Recon

Recon

COMBAT! fan fiction by Figment

The sergeant lay in the early morning darkness listening to the sounds of his men snoring softly close by. Sometimes they seemed to be a heavy weight dragging him beyond human endurance, while at other times their presence was welcome and even coveted. Lying there thinking about what may lay in store for them today brought a feeling of fear and dread of the unknown. He forcefully pushed these thoughts aside as he had learned to do in the last few months of leading young men into life threatening situations.

Saunders lit a cigarette and lay with one arm under his head, watching the sky turn to a hazy gray in the east. He rose and dropped the cigarette butt, stamping it out with the toe of his worn leather boot. It was time to move. Lt. Hanley said they should be on their way by daybreak. At least they had had a good, hot meal for supper and ten hours to rest and sleep. They would be moving out refreshed today. That was something new to them lately.

Moving among the sleeping soldiers, he touched each one with his toe to rouse them. With the usual moaning, stretching and grumbling, his squad was soon on their feet and gathering their equipment. No hot meal this morning, only cold rations, water and a cigarette to get them on their way.

“Okay,” Saunders said as he squatted and pulled a wrinkled, worn map from inside his jacket. “We have a recon mission about 4 kilometers east of here; a little village just this side of Rouen. It’s supposed to be clean, but S2 got information that there may be Kraut activity in the area. We don’t engage the enemy.”

The sergeant stood up folding his map and replacing it inside the front of his jacket. He picked up his Thompson machine gun, slinging the strap over his right shoulder. Then he picked up his helmet and after running his hand through his thick mass of blond hair, he settled the camouflage-covered helmet on his head.

“Caje, take the point. Kirby, the rear.”

Caje headed out setting an easy pace for the rest to follow. Littlejohn and Billy were next, seeming to be involved in a deep, quiet conversation. Doc walked behind them making sure his medical pouch was settled comfortably at his side. Saunders fell in behind Doc, with Fuller, the new replacement, and Kirby bringing up the rear.

Doc smiled to himself as he listened to Kirby mumbling about long walks on hot days, sore feet, no hot breakfast, and on and on. It looked as if this would be a normal boring, routine patrol. There were no Krauts reported in the area and everyone was at ease, though always watchful.

The morning became warmer as the sun climbed higher in the sky. After a couple hours, Saunders shouted, “Take five!”

Everyone found a comfortable clump of grass, tree trunk, or handy rock to settle themselves on and enjoyed a sip from their canteens. Even the water was beginning to become tepid. It was a typical late-August day and the woods they were tramping through were close, letting no breeze dry the ever-present sweat from the soldier’s faces. Everyone and everything seemed to be unusually quiet. Even Kirby had stopped his incessant griping in the last half hour or so.

Saunders signaled for his men to gather around. After they were assembled, Saunders outlined his plan for entering the village, which lay just ahead.

“This is how it’s supposed to be laid out,” he said as he drew a diagram in the dirt. He drew three parallel lines with small interconnecting lines between them. “There are three main streets. Caje, you and Kirby take the southern-most street. Littlejohn, Nelson, the northern street. Fuller, Doc, you’re on me. We’ll take the center. There’s a bridge crossing a small stream just before we get into the village. We’ll spread out from there if everything looks quiet. When you’re through flushing your area, meet back at the bridge. Watch your backs and keep your heads down. Any questions?”

“What if there are Krauts in there?” Fuller asked nervously. This was his first real patrol and he couldn’t seem to hide the fear as well as he wanted to.

“If anyone sees anything pull back to the bridge and wait. If a fight breaks out whoever is closest to the bridge pull back and report to Lieutenant Hanley. Is that clear?”

He scuffed out his drawing with his boot and said, “Okay, move out.”

Saunders led the group to the edge of the village where the old stone bridge arched gracefully over the little stream. He signaled for the squad to wait in the woods beside the narrow dirt road while he crept slowly to the top of the bridge. He was looking directly down the main street of the little hamlet. There was no sound, no movement, nothing. It was as if time had just decided to stand still and he was reluctant to intrude on the total peace.

To the south Saunders could see a few small rolling hummocks blanketed with dying wheat that the villagers never had a chance to harvest. When he turned to the north, he could see nothing but thick trees right up to the edge of the village.

He motioned to the squad and they crossed the bridge spreading out to see to their individual assignments.
Littlejohn and Billy headed north. Caje and Kirby split off to the south, while Saunders, Fuller and Doc headed straight down the narrow cobbled street.

The village had been shelled recently and many of the stone structures were in ruin. Some small fires still burned here and there and they could hear an occasional creak or groan when a wall or rubble shifted. Checking the buildings would be hazardous at best.

Saunders motioned for Doc to hang back a ways, then motioned Fuller to the other side of the street. They leap-frogged from one doorway to the next, watching each other as they moved.

As they neared the end of the street it became apparent that the little village was completely deserted. There didn’t seem to be enough left of it for the owners to salvage. At the end of the main street stood the church, its steeple barely raised above the buildings surrounding it. One wall was blasted away and the plain wooden benches that served as pews were scattered around inside and spilled out the ragged hole where the wall used to be.

Saunders walked up the three stone steps leading to the large wooden door of the church and turned to survey the town. He had a perfect view of the main street and the street to the south. He could see Caje and Kirby making their way cautiously towards the end of their street and he could also see the wheat-covered hills to the south.
Suddenly a small glint of light flashed from over a hill about a half mile from the village. Immediately on the alert, Saunders motioned to Doc and Fuller to come to him.

“I saw something south of us. Just a flash. It may not be anything, then again, it could be trouble. Doc, you and Fuller go get Littlejohn and Nelson and head for the bridge. I’ll get Caje and Kirby. We’ll need to check this out before I make my report. Get going.”

“Okay, Sarge.” Fuller was more confident now that he’d flushed a town and found nothing. The adrenaline build-up gave him extra energy and he sprang from the steps with Doc right behind him.
Saunders headed for the southern street at a gallop, hoping desperately that the flash of light wasn’t a sniper or a spotter for Kraut artillery.

The sergeant pulled up and waved at his men as he came into view of them. Caje saw him and called to Kirby as he motioned towards the sarge. They gave up their search and trotted up to Saunders just as the whistle of a Kraut 88 sounded overhead.

“Hit it!” Saunders cried as he dove through the doorway of a nearby shop.

Cage threw himself beside an old heavy, wooden vegetable cart that was turned on its side in the middle of the street. Kirby was close enough to the shop that Saunders had disappeared into to dive through the door right after his sergeant. Kirby tripped over Saunders foot and landed on top of him just as the shell exploded with a deafening roar next to the church. Every building around them trembled and mortar dust filled the air.
Saunders extricated himself from beneath Kirby.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?” Kirby replied.

“Okay. Where’s Caje?”

“I’m here.” Caje came through the door and quickly knelt next to his squadmates.

Another shell exploded less than three buildings down from them, sending them scrambling to the rear of the room, covering their heads and trying to make themselves as small as possible. The building shook violently and bits of mortar, bricks, and wood splinters rained down on the three cowering soldiers.

Suddenly the front of the building collapsed, the ceiling dropping at an angle effectively trapping them in a triangular cell about six feet wide by ten feet long.

Caje stirred, shaking dust and rubble from his shoulders as he slowly stood. A small ray of sunlight made its way through a crack between the ceiling and the remaining rear wall. He looked around cautiously. No doors, no windows, just wall. And that was precarious.

“Sarge? Kirby?” Caje whispered, afraid to speak out loud, lest the rubble above and around them should come down.

“Caje?” Kirby coughed and spit out a mouth full of dirt and mortar dust.

“You okay?” Caje asked.

“No,” Kirby groaned. “There’s somethin’ in my leg.”

“Hang on. I’m coming. Where’s Saunders?” Caje said as he moved cautiously towards Kirby’s voice.

“I don’t know. He was right behind us, wasn’t he?” Kirby sniffed and coughed, groaning against the pain in his leg.

“I found him.” Caje said as his foot came up against an object that gave a little.

Saunders lay close to the slanted ceiling on his stomach, his arms stretched out above his head. There was a pool of blood forming in front of his face and he wasn’t moving.

“Sarge!” Caje couldn’t hide the panic in his voice.

“Whassa matter Caje?” Kirby asked.

“Sarge is hurt, Kirby. Wait a minute. I’ll check him out.”

