Joker

The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. Copyright 2002 by Figment

Joker

The new replacement stood with a wide smile on his face. No one was aware that it had been him that had poured quinine into several canteens on the trip up to the front. The curses, grumbling, and sputtering that sporadically emanated from the men around him was exhilarating to him. Pvt. John Barnes was a practical joker and he thrived on any prank that caused his companions discomfort.
He was almost found out on the trip across the ocean. It took some fast-talking to divert any retribution away from him. Barnes was quick with the jokes and pranks as long as they were on someone else.
Eyes had been turning towards him as canteen after canteen had been found with the foul tasting chemical in it. He had to stop their suspicions, so he lifted his own canteen to his lips only to pull it down suddenly and pretend the water within was tainted. Sputtering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glanced at the others. Most of them looked away, but some still eyed him suspiciously. A reputation as a prankster was hard to hide, especially when he couldn’t hide the pleasure he found in his antics.
“Okay, off and on,” a burley staff sergeant called to the new recruits. “Line up here.”
The men complied, and a tall, dark second lieutenant stepped from the building in front of them, followed by three sergeants.
“Here are the assignments, Evans,” Lieutenant Hanley said, handing a piece of paper to the sergeant.
“Thank you, sir,” Evans accepted the assignment roster and saluted.
The lieutenant returned the salute and turned back towards the building.
“Get your new men settled in and bedded down. We jump off at 0500.” His eyes wandered over the other sergeants behind him.
The men were worn down and ragged, but still considered the best noncoms in the division.
After a round of ‘yes, sirs’, the sergeants turned to the young men standing fresh and clean before them.
Sgt. Evans called assignments and introduced the sergeants. The new men gathered their gear when dismissed and waited for their new squad leaders to give instruction.
“Okay, Barnes and Stevens, follow me,” Sgt. Saunders spoke around a cigarette he was lighting.
The blond sergeant turned and waved at his fellow sergeants as he moved down a side street lined with partially destroyed buildings. The two new replacements fell in behind the noncom. They soon stepped through a doorway that led down a flight of stairs to a cellar lit by a single lantern hanging from a beam in the ceiling.
The men occupying the cellar immediately turned their attention to the small group descending the stairs.
“This is Barnes and Stevens,” Saunders announced pointing to each man behind him. “Get them settled and all of you turn in. We jump off at 0500.”
“Aw, Sarge,” Kirby grumbled. “I thought we were gonna get a day or two of rest.”
“It didn’t work out that way, Kirby,” Saunders shook his head. He knew the men were beat, but there was nothing he could do about it. They all had their orders.
The sergeant tossed his camouflage-covered helmet at the end of a cot and removing his web belt, he flopped down on the cot, bringing his right forearm up over his eyes. The older members of the squad recognized this gesture as indicating that the sergeant was through talking for the night.
The men turned their attention to the new replacements.
“There’s a couple cots over here, guys,” Littlejohn indicated the beds in a dark corner. “You can leave most of your gear packed up. We travel pretty light. The rest of your stuff you can put on the supply truck in the morning before we move out. It’s good to see some fresh faces.” He smiled as he stepped aside, letting them get to their cots.
“Yeah,” Kirby interjected. “These faces have gotten pretty stale.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate the others in the squad.
Stevens just smiled, not too sure how to take the off-handed comments.
“Oh, I bet there’s still life in some of these guys,” Barnes’ eyes twinkled as he observed the men he’d been thrown in with. The wheels of mischief were already turning in the young man’s head.
“It sure doesn’t feel like it, lately,” Caje mumbled from his chair he had tilted back against the wall. “We’re runnin’ outta steam pretty fast.”
“Knock it off and turn in,” Saunders called as he turned his back to them.
With a few last grumbles and comments on a never-ending war, the squad finally settled for a night of uneasy rest in anticipation of what lay before them in the early morning hours.

* * *

“Off an’ on!” Saunders’ voice shattered the stillness of the dank cellar. “Saddle up and meet me in the street in ten minutes.”
Billy Nelson sat up and stretched, yawning mightily. His buddy and constant companion, Littlejohn, threw a box of rations at him.
“Eat up, Billy,” he said. “We got a war to fight.”
Nelson glared as he caught the box of C-rations.
“Why don’t you go fight it and let me sleep,” he suggested.
Littlejohn grinned and slapped his friend on the back.
“Sarge would have something to say about that,” he commented.
“This sarge of yours; is he hard to get along with?” Stevens asked.
“Naw, he’s really a nice guy. He just has a lot on his mind most of the time,” Littlejohn answered.
“What the…! What’s goin’ on here?!” Kirby exclaimed from his corner of the room.
All eyes turned toward the BAR man who seemed to be trying to extricate himself from his blanket making absolutely no headway. He thrashed for a moment as Caje strolled over to his side. The corners of the blanket had been tied to the legs of the cot and the wiry man was bound securely to his bed.
“Get me outta here!” Kirby squawked as Caje stood grinning down at him.
“Whatcha doin’, Kirby?” Caje asked chuckling. “You’re gonna have to find a better way to get outta goin’ out today.” He knelt beside the cot and started untying the knotted blanket corners.
Everyone was amused at the hapless Kirby’s expense, which didn’t lighten his immediate mood. After several derisive comments and uncontrolled chuckles, Kirby was on his feet and angrily gathering his gear together.
“I don’t see anything funny,” he grumbled stomping towards the stairs. He gave an icy glare at Littlejohn, whom he obviously attributed the prank to. Then he turned and left the cellar.
“We better get a move on before the Sarge has to come after us,” Caje suggested as he started to follow the fuming BAR man from the room.
They were all soon standing in the street adjusting their gear and checking their weapons when Saunders appeared from a doorway down the street. He was folding a map and stowing it inside his field jacket. The older members of the squad knew from his demeanor that the sergeant was not pleased with the assignment he had just been given.
Saunders observed the squad as he walked towards them. They all seemed to be pleased about something. All but Kirby, that is. He decided he’d rather not ask. They had a job to do and they might as well get right to it.
