| Standard disclaimer applies. Not mine. No money. Just a little Christmas gift to my fellow writers. Hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays. Mel Christmas Far From Home Christmas. Not exactly how he'd wanted to spend the holiday season. Instead of friends and family gathered around the piano singing carols, a rag-tag group of GIs huddled around a small stone fireplace. Bickering. Again. As December grew closer and it became abundantly clear that this war was not going to be over by Christmas, the spirit of his men had begun to deteriorate. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and none of them would be home for the holidays. With a sigh, Sgt. Saunders leaned forward to set his chair back on four legs. Wiping a weary hand over his stubbled face, the sergeant sauntered over to find out what all the fuss was about. "Give 'em back, Kirby. I know you took 'em." "And I'm tellin' you for the last time, I didn't take your lousy socks." "Well, who else would take them?" Stepping between the two soldiers, Saunders held up his hand and frowned. "I know I'm going to regret asking, but what are you two yelling about?" Billy Nelson was the first to speak up. "Kirby took a pair of socks from all of us." The young man's boyish face bore a look of both anger and puzzlement. As if he couldn't quite understand why Kirby would steal eight pairs of socks, even if he was convinced Kirby was the thief. Not that Saunders was any better informed on the matter. "How do you know it was Kirby who took the socks?" The sergeant fought back a smile at Kirby's sudden look of smugness. "I saw Kirby going through Doc's stuff about half an hour ago. Besides, who else in this squad complains about their feet so much?" Well, Billy had a point there. Casting his gaze to Kirby, Saunders crossed his arms in annoyance. This argument was bordering on the ridiculous. "Well, Kirby?" "Well, what? I ain't got anybody's socks but my own. You can check my duffel." Quirking an eyebrow, Sgt. Saunders tried to read Kirby's face. Could be the goldbrick was bluffing. Still, there wasn't much to go on. "You said you saw Kirby going through Doc's stuff, Nelson?" "Not half an hour ago, Sarge." "And is Doc missing anything?" Billy's conviction wavered a bit. "Well, I don't know for sure, Sarge. Doc isn't here." Sighing once more, Saunders pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache already. He was slap in the middle of a war in France. On Christmas Eve. Discussing purloined GI socks. "Anybody know where Doc went? The sooner we get this cleared up, the sooner I can get back to sleep." Billy, Littlejohn and Caje immediately shrugged and shook their heads. The two new replacements just looked on in a mixture of amusement and befuddlement. But Kirby-now that was interesting. Kirby looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Kirby?" The wiry private picked at a frayed sleeve and glanced away. "Ah, I think he went to run some errands, Sarge." "What kind of errands?" "Well, I couldn't really say." Sgt. Saunders hadn't really seriously thought anyone had absconded with his squad's socks, but he was now beginning to reconsider. "Kirby-." "What's going on? We have a patrol?" All eyes turned to the door, stopping the squad's medic in his tracks. Taking in the stares directed his way, Doc cupped his hands around his mouth and blew on them to warm his fingers. He quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" Well, thought Saunders, maybe we can wrap up this business before morning after all. "Billy seems to think Kirby took a pair of socks from everyone. Check your duffel and see if anything's missing." With a shrug, looking askance at the circle of angry-looking faces near the fireplace, Doc walked over to his cot and dropped his medical ruck on the blanket. Sitting down with a sigh of relief, the medic dragged his duffel closer and dug through the odds and ends of worn uniform items, rain gear, extra medical supplies and other personal items. Looking up at Billy's expectant face, Doc shook his head. "Nope. Nothin's missin'." "Are you sure, Doc?" "Yeah, Billy. Ain't nothin' missing that I don't know where it is." Saunders started to puzzle that one out, but gave up pretty quickly. It just really didn't matter. "All right. There's no proof Kirby took anything from anybody." He held up his hand for silence when Billy and Littlejohn started to protest. "Besides which, we're supposed to all get a new supply of socks and shorts tomorrow." Not wanting to let it go, Billy mumbled to Littlejohn under his breath. "I still think Kirby took 'em." Caje had apparently had his fill of the argument. