StitchinTime

All Combat! Names and indicia are licensed to: ABC entertainment company, and Selmur Productions… I think
Copyright August 30 2004 by Jessica A. Worley.

                                                         A Stitch in Time
                                                             (Doc Story Challenge)

Searing pain shot through his leg every time he stepped down with it as he ran. He tripped and clutched it as he fell, trying to keep as low to the dirt as he could while bullets rained overhead. He’d lost his gun, and the rest of his men. The Germans had caught Nelson, Kirby, and Littlejohn, and he had no idea where Doc was.

A grenade landed somewhere twenty feet in front of him, and he covered his head with his arms, as dirt and bits of rock and forest came down on top of him. This was some mess he’d gotten himself and his buddies into.

Even if he’d had enough ammo to waste on giving himself some running cover, and his Thompson back, he couldn’t shoot if he wanted to, because he couldn’t even inch his head above the mossy log he was taking shelter behind. There were too many incoming bullets, and he was beginning to wonder if they’d ever run out of ammo and have to stop and re-load. Almost as if in answer to the man’s question, there was a temporary break in the fire, and he began to drag himself off to better cover. He found it a difficult task with his leg, which felt like it was on fire, and knew it was unlikely that he would make it to the large rock ten feet in front of him before they resumed their barrage of bullets.

He tried to ignore the pain as he used his fingers to dig into the dirt and pull himself forward. It was too risky to crawl, because that was just an easier target for the krauts once they finished re-loading their weapons.

The firing started again and he decided that crawling was worth the risk since the fire was aimed behind him in the distance. He cut his hand on a rock and heard another explosion behind him. He looked back just in time to see his medic making a suicidal dash towards him, providing a shooting gallery-like target for the Reich.

“Doc!” he yelled, over the noise. The medic jumped over a log as he held his helmet onto his head with his right hand. A second later and he was there at the wounded man’s side. He swooped down as he ran, and grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him up, and together the two of them dove for the cover of the large grey rock.

“You’re crazy Doc!” he yelled at his medic.

“Tell me about it!” he shouted, ducking down as another grenade landed yards in front of them, and they were showered with more dirt. “Boy am I glad to see you Sarge,” Doc told him.

Saunders looked back up at him. “I don’t know if you’ll feel that way once you see I’ve got no gun.”

Doc shook his head, “I don’t care Sarge; I thought I was the last one left out here!” A couple of the krauts took better aim and a few of their bullets ricocheted off the rock face on the other side of their cover, making the two men duck even lower.

“Lousy rotten sons of-” Saunders started, but he stopped when Doc looked up and yelled at the krauts, cutting him off.

“Come on! Don’t you know we’re only two guys!? You gotta send your whole damn army down on top of us!?” The Sergeant pulled Doc back down to the ground again, just to make sure he was below the rock’s cover.

“It won’t do us any good Doc,” Saunders said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, “their base isn’t far off, and just as long as they see us or know we’re out here they’re going to keep firing, because they caught a whole squad earlier this morning! They think the whole army IS coming down on them!”

Doc shook his head and for the first time noticed his Sergeant’s wounded leg. There was a piece of wood sticking out of it just above his left boot at an odd angle.

“Sarge, when did that happen?” he asked, laying down on his stomach to stay under safe cover while he moved forward to look at it.

Saunders looked down at him and then his leg, before he ducked as another explosion rocked the ground around them. “Five, ten minutes ago, I don’t know.”

Doc carefully ripped the Sergeant’s pant leg open from the boot, up to the fragmented stick, and then a little above it. It looked like it was in there pretty good.

“A tree caught the grenade for me, but I didn’t get out of the way in time,” the blond Sergeant explained to him over the continuing noise.

Doc was just about to tell him that the fragmented piece of wood would have to come out, but there was another break in the fire, and Saunders pointed and said, “Come on, fall back!”

