JustSleep

The Characters of Combat! are owned by ABC/Selmar or whoever owns the rights.                                      Copyright November 2004 by Anne McG.



                                                           Just Let Me Sleep

The sun's rays were just edging over the trees bringing warm light through the window of the temporary Command Post of Second Platoon, King Company. The beams of light filtered through the filthy glass of the window making a dancing pattern of amber on the floors, the walls, and the make shift desk in the center of the room. To the right of the desk, a cot held a sleeping figure cocooned in a drab green wool blanket. The figure grunted and rolled over, away from the brightness, as if in protest to the encroaching light. Tousled black hair and one closed eye were the only features not covered by the blanket to identify the sleeping figure. The features belonged to the Commanding Officer of 2nd Platoon, Lieutenant Hanley, deep in exhausted sleep.

The Lieutenant was up late until past 0300, finishing required paperwork for requisitions needed desperately for his platoon. After three weeks of heavy fighting at the front, his Platoon was ordered back to the village of La Ferte-Mace for a break. Orders from HQ were for a 48 hour stand down to rest and re-supply. Hanley just wanted to get the hated paperwork done to enjoy the time off and sleep. He left a note to his aide, Private Brockmeyer to let him sleep until 1000, unless disaster struck. The written order was left on Brockmeyer's desk in the outer room, so he would see it first thing in the morning. Satisfied that the Private would follow his orders to the letter, he headed toward his bed with a thrill of anticipation, just to burrow under the blanket. Hanley undressed and lay down. He just wanted to just forget about the world for seven hours. If he only knew, what would happen to that so called uninterrupted sleep?

****

Private Brockmeyer entered the outer room of the CP at 0630 the following morning. He wanted to get an early start to complete the paperwork on his desk, to clear the way for Hanley's requisitions. Sorting out what was scattered on his desk in neat piles, Brockmeyer never noticed Hanley's note slip off the desk, landing on the floor under the desk well, where he sat. Pulling out his chair to sit down, he pushed the note unknowingly with his feet, further under the desk, out of sight, when he sat. Bockmeyer looked at his watch, figuring he would wake the Lieutenant in an hour to finish signing the requisitions. Sipping his much needed coffee, he proceeded to sort through the piles of paper in front of him.

Just before 0730 Brockmeyer received a radio call from Captain Jampel, wanting maps Hanley's squads had marked of German positions ASAP. Jampel was moving a meeting up with his superiors. He could not wait for the maps on the normal scheduled delivery in the early afternoon. Jampel wanted Hanley to send someone now via jeep to HQ. Brockmeyer acknowledged the order and hung up. He sighed to himself, hating to wake Hanley with news he would have to rush through, rechecking those maps for Jampel. But Hanley was due to wake up anyway. He might as well finish signing off those requisitions and delivering them with the maps. Going to the door of Hanley's quarters, he knocked on the door and cracked it open.

"Lieutenant?" he called. Brockmeyer paused when there was no answer. He thought, Hanley usually was a light sleeper. Did he have a few belts of something before bed or what? Brockmeyer called again, except slightly louder, "Lieutenant? Are you up?"

"Huh?" Hanley squawked in a groggy voice, nearly falling out of bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong,” Brockmeyer replied. "It's time to get up. Besides ....."

Hanley cut him right off there, angrily. "Brockmeyer, didn't you find my note. I left it right on your desk!"

"What note?" Brockmeyer squeaked. "There was no note." He thought, oh no, I'm going to get the riot act.

Hanley scowled at Brockmeyer and replied. "Brockmeyer, I left you a written order not to wake me up until 1000. "What did you do, eat it?"

"Lieutenant, I swear there was no note. I'm sorry." The poor Private held his hands up in surrender. "But I had to wake you up, anyway. Captain Jampel just called. He wants those maps pronto."