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his own cot and sat down. "Hang your socks, Nelson. We're in the middle of France and it's Christmas Eve. Who cares about a lousy pair of socks?" Satisfied that the situation had been diffused, as ridiculous as it was, Saunders went back to his chair. He checked his weapon then sat back down and leaned the chair against the wall. If he was lucky, he'd manage to get a few more hours of shut-eye before their next patrol. He knew they'd end up going back out again. Just before dozing off, he could have sworn he saw Doc smile over at Kirby. And wink. ~~~***~~~ The chair had settled on all fours with a quiet "whump" before Sgt. Saunders was even fully awake. Blinking gritty, bleary eyes, the sergeant looked up into his lieutenant's amused face. Letting his hand slip from the Thompson propped against the wall next to him, Saunders frowned. "Patrol, Lt.?" Stamping his feet a bit to try to rid his long legs of the tingle left by the cold walk, Lt. Hanley pulled a map from his pocket. "Just a quick recon, Sergeant. The woods north of the village, along the river and back. No contact with the enemy. That's it." Except that was never it. Something always seemed to happen. Reaching for the map, Saunders glanced over it before refolding it and slipping it inside his jacket. "When?" "1900." Saunders stood and stretched a kink out of his back. Sleeping in a straight-back wooden chair hadn't exactly been the smartest thing to do. He had a perfectly good cot across the room. "Well, hopefully we'll be back before midnight. Wouldn't wanna miss out on all the Christmas festivities, would we?" The sarcasm wasn't wasted on Hanley. His mouth quirked up in a quick crooked grin and he shrugged. "It could be worse, Sergeant. At least we're in a village with plenty of shelter." "You could be right, Lieutenant." He slung the Thompson over his shoulder and walked out with Hanley. Once they were out of earshot of the rest of the squad, Saunders stuck out his hand. "Merry Christmas, Gil." Eyes crinkling in a genuine smile, the Lieutenant clasped his friend's hand. "Merry Christmas, Chip." They shook briefly and went their separate ways once more. Hanley back to his desk, Saunders back inside to gather up his squad. The sergeant glanced over the men gathered around the room. Billy and Littlejohn were still going through their duffels, apparently trying to find the missing socks. Caje was telling quiet stories to the two new replacements. Kirby and Doc were sitting on the medic's cot, deep in whispered conversation. Those two were up to something, and Saunders was beginning to wonder as to what. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Recon in twenty minutes. No contact, so this should be just in and out. Caje, Kirby, Littlejohn and Billy. The rest of you stay here." The replacements shared shaky smiles of relief. They'd only been out on the line two weeks and were still green around the edges. Neither was going to turn down an evening spent safely by the fire. Kirby grumbled quietly to himself as he went over to his own cot to double-check his BAR. Caje and the other two went about their business with no complaint. Might as well be out doing something to keep their minds off the fact that they were in the middle of a war on Christmas. ~~~***~~~ A quick in and out. A cake walk. He should've known something was going to happen. Seemed it always did with this squad. Two hours they'd been huddled in the brush near the river. Two hours spent waiting for a handful of German soldiers to move on their merry way. Saunders was fairly certain he was going to freeze to the tree trunk he pressed against. It had been a simple recon until they approached the river. Hearing voices, they'd all hit cover and waited. The group of German's, not even a full squad, had trudged along the bank of the river and finally stopped. After gathering up some deadfall, they'd dug a pit as best they could, ringed it with rocks and started a small fire. Now all five huddled over the meager warmth and held chapped, half-frozen hands over the crackling flames. None of the soldiers was well-equipped for the cold and the men were sharing only one can of rations. Maybe Hanley had been right...things could be worse. Still, Saunders just wished the Germans would pack up and move on before his own squad froze from the cold. Keeping his hands cupped over his mouth, both to warm his fingers and to