“Artillery will start pounding a ridge just west of us. It seems there’s been a build-up of Kraut machinery in the area. We’ll go in under the barrage. We circle around and hit them from the left flank. Rowe’s squad will hit them from this side. Watch yourselves and move out on my signal.” The sergeant’s orders were terse and to the point. He wasn’t wasting words and the sag of his shoulders indicated that this was not going to be a piece of cake.
The collective mood changed to one of serious concentration on the task at hand; for everyone that is, except Barnes. The private was still elated over the trick he’d pulled on Kirby. This was even funnier to him because Kirby seemed to be blaming the giant, Littlejohn, for his entrapment. Barnes decided this was going to be the perfect squad for practical jokes.
When they headed out of the village, Caje was on point and Kirby was bringing up the rear, still grumbling and looking daggers at Littlejohn. Littlejohn was ignoring the BAR man as he walked beside Nelson.
A couple times Kirby was able to catch sight of Fourth Squad following them at a distance. They would lag behind soon to be in position when the fighting began.
The morning grew slightly warmer as the sun climbed in the mid-October chill. The soldiers were comfortable with the light field jackets they wore.
Saunders dropped back to walk beside Doc.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Doc looked at him for a second, then realized what he was asking.
“Someone pulled a trick on Kirby during the night,” Doc grinned slightly at the thought of it. “The corners of his blanket were tied to the legs of his cot and he couldn’t get up this mornin’. He’s blamin’ Littlejohn, but I don’t think Littlejohn did it.”
Saunders looked at Doc quizzically for a moment then shrugged his shoulders, almost letting a smile curve one corner of his mouth. He shook his head and picked up his step to catch up with Littlejohn.
“Did you ruffle Kirby’s feathers?” Saunders asked quietly.
Startled for a second, Littlejohn stared at the sergeant. A giggle started deep inside and he shook his head. “I wish I’d a thought of it, but I didn’t, Sarge.”
“Okay,” Saunders nodded. “Just don’t egg it on, huh?”
“Alright, Sarge,” Littlejohn agreed. “But ya shoulda seen it. It was really funny.”
“Yeah,” Saunders dropped back and started searching for the landmarks he had seen on his map.
They had been listening to artillery shells bursting ever nearer and nearer. It was apparent they would not be able to get much closer to the barrage without putting themselves in danger.
Saunders called a halt just below a small hill. A dry creek bed made a natural trench for the men to settle into as they waited for the signal to move out.
Littlejohn reached for his canteen and uncapped it. Taking a large gulp of the liquid, he immediately spewed it out of his mouth, his face drawn into a look of disgust.
“My water’s bad!” he exclaimed.
“Let me see that,” Doc reached for the canteen.
“Here,” Littlejohn handed it over and turned to glare at Kirby.
“Someone poured quinine in it.” Doc announced after closely examining the contents. “It won’t hurt you, but you can’t drink it.”
Saunders pulled his canteen out and uncapped it, tasting a little of it before taking a swallow.
“Here, Littlejohn, mine’s okay,” the sergeant handed his canteen to the fuming giant.
“Kirby did it!” Littlejohn growled threateningly.
Kirby, who had been watching everything, smiled tauntingly at the big man. “I didn’t do it, but I wish I had.”
“You don’t have to lie about it, Kirby,” Littlejohn was getting to his feet.
“I ain’t liein’ any more’n you did!” Kirby came to his feet with fists knotted.
Saunders sprang up between the two angry soldiers.
“Knock it off! Both of you.” He pushed Littlejohn back a step and turned to face Kirby.
“Get back to your end of the line and watch for Krauts,” he told the BAR man. “You too, Littlejohn. If you wanna fight, fight Germans, not each other!”
The sergeant was angry now and no one would dare oppose him. The two privates backed down to their own separate positions and turned to the job at hand.
Barnes turned away from the group and smiled. His pranks were working just as he’d planned and he was having the time of his life watching what he’d done. He had to try to hide his elation, though, so the others would not suspect him. He had found the perfect pawns for his little game of practical jokes.
The SR-536 crackled and came to life on Saunders’ left shoulder. He pulled the handy-talkie around to his ear and answered the call.
“Move out now, White Rook. Out.” Lt. Hanley’s familiar voice ordered.
“Roger that. Out.” Saunders handed the radio to Nelson to carry and waved an arm high in the air.
The entire squad moved out of the ditch and up the hill. The barrage had subsided and they could soon hear the sounds of men crashing through the underbrush ahead of them, coming straight for them. The Germans were trying to escape the razed hill and were running directly into the two American infantry squads waiting for them.
Two German soldiers burst from the bushes right in front of Saunders and he dropped to one knee spraying them with a lethal burst from the Thompson sub machine gun. One of them fell immediately while the other cried out, but tried to bring his weapon to bear on the American. Saunders pulled the trigger a second time, but the gun jammed and nothing happened. The sergeant fell to the ground and rolled to one side as a row of bullets kicked up dirt and leaves where he had just been. A shot from Saunders’ left and the Kraut screamed and fell. Saunders waved a ‘thank you’ to Caje as he climbed to his feet once more, working on his Tommy gun.
The hill was suddenly alive with Germans and the battle raged as both sides sought cover and targets.
Saunders dropped behind a boulder and continued firing short bursts from the Thompson. He heard someone, Nelson, he thought, call for Doc, but he couldn’t see the others from his position behind the boulder.
It soon became apparent that several Germans had grouped together to pin his squad down on the lower side of the hill. Saunders signaled to Caje for cover and slipped back down to the creek bed and followed it for a short distance. He climbed out well below the conflict and crept up the side of the hill away from the firing. He could hear Rowe’s men engaged in a similar battle further to the east, but there seemed to be nothing moving where he was now.
He took full advantage of the clear avenue he seemed to have found and climbed high enough to be able to circle around the Krauts holding his squad at bay.
It wasn’t long before he could see the sun glinting off the backs of the German helmets hidden in the bushes before him.
