are pretty funny,” Johnny told him, also extending his hand to the German soldier for a proper introduction.

Hans took Johnny’s hand as well, and said, “Your customs, are a little, unfamiliar to me.

Kirby chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I imagine they are.”

Suddenly there was a shot, and it hit the dirt next to Kirby. The three of them ducked, and Kirby took up his rifle again. They had sat there too long.

The Corporal grabbed Hans by the front of the shirt and helped him further behind the trees, while Kirby shot back, and then followed suit.

“Did you get ‘em?” Johnny asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kirby told him, still staying low.

They both looked to Hans, and he said quietly, “That is the Colonel. He has found me… he will try to kill you both.”

“Yeah, well I figured that much,” Kirby said, looking behind him to make sure the SS soldier wasn’t crossing the road to come after them. He turned around completely, ready to go and circle around to get at the kraut from behind, but a hand reached out to stop him. It was Hans.

“No, please,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes.

“What? I thought you were on our side now. He’ll just keep coming after us if we don’t get him first.”

Hans looked away for a moment. To Kirby it looked as if he were trying to decide something. Finally, he looked back at Kirby and the Corporal, and said, “He is a relative.”

Kirby gave Johnny a look, and said, “You’re related to the guy who’s trying to kill you?”

Hans nodded. “I do not think he is trying to kill me. But he will try to bring me back.”

“Oh, and I suppose that was just a warning shot?” Johnny asked.

“No, he doesn’t have any qualms about killing us, remember?” Kirby asked. He looked back across the road, and then made up his mind.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s see if we can’t just sneak away then, huh?” He grabbed onto Hans’ shirt just like Johnny had, and together they dragged Hans further back into the trees. If they could get back to the CP without getting caught, then both parties could be saved.

* * *

“Password?”

“Crow’s nest.”

“All right, come on through Sarge.”

It had been a long day, and they had finally made it back to the CP. It was nearly dark, and all Sergeant Saunders wanted to do, was give his report to the Lt, and go get some chow, before he went to bed.

The rest of the squad headed for the mess tent, and Saunders walked over to the command building, where he found Lt. Hanley speaking on the phone to someone.
“No Mason, I don’t have them. I told you already, no one came through.”

Saunders shut the door. He could hear the man on the other end of the line shouting into his Lt’s ear.

“Well I think I’d know if two fresh maps were delivered… yes I would know, and don’t you go blaming it on me if one of your clerks fouled up or decided to knock off someplace and take a nap!” Hanley looked up at Saunders, as he took his helmet off, and waited there patiently to give his report.

“Oh he wouldn’t would he? That’s what you said about the last man you sent over… by the way, how’s he doing in the brig?” The Lt’s voice was rising. Saunders knew Hanley and Lt. Mason over with the 362nd didn’t get along very well. In fact, compared to most of the time, this conversation seemed downright calm.

“Yeah well you do that. You just talk to your men and find out what’s going on while I take a report… yes, I’ll be here.” Hanley shook his head and handed the phone over to a clerk sitting a few feet away at another rundown desk. Then he turned to his Sergeant. “How’d it go?”

“No sign of krauts sir. The road was pretty pitted, with the shelling last night and all I mean, but we got around it ok. We took another route back.”

Hanley nodded again, and looked down to an old map sitting on his desk.

“Problems here?” Saunders asked him.

“Just Mason over with the 362nd … nothing I can’t handle.”

“Alright,” Saunders said. “I’m just gonna go over and see how Kirby’s doing then.”

Hanley looked up. “Kirby?”

“Yeah, he tripped and took a little tumble down a hill. We sent him back with a Corporal on his way here.”

Hanley’s eyes got wide for a split second, and he said, “In a jeep?”

The Sergeant nodded, “Yes sir… didn’t they make it back here?”

“No, they didn’t. That’s what Mason’s on about. He sent one of his clerks over here, a Corporal, with two important maps for us. But he never made it.”