Doc grabbed Saunders by the back of his jacket again, and, staying as low to the ground as they could, they ran, and limped in the Sarge’s case, back to an even safer position twenty feet behind the rock. Here there were two fallen trees and a nice round boulder the size of an overgrown, state fair winning pumpkin. They dove behind them again just in time for the new ammunition, and Saunders winced as he landed on his injury.

Saunders squinted his eyes shut in pain and bit down as if there was something in his mouth, to stop from yelling. Doc noticed this, and rolled him over so he was on his back again, and the stick was again sticking up. It had been driven into his leg even further. Doc didn’t like the look of the wound, though any wound wasn’t good.

“Alright Sarge,” Doc said, “that’s gotta come out of your leg.”

Saunders lifted his head off the dirt to look at his medic, crouching down near his feet. His helmet had fallen off, and was somewhere, presumably behind him. He reached above his head, trying to keep his arms low, and tilted his head back to take a look. His helmet was across the clearing between two tall trees, right next to a, “Carbine,” Saunders said.

Doc looked up. He’d been searching through his medic’s kit to make sure he had enough sulfa and bandages. He saw where the Sergeant was looking, and knew they had to get it.

“Doc, we have to get that gun.”

“You’re not going to get anything, so just stay put!” Doc ordered him. “Maybe if they think we died or got away they’ll stop shooting,” he said, trying to get his Sergeant’s attention away from it.

Saunders looked back at Doc like he was mad, but just then, the shooting stopped. They stayed still and silent, and the prone Sergeant wondered if Doc was right. A few moments passed in the deafening silence, and the shooting hadn’t started again.

Their eyes met for a moment, and Saunders could tell that the medic was stunned.
“They’ll want to make sure,” the Sarge whispered in as low a voice as he could. “They’ll know we’re not dead when they see the trail of blood.”

Doc got down onto his stomach again and edged around one of the logs to take a look. Saunders did the same in the other direction, only lying on his back, he used the log to pull himself back just enough to see.

There was no movement. A gentle wind whispered through the treetops, but there was no sign of German soldiers. Doc looked back over at Saunders questioningly, as if to ask what was going on. Saunders shrugged to the best of his ability in the position he was in, and looked back towards the edge of the forest, where he knew the Krauts had been, on the edge of the field. What was going on?

They watched for another few seconds, and then, Saunders saw a leg stick out in the distance. It was barely visible in the shady woods from that far off, but because of the contrast of gray Kraut uniform on yellow wheat behind it, he had spotted it. Another second, and the back of the German soldier came into view for half a second. He was kneeling on one knee.

“What are they doing Sarge?” Doc asked.

“I don’t know.” He continued to watch. Finally the kraut leg disappeared as he stood up, and two more Germans stepped out from behind the tree cover, one of them with a radio on his back. The one who Saunders had first seen was obviously an officer, and he was putting the phone back in the radio pack.

“They were radioing in,” Saunders whispered to Doc, even though whispering probably wasn’t necessary because of the distance between them now.

A particularly strong gust of wind blew their way and tousled the Sergeants hair, and for a second, he thought he could hear the traces of what the officer was telling his men. Saunders dismissed the thought, because even if the wind had carried the voices, it didn’t matter because he didn’t speak German. He froze, as the officer looked their way along with the two soldiers who had stepped out. Had he seen them? The officer motioned with his hand to move out, back in the direction of their new base, and several other soldiers appeared from the edge of the woods. Saunders counted to himself silently as he watched them walk back through the knee-high wheat fields.

Finally, when they were out of the Sergeant’s sight, he looked back from the road on the other side of the massive field, and back over at Doc, letting his head fall back to the ground.

“Did you see how many?” he asked.

Doc nodded, “Fifteen I thought.”

“I counted sixteen if you count that officer.”

“Near a whole platoon just out for us,” Doc said quietly, shaking his head before he went back to looking through his pack.