Several bullets came too close for comfort and Saunders realized that if he didn’t do something quickly, his own men would kill him. Dropping to his belly, he crawled through the underbrush until he was within a few yards of the Germans.
Pulling a grenade from his field jacket, Saunders pulled the pin and lobbed it directly into the midst of the battling enemy soldiers. The grenade exploded and men screamed. Then silence.
Saunders stood and dusted off the debris that had fallen on him from the too-close blast. He could see Caje tentatively rising from his spot near the boulder that the sergeant had hidden behind earlier.
Saunders moved down the hill and started checking the Krauts for any survivors. There were none and he waved to his men and called, “All clear.”
The squad immediately stood and moved up the hill to check the area.
Saunders located the helmet with the red cross painted on it and made his way down the hill to stand beside the medic.
Doc was working over the new recruit, Stevens. The young man’s chest was covered with blood and he was gasping for air.
“How is he, Doc?” the sergeant asked as he knelt beside them.
“Not good, Sarge,” Doc spoke quietly. “We need to get him to a hospital fast.”
“Yeah,” Saunders agreed. “Do what you can. We’ll get a stretcher ready.”
He placed a hand on Doc’s shoulder and levered himself up to turn and address the squad.
“Kirby, Nelson, build a stretcher. Make it fast. We need to lend a hand to Fourth Squad.” The sergeant was checking his Thompson and scrutinizing his men to make sure there were no more injuries.
A litter was rigged in short order and Nelson was ordered to help Doc carry the wounded soldier back to the aid station near their company command post.
As soon as they were on their way, Saunders waved to the others to follow him back down the dry creek bed towards Rowe’s position.
There was still some firing, but it was sporadic.
Saunders waved his men down and motioned for them to cover him as he left the creek and started climbing up a hill near the occasional shots. He could soon see a German Corporal hunkered down behind a large boulder and firing first from one side then the other. The enemy’s full attention was on the American soldiers below him. It was not hard for Saunders to crawl to within twenty feet of him without being noticed.
“Hande Hoche!” Saunders called loudly. His sudden appearance caused the young German to drop his weapon. He turned a sickly white as he raised his hands slowly over his head and turned to face the American sergeant.
Saunders let his eyes roam over the immediate area, checking for signs of any other Germans. He did not see anything, but being of a constantly suspicious nature, he signaled his men to check it out.
“All clear!” he called to the squad that had been pinned below the hill.
Rowe and his men cautiously emerged from their hiding places and started checking the area with Saunders’ men.
“That little pipsqueak had us pinned pretty good,” Rowe grinned as he slapped Saunders on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Saunders nodded. “I thought you were gonna get attached to him after a while.”
“We’ll get attached alright,” Rowe nodded. “We’ll attach him to S2. Maybe he’ll come up with some info, huh? How’d ya make out, Saunders?”
“I got one wounded,” Saunders informed him. “Doc and Nelson are taking him back. How ‘bout you?”
“We got by without a scratch,” Rowe pulled a pack of Luckys from his pocket and offered one to Saunders, who took it gratefully.
“Which side of the hill ya want?” Saunders asked as they scrutinized a map that the blond sergeant had pulled from his jacket.
“Don’t matter to me, Saunders,” Rowe averred. “I just hope the artillery took out any heavy machinery that’s supposed to be up there.”
“Yeah. Okay, you take the right and we’ll circle back around to the left. Keep in touch and watch your backs.” Saunders folded the map and replaced it inside his the front of his field jacket.
“You know it!” Rowe turned back to his squad and moved away, motioning his men to follow.
One of Rowe’s men was assigned to watch the prisoner.
The American soldiers moved stealthily up the hill from two different directions. The barrage had been effective this time and the GIs were relieved to find five tiger tanks smoking and useless beyond the crest of the hill. The German infantry had abandoned them and had run directly into their fire earlier. It looked as if mop-up here would be a cinch for a change.
Still wary, the soldiers moved in a crouch through the still-burning machinery. Finding nothing moving, they gathered near the dusty dirt road that was pockmarked with shell craters.
“You wanna call it in?” Rowe raised an eyebrow at Saunders.
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” Saunders reached for the radio he’d retrieved from Nelson before sending him back with the wounded soldier.
“King Two this is White Rook. Over.” He spoke into the mouthpiece.
“White Rook this is King Two. Over.” Lt. Hanley’s reply came immediately.
“Mission accomplished, five enemy tanks neutralized. Twelve Germans dead. One captured. We have one wounded and on his way back. Over,” Saunders kept his report short and to the point.
“Roger. Send Black Rook and his men back. Can you handle another mission? Over.”
“Affirmative. Over.” Saunders spoke as he extracted a cigarette from his breast pocket.
“Check that road you’re on further to the east. Go as far as checkpoint Baker then double back and check it again. S2 says there should have been more enemy in the area. This is a recon, so don’t make contact unless necessary. Over.” Hanley instructed.
“Roger that. Out.” Saunders accepted his assignment and signed off.
Turning to Rowe, he relayed the orders.
“Good luck, Saunders,” Rowe grinned as he motioned for his men to saddle up. "See ya back at HQ.”
Saunders waved and turned to his own men, scratching the back of his head before replacing the battered camouflaged helmet.
“We’re gonna check out this road before headin’ back,” He said around the Lucky hanging from his mouth. “Saddle up. Caje take the point. Kirby, the rear. Move out.”
The squad strung out in a ragged line behind the Cajun and they moved down the dirt road, staying as close to the tree line as possible for quick cover if necessary.
The mid-day sun was warm and after the morning skirmish, the GIs were sweating as they trod the dry, dusty roadside. After about twenty minute’s walk, the men were beginning to relax a bit. No Germans were in sight and Bonnaire (checkpoint Baker) was only fifteen minutes away. They were all hoping that the small town would be devoid of enemy activity. They were all tired and ready for a break for a change.
Saunders, who had moved up to the point, caught a slight movement near the next bend in the road. He waved his men into the trees and out of sight as he crept slowly forward to take a look.
