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| The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. Copyright 2004 by Eaglelady. Interrogation “Hey, Sergeant Saunders!” Caje yelled from where he sat with an injured foot propped up on a box. “Lieutenant’s looking for you.” Saunders wearily pushed himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair before putting on his helmet. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he headed for the tent where he last saw Hanley, finding him still there, studying a map. “You wanted me, Lieutenant?” “Yeah. Come look at this map. According to intelligence, there is a small German force moving up from the south between these hills. I want you to take a couple men and go check it out. Do not engage them. Just check it out and get back. Clear?" “Yes, sir.” “Who’re you taking?” “Umm, Kirby and Clark.” “Alright. See you when you get back.” “Yes, sir.” “And, Saunders?” “Lieutenant?” “Take care of yourself out there.” “Sure.” He grinned and ducked out of the tent. “Kirby! Clark! Saddle up. Five minutes.” “Where we goin’, Sarge?” Kirby hurried up, juggling his helmet, BAR, and ammo belt. “For a walk. Where’s Clark?” “He’s comin’.” A moment later, Clark joined them, his expression a mixture of excitement and fear. “Okay, listen up. A German force has been reported moving up from the south. We’re going to check it out. That’s all. The Lieutenant doesn’t want us to engage them, just take a look and get out. Got it?” “Yeah.” “Sure.” “Ok, let’s go.” Saunders led the way out of the clearing, with a wave to the Lieutenant, who was watching from the entrance to his tent. When they neared the hills Hanley had indicated, Saunders paused in the shade of a small tree. “Kirby, take the west side. Keep out of sight and be careful. Clark, you’re on me. Meet back here at 1530.” “Ok, Sarge.” Kirby disappeared into the low brush. Saunders headed the opposite direction, Clark on his heels. They had moved about a hundred yards when Saunders motioned Clark down. Silently, he pointed ahead and below. There were six Germans cautiously moving toward them between the hills. Saunders looked across to see that Kirby had also spotted them and was crouching behind a bush. Moving carefully, Saunders started on, wanting to see if there were any more behind them. Behind him, he heard a crash of branches, then a gunshot. He whirled around just as the Germans opened up. Clark threw his hands up and tumbled down the hill. Kirby watched helplessly as Saunders took a hit to the leg and also tumbled down the hill, sprawling right in front of the Germans. As he watched, Saunders slowly rolled onto his side, both hands clutching his right thigh. The Germans grabbed his arms, jerked him to his feet, and shoved him back the way they had come. Saunders fell, was hauled back up, and stumbled on, limping heavily. Kirby eased back then changed his mind, following them, careful to stay below the ridgeline. Saunders fell several times; finally two of the Germans grabbed his arms and dragged him on. They stopped at a small hut, waiting outside while one of the men ducked inside. A moment later, Saunders was shoved through the doorway. Kirby eased back until he was out of sight and broke into a run. Saunders crashed to the floor and curled onto his side, both hands gripping his wounded leg. “On your feet.” A voice ordered. After the second order, he tried, but fell back. A soldier seized the front of his jacket and dragged him to his feet where he balanced on his good leg, staring at the German Captain. “Hands behind your head.” He obeyed, swaying. “Search him.” His ammo belt and sidearm were ripped away, and his pockets searched, only the German’s grip on his jacket keeping him on his feet. “Where are the rest of your men? How many are there?” “Saunders. Sergeant. 