Saunders sighed. This was definitely some fix they were in. He was wounded, Kirby, Billy, and Littlejohn were on their way to the new POW camp, which would have been bad enough in itself had they not been on a mission to rescue the other squad on a timetable, and they had no way to call in to Lt. Hanley and tell him to hold off the strike.

“Sarge,” Doc said, “this is gonna hurt.”

Saunders looked up again, and then let his head fall back to the dirt. “Do what you have to do Doc,” he told him, knowing he’d regret it.

* * *

Kirby gritted his teeth as the wind whipped through his short hair. The krauts had bound his hands too tight, and he could feel his fingers starting to go numb. Boy, if this doesn’t tear it, he thought to himself. Sarge and Doc are who knew where and in who knew how bad of shape, and the three of them were about to join the bloody fate of those they had been sent to save.

He looked over at Billy, whom had a sullen look on his face to rival the one Littlejohn wore, which was saying something. Billy looked up, and their eyes communicated to each other the severity of the situation.

“Hey!” Littlejohn shouted at one of the guards right next to him, “I want to know what you did with the other two in our squad!”

The Private looked over at the man, nearly three feet shorter than the large American was, and shook his head. “Ich sprache Englais nicht!”

Littlejohn frowned and looked over at Kirby. Kirby just shook his head, and said, “Stupid krauts.” He noticed a younger kraut look over at what he’d said, and Kirby tilted his head sideways a little bit. “Hey you!” he shouted over the roar of the engine of the truck that was driving them to their death. The younger kraut met his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s right, you Kraut,” Kirby said. “Do you speak English?”

“Keine…” he paused, “a little.”

Littlejohn and Billy looked at the young German Private now too. “What did you do with our friends?” Billy asked, looking to his left. The Private was sitting on the same side as Billy, Littlejohn and two other krauts. Kirby was on a bench across from them with three other German Privates.

One of the other Germans asked the English speaking one something in their own language, and he answered back, before looking back over at Kirby just as they hit a large bump in the road. “He says he killed one of the other men with you, and the Lt. killed another.”

“Dirty rotten son-of-a-bitch!” Kirby shouted, trying to jump up. The English speaking Kraut hadn’t told him maliciously, but with the air of not understanding what he was saying, like a child would have put it. Then again, Kirby thought, as the two Germans on either side of him pushed him back down, the kid doesn’t look very old. Eighteen maybe, he even looked younger.

“I was not there,” the Kraut said.

“What do you mean you weren’t there!?” Littlejohn shouted over at him to his left, past Billy. “You got on the same truck as us! We were all there!”
The boy just shook his head and looked down. “Nein, I was not there to see them killed,” he said, looking back up. “I was still in der field. I carry der radio.” He put a heavy accent on radio, and Billy wondered for a split second if that was the German word for it.

Kirby looked away. He wouldn’t believe that they killed the Sarge and Doc. Anything a German said wasn’t worth the time to spit on, little lone trust.

They rode for what must have been another five minutes, before the small procession of trucks slowed, and finally stopped. It hadn’t been a very far ride. Ten minutes at the most. Kirby looked up over the cab of the truck as they began to move again, and rode right under a small wooden footpath that led from one guard tower to the other. They were riding into what would be their home for the next twenty-four hours, before it was destroyed by bombers.

Billy gulped as the truck pulled to a stop again and they stood them up to off-load them. He had an overwhelming feeling of doom as he jumped down onto the dirt, and knew exactly why. If they didn’t get out of there by four in the afternoon the next day, then they were going to be blown to bits with the guys from third squad, first platoon, Item Company.

* * *

Doc had patched up a lot of guys, and seen a lot of wounds, but very few like the one Sergeant Saunders had. Of course he had heard of shrapnel this big getting lodged in soldiers, even bones from another guy who had stepped on a mine in front of his buddy, but still, it took getting used to.

Saunders was just waiting for the agony to hit him. He closed his eyes as Doc continued to rifle through his pack. He didn’t want to see what he was doing. A thought struck him though, and he said, “Doc, you’d better give me something to bite down on… they might not have all pulled out. I don’t want to chance it.”