"Damn," Hanley cursed. "Leave it to the brass to get things hopping." Glancing at his desk, he turned back to Brockmeyer. "Ok, get Sergeant Powell or Saunders to get a jeep to go to HQ." He then pointed his right finger toward the requisitions on his make shift desk. "Take everything there, the maps included, and give them to either Sergeant you find to deliver them. I signed the requisitions and checked the maps late last night so I could SLEEP IN. Got it, Private?"

"Yes, Sir," Brockmeyer said with relief. Thank God, no riot act this time, he thought. What happened to that note? Oh, well I'll look for it later. Now I just better get out of here. Grabbing all the papers, he apologized to Hanley, “Again, sorry Sir, I'll wake you at 10:00 hours."

"Alright, alright, Brockmeyer you’re forgiven." Hanley said, waving with his right hand. "Just go." With that, Hanley took a long breath and sighed, as Brockmeyer closed the door. Laying back down he went back to the business of getting back to sleep.

****

Twenty minutes after the Lieutenant blissfully fell back to sleep, LittleJohn and Kirby were arguing about some missing French soap that Kirby accused LittleJohn of misplacing. Coming back from the showers, Kirby was miffed he had to shower with the harsh lye soap provided from Supply. He swore the last time he saw the bar of French soap was with LittleJohn, when the big soldier went to take a shower. Knowing LittleJohn's habit of losing things, Kirby stopped LittleJohn cold in his tracks, coming back from breakfast. He got right into accusing the poor man for being a lug head, blaming him for losing everything, including the soap. This angered LittleJohn because he gave the soap to Caje to use. Kirby never bothered to ask any of the other guys if they had the item. LittleJohn did not like being blamed for something he did not do, besides being called a lug head. This started a loud heated argument unfortunately not twenty feet from the window where Hanley was quartered.

Hanley, meanwhile, was having a great dream about a lovely lady he dated back home. Just when he had the lady in his arms to kiss her, she started screaming like a banshee. To his horror, Hanley's date turned into Kirby, deafening his ears with his screams. He let go of Kirby, then was falling. Before he hit the ground, Hanley woke up with his face plastered into the cot and the sound of Kirby screaming in his ears. Realizing he was no longer dreaming, he was shocked the screaming in his dream still sounded around him. Shaking his head to clear it, Hanley tried to get up, but slipped, and fell back on his butt, legs tangled in the blanket. Cursing under his breath, Hanley untangled himself, and made it to his feet. He could hear Kirby's big mouth in the direction of the window. Thinking to himself, I'm gonna strangle that SOB, he headed toward the window to open it. Hanley made it two steps, when he tripped over one of the cot legs, hitting his left foot, and fell again. This time Hanley made a three point landing on his face. Lying there trying to get his breath back, Hanley thought this had to be hell. He imagined Kirby’s all around him, yelling as he burned in orange-red flames, pain engulfing his body. Trying to clear that thought from his head, Hanley sat up rubbing his left foot. When the pain receded enough, he made the effort to get up off the floor. It hurt to put pressure on his left foot, so Hanley used the support of the wall next to him, to hop over on his right foot to the window and open it. Sure enough, there was Kirby and LittleJohn, nose-to-nose, arguing with one another. He caught Kirby calling LittleJohn a big clumsy oaf, yelling at the top of his lungs. That is when Hanley lost it, and exploded.

"KIRBY! LITTLEJOHN! What the hell is going on?" What are you two yelling about?" Hanley bellowed. He had to grip the window sill balancing on his right foot, left foot stuck in the air behind him, thanks to these two clowns. That even angered him more. He hissed at both men now staring at him. "I'm trying to sleep here, damn it!"

That shut both men up. Kirby knew he was in trouble, because of his temper. For once he regretted it. He could tell the Lieutenant was enraged being awakened so abruptly. Hanley looked a mess. His undershirt was crooked, eyes red, and his hair sticking straight up in the air. Kirby decided to keep his mouth shut.

LittleJohn, on the other hand, felt he was the victim here, due to Kirby's big mouth. He felt no qualms about explaining things to Hanley. He decided to venture forth in stormy waters. LittleJohn looked directly at Hanley, and explained, “Kirby here, accused me of losing some soap, and I had nothing to do with it, Sir."