Caje, Kirby, Littlejohn and Barnes crouched behind a copse of bushes, checking their ammunition and waiting for Sarge’s orders. For the first time since he could remember, Barnes realized that all thoughts of joking had left him. The fear of facing a formidable enemy and watching one of his companions fall had brought out a serious side of him that he hadn’t known existed. But that was behind them now and he quickly turned his thoughts back to frivolity. Sidling up to Littlejohn, Barnes tugged at his elbow.
“I think I saw something move over there,” he whispered, pointing down the side of the road where Saunders had disappeared.
“Maybe it was the Sarge,” Littlejohn pondered. “Just stay low and stay quiet.”
Littlejohn craned his neck to look down the road. He caught a glimpse of the sergeant making his way to the bend about fifty yards away. Other than that he saw nothing but woods. He crouched beside Barnes and kept a keen eye on the woods around them.
“I think it was a Kraut,” Barnes whispered loud enough for all of them to hear.
“Shut up and keep your eyes and ears open!” Caje warned him as they all became more wary.
Barnes decided to let it go for now, but he could see that he was adding fuel to an already burning flame. This new tension he was causing was exhilarating and he mentally patted himself on the back.

* * *

Saunders heard the vehicle before he saw it. A half-track! Nearly a half mile away and slowly winding its way up the bumpy, twisting road towards the Americans. Looking for a good spot to ambush the lumbering armored truck, Saunders made up his mind and turned back towards his waiting squad.
The truck was drawing ever closer, so Saunders crept into the edge of the woods to return unseen from the road. Just as the sergeant was about to give a low whistle to signal his men that he was coming in, he heard Barnes cry out, “A GERMAN!” and an M1 slug whistled by his ear.
Saunders hit the ground rolling into a thick bush and called out, “Caje! It’s me, Saunders.”
There was a rustling and struggling noise and Caje called, “Come on in, Sarge.”
When Saunders stood up, he could see Caje standing over Barnes, who had been unceremoniously thrown to the ground and relieved of his weapon.
“The fat’s in the fire, Sarge,” Kirby puffed as he ran up to them, pointing down the road.
“We can’t surprise ‘em now. Spread out. Kirby, you and Caje get back up the road to that bunch of boulders. We’ll try to drive ‘em your way. Littlejohn, stay here. Barnes!” Saunders turned to the cowering recruit with fire in his eyes. “You’re on me. C’mon!”
Caje shoved the recruit’s rifle at him with a final glare as he and Kirby turned away.
The sergeant moved back into the woods with Barnes on his heels. The others split up to take their assigned positions.
Already they could hear the pounding of running feet as the three foot soldiers flanking the truck came in their direction. The half-track’s engine revved up and the enemy was closing on the Americans’ positions quickly.
“Stay low and don’t fire until I do,” Saunders instructed as he and Barnes slipped back through the woods. Crouching behind a fallen log, Saunders watched the German soldiers move past his position heading towards Littlejohn. The vehicle was close behind them and moving up fast.
When the enemy had passed them, Saunders motioned for Barnes to follow and moved slowly towards the road.
A Schmeisser opened up followed by Littlejohn’s Garand. More weapons joined the noise and Saunders deduced that Littlejohn was moving back up the road, drawing the Germans towards Caje and Kirby. He smiled briefly to himself, knowing his squad was doing exactly what he wanted them to do. They had worked together long enough to know what to do without communicating.
The German soldiers were taking cover as the half-track moved up to support them. Littlejohn was firing as fast as he could and trying to maintain sufficient cover for his large frame.
Before the Kraut foot soldiers found cover, Caje and Kirby opened up on them, killing one.
The machine gun turret on the truck swung from Littlejohn’s position to the group of boulders where the other firing had erupted. The noise was deafening as both sides fired as fast as possible.
“Move up to that tree and cover me,” Saunders ordered Barnes as he pointed to a tree near the road. The sergeant moved in a crouch towards the road and the armored truck.
Dropping to one knee beside a bush, Saunders slipped the strap of his Thompson over his right shoulder and produced a grenade from the front of his field jacket. Pulling the pin, he motioned for Barnes to cover him as he moved quickly to the back of the half-track. The sergeant ran to the back of the truck and, leaping as high as he could, expertly lobbed the grenade directly into the turret.
Saunders dropped to the road on his stomach covering his head as a tremendous explosion rocked the truck and pieces of metal rained over him and the immediate area. The sergeant was temporarily deafened and stunned and did not hear the German rushing him from the trees.
Barnes had squatted behind his tree and covered his head when the grenade went off and he decided to just stay where he was. It seemed safe enough and he wasn’t about to stick his head out to get it blown off.
The Kraut sergeant left the woods and reached down with his left hand, grabbing Saunders by the back of his collar, jerking him to his feet, he jammed a Luger beneath the sergeant’s right jaw. The German was at least a head taller than the American, and very strong. He quickly wrapped a huge arm around Saunders’ neck pulling the GI tight against his chest.
Realizing what was happening to him, Saunders placed both hands on the German’s left arm trying to loosen the pressure on his windpipe. The Kraut increased the pressure on the American’s neck and hit the sergeant hard over his right temple with the Luger.
Momentarily stunned, Saunders quit struggling and peered through the smoke towards his men. The second German had moved quickly from his cover to crouch behind the burning truck.
Caje, Kirby and Littlejohn froze in horror as they saw their sergeant being struck and subdued by a very large, very angry German sergeant. Saunders was gasping for air as he hung helpless in the enemy’s grasp.
The GIs kept their weapons trained on the two men as the last German moved from the woods to the truck.
“Get back!” the German sergeant shouted in English. “I will kill him!”
The Americans were unsure what to do, and afraid that any wrong move would get their sergeant murdered before their eyes.
Saunders wondered briefly what had happened to Barnes, then looked towards his squad, yelling the best he could around his constricted throat, “Shoot him!” as he lifted his feet and tried to drop from the German’s grasp.