Caje reached out and held his fingertips against the lower part of Saunders jaw praying for a pulse. For a couple seconds his heart sank until he felt the faint beat beneath his fingers. With an audible sigh, he gently rolled his sergeant onto his back checking for injuries. There was an obvious two-inch gash over his right temple that was bleeding heavily. Other than that, he seemed to be okay.

Caje could hear Kirby scraping across the floor, trying to get closer. “Is he okay, Caje?” he asked as he drew himself up next to them.

“He’s alive, but he’s unconscious. Looks like a pretty bad bump on the head. I gotta get this bleeding stopped. How about you?”

“I got a splinter in my leg, Caje, but I pulled it out. I’ll take care of it myself. You help the Sarge.”

“Okay. You got any water? I seem to have lost my canteen.” Caje said as he pulled a bandage from Saunders web belt.

“Yeah. Here.” Kirby passed his canteen to Caje, then turned to tend to his injured leg. The splinter had gone in just above the left knee on the outside. It wasn’t too deep and the bleeding had just about stopped. He sprinkled sulfa on the wound after brushing as much dust away as possible. Then he applied a bandage.

Caje bent over Saunders just as he moaned and started to lift a hand to his head. Caje pressed a bandage against Saunders right temple to try and stem the gushing flow as best he could. Saunders winced and groaned reaching up to clasp Caje’s hand resting on the bandage.

“Easy, Sarge. You’re bleedin’ pretty good. Just lay still.”

“Is it dark in here?” Saunders was having trouble focusing his eyes and the pain blurred his senses.

“Yeah, Sarge.” Caje said. “We got ourselves trapped in a building. We’ll have to dig our way out. Just let me get you fixed up here.”

“Where’s Kirby?”

“I’m right here, Sarge.” Kirby reached over and patted Saunders’ shoulder.

“You okay?” Saunders asked.

“I got a splinter in my leg, but it’s not too bad.” Kirby admitted.

Saunders brought his hand away from Caje’s hand. It was covered with blood, as was Cage’s hand and the bandage.

“This ain’t working so good,” Caje mumbled as he one-handedly pulled out another bandage and replaced the soaked one. The bleeding was slowing, but still too much to release pressure. Caje could see he was causing Saunders a great deal of pain by applying the pressure necessary, but there was nothing else he could do.

“Give me a hand, Kirby.” Caje said as he slipped a hand beneath the sergeant’s shoulders to raise him a little.

Kirby slipped an arm under the back of Saunders neck and holding him steady with the other hand lifted him almost to a sitting position.

Saunders groaned and the world swam for a few minutes, then slowly settled as lightening flashes of pain attacked the entire right side of his head.

Caje wrapped the ends of the bandage around Saunders head a couple times then tied them off. A small spot of blood still tried to seep through the white gauze, but for the most part the bleeding was checked.

Between the two of them, Caje and Kirby managed to drag their sergeant back against the back wall of their prison and propped him against it. Then Caje unscrewed the cap of the canteen and gave Sarge a drink, took one himself, and handed the canteen back to Kirby.

Saunders sat for a few minutes collecting his thoughts before he spoke.
“It sounds like the shelling has stopped. We gotta get outta here. Have you heard anything from the other guys?”

“No,” Caje answered. “I hope they made it out of here before this mess started. Maybe they’re back at the bridge.”

“The Krauts will probably be moving in soon. Let’s see what we can do.” Saunders leaned forward to raise himself from the floor. The minute he moved the dizziness dropped him back against the wall.

“Stay still a while, Sarge.” Kirby grabbed his arm to steady him. “We’ll look around and see if there’s a way outta here.”

“Yeah,” Saunders' voice was shaky and he had paled considerably. “See if you can find my Tommy gun.”

“Okay,” Caje stood and pulled Kirby to his feet.

“You check that end of the room and I’ll check this way.”

“Okay,” Kirby said. He held to the wall for support as he hobbled the short distance to one end of the room. Nothing seemed to present itself in the way of escape.

Kirby had no trouble finding his BAR since the strap held it close to him and he had landed on top of it when they had dove for cover. Feeling around in the semi-darkness he finally located Sarge’s Thompson and picked it up, inspecting it the best he could. It seemed to be okay.

Caje explored the end of the room where the small shaft of sunlight penetrated the darkness. One end of a large beam had fallen to the floor at an angle. This is what had prevented the ceiling from completely collapsing on top of them. Much of the roof itself lay in a large pile of rubble on top of the ceiling. There was about a foot and a half of space between the beam and the end of the room. This was where the light came from. Caje could see a possibility of perhaps digging away some of the roof rubble in that small space. Only one of them would be able to work in that close area. He went back to kneel beside Saunders.

“How ya doin’, Sarge?” he asked as he placed a gentle hand on Saunders dusty shoulder.

“Great. What’d ya find?” Saunders stretched his sore muscles and tried to sit up straighter.

“I found your Thompson and I have my BAR. I think they’re still workable.” Kirby reported. “But I didn’t find a way out. Oh, and Caje, here’s your helmet. I guess mine and Sarge’s got buried.”

“There’s a small space on the other side of that big beam. The stuff on top doesn’t look too deep or heavy there. We might be able to dig our way through it.” Caje explained. “My M1 got caught under the wall when it collapsed. It’s busted.”

“All right let’s get to it.” Saunders started to move to get up again.

Caje placed his hands on the Sarge’s shoulders and gently shoved him back down. “There’s only room enough for one person to work over there. I’ll dig a while, then Kirby can spell me. You take it easy, Sarge.”

Saunders looked up into Caje’s worried face for a moment then relaxed and nodded. Even that small movement seemed to send knives through his skull.

* * *

Fuller saw Littlejohn duck into a doorway on the rubble-strewn street he and Billy were searching. The young recruit located Nelson on the opposite side and waved as he rushed up, Doc close on his heels.

“Sarge says there may be trouble and we’re to pull back to the bridge on the double!” Fuller gasped between breaths.

“Hey, Littlejohn!” Billy called out.

Littlejohn’s big head popped out of the doorway in response to the call and the three soldiers waved urgently for him to follow.

They strung out in a line and headed for the bridge at a headlong run. Suddenly they heard the sound of the first 88 shell and all of them hit the street covering their heads and finding what little shelter they could. The shell exploded two streets away and they were on their feet again. When the second shell pounded the southern part of the village the four scared soldiers were almost to the bridge. They reached it just as two more shells rained dust and debris all over the town and them as well. Then everything was quiet.

Standing warily at the foot of the small stone bridge, Doc looked at the others to check for possible injuries. Everyone seemed none the worse for wear since the harrowing ordeal of the barrage.

Littlejohn stood and dusted off his uniform and looked back towards the now smoky village where dust clouds still marked the areas where it had been hit. “Where’s Sarge and the others?” he asked Doc.

“Sarge was goin’ after Caje and Kirby when he told us to come get you two.” Doc explained. “He said to meet at the bridge.”

“Well they didn’t get here. That means they’re in trouble. I think we should go look for them.” Littlejohn looked at Billy who was enthusiastically nodding his head in agreement.

“Hold on!” Fuller cried. “Sarge said if a fight broke out we should head back home.”

“That wasn’t exactly a fight, just a barrage. I say we go back and look for ‘em.” Billy looked pleadingly at Doc and Littlejohn.

“They may be trapped or hurt,” Doc mused as he frowned toward the street where Sarge had disappeared to. “Maybe we should take a quick look. If we don’t find them, we can call Hanley on the radio Fuller’s carryin’ and see what he says.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Littlejohn grinned and started making his way to the southern street where most of the shells had hit.

“Billy, Fuller, keep a watch for Krauts. They may move in now. We don’t want to get ourselves pinned down in there. Sarge will have our hides.” Littlejohn called back over his shoulder as he moved on.

“Krauts?” Fuller said nervously. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Come on, Fuller,” Doc encouraged. “We’ll just be in and out. We can’t leave our guys behind.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Fuller’s shoulders slumped as he grudgingly followed Doc back into the decimated village.

The four soldiers found the going tough when they reached the street they wanted to search. The shells seemed to have disassembled the stone and brick structures and piled everything haphazardly into the middle of the street. Just a few of the buildings still stood and those were badly damaged.