14538760.” He said. “How many men?” The Captain demanded. “Saunders…” He broke off when the Captain backhanded him, knocking him to the floor on his back. He lay still for a moment, eyes closed. The Captain motioned to his men and two of them hauled him to his feet, holding onto his arms. “Answer me! How many men?” Saunders looked at him, but he didn’t answer. The Captain slammed a fist into his stomach, then hit him in the face when he doubled over. “How many men?” He yelled. “Go to hell.” Saunders mumbled. The Captain slapped him back and forth across the face with a loosely closed fist, rocking his head on his shoulders till he hung limp in the soldier’s grip. They let him slide to the floor where he sprawled on his back, out cold. “Get some water. Wake him up.” The Captain turned away and lit a cigarette while one of his men hurried out. He returned with a bucket of water, dashing the contents into Saunders’ face. His eyes opened slowly, finally focusing on the Captain staring down at him. “You will tell me what I want to know, American. Where are your men? How many are there?” “My name is Saunders. My rank is…” Squatting down, the Captain slapped Saunders’ leg, close to the wound. His body arched in pain, sweat running down his face, his jaw clamped shut. “How many?” This time, he hit Saunders directly on the wound. He cried out in pain and went limp, his head lolling to the side. The soldiers threw water on him again. “Saunders.” He mumbled. The Captain slammed a foot into his hip, half rolling him over. “How many?” He yelled. When Saunders lay staring at him without answering, the Captain knelt beside him. Twisting a hand in the front of Saunders’ jacket, he jerked him several inches off the floor. “The men. How many?” He demanded. He hit him across the face several until he hung slackly in the Captain’s grip, completely unconscious. The Captain flung him back to the floor, frustrated. “Wake him up.” He ordered. Another bucket of water was thrown on him, and one of the Germans knelt beside him, shaking him and slapping his face. Saunders lay limp and unresponsive. “Alright. Leave him be for awhile.” The Captain snapped. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Lieutenant!” Kirby was yelling when he pounded into the clearing, nearly colliding with Hanley when he ran from his tent. “They got him. They got the Sarge.” He panted. “Slow down, Kirby. What happened? Is he dead?” “No. Shot in the leg. Captured.” He was so out of breath, he could hardly talk. “Alright, Kirby. Calm down. Get your breath.” He put his hands on Kirby’s shoulders, pushing him down onto a box. Doc appeared, handing him a canteen. Kirby drank, then explained. “Can you find the place again?” Hanley asked. “Yes, sir.” “Alright, Littlejohn, Doc, Martin, and Smitty. Let’s go.” “Lieutenant...” Caje began. “Sorry, Caje. You stay here.” The six men headed out running, leaving Caje cursing his injured foot. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Wake him.” The Captain ordered. One of his men tossed water in the prisoner’s face again, and shook him hard. Saunders moaned softly and his eyes fluttered open, then closed again. The soldier shook him again, and slapped his face. Saunders opened eyes unfocused and dulled with pain. The Captain lightly touched his toe to Saunders’ injured leg. “How many men?” He yelled. He squatted down and grabbed Saunders’ jacket again, slapping his face sharply. As he drew back his hand again, there was a burst of gunfire outside. He dropped Saunders back to the floor and ran for the door, followed by the soldier. Saunders lay where he fell, staring at the ceiling, eyes drifting closed again. A moment later, Lieutenant Hanley burst through the door, rifle ready. He dropped to his knees at Saunders’ side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Saunders? Can you hear me?” He asked gently, getting no reaction. Laying his rifle down, he gently placed a hand on either side of Saunders’ battered face and turned his head. “Saunders. It’s me. Lieutenant Hanley. You’re safe now.” “Lieutenant.” He whispered. “Doc! Doc! Get in here fast!” Hanley shouted. Doc arrived on the run, nearly falling over the Lieutenant before he could stop. “My God!” Doc breathed, dropping to his knees beside him as Hanley backed away. “Lieutenant!” Littlejohn slid to a stop at the doorway. “More Krauts coming!” “Doc, you and Smitty get him out of here. Head for home.” “What about you?” “Get him out of here, Doc!” Hanley ran out the door. Doc and Smitty looked at each other, then each grabbed an arm, pulling the limp body of their sergeant up and dragging him out. His body hung slack between them, head hanging, blood dripping down the front of his jacket. “Doc? Is he gonna make it?” Smitty asked. “None of us are gonna make it if we don’t get out of