The Kraut was unbelievably strong and simply tightened his grip on his hostage and started dragging him close to the burning vehicle. A cut from the blow over Saunders’ right temple was now bleeding profusely, the blood flowing over the German’s arm and dampening the front of the GI’s field jacket.
Kirby looked at Caje, but neither could come up with a quick solution. All three kept their weapons trained on the back of the truck, but they held their positions, afraid that any wrong move would prove disastrous.
Once behind the cover of the truck, the German loosened his grip slightly as the Kraut private pulled Sarge’s Thompson from his shoulder and removed his handgun from its holster. The large German grabbed the back of Saunders’ collar and shoved him hard against the back of the truck, holding him firmly against it as the other Kraut reached around the American to loosen his web belt and remove the belt in his pants. With this he proceeded to tie Saunders’ hands tightly behind his back.
“You will drop your weapons and come out or we will kill your sergeant!” the Kraut sergeant bellowed.
“Stay where you are!” Saunders yelled. This only brought the wrath of the big sergeant down on him as the German pulled him away from the truck and slammed him hard against the metal surface again.
The breath was knocked out of him and Saunders saw spots swimming before his eyes as his knees buckled. He would have slid to the ground had it not been for the strong hand holding him against the truck.
Caje slipped close to Kirby.
“We’re gonna hafta flank ‘em, Kirby,” he whispered in the BAR man’s ear.
“They’re gonna kill ‘im, Caje,” Kirby’s voice was shaky and near panic.
“Just slip around to the right. I’ll go back towards Littlejohn,” Caje instructed.
“Okay,” Kirby slid to the ground and started crawling to the right and the stand of trees close to the half-track.
Caje moved in a crouch around the group of boulders they were hiding behind and silently slipped into the woods close to Littlejohn.
Saunders’ head cleared and he was furious. Angry at his men for not just shooting the Krauts; angry at himself for letting them get to him; angry at Barnes for not giving him cover; but most of all angry at the two Krauts who seemed to be gloating over their good fortune. All this anger translated to defiance and he was determined to undermine anything these two Germans tried to do, regardless of what they did to him.
“Throw out your weapons!” The Kraut sergeant yelled again, still holding the American sergeant firmly against the back of the truck.
The truck was now flaming on the inside and the outer metal was becoming unbearably hot. Saunders knew he had to do something quickly before he was roasted alive.
The German private had moved around to squat near Saunders’ feet aiming his weapon at the group of boulders. Without warning Saunders lifted a foot and kicked the private as hard as he could, sending him sprawling from behind the truck.
Taken by surprise, it took the Kraut sergeant a moment to realize what was happening. He swung the Luger against the back of the American’s unprotected head, releasing him to let him drop to the road. Then he turned to reach for the fallen private just as Caje and Littlejohn both opened up from the woods to their right.
The German private had been struggling up from the dusty road and was hit immediately, but the big sergeant dove for cover under the flaming truck. He returned fire with the Luger he still held in his hand while reaching for the Thompson machine gun which lay behind the vehicle. His searching fingers instead closed on the foot of the downed American sergeant. Grasping the ankle, he started pulling the GI towards him.
Saunders stirred at the movement then slowly realized what was going on. He kicked out hard at the face of the giant German tugging him under the truck. His foot struck the Kraut over his left eye and caused him to flinch just long enough for Saunders to kick free and roll towards the ditch at the side of the road.
Infuriated, the German swung the Luger around to finish the American. A bullet from Caje’s M1 crashed into the back of his head before he could pull the trigger on the helpless sergeant.
The silence that reigned was as deafening as the noise of the firefight. Nerves were taught and everyone held perfectly still for a moment. Then Caje was on his feet and running towards Saunders.
The sergeant had managed to roll into the ditch and was lying on his face panting and sweating in the afternoon heat.
“It’s okay, Sarge. We got ‘em,” Caje spoke as he quickly untied the belt securing the sergeant’s wrists.
Saunders was too winded to speak right away, as Caje helped him to a sitting position. Littlejohn and Kirby were checking out the dead Germans and Barnes was still not to be seen. Caje uncapped his canteen and offered it to the sergeant. Saunders took it gratefully and after a couple large gulps handed it back to the Cajun.
“You’re a mess, Sarge,” Caje muttered. “Let me clean that cut up some.”
He produced a handkerchief and wetting it, started sponging the cut over Saunders’ right temple. The sergeant flinched when Caje touched the tender cut, but he straightened and looked around angrily.
“Where’s Barnes?” he growled irritably.
Caje looked around, but Barnes was not in sight.
“He musta been hit, Sarge. I don’t see ‘im.” Caje stated as he motioned to Littlejohn. “Go find Barnes.” He called.
Littlejohn disappeared into the woods only to reappear quickly with the sniveling Barnes in tow by the collar.
“Leggo!” Barnes cried as Littlejohn shook him angrily.
“That’s enough!” Saunders ordered. He pushed Caje’s hands away from his head as he rose to his feet, trying to control his anger.
Grabbing the front of the young private’s jacket, Saunders drew him up into his blood-smeared face. “Where were you?!” he growled.
“The smoke was so thick I couldn’t see. Then you were in the way!” Barnes whimpered, praying that the outraged sergeant would buy it.
Saunders released him and shoved him back a step, then turned to the others. “Check the road out ahead. We don’t want any more surprises. Littlejohn, stay here.”
Caje and Kirby took off at a crouching trot down the side of the road the way the half-track had come.
Saunders motioned for Littlejohn to check the Krauts then moved around in front of Barnes once more.
“I don’t know what happened and I don’t care, but the next time I give you an order you’ll obey it or you’ll face a court martial. And from now on, you don’t fire your weapon unless you’re told to. Do I make myself clear?” The look in the sergeant’s eyes was deadly and Barnes nodded emphatically.
“Don’t worry, Sarge. Even if you’re right in the middle next time, I’ll start blastin’ away.”
Saunders glared at him for a moment, then turned on his heel and accepted some papers that Littlejohn had found on the dead German sergeant.
“C’mon,” Saunders waved at Littlejohn and Barnes. “Anyone could see that smoke for miles. We better keep movin’.” He turned and headed down the road where Caje and Kirby had disappeared.