Littlejohn stopped, frowning gloomily at the seemingly total destruction. His heart was in his throat. He couldn’t imagine anyone surviving this. He looked over at Doc and Billy who had stopped beside him. Their faces reflected the same thought. Fuller was nervously looking around everywhere at once, his only thought was ‘Krauts!’.

“Littlejohn, you and Fuller take that side of the street and Billy and I will take this side. We’ve gotta make this quick, though.” Doc started moving toward the nearest standing structure. Just a couple walls with rubble scattered everywhere.

They moved down the street constantly glancing around for their friends and the enemy as well. They called the names of the missing men softly as they poked through as much of the destruction as they could.

“Sarge?” Doc called out as he neared a building whose roof and ceiling had caved in towards the back of the building.

“Doc?” Came a faint reply from the far end of the rubble.

“Caje!” Doc called.

“Doc, are all you guys okay?” Caje queried.

“Yeah, where are you?” turning Doc motioned to the others searching nearby. “I found ‘em!”

Doc realizing how precarious the slanted ceiling was beneath the roofing materials, eased himself up to the side of the building closer to where Caje’s voice was emanating. “Are Sarge and Kirby with you?” he called softly, looking for a way to climb up to the small opening near the top of the slant where the ceiling met the rear wall.

“They’re in here, but they’re both hurt. We need to get them out.” Caje explained.

Fear gripped Doc as he realized one or both of the injured men could be in real trouble right now. He quickly, but cautiously, crawled up the slant where it seemed to be pretty stable. As soon as he reached the opening he peered down into the anxious face of the Cajun.

Littlejohn started to climb up to where Doc was but as soon as his weight hit the rubble things seemed to shift.

“Hey! Take it easy out there! You’re gonna bring everything down on us.” Kirby cried out as mortar dust and debris sifted down over him and the sergeant.

Littlejohn stopped immediately and everyone stayed stock still until all movement stopped. Then he eased himself back away from the ruined shop front.

“Billy, see if you can ease up there next to Doc and help. I’ll try to find another way in to them.” Littlejohn suggested dejectedly.

“Okay, Littlejohn.” Nelson began slowly crawling up the more stable part of the ceiling where the large beam was firmly wedged beneath it. “Fuller, you keep a close watch for Krauts. Warn us if you see anything at all suspicious.” Billy turned and called just as he reached Doc.

“Okay, Billy.” Fuller stationed himself at a part of the street a short distance from them where the buildings had been flattened and he had a good view of two of the streets and the hills to the south.

Doc and Billy began slowly and carefully peeling away roofing, bricks, boards, and mortar from the opening to widen it. Caje worked from beneath them to do the same.

“Caje? I haven’t heard from Sarge. Is he okay?” Doc asked worriedly.

Caje looked back over his shoulder to where Kirby and Saunders sat side by side against the back wall. “Sarge, how ya doin’?”

“He’s out, Caje. I’m afraid he’s hurt bad.” Kirby told him. “How’re we gonna get him outta here?”

“We’ll do it.” Caje said resolutely. Then turning back to the opening he called to Doc. “Saunders is unconscious. He took a bad lick to the side of his head and it bled a lot. He’s not so good, Doc.”

Doc frowned. It looked like the need for speed was beginning to outweigh the need for caution. Finally, the opening seemed large enough for a man to get through. “I’m coming down there,” Doc stated as he swung his legs over the edge of the hole. “Stand back, Caje.”

“Okay, Doc,” Caje said. “You’ve got about eight feet to drop. Be careful. We don’t need another injury right now.”

“Gotcha,” Doc said as he eased his frame as far down the hole as he could. Billy grabbed hold of his right sleeve and helped him lower his entire body through the hole. He let go and dropped the last two feet with hardly a bobble. Doc immediately rushed to Saunders’ side, kneeling and feeling for a pulse. It seemed weak and his breaths were short and shallow. Unable to see much in the dark he turned to Caje.

“Okay, let’s get them out of here, fast.” He said urgently.

“Come on, Kirby,” Caje said as he reached and pulled Kirby to his feet once more.

“Just put your good foot in my hands and grab that beam. I’ll boost you on up.” Caje instructed.

“Okay, pal. Just don’t drop me.” Kirby looked back at Doc and the Sarge. “How about him?”

“We’ll get him out. Now go!” Caje said.

Kirby reached up and grabbed the edge of the large beam relieving the weight from his injured leg, then put his right foot into Caje’s cupped hands. Caje lifted as Kirby drew himself up with the help of the beam. As his head neared the hole, Billy reached down grabbing the shoulders of Kirby’s field jacket, pulling him up and out rather easily. Kirby slid down the side of the rubble pile on his backside and sat for a moment relishing the fresh air and freedom. Littlejohn was there to help him to his feet.

“Okay,” Kirby said. “We need a rope or somethin’ we can make a rope with to get Sarge out. He’s out cold.”

“Right,” Littlejohn said and dashed across the street without another word.

“Great,” Kirby mumbled. “We need to get moving and the big ape decides to run off.”

Littlejohn emerged almost immediately with a couple sheets and a blanket.

“How’d ya know where to find those?” Kirby asked, amazed.

“See the upper floor? The front wall is missing and I noticed some bedroom furniture in there. I knew there had to be some bedding of some kind. Let’s get moving.” Littlejohn explained as he carefully sidled up as far as he could on the slanted ceiling. He handed the materials to Billy, who handed them down through the hole. Caje took the two sheets and blanket over to Doc and knelt by Saunders.

“Great,” Doc said. “Let’s roll this blanket and slip it under his arms and tie it securely. Then we can thread the two sheets through the blanket beneath his arms to lift him out.”

They eased him forward from the wall and wrapped the blanket around the sergeant’s chest, tying it in the front. Then each grabbing an upper arm they dragged him under the opening and ran the sheets beneath his arms and under the blanket.

“Billy can’t lift him up alone. He’ll need help.” Caje said.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Littlejohn said, grinning as he poked his head over the hole.

“How’d you get up there?” Doc asked.

“Never mind that, just hand us the sheets.” Littlejohn said.

Caje and Doc each reached an arm beneath Saunders’s arms lifting him up between them. Then with their free hands, they lifted the ends of the sheets as high as they could toward the hole. Littlejohn reached down and took hold of the sheets bringing them up and handing one to Billy.

Caje and Doc lifted and steadied Saunders’ limp form as Littlejohn and Nelson lifted him out through the hole. When they had him out safely they laid him along the more stable side of the slanted roof.

“I’ll take him down.” Littlejohn said as he scooted himself closer to the sergeant’s stretched out body.
Suddenly the rubble groaned and creaked, raining debris down on the trapped men inside.

“Hey! Be careful!” Doc hollered.

Littlejohn and Billy both froze as Kirby could only watch anxiously from below. Inch by inch Littlejohn slid himself down the slope pulling the sergeant with him, trying to cradle his head the best he could. When they were about halfway down, Billy looked over the edge of the hole.

“Okay, you guys.” He called. “Come on outta there. Before we all get buried here.”

“Go on, Caje. I’ll be right behind you.” Doc said.

“No, Doc. I’m lighter than you and it will be easier for you and Billy to pull me out last. Get going.”

It made sense, so Doc put a foot into Caje’s cupped hands and raised himself up towards the opening. Billy grabbed Doc as he had Kirby and pulled mightily, dragging the medic out onto the sagging slope. Doc glanced quickly at the ground and was relieved to see Littlejohn and Kirby extricating Saunders from his makeshift block and tackle. He turned back to the hole and called to Caje to come on out. Caje gathered up the Thompson, BAR and his helmet, the only one that seemed to have survived, handing them out first. Doc and Billy reached as far as they could into the hole clasping Caje’s wrists with both their hands.

“Got a good hold?” he asked them.

“Yeah,” they said in unison.

“Okay, I’m coming out.” Caje used the grasping hands like a trapeze, swinging his legs straight up through the hole as Doc and Billy pulled him up.

The beam shifted with the weight of the three men and sank about a foot with a jolt. The soldiers laid stock still and held their breaths until the movement subsided, then Caje motioned for Doc to go on and Billy to stay still.

Doc slowly slid himself down the slope dislodging a few loose objects that clattered down beside him. When he reached the bottom, Caje motioned to Billy who was grateful to be able to vacate his position on the precarious pile of rubble. Seeing that Nelson was safely on the ground, Caje slid down gingerly just as the beam groaned again, shifting further down.

