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| I'm not even gonna type it. You know who they belong to. Copyright 2004 by Eagle Lady. The Nursemaid Lt. Hanley stepped out of the half-destroyed building they were using as a temporary headquarters, looking at a map. He nearly walked into Sgt. Saunders, who was walking past, reading a letter. “Get Saunders for me, will you?” Hanley asked without looking up. “Haven’t seen him in hours.” Saunders grinned. “Well, find him.” Hanley looked up irritably. “Oh. Sorry. Come in here a minute, will you?” “Sure, Lieutenant.” Saunders folded his letter and stuffed it in his pocket, following Hanley into the building. “What’s up?” “We have a problem, Sarge. They lost an intelligence officer. They want us to find him or at least the papers he had on him, if he’s dead.” “Terrific. Do they know where they lost him?” “Somewhere in this area. There’s an abandoned winery there. They want us to check that first.” “I see. How many men do you want, Lieutenant?” “It’s going to be just you and me, Saunders. We have 24 hours to find him. If we’re not back by then, the squad comes after us. Check out a radio, ammo, and rations for two days. Get a couple extra first-aid kits in case he’s injured.” “Sure you don’t want Doc with us?” “No. Just the two of us.” “Yes, sir. Back in a minute.” When he returned, he stopped in the doorway, watching Hanley wipe a hand over his face. “You alright, Lieutenant?” He asked, making Hanley jump. “Yeah. Ready to go?” “You gonna give the squad their orders first, Lieutenant?” “Yeah. Call ‘em in here.” Saunders stepped back outside, returning a few minutes later with the rest of the men. “Saunders and I are going on a mission to retrieve an IO. If we’re not back in 24 hours, you guys are to come after us. Make sure you mark your maps right. We’re taking a radio along, but you are not to initiate any calls. Got it?” “Yes, sir.” Caje replied, as the highest-ranking man left. “Okay. See you later.” Hanley headed for the door. Saunders picked up the Lieutenant’s helmet, shrugging his shoulders at Caje’s look of surprise at Hanley’s forgetfulness. “Lieutenant?” Saunders asked after they’d gone a hundred feet. “What?” “Are you sure you’re ok, sir?” At Hanley’s look of enquiry, he held up the helmet. Shaking his head, Hanley took it and put it on in silence. They walked in silence, Saunders a pace behind and to the side, watching the Lieutenant. His face was a little pale, except for a faint redness in his cheeks and he seemed to be sweating more than to be expected, since it was a fairly cool day. They reached the winery a couple hours later, finding it completely abandoned with no sign anyone had been there for a long time. “Which way now, Lieutenant?” Saunders asked when he rejoined him at the entrance. “I don’t know. I guess we start in a circle. He was supposed to be here.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why was he supposed to be here?” “They didn’t think we needed to know that.” “Helpful bunch, aren’t they?” As usual, Saunders dropped the ‘sir’ when it they were alone, since they’d been friends for years. “Yeah. Real helpful.” They had covered quite a bit of ground, finding nothing, and it was starting to get dark. “Lieutenant? It looks like it might rain. Want to go back to the winery and start again in the morning?” Saunders asked. “Yeah. Good idea.” Hanley turned and started walking, leaving Saunders staring after him. “You coming?” Hanley asked. “You’re going the wrong way, Lieutenant. It’s that way.” Saunders was concerned because Hanley usually had an excellent sense of direction. “Are you sure?” “Yes, sir.” He paused. “Lieutenant? Are you sick?” “Why do you ask?” “No reason, Lieutenant. You’re pale, sweating, and look like you have a fever, forgot your helmet, and got lost. I guess I just thought something might be wrong.” Hanley stopped walking, and wiped a hand over his face, appearing surprised at the moisture. “It’s nothing. I’ve been feeling a little off for a couple days, that’s all.” “Maybe you should have sat this one out, sir.” “HQ specifically told me to go.” He shrugged. “Did you tell them you’re sick, Lieutenant?” “I’m not sick, Saunders. Just a little off, that’s all.” “Have it your way, sir. The winery is over this way.” Hanley shrugged and followed him without comment. When they reached the winery, Saunders left Hanley preparing a cold dinner in a small building and did a quick search of the buildings, finding them still empty. Hanley ate little, immediately lying down to sleep. “Wake me at midnight, Saunders.” “Sure, Lieutenant.” Saunders lit a cigarette and leaned a shoulder against the wall, occasionally glancing at the sleeping man. At