Hanley was stunned. He sputtered, “This stupid argument with you two screaming at each other was over a bar of soap? I don't believe this!"

Kirby decided to stand on principle anyway, and defended himself. “Well, you see Lieutenant; this big oaf is always losing things so I thought...."

Hanley stopped him right there. "Shut up Kirby, I don't want to hear it. It's damned stupid." He knew these two were always bickering at each other. But a bar of soap? Hanley decided not to pursue it any further. He just wearily said, “Just break it up. I just want to get back to sleep."

Both men relaxed thinking it was over, But Hanley had one more thing to add. "If I hear you two sniping at each other one more time today, it's latrine duty for both of you, for a month, understand?"

Kirby and LittleJohn just meekly looked at the Lieutenant and said, "Yes, Sir," in unison. Hanley just glared at them, and left the window.

Both men decided to patch things up for now and vanish. They were lucky to escape the Lieutenant's wrath this time. But next time, you never know.

Leaving the window open, Hanley hopped toward his cot and almost ran into Private Brockmeyer, who came in the room to see what was going on. He stopped quickly enough in time, before he collided with the Private, but still lost his balance. Hanley would have fallen flat on his face again, if Brockmeyer didn't catch him. Embarrassed, that Brockmeyer had seen him hopping around like a fool, he let go of the Private, and gingerly put his weight on his left foot. The foot held, but Hanley stood slightly tilted, to maintain his balance. He prayed not to wind up on his butt. Gathering his few shreds of dignity left, becoming an Officer, he ordered Brockmeyer, "I do not want to be disturbed again until 1000, unless there are Krauts swinging out of the trees, out there. Understood?"

Brockmeyer tried to ignore the fact that his CO looked like a jackass hopping around the room. He responded to the order with a straight face. "Yes, Sir. I understand."

"Good," Hanley replied. He waved the Private out. Brockmeyer left the room, as if lightening was chasing him. Closing the door, he lost control of himself, and laughed until he cried.

Hanley, unaware of his aide's hysterical laughter, limped back to his bed. Checking his watch, he saw it was only 0810, He snorted in disgust. Hanley shook his head, thinking to himself what a morning. Why can't everyone just let me sleep, damn it! With that last thought, he lay back down, pulled the blanket over his head, and tried to get back to sleep.

****

In the alley next to Lieutenant Hanley's CP, there was a small calico cat wandering along the side of the building. It was looking for its mistress.   When the woman vacated her home months before, in fear of the Germans occupying her village, she left the cat behind. The cat had been living on garbage or bits of food any sympathetic soul would give it, Germans or locals. After the Germans vacated the area, but before the Americans moved in, it was finding less to eat. With Hanley's platoon settled in, and Hanley personally taking over its former mistress's home, it sensed people, food, and maybe, the woman it knew so well. The cat used to sleep with it's mistress at night and knowing the nature of cats, she left the window open for the cat to wander in and out. The cat, seeing the familiar window open, sensed security and a soft bed to sleep in. The open window became a beacon of welcome for the little cat, so it naturally started to make its way there.

****

Sergeant Saunders was up by 0630 in the morning. He took a hot shower, shaved, and put on a clean uniform for the first time in weeks. The men in his squad had the same thing in mind, enjoying being clean again, catching up on rest, or writing letters home. Since Brockmeyer tagged Powell for Hanley's errand, it left Saunders to lounge around with his men or wander off by himself. Right before 0930 when he was ready to take a walk, he heard about the incident between Kirby, LittleJohn, and Hanley, from whom else, LittleJohn, who blamed the whole thing on Kirby. After giving Kirby and LittleJohn a chewing out for their behavior, Saunders decided to go to Hanley's CP to smooth the whole thing out with the Lieutenant. He heard from Brockmeyer that Hanley wanted to sleep until 1000. Being close friends, he knew he could talk to Hanley if he was still angry. Saunders wanted to catch Hanley when he got up, before; he got wrapped-up with paperwork or the radio. He doubted Hanley would give his men any punishment detail, but it was better to play it safe. Saunders told Caje to keep an eye on things and left for the CP.