Doc had immediately knelt by Saunders to examine the head wound and clean as much blood as possible away from his face and neck, while Billy and Littlejohn started looking for something to make a litter with.

The right side of Saunders’ face had turned dark black and purple from the hairline above his temple to just beneath his right cheekbone. The area around the deep gash was swollen and red. He was really going to have a headache when he woke up. If he woke up. Worry creased Doc’s face as he wondered if Sarge had a broken skull along with the severe concussion he was sure of.

No time to ponder more, though. Fuller came running up to the squad completely out of breath and looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Krauts! Moving in from the south! They’re almost in the village! We gotta get outta here!” He was near hysteria.
“Take it easy, Fuller.” Caje soothed. “Okay, we gotta leave fast.”

“No time for a litter. I’ll carry Sarge.” Littlejohn said.

“Okay. Let’s go!” Caje urged them as he grabbed up Saunders’ Thompson.

Littlejohn shouldered his rifle and gently lifted Saunders to his arms and started after Caje as fast as the rubble-strewn street would allow them to move.

Doc reached over and grabbed Kirby’s left arm pulling him to his feet and wrapping the arm around his neck. Then, slipping an arm around Kirby’s waist, he practically carried him as they tried to run.

Fuller and Billy brought up the rear constantly glancing behind them, expecting the Krauts to show up any second.
By some miracle they all made it back to the bridge without being spotted. After crossing the bridge, Caje led them into the dense forest just north of the narrow dirt road leading into the village. The going was hard in the underbrush and tree roots and rocks turned walking into a major undertaking. All of them were soon exhausted and the late afternoon heat had become almost too oppressive to bear. Nelson had moved up alongside Littlejohn to assist him where he could. His burden was stirring and Littlejohn hoped the sarge wouldn’t wake up fighting him. His hold on him was tenuous at best.

Caje finally called a halt at the edge of a small open meadow where a stream wound its way around the bottom of a hill that slanted sharply upward on their right.

Everyone gratefully flopped to the ground, Littlejohn gently laying the sergeant on a clump of leaves that looked invitingly comfortable. He sat down, cradling Sarge’s wounded head in his lap. Saunders stirred and squinted up at Littlejohn who’s face split into a wide grin. “Hi, Sarge. How are ya?” he puffed as he tried to catch his breath.

“Littlejohn?” Saunders started looking around and Littlejohn helped him to a sitting position, supporting his back.
“Where are we?” the sergeant seemed to be trying hard to assemble what little he could remember from the past couple hours.

“We’re about a mile northeast of the village,” Caje explained. “Krauts moved in just as we got outta that building, so we had to vacate the area fast.”

“How many Krauts showed up?” Saunders was more alert now and ready to get down to business.

“Fuller says there were…” Caje had looked up from examining the Thompson and the sight of Saunders’ face took him aback. Sarge’s face was pale in stark contrast to the bruising on the right side, but what rattled Caje was that the whites of both eyes were solid red, giving Saunders a strange, devilish look.

“Well, how many?” Saunders asked irritably.

“…uh…about twenty,” Caje said finally.

“Radio!” Saunders called out. For some strange reason he couldn’t remember who he gave it to.

Fuller came over and knelt beside the sergeant, handing him the SR-536 he had been carrying on his shoulder.
“Anyone see anything else?” Saunders asked before he depressed the call button.

They all shook their heads and he proceeded to call headquarters. “King Two, this is White Rook. Over.” Only static answered. “King Two, this is White Rook. Come in King Two. Over.” He said again.

“White Rook, this is King Two. Send your message. Over.” Brockmeyer’s voice came from the radio.

“Village in sector B now occupied by about twenty Germans. Possible Kraut OP nearby just to the south of the village. Over.”

“Okay, White Rook. Don’t try to return the way you went. Enemy troops have moved in on our left flank. Artillery will start at 1400. Get out of the area. Over.” This time it was Lieutenant Hanley’s strong tones coming over the airwaves.

“Affirmative, King Two. Can we assist anywhere? Over.” Saunders hand shook a little as he held the radio to his ear.

“Negative. Just pull back to Sector C and wait further instruction. Over.” Hanley instructed.

“Roger that, King Two. Out.” Saunders let the radio drop into his lap and looked at his exhausted squad.
“How’re ya doin’, Kirby?” he asked.

“I’m okay, Sarge. Just a little sore.” Kirby told him between giant gulps from his canteen.

“Here, Sarge.” Littlejohn handed him his canteen and he gratefully took several large gulps of the warm water.

“Okay,” he said as he passed the canteen back to Littlejohn. Then squinting at his watch he said, “We have one hour to pull back to Sector C. Krauts are between us and home and they’re going to start shelling them at 1400. We don’t want to be in the way.”

He pulled the map from inside his jacket unfolding it over his lap. Try as he might, he was unable to focus clearly on the lines and markings. Finally giving up, he motioned to Caje, who scooted over close beside him to examine the document.

“Looks like we’re going to have to head straight north from here. About another mile and we should be out of range of our artillery.” Caje said tracing an imaginary line on the map with his finger.

“Okay, fill your canteens from that stream over there and get ready to move out. Where’s my Thompson?” Saunders started looking around him.

“I’ve got it, Sarge. My M1 was busted when the building collapsed and I didn’t think you’d be in any condition to use it for a while,” Caje explained.

“All right, keep it. I have my side arm if I need anything right away.” Saunders conceded.

Doc finished tying off a clean bandage around Kirby’s wounded leg and walked over to squat in front of his sergeant. “I need to take a look at your head, Sarge.” He stated.

“Not now, Doc, later.” Saunders folded the map and replaced it inside his jacket.

Doc stood and reached into his medical bag, pulling out two small bottles. Opening one, he started distributing halizone tablets to everyone who had retained a canteen that they could fill from the stream. Then squatting again by Saunders he opened the other bottle handing him a couple aspirins and his canteen.

Saunders didn’t hesitate to take them, then he told them to give him a hand up. Once on his feet, Saunders swayed dizzily and Doc and Littlejohn both grabbed his arms to steady him.

“I’m okay. Let go.” Saunders made a concerted effort to still the trees and ground that seemed to be tilting crazily around him.

Finally he steadied himself and Doc and Littlejohn let go of him, Littlejohn still staying close enough to be of assistance if needed.

Doc drew Kirby up from the ground again wrapping Kirby’s arm around his shoulders to support him.
“I think I can walk all right now, Doc.” Kirby stated as he tested his weight on the injured leg.

“One stubborn mule in the bunch is enough, Kirby. Let me help you,” Doc muttered as he glanced over at the sergeant.

Kirby grinned and looked back at Nelson. “Billy, give me your M1. That BAR is enough to carry.” He nodded at the rifle slung over Nelson’s shoulder.

Billy gratefully surrendered the rifle and settled the strap of the BAR more comfortably around his shoulders.
“If I’m gonna use this thing, you’d better give me some ammo.” Billy told Kirby.

They swapped ammunition, Billy stuffing the heavy BAR magazines inside his jacket. Then everyone started off, angling to the north and the sharp hill they realized they’d have to climb.

They wasted fifteen minutes getting to the top of the hill. Their previous exhaustion was redoubled with their efforts and the momentary relief the aspirins had given to Saunders was replaced with a pounding headache, and Kirby was now very happy to lean on Doc for support. Most of the way up was scrabbling on hands and knees, but once they were at the top they could see that the woods seemed to level off the way they needed to go.

After a short breather the weary squad moved on, everyone nervously watching each tree and bush for the enemy, knowing they could be hidden anywhere around them. Suddenly they could hear the sounds of artillery shells bursting in the near distance southwest of them. They knew the Krauts were being pounded and that soon they may be able to head for home. They continued moving carefully through the thick forest until the trees suddenly ended in rolling hills of long dead grass dotted here and there with a few trees and some of the hills were cut by a winding gully which retained water at different places.

To their left was a farmhouse with a barn and several small outbuildings, apparently the property of one of the more affluent farmers in the area. A two-acre garden plot lay unattended for some time to the north of the barn and a small dirt drive led from the front of the house and disappeared into the dense woods to the south. It probably connected with a road just a little ways further.

Saunders motioned everyone down. “We need to flush it out. Maybe we can hole up here for a while. Littlejohn, Fuller, take the barn and the outbuildings. Caje, Nelson, take the house. Watch yourselves. Move out.”