here.” They dragged him a short distance from the fighting behind them, then stopped to set up a litter, easing him onto it carefully. Hearing someone coming, Smitty motioned Doc down beside Saunders and crouched behind a tree, gun ready. Hanley, Kirby and Littlejohn jogged into sight. Kirby stopped short, staring at Saunders’ face. “Is he gonna be alright, Doc?” “I don’t know, Kirby. He’s lost a lot of blood and been beaten pretty badly.” Hanley shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Saunders. Saunders hadn’t moved or made a sound by the time they reached home, Caje limping out to meet them. “Oh my God, Doc! Is he alive?” He asked, staring at Saunders’ bruised and cut face. “Yeah. He’s alive.” “Smitty, get on the radio and get an ambulance or something out here for him.” The Lieutenant ordered as they lowered the litter to the ground in the shade. Smitty ran for the tent and the others backed off as the Lieutenant squatted beside Saunders. “Saunders? Can you hear me?” He asked softly, grasping Saunders’ hand. “We’re getting an ambulance to haul you to the aide station. You’re gonna be just fine.” There was no reaction from Saunders. Doc knelt beside him, cleaned and bandaged his leg, then started on his face. Saunders stirred, eyelids fluttering. “Saunders.” He whispered. “Sergeant.” “It’s alright, Sarge. You’re home.” Doc told him. “Lieutenant? There are no vehicles available, and there’s fighting between here and the aide station.” Smitty joined them. “Doc?” “We’ll have to do the best we can for him here, sir. We need something softer and warmer than the ground for him to lie on. We need to keep him warm, get him to eat something. I think the most important thing is for someone to stay with him, to let him know he’s safe.” The squad, who’d been hanging around listening, scattered without Hanley having to give an order. Moments later, a bed of soft grass and leaves covered with a blanket was ready, more blankets were waiting and Caje was working over a small fire. Doc, Kirby, Smitty, and Littlejohn gently shifted him to the bed, and Doc sat down beside him, clasping his hand while Kirby covered him with a couple blankets. “Sarge, you’re home with the squad now. You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you now. You just rest, we’ll watch out for you.” He continued talking softly until Caje came over with a steaming container. “What’s that?” Doc asked. “C-ration soup, with some herbs I found. Don’t worry, they’re safe. Can we get any of this into him now?” “Depends on how conscious he is.” Doc shrugged. Handing Doc the container, Caje sat down and lifted Saunders’ head and shoulders, cradling him in his arms. “Sarge, it’s me. Caje. I’m gonna give you some hot soup. Try to swallow it, ok?” Carefully, he held the cup to Saunders lips, trickling a little into his mouth. When Saunders swallowed it, Caje broke into a broad grin. “A little more, Sarge.” He patiently fed him almost the entire cup, stopping only when Saunders fell asleep. Even then, he stayed where he was, talking softly in both French and English. Sometime later, Saunders woke, immediately tensing. Caje placed a gentle hand on his bruised face, then smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “It’s alright, Sarge. You’re safe. You’re with the squad. Relax. Go back to sleep.” “Caje?” “Yeah, Sarge. It’s me. You’re with the squad. You’re safe now. Sleep.” When he felt the injured man’s body slacken into sleep, he eased him back down and pulled the blanket up. Littlejohn gave him a hand up, then took his place beside Saunders. Hanley was sitting beside him when his eyes finally opened. “Welcome back, Saunders.” He smiled. “You had us worried for awhile. Doc! He’s awake.” “How do you feel?” Doc knelt on his other side. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” He mumbled. “You look like it, too.” Hanley grinned. “Guess I’ll be getting all the girls for awhile.” “So what else is new?” He managed a faint grin. “You take it easy and get some sleep. We’ll get you to the aid station as soon as we can.” “Fine by me.” Saunders squirmed into a more comfortable position and drifted back to sleep. Hanley watched him sleep, unaware that the squad was watching him. Every man knew the special bond between the sergeant and the officer, and every man approved. The End |