Hanley was deep in sleep again by 0930, sprawled on his right side and softly snoring. After Kirby's and Little John's argument, he was so angry; Hanley felt he would never get to bed. A soft breeze coming through the open window made soft whispering sounds that calmed Hanley down and lulled him to sleep. He never heard the sound of a thump on the window sill later on.

The little calico cat jumped on the window sill, making a small meowing sound. It first investigated the room, then sensing no danger, jumped to the floor. The warmth and scent of the sleeping body meant security to the cat, so it pattered right over to the cot and jumped-up on Hanley. Seeing an opening to snuggle under the blanket, the cat scooted under it along Hanley's stomach to burrow as far at it could go. As all cats do when content, it started purring, and curled-up to sleep.

Hanley, unknowingly responded to the cat's actions. He felt a soft warmth on his lower abdomen. Like a comforter on a cold winter night, the extra warmth radiated through his body, making Hanley physically snuggle more closely around its source. With a murmured sound of contentment, he hugged the warmth like a teddy bear, curling around the little calico cat. The cat happy to be cradled, purred louder, kneading its claws into Hanley's stomach, penetrating his flesh. His eyes flew open, as a sharp pain hit him. Instantly awake, Hanley panicked at the location of the pain. Yelling incoherently, he grabbed something furry where it should not be, and threw it off him. It landed below the window, hissing. Still in throws of panic, he grabbed one of his boots and threw it. The thing jumped to the window sill and the boot missed. Frightened out of his mind, Hanley did not recognize the thing as a cat.   He just wanted the threat gone. He picked up his other boot, and threw that too, hoping to knock it out the window. After he completed the throw, Hanley tripped over his own two feet and fell, landing sideways on the floor, hitting his head. The impact knocked him out cold. The last thing he remembered was the thing jumping out the window, with the boot following after it. It was at that moment Saunders was walking by.

****

Saunders passed Hanley's window on his way to the front entrance of the CP. He decided to stop and have a smoke before going inside. He lit his cigarette, leaning against the wall. Saunders really had no thoughts running through his head; he was enjoying the R&R. He thought too much most of the time, that was the problem. Smoking, Saunders was reflecting on the letters he got from home, especially his younger sister. Her letters were bright and encouraging, and that's all he wanted to think about today. He would see how Hanley was doing, then leave to write his little sister. As he was thinking about that, he heard the most outrageous yell coming from Hanley's window.

Thoughts broken, Saunders instantly looked at the window. Dumfounded, he saw a cat flying out of the window, with a GI boot right behind it. The cat landed on all four feet, and ran toward Saunders. As he caught the cat meowing in fright, he heard a crash, then silence. Saunders wasn't sure what was going on. That yell sounded frightening, turning his insides to jelly. Holding the cat to comfort it, he hurried into the CP, to see if it was the Lieutenant. Saunders, not knowing what to expect, barged in through the front door. What he saw made him drop the cat in disbelief, besides freezing him in place.

The door to Hanley's quarters was open. The Lieutenant was laying on the floor unconscious, his face as white as a ghost. A concerned Brockmeyer was kneeling next to him, calling Hanley's name over and over, to try to wake him. Saunders thought, what the hell, is going on here?


Saunders, finally getting his legs to work, ran into the room and squatted down, next to Hanley. He called his name several times as Brockmeyer did, but the Lieutenant did not respond. Saunders slapped Hanley gently on the face, with the same result. He finally decided to find out what Brockmeyer knew, before he tried to check Hanley again. He looked at Brockmeyer and asked. "Did you see what happened?"

Brockmeyer just looked confused. He shrugged with his reply. "I have no idea, Sarge. All I know, is everything was quiet, until I heard the Lieutenant yelling. I got up from my desk to go check on him. He was there laying on the floor when I came into the room." Brockmeyer looked around the room again. "I checked the room, nothing here."