prevent a telltale puff of steam from his breath, the sergeant ground his teeth in frustration. After what seemed an eternity, the five soldiers dumped snow on the fire to dampen it, covered the ashes with the rocks they'd gathered and trudged on upriver. Once he was sure the Germans were gone, Saunders raised his head cautiously and peered along the bank. Nothing moved. Climbing to his feet, he waved the others from cover and they resumed their patrol. Hanley would be interested in their encounter. The Germans shouldn't be this close to the village. And it was interesting that they were confident enough in their knowledge of the Americans' movements that they would light a fire. Seemed German intelligence wasn't any better than their own. The rest of the recon went off without a hitch and they didn't come across any other German soldiers. Cold and weary, they made their way back to the village. It was after midnight. Christmas Day. All Saunders wanted was to get back to the fire waiting for them. Maybe some coffee. Doc was sure to have some waiting for them. The considerate medic usually did. He never expected what greeted them. Keeping the door shut as much as they could to keep out the cold, bitter wind, Saunders and his men slipped back inside the little house they were using as shelter. Sure enough, a fire and a pot of coffee awaited them. Only, that wasn't all. Nailed to the mantle above the fireplace were seven worn GI socks. An odd shape weighted each one down. The two replacements stood near the fire with cups of coffee in their hands and broad smiles on their faces. Doc was sitting on his bunk, face inscrutable. With a cry of surprise, Billy dropped his weapon on his cot and went over to the fireplace. He squinted at each sock until he found the one he was sure was his. Lifting it away from the nail, he stuck his hand inside and fished for the object in the bottom. He smiled when he pulled out two boxes of chocolate. With matching smiles, Caje and Littlejohn searched for their socks. They also had boxes of chocolate. This was certainly a different scene from Christmas Eve. Instead of bickering and accusations, there was laughter and good-natured pushing. The replacements were already retrieving their socks. Kirby pulled his down then motioned to the remaining "stocking". "Last one's yours, Sarge." Smiling at Kirby's excited exclamation at finding a box of chocolate and a new deck of cards, Saunders removed his sock and went to his bunk. Sitting down on his cot, tucked in the corner next to Doc's, the sergeant un-slung his Thompson and sat down. His gifts were a box of chocolate and a pack Lucky Strikes. He dropped the gifts on the cot and leaned closer to Doc. "So this explains who stole the socks. You. Not Kirby." Without taking his eyes from the men laughing by the fire, Doc smiled gently. "I don't know what you mean, Sarge." "You're the only one that didn't have a stocking over the mantle, Doc. Kinda gives it away." The medic shrugged and turned to grin guiltily at his Saunders. "Ran outta chocolate. 'Sides, I'm down to the one pair of socks and I'm wearing them. Anyways, I didn't take the socks. I just held onto them." Lighting up one of the Luckies, Saunders raised an eyebrow as Kirby dropped to sit down next to Doc. "Hey, Doc, thanks for the cards. You didn't tell me you had them." "That would've spoiled the surprise, Kirby." Laughing, Saunders shook his head. "So, Kirby stole the socks and you kept them. Where'd you get the chocolate? Steal it, too?" "Nope, I just creatively acquired the chocolate." Kirby laughed and gave the medic a good-natured shove. "Don't let him kid ya. Murphy, from Morgan's squad, has been scaring RDs into giving him their chocolate rations. When Doc found out, he reminded Murphy of the time he'd patched up his arm during some shelling a week or so back." At Saunders’ raised eyebrow, Doc smiled crookedly. "Told him I fixed that arm, I could break it. He gave me every box he had, but I let him keep one. As a Christmas gift. Gave most of the rest to the kids still in the village. What was left after that, I stuffed your...uh...stockings with." Looking his two thieving soldiers in the eye, Saunders smiled broadly. The two made an odd pair of conspirators, but they'd managed to raise the spirit of Christmas in a rag-tag squad of weary soldiers. "Merry Christmas, you two." Kirby grinned. "Merry Christmas, Sarge." Turning to look at the others still celebrating by the fireside, Doc spoke softly. "May we spend the next one home." "Amen, Doc. Amen." END |