midnight, he squatted down and put a gentle hand on the Lieutenant’s forehead, finding it quite warm. The Lieutenant didn’t stir. “You’re not sick, huh?” Letting him sleep, Saunders made another tour of the immediate area, not wanting to get too far away. In the morning, he was checking behind the building when Hanley woke up. He returned to find him sitting up, leaning against the wall, and not looking well. “I told you to wake me, Saunders.” “I forgot, Lieutenant.” Saunders shrugged. “Remind me to report you for disobeying orders, Sergeant.” He said with a ghost of a grin. “Thanks. I needed the rest.” “Why don’t you stay here, sir, and let me go alone?” “I’m not that sick, Saunders. Have you eaten yet?” “No. I can fix something real quick.” “Nothing for me. I don’t think it would stay down.” “Lieutenant…” “Never mind, Saunders. Let’s go, unless you’re hungry?” “No.” He shrugged into the radio pack, picked up Hanley’s helmet, handed it to him, then offered him a hand up, which Hanley waved away. “Com’on, Lieutenant. It’s just me here. Take the help when you need it. I promise not to tell anyone you get sick like normal people.” “Shut up, Saunders.” He accepted Saunders hand, swaying slightly when he was on his feet. “You know where we left off last night. Let’s start there.” Saunders headed out, checking occasionally to be sure the Lieutenant was still with him. An hour later, they found the body of the intelligence officer. While Hanley leaned against a tree, Saunders searched him for the papers, finally finding them in his boot. Figuring it was as good a place as any, he sat down and put the papers in his own boot, and replaced the dead man’s boot. “Okay, Lieutenant. We got what we came for. Let’s go home.” Nodding, Hanley stepped away from the tree and went to his knees. Saunders ran to him and slipped a hand under his arm, helping him up. “Sorry.” Hanley muttered. “A little dizzy.” “And a lot sick.” “Yeah.” Hanley agreed wryly. Taking Hanley’s rifle, he slung it over his shoulder with his own rifle, and pulled Hanley’s arm around his neck. When they finally reached the winery, Saunders half-led, half-dragged Hanley up to the top floor of the tallest building. Settling Hanley on the floor in a corner, he slipped his jacket off and draped it over him, gave him a drink of water and sponged his face. Hanley huddled under the jacket and promptly went to sleep while Saunders kept watch at the window. They had four hours until the squad was due to come after them, then it would be another two before they reached the winery; six hours in all. He figured if he tried to get Hanley back in the condition he was in, it would take nearly that long, if they didn’t get killed first. Moving back to the Lieutenant, he squatted down and felt his forehead again. It was noticeably warmer, and he was starting to move restlessly, muttering quietly. Saunders pulled the jacket a little closer around his shoulders, then went back to the window, quickly drawing back, and grabbing for the radio. “King 2, this is White Rook. Come in.” “This is King 2. Over.” “We are at the first objective. Germans moving in. The Rook is very ill. Move in now.” “Roger. Where are you?” “Same place we were three days ago.” “Roger. On the way. Wait one. What’s wrong with the Rook?” “Fever, dizzy, sweating, delirious.” “Roger. Keep him warm and give him water.” “Roger. Out.” He set the radio down and crouched next to Hanley. Unable to see out the window from there, he quietly pulled Hanley over by the window, covering him with his jacket and whatever else he could find lying nearby. Below him, he could see the Germans, five of them, moving around the building across the way. Hanley threw off the jacket and mumbled something. Saunders dropped to his knees beside him and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Lieutenant!” He whispered urgently. “You have to be quiet. There’s Germans down there.” Hanley opened fever-glazed eyes then tried to push him away, starting to say something. With no other choice, Saunders slugged him in the jaw. Using the gauze strips from the first aid kits, Saunders bound his hands and feet, and gagged him. Moving back to the window, he was relieved to see the Germans were where they had been, and didn’t appear to have heard anything. Crouching beside the window, he divided his attention between the Germans, the Lieutenant, and his watch. After an hour, he risked another radio call. “King 2, this is White Rook.” “White Rook, this is King 2.” “Where are you?” “A little over half-way.” “There are five. In the fourth building on the left from the entrance.” “Roger. Hold on.” “Roger. Out.” As he put the radio down, Hanley started fighting his