"I think I know what happened, "Saunders said.”That cat I was holding when I came in jumped out of his window. I think this might have been the cat's former home, and it came back looking for someone. "Saunders gave Hanley a sympathetic look. "The cat got to him somehow. It frightened him when it woke him up. Looks like he fell when he threw a boot at the cat, and hit his head. The fall knocked him out cold."

"You're probably right." Brockmeyer agreed, as he spotted the little cat, and encouraged it over to him. He picked it up, petting the furry head. He looked at Saunders asking, "What should I do with it?"

Saunders replied, "See if you can find a local who would take the cat for now. I'm sure someone will keep it, or find the cat a new home. Take Caje with you to translate." He paused, listening to the commotion starting outside, in response to Hanley's yelling. "Do me a favor too, Brockmeyer. Clear everyone out of here, there's nothing to see." He took his eyes off Hanley to Brockmeyer. "Tell them the Lieutenant will be OK, but get Doc over here to check on him anyway. I'll stay with the Lieutenant."

Brockmeyer nodded and left with the trouble-maker of Hanley's eventful awakening.

After Brockmeyer left, Saunders pulled a pillow off the cot and put it under Hanley's head. He did not want to move him until Doc got there, or Hanley woke up. He checked the Lieutenant over, looking for broken bones or other injuries that resulted from a fall. The only thing he found was a lump on the right side of Hanley's head. Saunders figured the Lieutenant would have a whopper of a headache, but that was about it. Just as he finished that thought, Hanley moved his head, groaning softly. Saunders called his name, then spoke words of comfort, as he came around. He saw Hanley's eyes flutter open, blearily focusing on Saunders. He looked confused, trying to see who was above him.

"Lieutenant, it's Saunders," he explained. "It was a cat that attacked you. It's gone. Just stay still, Doc is on his way." Saunders waited for a response from Hanley. He saw him lose his expression of confusion, giving a slight nod that he understood, then closed his eyes again.

Hanley slowly recognized Saunders’ voice, but he felt paralyzed from moving or speaking. His head pounded painfully, taking any energy he had to center on that. Hanley's stomach burned with fire where the cat clawed him. He was furious that a cat, out of all things, gave him such a rude wake up call. The pain in his head eased to a manageable level, so he tried to relax to determine if he could move. Opening his eyes, Hanley attempted to raise his head, then his arms. Seeing what Hanley was trying to do, Saunders helped support him by the shoulders, getting him up in a sitting position. Hanley then pulled up his undershirt, examining his clawed stomach. There were nasty looking puncture wounds, but very little bleeding. Taking his right hand, he felt the lump on the side of his head. It was painful, but the skin did not seem to be broken. The headache was also dissipating to a low throb. Hanley thanked his lucky stars for that. If it was not so brutally painful he thought, this whole fiasco would be funny. Hanley just hoped Doc could keep a straight face, when he examined him.

Saunders, understanding Hanley's actions, just simply asked, "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

Hanley looked at Saunders, and started to speak, but his voice came out in a slurred garble. Slightly shaking his head in frustration, he raised his hand instead, and indicated a so-so gesture. He took a deep breath, drawing his legs up, to see if he could get up. That seemed to work, so he motioned to Saunders that he WANTED UP.

"OK, Lieutenant,” Saunders gently replied,” Take it easy.   Let me get you to bed." Saunders pulled Hanley to his feet.

He was a little shaky, but could stand on rubbery legs. Saunders helped him take a few slow steps to his cot to lie down. Hanley thought damn, maybe I can get a medal for walking and making it to bed. Hell, that cat should get one for a surprise attack! He concluded the cot should get one for his left foot, from before. At LEAST that did not hurt, he reflected. Hanley then noticed the boot on the floor under the open window. That reminded him the other one was outside somewhere.

Looking at Saunders still by the side of the cot, Hanley decided to try his questionable voice. He pointed to the object lying on the floor by the window, and cautiously said, "Boot." The word came out more normal sounding, though wobbly.