“Well, it might have been a different one,” Saunders said, though there was doubt in his voice.

“We’ll see about that.” Hanley took the phone back from the clerk, and Saunders heard the loud voice coming from the other end again. Mason definitely sounded mad.

“One of my Sergeants just got back from patrol Mason. Says he sent one of our injured men back with your Corporal on his way here. Did you send anybody else out this way? No? Alright, hold on.” Hanley put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Where did he pick Kirby up at?”

Saunders pulled his own tattered map out from the inside of his jacket, and pointed to a spot near the ridge where Kirby had fallen. “Right here Lt.”

Hanley nodded, and then put the phone back to his ear. “If they were coming this way then they stopped somewhere in Charlie or Baker sector. Yes, that’s right. Don’t worry, we’ll get your precious maps back,” and with that, he hung up the phone. “Jackass,” he said to himself.

“Are we going back out to look for them?” Saunders asked.

“Yeah, and I’m coming too.” He grabbed his helmet and the gun that was leaning against the table. “You know Sergeant; if we didn’t need those maps so badly, then I’d hope they were destroyed. The idiot cares more about the maps than Kirby or his own clerk!”

* * *

It was completely dark now, and they were beginning to wonder if they’d lost the SS soldier yet.

“C’mon Hans,” Kirby said, “we gotta keep going.” He was beginning to worry about their German defector, and so was Corporal Springstien. He was looking paler by the hour, but they couldn’t afford to simply sit there and wait for their hunter to come and find them.

Kirby and Johnny lifted Hans over a log as quietly as they could, but found their questions answered when they heard a loud crack somewhere behind them. They ducked down behind the log, and Kirby let go of Hans, pulling his gun into position so he could fire the second he had to. When it came down to it, it didn’t matter if Hans was related to the SS man if he was going to shoot them.

The Corporal was holding his breath, but knew that he wasn’t the only one. Kirby was trying to make as little noise as possible, and when you were slightly injured and trying to carry another guy through the woods, it wasn’t possible to not be panting, and gasping for breath. If their pursuer didn’t already know their position, then they didn’t want to give themselves away.

Springstien looked over at Kirby, whose eyes, he noticed were wide open, scanning the darkness which they’d just come through.

“Anything?” he asked in as quiet a whisper as he could manage.

Kirby shook his head. “No, keep quiet,” he told him in the same tiny whisper.
There was a slight breeze blowing the tops of the trees and making their leaves rattle, but other than that, and the sound of Hans’ labored breathing, they could hear nothing.

“Might have been an animal,” Kirby told them, still quieter.

The Corporal pushed himself up slightly so that he could look too, but saw nothing. Only the darkness, the trees, and the shrubs around them.

“Yeah, might’ve been,” Johnny said.

Kirby didn’t like the looks of the situation. He didn’t know if he wanted to take the chance that it was an animal, and move, only to find himself getting his head shot off. On the other hand however, it could have been an animal, and if they sat there too long, there was a chance their hunter would walk right into them.

Kirby shook his head. He didn’t know what to do.

“Well?” Johnny asked.

“I don’t like it.”

“I figured… but what are we going to do. You’re the soldier here… you’re the one making the decisions, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Kirby told him. He thought for a moment more, and then said, we’ll wait here for another couple of minutes, and if we don’t hear or see anything, then we’ll crawl off until we find better cover and can get back on foot.”

The Corporal nodded, and they both took back to looking cautiously around them, squinting into the darkness in the hopes they wouldn’t spot the other man.

* * *

“I wonder what happened to ‘em,” Billy said quietly as they walked through the woods.

“You know Kirby,” Caje said, “if something did happen he’ll make it out ok.”

Billy nodded. He knew it was true. Sometimes he was left wondering which Kirby was better at though, getting himself into trouble, or getting himself out.

They’d already been walking for an hour, sticking close to the road so they could see if the jeep was there, but walking through the cover of trees so they couldn’t be spotted so easily if there were krauts around.