bonds, muttering around the gag. Saunders lay half across him, his hands on his shoulders, holding him down. “Lieutenant! Hanley!” Getting no reaction, he tried something he normally would never have done otherwise. “Gil! Listen to me! You have to be quiet.” Hanley stopped fighting, staring up at him. “That’s right, Gil.” Saunders said soothingly. “Lay still, Gil. You’re very sick and need to rest. Try to go to sleep, Gil. I’m right here with you, Gil. Take it easy.” Slowly, Hanley’s eyes drooped and he drifted off. With a sigh of relief, Saunders rolled off of him and sat up, wiping his own face. Easing back to the window, he peered around the edge. The Germans were standing in a loose group, talking. Glancing over at Hanley every few minutes, he kept watch on the Germans and his watch. What felt like an eternity later, he heard shouts from down below and risked a look. His squad had the Germans disarmed and lined up against a wall. “Doc! Up here!” He leaned out and waved. As Doc ran into the building, he freed the Lieutenant’s hands and feet, and removed the gag, finishing just as Doc burst into the room. “How is he?” “You tell me, Doc. All I can tell you is he’s sick. He said he’d been feeling off for a couple of days. He was pale, and kind of out of it, then he got dizzy and his temperature went up. He’s been delirious for a couple hours.” “How are you?” Doc asked, working over Hanley without looking up. “Me?” Saunders asked in surprise. “I’m fine.” “Whatever he’s got, you might get.” “What’s he got?” “No idea. I’ll do what I can for him here then we’ll get him to an aid station. We’ve got plenty of help to carry him. Did you find what you came for?” “Yep.” “Set up the stretcher, will you, Sarge?” Together, they got the still sleeping man onto the stretcher and covered with a blanket, then carefully carried him downstairs. “How is he, Doc?” Caje asked without turning around. “Sick. We need to get him back to the aid station.” Caje set two of the prisoners to carrying the stretcher while Littlejohn and Kirby guarded the other three. They set off for home, Caje walking by the German carrying the front of the stretcher, Saunders watching the other German, Doc walking beside the stretcher. “You don’t look so good yourself, Sarge. Are you alright?” Kirby asked. “Fine. Just need some sleep. I was up all night.” They moved quickly, switching the prisoners off on the stretcher periodically. Half an hour from the temporary headquarters, Saunders stumbled and nearly fell, only Littlejohn’s quick grab keeping him on his feet. “Doc?” He called. “I’m just tired. Keep going.” Saunders waved him away. “Keep an eye on him, Littlejohn.” When they reached the headquarters, Saunders stumbled inside, grabbed a blanket and lay down in a corner, asleep in a minute. Caje came in, looked at him and went back out. A moment later, Doc came in and bent over him for a moment then went back outside. “He got it, too, Doc?” Caje asked. “It’s too early to tell. We gotta get the Lieutenant to the aid station, but we can’t leave him here alone.” “No problem. Set up another stretcher. We got three prisoners who aren’t doing anything. We’ll just carry ‘em both.” “Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” A few minutes later, they were on the move again, Saunders still sound asleep. He was still sleeping when they reached the aid station. Since all five men had been exposed to whatever the Lieutenant had, they set up a separate tent for them. Saunders didn’t wake up when Kirby and Caje shifted him to a cot, just snuggling down under the blanket with a sigh. When he woke up, he lay still, trying to figure out where he was. “You’re at the aid station, Saunders.” Hanley’s voice came from his right. He looked over to find Hanley stretched out on his side, watching him. “Why?” “I got sick. Then you got sick. Then Doc, Caje, Kirby and Littlejohn got sick. We’re all here, laid out in a row.” He grinned. “Sick with what?” “Nobody appears to know. Something catching, that’s all they know.” “How long have we been here?” “Three days, so far. Apparently, it hits hard then goes away, but it leaves you weak and tired. So far, my limit for being up is about seven hours.” “Then what?” “I get dizzy and real tired. Doc says we’re to stay here for a week.” “Suits me, Lieutenant. I think I’ll sleep for most of that week.” “Saunders?” “Yes, Lieutenant?” He answered sleepily, his eyes already closed. “Thanks.” “For what?” Saunders opened one eye, puzzled. “For taking over the mission, and for taking care of me.” “That’s my job, Lieutenant. Can I sleep now?” “Sure, Sarge.” Grinning, Hanley rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, thankful once again for his sergeant. END |