Littlejohn ignored Barnes and trotted after Saunders leaving the young recruit to catch up. They quickly met Caje and Kirby who reported all clear up ahead.
“You can see the village from a ridge just around that curve, Sarge,” Caje informed the sergeant. “It looks pretty quiet, but that’s where that half-track came from.”
“Yeah,” Saunders was checking his map. “We’re gonna hafta check it out. Let’s move.”
They were soon all lying on their bellies on a ridge beside the road overlooking the small village of Bonnaire. At first they saw no one, but as they watched some activity became apparent near the edge of town closest to them. Saunders held his hand out to Littlejohn for the field glasses the big private had been carrying for him.
The sergeant could see several Germans milling around a transport truck and a staff car. They were excited and occasionally one would point towards the smoke rising above the trees where the half-track still burned. Finally a figure stood up in the staff car making several gestures and the Germans fell into a double line and headed out of the village in the direction of the Americans.
“They’re headed this way. We hide and let them pass. Then I’ll call it in. Move down to that gully over there.” Saunders said pointing to a deep ravine that could not be seen from the road.
Caje moved off followed by Kirby and Littlejohn. Barnes and Saunders brought up the rear; both of them sliding into the ravine just as the Germans came into view on the road above them.
The Americans pressed themselves to one side of the ravine as the enemy soldiers passed by. Saunders nodded at Caje, who understood what was expected of him and he slipped from the ditch to follow and observe the Krauts until the squad was in the clear.
Saunders brushed at his forehead just to find fresh blood trickling down the side of his face.
“You better let me wrap that up before it gets infected, Sarge,” Littlejohn suggested.
“Okay, Littlejohn. Hand me the radio,” Saunders sagged back against the side of the ravine to call in his report.
By the time Caje rejoined them, the squad had taken a short break and was ready to move again. Littlejohn had wrapped a bandage around Sarge’s head and his color had returned to normal.
“They’re movin’ in on the half-track real slow and easy,” Caje reported. “It’ll be a little while before they’ve got it all checked out.”
“Good,” Saunders nodded. “Caje, you and Littlejohn move in from the north east side of town. Kirby, move in from the south. Barnes and I will come in from this side. Just a quick cursory check. We don’t have time to flush it out. Meet up at the church at the head of the main street. Everyone ready?”
Heads nodded.
“Okay. Move out and make it fast.” Saunders motioned to Barnes and the two of them climbed from the ravine back onto the road. Caje and Littlejohn followed them, then crossed into the woods beyond the road to get to their entry position. Kirby left the ravine at another angle heading for the southern part of the village.
Bonnaire was deserted. The villagers had vacated the town when the Germans had moved in and the American soldiers found only empty streets. It didn’t take them long to gather at the church and report no enemy sightings. Saunders called in to make his report.
“Artillery will be shelling the road in five minutes. Hold a position at the edge of the village. Cut ‘em off and hold there until further notice. Out.” Lt. Hanley relayed his orders.
“Roger. White Rook out.” Saunders handed the handy-talkie back to Littlejohn and surveyed his small group.
“We’re to hold the village. They’re gonna pour artillery in on the road. Hopefully it will take the most of them out. We’ll hold at the other end of town. We fall back only if necessary. Got it?” Saunders knew his men would follow his orders to the letter and he wished he were ordering them out for a weekend on the town and not to hold the town.
“Let’s get set up,” Saunders moved down the street near the storefronts on one side.
Once they reached the road where it left the village, Saunders sent Kirby, Littlejohn and Barnes to the left side of the road while he and Caje settled themselves behind a low stone fence on the right side of the dirt track. They had barely settled into their assigned positions when they heard the 105s exploding less than a mile up the road. The Americans sought shelter in the event of a long shot reaching the village.
The shells rained heavily for about fifteen minutes. Only a couple came close enough to the village to spray dirt and debris over the waiting Americans. As the noise settled, the GIs turned their full attention to the road. Each one was hoping the Germans would not be expecting an offensive movement from the village.
The retreating Germans weren’t long in coming their way. The staff car rolled into view with an officer in the back and two escorts in the front seat. Saunders motioned to the men to hold their fire. He waited until the car was directly between them, then stood and fired at the front tires, blowing them and causing the car to swerve into the first building on the side where Kirby, Littlejohn and Barnes were waiting.
“Take the officer!” Saunders yelled as he ran towards the vehicle.
The two men in the front seat slid from the car bringing their weapons around to fire. Saunders killed one and Kirby hit the other as they closed in on the car. The officer, a Lieutenant, held his pistol high signaling surrender. Saunders took the weapon from him and pulled him from the automobile.
“Tie him to the front bumper and leave him for now,” Saunders ordered Littlejohn. “There’re probably others on the way. Get to your positions.”
Just as they were back in place several German soldiers came around the bend of the road at a run, heading straight for them. Littlejohn had had the foresight to gag the lieutenant so that he could not warn the approaching troops of the American ambush. The soldiers were caught in a crossfire and were momentarily confused, not knowing which way to run. By the time they figured out where to run, three were dead and five others were desperately seeking cover. The GIs were relentless and the Germans thoughtlessly grouped themselves behind a small knoll from which there was no escape. Saunders held a hand up for a cease-fire and called on the Krauts to surrender. A bullet whistled past his head for an answer and the firing began once more.
Saunders turned to Caje. “Cover me,” he said. “Give me a grenade. I’m gonna try ‘n flank ‘em.”
With this he accepted the grenade Caje gave him and crawled down the fence line until he was out of sight of the road. He carefully peered over the stone structure, then eased himself over it to drop on the other side. Moving swiftly, he slipped into the woods and headed on a course that would take him around the pinned Germans. When he decided he was far enough down the road to not be noticed, he dashed across quickly sliding into the ditch on the other side and looking for any disturbance he may have caused.