Sergeant Saunders was just about to slow down so he could let Hanley catch up, and ask him a question, but they all heard a shot in the distance, and instinctively hit the deck.

Saunders looked back to the Lt. “That sounded like a pistol.”

Hanley nodded, and said, “Come on.”

They got up, and made their way quickly, yet cautiously in the direction of the solitary gunshot. It had sounded like it was a mile or two off.

Kirby hit the dirt, hard, and covered his head. They’d waited five or so minutes, and with no sounds or movement indicating it had been their pursuer, he had volunteered to stand up and test the situation. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

“I say it’s time to go,” Kirby said, looking back to Johnny and Hans as he lay there on his stomach.

Johnny nodded, but said, “There’s no cover if we stand to get away.”

“I know, we’ll have to crawl,” but even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience for Hans with his belly wound.

Kirby flipped over onto his back and motioned to Johnny to help drag Hans over to him. Johnny did it, staying as low to the ground as possible, and when they got to Kirby, Kirby took hold of the collar of Hans’ coat, and dragged him backwards on his back.

The Corporal crawled forward on his stomach, grabbing Kirby’s gun, and made it to the trees, waiting to give Kirby a hand just as soon as he got a little closer.

“Almost there,” Kirby muttered more to himself than to Hans, but then he noticed where Hans’ gaze was going in the dark. Kirby looked up too, and stopped moving. The SS soldier was standing a few feet in front of them, where they had just been standing, pointing his pistol down at them both.

They stayed there in silence for a few moments, before the man said quietly, “Tell your friend to throw down his gun, or I will kill you both.

Kirby didn’t look behind him to know that Johnny had the gun, but said, “Put it down,” all the same.

The gun landed a few feet from Kirby’s head, and the thought crossed his mind to just take his chances and reach over and grab it, but instead, he just kept eye contact with the German aiming the gun at them.

Ernst’s eyes moved slowly away from the American soldier’s, and down to the man he’d been tracking for days. By the small amount of moon light shining down on them from the trees, he could see the boy’s coat, soaked with blood. The wound looked bad. Then he looked into his eyes. There was uncertainty in them, and he was taken aback slightly, but he didn’t blame him for it.

“Your move,” Kirby said quietly up to the man.

He looked back at the American. “You were taking him as your prisoner back to your command post for interrogation?”

Kirby thought about it for a second as he stared at him. “No,” he shook his head slowly. “No, we weren’t.” For some reason that Kirby couldn’t figure out, he got the feeling that the man cared for Hans. He was a relative, sure, but he’d been trying to kill him for who knew how long.

Ernst looked back down to the hurt man. “Does it hurt very much?”

The Corporal noticed the strange look Kirby gave the kraut.

“Why do you care?” Kirby asked, “You’ve been trying to kill him!”

The man shook his head. “No,” he said, “that is the last thing I want to do.”

There was another moment of silence, and Johnny asked, “Why?”

Ernst looked down into the eyes of boy the American’s had been helping.
“He’s my son.”

Kirby was almost dumbstruck by the man’s statement. Hans was his son? He looked over to Johnny, who had the same expression Kirby imagined he wore. When Hans had said it was a relative, he thought their hunter was an uncle, or a cousin maybe, but his dad?

He was looking down into his injured son’s eyes again. “Well are you going to kill him or not?” Kirby asked, even though he felt this statement was pushing their luck.

Ernst looked back up at Kirby, and found he couldn’t give him an answer. He was an SS soldier. He had orders to hunt down and kill any German soldier without the proper papers to deter the efforts of other defectors. But his own son, the one he’d pushed into joining the army… could he kill him?

“Vater,” Hans said. Ernst looked back down at him, brought back out of his thoughts by his son’s call to reality. “We will be coming to their lines soon. You must kill me or go.”

“We’re already behind our lines,” Johnny said, “You must have been for days if you’re this far.”