Saunders sank back against a tree trunk as his men moved off. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands on either side of his aching head, closing his eyes and trying to squeeze the pain out.

Suddenly Doc’s gentle fingers were peeling his hands away from his head. Saunders opened his eyes and started to protest, but the determined look on Doc’s face made him change his mind. He needed help and he knew it.

Doc untied the bandage and carefully unwound the ends holding the bloody padding over the wound so it wouldn’t pull away. The blond hair was matted with blood and wanting to stick to the dirty bandage. Doc was amazingly gentle in getting the material separated from his aching head. Soon he gently pulled the gauze away from the gash. It was stubborn and Doc used a little peroxide and a cotton swab to help convince it to let go. Once the wound was revealed Doc quickly cleaned it and wrapped a clean, sterile bandage around the sergeant’s head.

Once he was done, Doc placed a hand on Saunders’ shoulder looking him squarely in the face. “Okay?”

Saunders looked up and gave him a half-embarrassed, lopsided smile and quietly said, “Thanks.”

Doc nodded and rummaged in his bag for the aspirin, handing the sergeant a couple along with one of the two canteens he carried.

“Hey, Doc, I could use some of those,” Kirby had been watching Doc as he administered aid to their sergeant.

“Okay, Kirby. How’s the leg?” Doc stood up stretching and walked over to where Kirby sat on a fallen log.

“It hurts a little, but it’s not too bad, Doc,” Kirby admitted. He took the aspirin Doc handed him and popped them in his mouth, downing them with water from his own canteen he had been holding.

Doc frowned as he saw Saunders push himself up against the tree he was leaning on in order to get a better view of the farm and his men moving cautiously among the buildings. The sarge still didn’t seem all that steady, but at least he could maneuver without help now.

“Is he okay, Doc?” Kirby whispered so that Saunders wouldn’t overhear.

“I think so, Kirby. I know he looks bad, but he’s got a concussion and I think we’d better keep a close eye on him for a while.” Doc said quietly.

“Yeah,” Kirby agreed. “You don’t think it’ll…uh…affect his…judgement, do ya, Doc?”

Doc looked at Kirby sharply, then his features softened, “No, Kirby, I’m sure he’s in full control of his faculties. He can still lead us competently if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Kirby’s face reddened with embarrassment and he looked down at his injured leg. “I don’t doubt that, Doc. I guess I’m just tired and hungry’s all.”

Doc smiled and patted Kirby on the back. “Here comes Caje. Maybe we’ll get some rest and food soon. Huh?”
Kirby smiled sheepishly and just nodded.

Caje ran up to Saunders to give his report.

Soon the sergeant turned towards Doc and Kirby. “Looks clear,” he called. “Doc, you need some help with Kirby?”

“No, we’ll make it all right, Sarge.” Doc assured him.

“Okay, move out.” Saunders said as he pushed himself away from the tree and started making his way toward the farmhouse with Caje close on his heels.

The house was deserted, yet in good condition. For some reason the Germans had not ransacked or vandalized it. It had two floors with two rooms on the lower floor, one a large living area and the other a small storage room without windows, and two bedrooms above. There were modest French furnishings and the windows were still intact.

Fuller and Billy had busied themselves opening every window they could to let what little breeze that was blowing filter through the house. Being made of stone, the interior was not overly oppressive in the early evening heat. Then the two young soldiers had stationed themselves in the upper rooms where they could watch every approach to the house.

Littlejohn had drawn a bucket of water from the well, poured some of it into a basin beside the back door, and was busy splashing it onto his face with his hands when the others arrived at the front door.

“Hey, Sarge, looks like home-sweet-home doesn’t it?” Littlejohn grinned through the water dripping from his chin.

“Yeah, Sarge,” Kirby agreed with Littlejohn. “How about some chow. I’m starved.”

Saunders lowered himself onto a comfortable-looking settee near the front door, just beneath a window, and flashed his bedraggled crew a quick grin. “Break ‘em out.” He said.

Kirby let out a whoop as he settled himself into a plush chair close to the stairway, pulling out his rations with fervor.

Fuller and Nelson came down the stairs to report all clear and joined the rest in an evening meal of C-rations.
Saunders pulled a box of rations from his jacket, frowned at it a moment, then set it aside on a nearby table. Food just didn’t appeal to him just now. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a while. His head was pounding and his stomach churned. He knew he should eat something to keep his strength up, but not right now.

Doc was busy tearing into his rations, but from the corner of his eye he saw Saunders set his food aside. He tactfully pretended not to notice, but concern gnawed at him. If Sarge didn’t eat he’d just get weaker. He decided to let it slide for now, but make sure he would eat something later.

When the squad had finished their meal, Saunders gave out watch assignments, then stretched out on the settee for a much needed rest. He was asleep almost instantly. Fuller and Nelson climbed the stairs again to take first watch. Littlejohn slipped back outside to double check the surrounding sheds and barn, and Caje and Kirby lit a cigarette each and really relaxed for a while. The barrage had not lasted too long and everything was peaceful for the moment.

Kirby had his wounded leg propped up on a small stool in front of his chair and Caje sat in a high-backed, straw-bottomed kitchen chair rocking it back on two legs against the wall opposite where Kirby sat. The quiet was so welcome and peaceful even Kirby was loath to spoil it. He sat uncustomarily silent drinking in the strange peace.
Though everything seemed to have come to a halt, each man knew full well that after the barrage what Krauts were left would be moving. What direction? Theirs? Who knew.

Saunders had reported their position to Hanley when they had reached the farm, so at least their guys knew where they were. That was some comfort. Being stuck behind enemy lines, knowing Germans could be all around you was nerve-wracking at best.

* * *

Saunders woke with a start, sending a lightening spike of pain through the right side of his head. He closed his eyes tightly and slowly opened them again trying to discover what had disturbed him.

Caje knelt beside him with his hand on the sergeant’s arm. “We got company, Sarge.” Caje whispered.

Saunders was immediately alert half-sitting up he peered out the open window beside him. “Where?”

“Over to the left, near the woods.” Caje pointed as he spoke softly.

Saunders stared intently through the dim moonlight and indeed there was a shadowy movement near one of the sheds close to the forest edge.

The sergeant rolled off the couch and, squatting in the middle of the room, spoke quietly to his men who had already gathered close.

“We can’t get bottled up in here. One grenade and we’d be history. We need to spread out if we can. Caje, you and Nelson see if you can make your way out the back door to the barn. Give me my Thompson and take Billy’s M1 from Kirby, Caje. Littlejohn, take a position upstairs. Cover as many windows as you can. Fuller, take the front window. I’ll cover the back of the house. Don’t fire until I do. Doc, stay low. Now, move out, all of you.”
Saunders was hoping desperately that this was just a patrol and not a whole retreating platoon creeping up on them. He knelt by the back door of the farmhouse as Caje and Billy slipped silently out, running as low as they could towards the barn.

They made it without incident and positioned themselves on either side of the wide open door just inside.
Seconds ticked by in silence. The adrenaline rush gave renewed vigor to each man as he awaited the inevitable sound of the first gunshot.

Then the still August night was rent with the sound of sudden raging battle. Krauts had crept around the house and were attempting to flank it front and rear. As one of them had made a dash for the back door, Saunders had opened up cutting him down in mid-stride. Suddenly several field rifles, Maussers and a Schmeisser opened up from the three small sheds on the east side of the farmhouse.

“I think I can get a better angle at them from the loft, Caje.” Billy said as he peered intently at the sheds where the shots were coming from.

“Okay, Billy, be careful.” Caje crouched by the door trying to ascertain if there was a way of flanking the Germans. So far no bullets were coming towards the barn. All of the firing seemed to be centered around the house.

“Billy!” Caje called in a loud stage whisper at the bottom of the ladder leading to the loft.

“Yeah?” Came the answer.

“They don’t know we’re here, Billy. Hold off firing as long as you can. I’m gonna try to find a way to get behind them! Okay?” The Cajun waited for an affirmative reply then eased back to the door.