Nothing moved, so the sergeant slipped into the woods in a crouch and quickly crept up behind the enemy. He could see two of them wounded and three still kept up a steady fire with his squad. He realized he would not be able to get close enough to get the drop on them and make them surrender. Shaking his head at the turn of events, Saunders drew the grenade from his jacket pulling the pin. He stood and lobbed the pineapple into the midst of the unsuspecting soldiers and threw himself to the ground. There was a tremendous explosion and everything went silent.
Saunders slowly stood watching the area closely as he approached. As the smoke and dust cleared from the air, he could see all five men were dead. He waved an ‘all clear’ to his men and turned to search the bodies for maps and documents. None of these men were carrying anything.
It was a different case with the German lieutenant, however. Littlejohn had extracted three maps and several other documents from the officer when he had tied him up.
“Caje, take Kirby and Barnes and check the road out. See if there are any stragglers then meet us back at that first shop on the right as you come into town.” Saunders told the Cajun.
“Okay, Sarge,” Caje waved at Kirby and Barnes and started up the road on one side.
“Littlejohn, bring the prisoner in here,” Saunders said as he strolled towards the little shop door. His head was aching and his helmet felt like it weighed fifty pounds at the moment. He removed the offending headpiece and swiped the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve.
Littlejohn came through the door prodding the German lieutenant before him. The big private placed a hand on the officer’s shoulder and shoved him to the floor in a back corner of the nearly bare little shop.
“Gimme the radio ‘n watch ‘im,” Saunders mumbled as he held a hand out for the radio. He walked outside and called in his report.
“Hold there. Battalion is moving up and we’ll be there in about two hours. Out.” Lieutenant Hanley sounded relieved at the swift mop-up his understaffed squad had performed.
When Caje, Kirby and Barnes returned, Saunders assigned sentry duty to Kirby and motioned for the others to relax a while. His weary men gladly sank to the ground for a long drink of water and a much-needed cigarette. Kirby had chosen to stand watch in the bell tower of the small church at the other end of the street. From that point he was able to see the roads, fields and woods that surrounded the village on all sides.
Saunders strode into the small shop where Littlejohn was hovering threateningly over the captured German lieutenant. Ignoring Littlejohn, the sergeant stood staring at the esses on the lieutenant’s collar.
“I suppose you speak English?” it was more of a statement than a question.
The German looked up at the sergeant dispassionately and replied, “Yes.”
“What were you doin’ here?” Saunders asked, not really expecting an answer, much less a truthful answer.
The SS lieutenant simply turned his head and ignored the American.
Saunders shook his head and motioned to Caje and Barnes to follow him. Once outside, he turned to them.
“Check out these buildings. See if there was anything left that might have been a command post. I’ll check out the staff car,” he ordered.
The two privates split up taking each side of the street and started searching as the sergeant walked over to the wrecked car to search its contents. He was fortunate enough to find a map with some overlays that had been hastily stuffed beneath the rear seat. Tucking them under his arm, he strode back into the shop, watching the German’s reaction from the corner of his eye. The lieutenant quickly looked away when he spied the documents, telling Saunders that he’d stumbled across something important. Placing the maps on a table in the corner of the room, the sergeant walked back to the door lighting a cigarette.
Barnes showed up all too quickly. Saunders knew he hadn’t had time to search each building on his side of the street as he should have.
“Okay, Barnes,” he jerked a thumb towards the prisoner. “Keep an eye on the prisoner a while.”
“Right, Sarge,” Barnes nodded and stepped through the door to take Littlejohn’s place. The young man was still seething over the dressing down he’d received earlier and would not look the sergeant directly in the eye. He felt he had been unjustly reprimanded and this turned his mind to retribution. Saunders would somehow pay for humiliating him in front of the other men. He propped his foot in a chair in front of the prisoner and started thinking about how he might get even.
Saunders motioned to Littlejohn and walked away from the doorway.
“I don’t think Barnes searched as well as he might have, Littlejohn, “ he spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lips. “Check out the left side of the street again.”
“Okay, Sarge,” Littlejohn smiled slightly and moved off to perform the task.
Saunders walked back to the wrecked staff car and leaned against the back of it with one heel propped on the bumper to watch the road and the shop front at the same time, waiting for the arrival of Lieutenant Hanley and Battalion.
“Do you have a cigarette?” the German lieutenant asked Barnes.
“What?” Barnes was surprised when the officer spoke to him in his own language.
“I asked you if you had a cigarette.” The German repeated.
Looking around nervously, Barnes wasn’t quite sure what to do. Since no one else was around and he didn’t see any harm in giving the man a smoke, Barnes pulled out his pack and handed a cigarette to the officer. Then he removed his lighter from his jacket pocket and lit the end of it for him.
“Thank you,” the lieutenant nodded to the private.
“Huh,” Barnes replaced his lighter and resumed his stance in front of the prisoner.
“Your sergeant doesn’t trust you,” the lieutenant stated abruptly.
Barnes looked sharply at the Kraut and glanced nervously towards the door. He saw the sergeant across the street leaning on the car where he could see Barnes through the door.
“He trusts me more than he does you,” he grinned at the officer.
“It is hard to fight a war without friends around you,” the lieutenant prodded.
“What would you know about friends?” Barnes answered.
“You would be surprised. Your sergeant is very fortunate.”
“What do you mean?”
“By capturing me, he will probably win himself a medal.”
“Think so, huh?”
“Certainly. I am with the SS. Your sergeant will receive much praise.”
Barnes frowned at this and the lieutenant smiled to himself. He had read the private’s feelings correctly. There was tension between him and his sergeant. He would take every advantage of this.
“Of course, it would be just the opposite if I should happen to escape.” He cocked an eyebrow at the young recruit.
Barnes looked out the door at Saunders. He would like nothing better than to make the bossy so and so look bad, but letting a prisoner go seemed kind of drastic; and besides, how could he do it without looking guilty himself?
“Just shut up!” Barnes grumbled at the lieutenant.
Saunders attention was drawn down the street and he left his position at the back of the automobile.
Barnes wandered over to the door to watch the sergeant walk a few paces away to chat with Caje.