Ernst nodded to confirm the Corporal’s statement. They were indeed well beyond the front lines.

“C, can’t you just let him go?” Johnny asked. Kirby wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t.

They waited for the German’s answer, but it did not come. Kirby had the feeling he was thinking back on something, maybe when Hans was younger.

“Listen,” Kirby said, surprised at how gentle his words had come out sounding. The kraut looked down at him. “Whatever you’re going to do… you have to do it soon. He’s hurt pretty bad.”

What the SS man did next, Kirby thought he’d never see. He’d had too much experience with the SS. He knelt down and put his hand on Han’s wound, putting pressure on it as should have been done, because the sulfa hadn’t helped to stop the bleeding.

“Our lines are too far to take him to,” Ernst told the American his son was using as a pillow.

Kirby nodded, and said, “Will you help us carry him back to our base?”

He nodded, and Johnny came over to help lift Hans up off of Kirby, so that he could stand. Kirby got up, and lifted Hans by the shoulders, while his father lifted his feet. Hans closed his eyes, and Kirby thought he saw a small smile cross his lips as they carried him off through the dark.

Caje heard something and saw something moving in the distance. He knelt down and held his fist up in the air, signaling the rest in the squad to do the same. Hanley and Saunders moved up next to him, and they watched as the large object moved slowly through the woods.

“That’s more than one person,” Saunders said.

Hanley nodded, and then they heard a familiar voice say gently, “Watch that stump, we have to give him a smooth ride.”

Hanley and Saunders gave each other a look, and then they stood up, the rest of the squad did the same. They quickly walked over to meet Kirby and the other three people, one of them being carried, obviously injured, but were confused about what they saw when they got there.

Kirby and Hans’ father heard them coming, and stopped, squinting through the darkness until they saw what had made the noise. The Corporal raised Kirby’s gun, but lowered it again when he saw that the men were wearing their uniforms.

“Kirby?” Saunders asked him.

Kirby looked at him, and then back down at Hans, who they were still holding. He knew how odd he felt, not to mention how odd it must have looked for two Americans helping a German SS soldier to carry a wounded kraut private.

“Uh, this is…” Kirby wasn’t quite sure what to say. Instead, he found the other man carrying Hans answering for him.

“I am Ernst Mueller, German SS, and this is my son Hans…” he paused to look over at Kirby, and then down at Hans, before he finished, “We wish to defect.”

Lt. Hanley gave Kirby a questioning look, and Kirby said with a small smile, “That’s right sir.”

Hanley and Saunders weren’t sure exactly what to think, but then the Lt. said, “Well, what are you guys waiting for, Doc, bring that litter over here.”

* * *

The sun dawned bright, and the light woke Kirby up. He’d been spared having to sleep in the aid tent for the simple reason that it was small, and already filled up.

He stretched, and finally sat up. He pulled his boots on, and crawled out of their tent. Most of the rest of the squad was still sleeping, having gone on patrol all day, and then going out to search for them half the night.

Kirby reached up to his pockets for a cigarette, but realized he was out. When he looked over though, there was a pack being held out to him by the Sarge, who had gotten up a little while before him.

“Thanks,” Kirby said, taking one of the cigarettes, and then accepting a light from Saunders’ silver lighter.

He took a puff of his cigarette, and then realized that Saunders was watching him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Kirby shrugged. “Ok, better I guess.”

The Sergeant nodded. “How’s Hans, and Ernst?” Kirby asked.

“Doc says he’ll make it. His dad won’t leave his side. The Lt. wants to question him later; he was too busy going over those maps last night.”

Kirby took another puff on the cigarette. He sure hadn’t thought that things would end up like they did. He had expected to be shot right there, or for Ernst to shoot Hans, or drag him off back towards their own lines at the very least.

Saunders could tell that Kirby was thinking about the night before.
“What really happened out there Kirby?” he asked.

Kirby looked at him. “I don’t exactly know Sarge. I just don’t know.”

END