The firing from the house and the sheds was intense. He was hoping no one would notice a shadow moving around the far side of the barn. Caje crept along the side of the barn away from the sheds and noticed that the well housing stood between the barn and several haystacks close to the sheds and the attacking Krauts. If he could just cover the space between the barn and the well without being spotted perhaps he could reach the haystacks relatively easily. From there he should have a good vantage point against the marauding enemy. He listened to the firing for a moment, chose his time carefully, and made a dash for the well, diving behind the well wall as he reached it. He came up spitting out a mouth full of dirt and peered tentatively over the low wall. So far, so good.

The night was too dark to see anything other than the muzzle flashes of rifles as they fired. Caje wished they had more light as the moon slipped behind a cloud in the lowering night sky. He realized that he was unable to see the building closest to the woods from his intended vantage point. This wasn’t turning out as well as he had expected. ‘What we need is light.’ Caje thought as he dashed the short distance to the three large haystacks only a few feet from the two closest sheds.

Caje saw a shadow break from the nearest shed and run towards the barn. The BAR opened up in Billy’s hands from the loft, and the shadow sprawled and lay still in the middle of the yard. Some of the German fire swung towards the barn as the BAR kept up a steady fire.

‘Light. Light!’ Caje pulled his lighter from his jacket pocket and quickly set the haystack he was hiding behind on fire. Dashing to the other two haystacks, he did the same with them. Before the fires could gain notice, Caje darted back to the well wall for cover and watched as the haystacks quickly lit up the sheds and everything around them.
The Germans were caught by surprise by the fires and ceased firing momentarily as three of them turned spraying the area around the haystacks with a deadly hail of bullets.

Caje raised himself to his knees, resting his M1 on the well wall and carefully squeezed off three quick shots, downing two of the Krauts crouching behind the nearest shed.

There was an M1 firing from the back door of the house, now, and Caje wondered briefly where Sarge was. He hadn’t heard the Thompson firing for the last few minutes.

Realizing they were being flanked and caught in the blazing light of the fires, the two remaining Germans behind the two sheds closest to Caje decided to run for the shed near the woods. Caje dropped one of them before they got started good, leaving one to join possibly two more behind the far shed.

Caje was unable to maneuver any closer to the sheds without putting himself in the bright light that was slowly ebbing. He clutched his M1 and strained to see past the two well-lit sheds. All firing had stopped and he was afraid the Krauts may try to circle to the front of the house through the dense woods.

Suddenly a Thompson machine gun opened up from the edge of the woods opposite the house, intermingled with the sound of a Schmeisser. Caje grinned and sprinted towards the sheds, understanding now what had happened to the sarge. He had slipped out the front door of the house and flanked the Krauts from the woods. Caje’s firelight had driven the enemy directly into the deadly waiting fire of Saunders’ Tommy gun.

Caje skidded to a halt behind the last shed. With his back against the wall of the shed he peered carefully around its side, straining to see any movement near the woods. The fires had burned quickly, then died just as quickly as the hay was consumed. Now, darkness was once again creeping in around the farmyard.

A figure stumbled from the woods towards the house, followed closely by another figure. Even in the dim light the bright white of a bandage stood out on the head of the second figure.

“Hold your fire!” Saunders called out. “All clear.

There was silence as Caje trotted up to Saunders’ side. “Whatcha got there, Sarge?” Caje grinned, relieved to find his sergeant apparently unscathed.

“Oh, just a Kraut Captain who chose not to join his men.” Saunders mumbled. The German slowed his pace with and angry manner as he started to look back at his captor.

“Keep movin’,” Saunders ordered. The German sullenly continued toward the front door of the farmhouse. Now Caje had his M1 leveled at him and Saunders seemed to sag a little as the responsibility of the Kraut was lifted from him. Caje caught the movement in the periphery of his vision. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Saunders answered tiredly. “I’m okay.”

As soon as they were inside, Littlejohn grabbed up some rope lying near the back door. It was attached to some sort of harness, probably used on a long gone farm animal. He separated the rope and harness and moved around behind the German Captain to pull his hands behind him and tie them securely. Then he turned the Kraut around to face him and started searching his pockets. He came up with a few personal items at first, then in an inside tunic pocket he found a few official-looking documents which he immediately handed over to his sergeant. When he was finished, he looked up and around.

“Where’s Billy?” he asked suddenly concerned.

“I’m here.” Billy said as he walked through the back door holding his left upper arm with his right hand. The BAR was slung on his back and blood was oozing between the fingers of his right hand as he clutched his arm tightly.

“Billy!” Littlejohn called in alarm as he rushed to help him over to a kitchen chair.

Doc had started to walk across the room towards Saunders, who had wilted onto the settee again, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands again. Apparently the noise and exertion had cancelled out any physical relief from the brief rest he’d experienced earlier in the evening. Now his head was pounding and his strength waned.

All heads turned when Billy had entered and Doc immediately changed direction to attend the young private’s bleeding arm.

Saunders slowly rose and walked over to stand beside Nelson’s chair. Caje motioned for the Kraut Captain to sit in the chair he, himself, had occupied earlier in the corner of the large room. The German sat down and Caje pulled a chair around with the back of it facing the Kraut. Straddling the chair, Caje rested his M1 on the back of it pointed directly at the Captain’s chest.

The sergeant looked around, checking on the rest of his squad. It was then that he noticed Fuller sitting beside the back door, knees drawn up to his chin, arms wrapped around his legs and visibly trembling. He was white as a sheet and sweating profusely. Saunders frowned and looked down at Doc. “How is he?” he asked.

“It’s okay, Sarge, just a flesh wound, but he won’t be able to handle that BAR anymore.” Doc reported.

Saunders nodded and tapped Doc on the shoulder to get his attention. Doc looked up and Saunders nodded toward Fuller. Doc looked at him, nodded and went back to work on Nelson’s arm.

The sergeant walked over and squatted in front of Fuller, reaching a hand out to lay it gently on top of one of Fuller’s knees. “Fuller?” he said softly.

The boy looked up with moisture in his eyes. Realizing that his sergeant was speaking to him, he quickly rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and straightened his back against the doorframe. “I’m sorry, Sarge,” his voice cracked and shook. “I did it. I let Billy get shot. It’s all my fault.”

“What?” Saunders asked incredulously.

“I was just firing into the darkness and suddenly this guy ran towards the barn firing his rifle. I had him in my sights, Sarge, but I just couldn’t pull the trigger. I just let him shoot Billy, Sarge.” His face was a mask of horror.
“That happens sometimes when it’s your first time to shoot another human being, Fuller. It couldn’t be helped. Pull yourself together. It’s all over now.”

Fuller looked over at Billy to find him looking back over his shoulder. Billy had heard it all and he gave Fuller a sad, understanding smile, remembering the first time he had to pull the trigger and watch a man fall. It doesn’t get any easier, he admitted to himself, but you learn to steel yourself to the necessary task.

Fuller looked away and back up at Saunders. “Sarge, what if I do it again? Am I a coward?”

“No, Fuller, you’re not a coward. It’s only natural to resent taking a life. Just remember there are five more of us here whose lives may depend on your doing just that. Keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, Sarge, sure.” He said softly. “I’ll remember.”

The sergeant placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and used it to lever himself up, then gave him a pat and turned to check on everyone else. Amazingly enough, no one else was injured.

“Littlejohn, you and Caje go check ‘em out. As soon as Doc’s finished we’re gonna have to vacate this area in case these guys have close friends.” the sergeant turned back toward the German Captain. “Do you speak English?” he asked.

“Yes, Sergeant,” he spoke in thickly accented words. “You don’t have to worry about any more of us in the area. We were cut off during a barrage earlier and were trying to make it back to our lines when we came across this farm.”

The Captain seemed to be freely handing out information and Saunders became immediately suspicious. Walking to the back door, he called for Littlejohn and Caje to get back in there. Then he turned to the others and said, “Saddle up, we’re movin’ out.”

A slight smile pulled at the corners of the Kraut Captain’s mouth. He realized this wounded American sergeant was not going to be easily deceived.

“Doc, are you finished?” Saunders put a foot in the chair in front of the Kraut and propped his Thompson across his knee, pointing it at the German.

“Just about, Sarge. Give me one more minute.” Doc answered as he tied off the bandage he’d wound around Billy’s upper arm.

Kirby had found a thin, but strong stick lying in the pile of unused firewood next to the stove. It was about two and a half feet long and Kirby was practicing using it as a cane. “Hey, Sarge, this works great. I think I can carry the BAR again.”