Before Barnes could turn back to the prisoner, he was body-slammed against the wall beside the front door. He gave out a surprised grunt as he fell, his rifle slipping from his hands. The German’s hands were tied, but his feet weren’t and he was making use of them. He quickly regained his balance and kicked out at Barnes’ head. Momentarily stunned, the young man stared up at the officer.
“Stay down!” the lieutenant growled. “Do not move and you will not be injured.”
Frightened, Barnes looked around for his rifle, but for some reason had no desire to reach for it.
The German almost had his hands freed when a blurred figure flew through the door slamming into the lieutenant and knocking him to the ground.
“Get up!” Saunders was directing the order to Barnes. The sergeant’s face was flushed with anger.
“Sarge! I just looked off for a second and…” Barnes began.
“I don’t wanna hear it!” Saunders growled. “Get your weapon and get outside.”
Saunders reached down grabbing the collar of the SS officer and pulling him to his feet. He bodily threw the man across a table and pressing the barrel of his Thompson against the back of the man’s head, he secured the bonds holding the lieutenant’s wrists. Then grabbing him by the upper arm, Saunders fairly threw him into a corner of the room.
“You move again and I’ll kill ya,” the look in Saunders eyes told the German that this was no idle threat.
“What’s goin’ on here?” a familiar voice issued from the entrance to the room.
“Hi Lieutenant,” Saunders turned to see his superior standing just inside the door. “Our friend here was just trying to take a powder.”
“I see you have everything under control, Sergeant,” Lt. Hanley glanced at the disgruntled German then crossed the room to the table where the maps lay.
At that point Captain Jampel entered the room with two of his staff and Saunders was relieved of the frustrated SS officer.
“Sir, I will be bringing charges against Private Barnes. That’s the second time today he’s jeopardized our mission.” Saunders was quickly controlling his temper as he addressed his officers.
“Very well, Saunders,” Capt. Jampel nodded. “Get him in here.”
“Yes, sir,” Saunders went to the door and motioned for Barnes to return.
“Your sergeant is pressing charges against you, soldier,” Lt. Hanley informed the private. “You don’t have to say anything and you are entitled to council.”
“What!” Barnes squawked. “I didn’t do nothin’! That guy attacked me!”
“That’s enough!” Lt. Hanley’s booming voice stopped the young private.
Captain Jampel pulled a chair to the table. He gathered the maps and overlays together and looked up at his lieutenant.
“Get them all outta here, Hanley,” he ordered. “Send my radioman in. I’ll take care of these while you clean house.”
“Yes, sir,” Lt. Hanley nodded at Saunders, who in turn, took Barnes by the arm and escorted him outside.
Barnes’ anger was now out of control and, once outside, he pulled roughly away from Saunders’ grasp.
“Settle down,” Saunders told him. Then the sergeant turned to face the lieutenant as he exited the building.
“I’ll show you ‘settle down’,” Barnes growled as he swung his rifle towards Saunders’ head.
“Look out!” Hanley yelled.
Saunders started to turn back towards Barnes just as the rifle butt landed against his already wounded right temple. The sergeant crumpled to the ground without a sound, unconscious.
Caje and Littlejohn were close enough that with one swipe, Littlejohn knocked the rifle from the private’s hands.
For a moment, everyone stood in shock, not believing what had just happened.
“I…I’m sorry!” Barnes sobbed, realizing what he’d done. But some part of him found a certain amount of pleasure in seeing the cause of his misery totally incapacitated.
“Medic!” Lt. Hanley called as he knelt beside Saunders.
The bandage around the sergeant’s head was now soaked with blood. The lieutenant looked up at the seemingly repentant soldier above them.
“Those charges against you have just changed, Private,” Hanley informed him. “Get him outta here.” He told Caje and Littlejohn.
As they led the young man away, Doc ran up to kneel beside Saunders. He removed the bloody bandage and pressed a clean one against the sergeant’s head. He turned to several soldiers who had gathered during the fracas.
“Somebody get a stretcher,” he called, and Nelson turned to sprint over to the Aid truck that was just arriving.
Saunders was beginning to stir when they lifted him to the stretcher to carry him to an adjacent building. A doctor waited in the room he had selected to render his services. The sergeant began to thrash about and try to rise, not having fully regained his senses yet. The doctor administered a shot of morphine and the sergeant quieted.
Lieutenant Hanley was waiting at the door of the Aid Station when the doctor emerged.
“How is he?” Hanley asked.
“The sergeant has a hard head.” The doctor smiled. “He has a light concussion and seven stitches. A couple day’s rest and he’ll be alright.”
The lieutenant’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief.
“Thanks, Doctor,” he said. “Can I see him?”
“I had to give him morphine and he’ll probably be asleep for two or three hours. Why don’t you come back later,” the doctor suggested.
“Okay,” Hanley nodded. “I have some reports to make anyway.”
Captain Jampel met the lieutenant, as he was about to enter the Command Post they had set up.
“How’s Saunders?” the captain asked.
“He’ll be okay, sir,” Hanley assured him. “That kid just went crazy.” The lieutenant shook his head at the memory.
“That kid has a mental problem.” Captain Jampel stated.
When Hanley looked at him quizzically, the captain continued.
“I had some of his records forwarded here. It seems that he has had trouble everywhere he’s been. Most of it pranks and practical jokes that have landed him in trouble. Only recently has his temper been a factor in his behavior. We’re sending him back to a base hospital for evaluation. We’re lucky Saunders accomplished his mission at all.” Captain Jampel stated seriously.
“Yes, sir,” Hanley agreed. “I guess it’s good Saunders is dependable.”
“Yes, well,” the captain turned to the maps spread before them. “That SS prisoner was an artillery officer. These maps and overlays are going to be a great help to the entire division. The colonel is so impressed he’s recommending medals for the men.”
“You know how Saunders feels about that, sir,” Hanley smiled around a cigarette he was lighting.
The captain chuckled, “Yeah, well, there’s just some thing’s he’s gonna hafta learn to accept.”
They both laughed and bent over the maps to study them.

END