The Sergeant immediately understood. Going to the window to look out, he spotted the boot, leaning against a garbage can, on the other side of the alley. Seeing a soldier walking by he recognized, Saunders shouted to him, "HEY, BEENDERS, can you get that boot, and throw it up to me?" Beenders stopped and saw Saunders pointing down to the boot against a garbage can. He picked it up, and threw it up to the Sergeant. Saunders caught it, and thanked him. Beenders waved back, and disappeared out of sight.

Saunders left the window with the boot, picking up its mate in the process. Before he took one step from where he was standing, Hanley gestured with his hand to stop.

"Window,” he uttered. Hanley gestured with his hand, for Saunders to close the window. If he kept this up, he could run his platoon with hand signals, Hanley mused. Better work on his vocal cords.

Saunders closed the window. Nothing else would get in here today, unless it could walk through walls. After the day Hanley had, he needed to rest. That 1000 wake-up call Saunders ironically thought, could fly out the window. He smiled at that thought, as he put the boots back on the floor.

"Thanks." Hanley said. To his relief, his voice was sounding more normal. With more confidence, he said to Saunders, "It's been hell of a day. All I wanted to do, was get more than four hours sleep. Between the Brass wanting everything yesterday, that stupid argument about soap, and that cat's rude wake up call, I’m better off at the front." He chucked. “I’d get more rest there. What a three-ring circus!"

Saunders laughed and replied, “I agree, Sir. Why don't you just take it easy? We are on R&R. Doc will be here in a few minutes. Powell or I can cover for you today." He looked at his watch, noted the time, and looked at Hanley. In a teasing tone, he said, “It's way past 1000 now. Poor Brockmeyer will be shaking in his boots that he did not obey your order for a wake-up call. The poor guy is running around doing something I asked him to do. Give him a break Sir, so he won't piss his pants when he gets back here."

Hanley just covered his eyes with his hands and laughed. It was a beautiful sound to his ears. Maybe everything will be alright after all, including his voice. "Ok, Saunders I get your drift." he got out finally. Wiping his watering eyes from laughing, he teased back, “I'll leave it up to you to tell Brockmeyer that wake up call is out the window, with the cat." Seeing Sanders expression of surprise to his pun, Hanley chuckled and said, "Do me a favor, be gentle with him. When you want to, with that face of yours, you could make anyone piss their pants." He laughed again, when he saw Saunders' face register the truth of what he said.

Shaking his head and laughing, Saunders replied, “Ok, you win. I promise to be good. Before I leave you though, promise me you'll sleep in today, right, Sir?"

Settling more comfortably on his cot, Hanley held up his right hand, and gave Saunders a mock salute. "Yes Sarge, I will," then dropped his hand. He smiled at the look on Saunders face, in reaction to his use of the Sergeant's familiar title. It almost looked affectionate. "Tell Brockmeyer just to let me sleep with no wake up call. That should relieve him." Hanley chucked when Saunders returned his mock salute. "Saunders, again thanks."

"Anytime, Lieutenant,” he said opening the door to leave. “I’ll wait for Doc in the other room."

Hanley waved to Saunders as he left the room and closed the door. He decided to doze, while waiting for Doc. As he drifted off, he thought of the old saying that goes: the worse things come in threes, then good shines through. It must be true. Maybe this day will not turn out so awful after all. He was comforted with that thought as he dropped off to sleep.

*****

It turned out Hanley would be fine. Doc checked him then told Hanley to stay in bed. As Doc was leaving after conferring with Saunders, he decided to look at Hanley one last time. Doc chuckled when he saw the Lieutenant was smiling in his sleep like a little kid. He was pleased Hanley's day ended up with sweet dreams, but glad it was over for the Lieutenant. It's been hell of a day for the Commanding Officer of King Company, 2nd Platoon.

                                                                         The End

A big thank you for my squad mate of many years who inspired me, armed with his red pen and critical eye.