Saunders picked up the BAR where Billy had leaned it next to his chair and stood looking skeptically at the tottering Kirby. When Caje and Littlejohn walked through the door, Saunders reached over and took hold of the M1 the Cajun was carrying. Caje relinquished his hold and Saunders thrust the BAR into his hands. Turning, he presented the M1 to Kirby who frowned irritably but accepted the proffered rifle.

“Since we still have about an hour of darkness on our side, we’ll head straight north over those hills. We’ll stay as close to the gullies between them as possible for cover.” Saunders only gave direction without stating any definite destination. The German Captain knew he’d done that for his benefit.

Everyone gathered their gear and stood to leave. Saunders handed the radio to Nelson saying, “You okay?”
Billy was a little shaky and pale but he was okay and he said so.

“Caje, take the point. Fuller, the rear,” Saunders motioned with the barrel of his Thompson for the German to stand. “Move out.” He told them all.

For a while it was fairly easy traveling across a wide field with waving tall grass that came up to their knees. A light breeze rustled the grasses and the moon decided to cooperate and show itself to lend a dim light to the ragged little band’s progress. They moved silently for a good half mile across the field. Caje led the group followed by Billy. Kirby hobbled along on his make-shift cane, then the German with Littlejohn occasionally prodding him a little with his weapon to make him keep up. Then Saunders plodded along with Doc and Fuller bringing up the rear.

Doc caught up with Saunders and reached out, grabbing his wrist he pulled the sergeant’s hand to him palm up and placed a couple aspirins in his palm. Then he pulled out a canteen.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said as he popped the aspirins in his mouth and accepted the canteen. He handed the water container back to Doc, but Doc didn’t seem to be through. Saunders glanced at him as he slipped another item into his hand.

“You need this,” Doc whispered.

Saunders looked at him quizzically then glancing down at the object in his hand, he smiled and said, “Thanks again.”

Doc smiled, nodded and dropped back a ways.

Saunders gratefully opened the little tin of cheese and munched on its contents. Strangely enough the morsels of processed cheese seemed more inviting than before, and he realized he was famished.

Just as the sky was beginning to lighten a bit in the east, the squad came to a deep gully. Since it ran in the direction they wanted to travel, Saunders motioned for Caje to follow it. The travelling definitely became more hazardous. The ground was uneven, it was too dark to see roots and rocks, and moving quietly was a hopeless ambition under those conditions.

Knowing how much physical and mental stress his men had gone through in the last couple hours, and feeling it himself, Saunders called a break and sat with his back against the steep side of the gully, pulling his map out and unfolding it over his knee. He used his lighter to see the markings, studied it briefly, then put it away again.

Littlejohn was squatted in front of the Kraut Captain brandishing his weapon and glowering threateningly. The German pretended not to be intimidated, but his eyes never left the giant form for long at a time.

“May I have a drink of water?” the Captain asked.

Saunders saw Littlejohn look to him and he nodded. Littlejohn moved closer and removed his canteen. With his right hand pressing his rifle barrel against the Krauts chest, Littlejohn lifted the uncapped canteen to the Captain’s lips and tilted it until the water poured into his mouth.

“Thank you.” The German said when Littlejohn pulled away the canteen. He looked at the Kraut and just grunted, as he replaced the canteen to its pouch.

Kirby must have been feeling better, because Saunders could hear him chewing Billy’s ear off about just how much endurance a man could have with a bad leg wound, and, of course, an arm wound.

Saunders leaned his aching head back and closed his eyes for a few minutes, all but his ears relaxing. He listened for any noises other than Kirby’s droning. At least he was attempting to keep his voice lowered as he talked. Saunders knew, as did everyone else, that this was how Kirby released nervous tension. And since he had only had Saunders’ pistol to use during the firefight with the Germans earlier, he had a lot of tension to release.

“Saddle up,” Saunders finally called softly, struggling to his feet once more. When he was upright a wave of dizziness hit him and he grabbed at the wall of the gully for support. Angry at himself for the show of weakness in front of the Kraut Captain, he immediately straightened up and shouldered the Thompson. Looking around he realized that the helmet he was looking for had been lost yesterday. Shaking his head at his strange lapse of memory, he motioned for Caje to move out.

Littlejohn pulled the Captain to his feet and shoved him in the right direction, falling in close behind him. Moving on was a little easier, because daylight had begun to invade the dark shadows of the dry gully.

Now that they could see where they were going, the men’s steps became a little lighter as did their moods. After following the gully for nearly a mile or so, the group came to a point where a small spring filled a sump hole and the water flowed gently down the gully further on. Now it was time to climb up to open ground and they would have to be extra careful.

Kirby grew silent as they started to turn slightly to the west toward a large stand of trees. The morning was already beginning to get hot, and of course, Kirby was the first to mention it if not the first to notice. He was also hungry, his leg hurt, he didn’t know where he was going…. The list went on.

They managed to reach the tree line without stirring up anything more dangerous than a few crickets and lazy rabbits. Once inside the trees, Saunders called another halt. Everyone gratefully collapsed onto the forest floor and started checking the trees around them for possible danger.

The sergeant motioned for Billy to bring the radio then accepting it he walked back to the edge of the meadow where he would not be overheard.

“King Two, this is White Rook. Over.” He said softly into the mouthpiece.

“White Rook, this is King Two. Where the heck are you? Over.” Came Lieutenant Hanley’s apparently irritated reply.

“We’re at checkpoint Easy. We made contact before daylight. Eight Germans killed, one captured. Over.”

“Looks like you’ve been busy. Come on home. Out.” The irritation in Hanley’s voice seemed to have been replaced with relief.

“Roger that. Out.” Saunders tired shoulders slumped for a moment. It was apparent the Krauts had been driven from the area by the heavy barrage the evening before.

Lifting his sore, aching head he stood up to walk back the short distance to his waiting squad. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him and he fell to one knee, catching himself with one hand. He stayed where he was for a long moment, letting the spell pass. Then he slowly rose and made his way back. He absently slipped the strap of the radio over his left shoulder and sat down on a convenient rotting tree trunk.

Every face turned towards him with different expressions, some curious, some expectant, some hopeful, some fearful. “Let’s go home.” He grinned.

All smiles now. There was an immediate wave of renewed vigor throughout the squad as they stood and picked up their gear.

“Littlejohn take the rear. I’ll take point.” Saunders said as he started moving southwestward through the trees.

They hadn’t gone far when all hell broke loose. Every man dove for cover even before Sarge’s call of “Hit it!” could be heard.

Saunders opened up with his Tommy gun in the direction the shots were coming. As soon as the others had started firing, the sergeant turned and crawled back down his line of men. Kirby, who had been right behind Saunders, was firing from behind a fallen log, grumbling about the ‘sissy M1’ he was forced to use. Caje was crouched next to Doc behind a large boulder, firing as fast as he could around the left side of it with the BAR. A little further, Nelson was lying behind a tree trying to make himself as small as possible and taking shots as he could. Next was Fuller. He was behind a large boulder curled up in a tight knot, his knees to his chin, clutching his rifle in his arms and shivering.

The noise was deafening and creating an endless symphony of pain in Saunders head, and the sight of the cowering soldier made him snap. He crawled up to Fuller and getting to his knees, he reached over and grabbed the boy by the lapels of his field jacket, pulling his face up to within an inch of his own.

“Snap out of it, Fuller! You have a job to do.” He growled threateningly.

“I…I cain’t, Sarge! I cain’t move!” Fuller cried pitifully.
“You move, or you die!” Saunders enforced his words with a violent shake that rattled the soldier’s teeth.

Suddenly Fuller’s face paled. Right at that time he decided he was more afraid of the raging tower of anger gripping his clothing than the Kraut bullets flying all around him.

“Okay, Sarge! Okay.” He seemed to get a grip on his trembling. When Saunders released him, Fuller turned, forcing himself to raise his rifle towards the attacking enemy.

Saunders crawled on past the German Captain. Littlejohn had thrust him down against a boulder and he was doing his best to make himself invisible. Littlejohn was firing from the left side of the boulder.

By some miracle no one had been wounded. Saunders would have felt more relieved if he could have felt anything other than the blinding pain in his head. He crawled to the right side of the boulder and tried to assess their situation.

The Krauts were firing with a machine gun. The nest was dug in good with little cover for flanking them. ‘Great! So much for thinking we might get home without a hitch!’ Saunders thought ruefully as he started firing short bursts from the Thompson.

Not all of the Krauts were in the nest. It was apparent that they were spread out to either side as well.

Littlejohn caught a glimpse of movement and stopped firing long enough to take a good look. Sure enough, there was a Kraut trying to flank them, moving in close to Billy’s position. Littlejohn became concerned that his little buddy wouldn’t see the danger coming his way, so he dropped to the ground and crawled as fast as he could past Fuller through the rotting leaves on the forest floor. He soon reached a fallen log that would give him good cover and he eased his head up for another look. The enemy solder was almost to a position where he could get a shot at Billy. He had to cross a small opening between trees and when he did, Littlejohn dropped him with one quick shot.

Nelson realized what had happened and gave his big friend an even bigger grin. Littlejohn waved at him and continued firing from his position behind the log.

The German Captain watched Littlejohn crawl away and looked back at Saunders. The sergeant’s back was to him and he was busy firing his weapon. It occurred to the officer that he might be able to overpower the weakened American sergeant and slip away into the woods the way they had come.

With this in mind, he gathered his feet beneath him and prepared to make his move. Though his hands were securely bound, his feet were free and it was time to make use of them. The Kraut launched himself at Saunders’ unprotected back and hit him full force with a shoulder between the sergeant’s shoulder blades. Saunders and the German tumbled from behind the boulder to the ground. The breath was knocked out of him and when Saunders went down, his head struck the ground solidly on his wounded right side.

He lay there stunned, his vision blurring to dark wavy shadows. The only thought he could assemble was to find his Tommy gun. His fingers worked through the leaves, reaching and searching. Then the world seemed to explode and there was nothing.

* * *

The German had scrambled to his feet immediately after hitting Saunders. He saw the sergeant’s hands reaching for his weapon and realized his danger. Drawing a foot back, he kicked out hard, the toe of his high boot catching Saunders in the back of his head. The searching fingers stilled and the American moved no more.

Fuller, who had finally managed to pull the trigger a couple times, heard a commotion beside him. Turning he saw the enemy officer kick his downed sergeant in the head. The Kraut picked his foot up high, preparing to bring it down solidly on the helpless man’s unprotected head.

“NO!” Fuller cried as he brought his weapon around and fired as fast as he could.

The German never finished his movement. Two bullets crashed into his chest and he was propelled backwards with the force. He clutched his chest and looked with surprise at the young soldier who had ended his life. Shuddering once, he died.

There was a mighty explosion from the area of the machine gun nest and then, absolute silence. The firefight had taken out all of the Krauts strung out on either side of the machine gun and Caje was able to slip around to their right flank and lob in a grenade or two.

After about a minute, Caje called, “All clear!” from the area of the Kraut machine gun.

Fuller got up as though in a daze and walked over to where Saunders lay on his right side. Dropping to his knees behind the sergeant, he reached out and laid a hand on Sarge’s left arm.

“Sarge?” he said quietly.

There was no answer.

Suddenly he was being pushed aside and Doc was rolling Saunders over onto his back. The medic checked for a pulse, relieved to find one. Then he turned Sarge’s face gently to the left, lifting his eyelids to check the pupils. The left seemed normal, but the right pupil had constricted to a pinpoint. Doc’s face creased into a worried frown.

The gauze wrapped around Saunders’ forehead was bloody and the blood was beginning to spread as he watched. Working quickly, he placed another bandage on top of the soiled one adding pressure to stem the bleeding. Within minutes he was able to tie the bandage off and check his pulse again. He pulled the radio off Saunders left shoulder, noting that there was a bullet hole right through the center of it. It was useless and he disgustedly threw it aside.
When Doc looked up, the entire squad was gathered around them looking fearful and worried.

“He’s alive. We gotta get him back to a hospital fast, though.” Doc informed them.

Littlejohn grabbed Fuller’s sleeve and motioned him to follow. They found two long, stout-looking poles and Littlejohn instructed Fuller to remove a tunic from one of the dead Krauts, as he was doing himself.

Within no time they had a litter prepared and the uninjured men of the squad gently lifted Saunders inert body onto it. Doc removed his jacket, folding it several times and placing it beneath the sergeant’s head to help cushion the jolting ride home.

Littlejohn reached for the head of the litter and Doc grabbed the foot. Lifting him gingerly, they all headed out as fast and as carefully as possible.

* * *

When Saunders eyes opened again, he felt comfortable. He was lying in a bed with sheets and a pillow. An IV line was feeding him fluids through the vein in the crook of his left arm. The pain had subsided to a bearable level and he felt almost numb all over.

His blurred vision slowly dissolved into clarity and he saw that he was in a small room surrounded by cool stone walls. Lieutenant Hanley sat in a chair next to his bed, smoking a Lucky and looking down rather seriously at his hands.

“Hi, Lieutenant,” his voice was cracked and hardly more than a whisper.

Hanley jumped slightly and looked up into Saunders’ face, a wide grin growing slowly from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“How you feelin’, Saunders?” He asked, happy to see the sergeant finally awake.

“I’m fine,” Saunders coughed on the second word and winced as a stab of pain shot through the right side of his head. “Water?” he whispered.

“Sure,” Hanley reached to a table near the head of the bed and picked up a glass, filling it with cool water from a pitcher. He carefully slid his fingers beneath Saunders head raising it enough to let him drink as the lieutenant put the glass to his lips. Then the officer gently lowered his sergeant’s head back to the soft pillow and replaced the glass to its table.

Saunders licked his lips to moisten them, then replied, “Thanks.”

Hanley nodded. “We were beginning to think you were going to sleep the rest of the war.” He grinned.

“The squad! What about my men?” Saunders started to sit up, but fell back with a groan, surprised at how weak he seemed to be.

Hanley put a hand on his shoulder to hold him down, though it wasn’t necessary. “Just take it easy, Saunders. Your guys are okay. Caje flanked the Kraut machine gun and took it out with a grenade. They’ve been camped at the step of this aid station for the last day and a half waiting for you to come around. Think you’re up to saying hello to them?”

“Sure, Lieutenant,” the sergeant’s voice was a little shaky, much to his disgust. “What happened?”

“Well, it seems your prisoner decided to try an escape. Littlejohn was pulled away to defend Nelson’s position against a Kraut trying to flank him, and your back was turned so he dove into you and then got up and kicked you in the head. Fuller saw the German start to stomp your brains into the ground and he fired and killed him. The boy saved your life, Saunders.”

Saunders turned his face away digesting what he had just heard.

“By the way, Saunders, it seems the Kraut Captain you captured was a gunnery officer and the documents you took from him had some really vital information. A lot of lives and time have been saved because of it. Your whole squad is receiving a unit citation for that ‘simple recon mission’.”

Saunders looked back at the lieutenant and spoke softly. “Lieutenant, I know you know how I feel about medals, but Fuller overcame incredible emotional problems in order to do what he did. I’d like to put him up for a commendation.”

Hanley let the slightest smile tug at one side of his mouth. “I figured you’d think that way, Saunders, so I already had the papers drawn up.”

Saunders frowned, “I wish you wouldn’t do that, sir.”

The lieutenant looked at him perplexed, “Do what, Sergeant?”

“Read my mind,” the sergeant said seriously. “It makes me nervous.”

This time a wide grin spread across Hanley’s face. “How else am I going to keep up with you? Every radio I give you you manage to destroy, and you’re out of pocket half the time.” Hanley stated, teasing his friend.

“But I always come back, don’t I, sir?” Saunders voice was fading and his eyelids were beginning to droop.

Hanley’s face became serious again. He reached out and laid a hand on Saunders shoulder, holding it there for a moment. “And for that, I am grateful.” He announced gravely.

Then he gave Saunders’ shoulder a pat and stood, once again the epitome of military officer. Looking toward the door he said, “The doctors say they’re gonna send you back to an Evac hospital for about three weeks’ observation and rest. I need you back on the line in three days. Is that clear, Sergeant?”

He glanced back down at Saunders just to find his eyes closed and his breathing had become even and light. He was sound asleep.

“Well,” Hanley said softly. “I guess the guys can just wait until later to say hello. Sleep well, my sergeant. You’ve earned it.” The lieutenant smiled contentedly to himself as he slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Dedicated to my favorite movie stars and one special comet that shone brighter than all of them and went out far too fast.