Doc nodded. All he had were some bandages and a few other things, nothing like he needed. He looked around on the ground and found a thick branch, still attached to the log they had hid behind just minutes earlier.

The cracking noise brought Saunders’ eyes open again. He’d thought he didn’t want to know what was happening, but changed his mind. He let out a sigh of relief however when he saw that Doc was just breaking a branch off of one of the fallen trees. He finally managed it, and then he set it down, before moving around to the Sergeant’s side.

“I need your coat Sarge,” he said.

Saunders nodded. He sat up and Doc took his coat off. He then proceeded to wrap part of it around the branch. He made the Sergeant lie back down again and put the wrapped branch in his mouth. He closed his eyes again, and soon felt Doc tying something tightly around his leg just above where the fragment was lodged.

“That’ll help stem the bleeding when I take it out,” Doc informed him. He was regretting what he had to do, but knew it had to be done.

“Now Sarge, I don’t have any morphine left… half the bag got dumped and I don’t know where, but it wasn’t anywhere nearby,” he paused before saying, “When I do it, bite down on that stick, and try not to move your leg.”

Saunders nodded as best he could with the two-foot long branch in his mouth. He usually didn’t like morphine because it made him sick, but he knew that in a few minutes time, he would have been grateful for it.

Ever since he could remember, he had gotten slivers in his hands, and arms, and legs when he was a little kid, and he would go home so his mom could dig them out with a needle and sometimes a magnifying glass. This however, he thought to himself, was the biggest damn sliver he had ever seen, and what he hoped, would be the last.

He felt Doc’s steady hands press down slightly near his wound, and then pressure near his knee, and then:

“Arrgggg!” He bit down as hard as he could on the coat and branch, and his whole body tensed up, his back arching. Intense pain shot up his entire leg and he thought he might pass out, but didn’t. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, and the pain subsided somewhat.

He relaxed a little, and stopped biting down on the stick.

Doc looked up at the Sarge’s face to see how he was doing, and noticed that he was breathing hard. “Almost done,” he told the pale Sergeant quietly. He looked back down into the wound. There were still large fragments of wood inside. He had to get them out. He picked up the pair of tweezers he’d managed to salvage from when his pack had been dumped, and set to work.

* * *

“Gehen!”

He felt the tip of a rifle pushed into his back, and Kirby started to move forward as ordered, Littlejohn and Billy somewhere behind him.

“ Schnell Gehen jetzt vorwarts!”

Kirby, unable to speak the language of his captors, took this angry shout to mean, stick your hands up now or die, so he did as he was told now that his bonds had been cut, and said, “Alright, alright, don’t get your shorts all bunched up, I’m movin.”

They walked towards a small building on two feet stilts, and Kirby stepped up onto the first step leading to the door. He half turned to see how Billy and Littlejohn were faring, but the German simply stepped up, grabbed Kirby’s collar, and threw him into the closed door, making it burst open.

Kirby crashed to the floor, and was vaguely aware of scuffled movements around him. He looked up just in time to see the door he’d just been thrown through, slammed shut. A figure moved over him slowly in the dim light, and he threw his hands up over his head for a second. It was so bright outside that his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dimmer interior to the building, and he wasn’t sure if he’d been thrown into a barracks, or an interrogation room.

A few seconds later however, and Kirby found himself being pulled to a sitting position, and then being lifted to his feet. There was more than one shape around him, and as his eyes adjusted a little better, he saw that they were all wearing US uniforms.

“Where’d they pull you in from?” the one who had pulled him to his feet asked.

Kirby looked around him again, and asked, “You guys from Item Company?”

A few of them nodded, and Kirby said, “King Company, Second Platoon, First Squad.”

“You’re from Saunders’ outfit?” the one who had pulled him to his feet asked.

Kirby nodded, and then noticed the Sergeant’s stripes on the man’s coat. “Yes sir. Name’s Kirby.”

The Sergeant nodded. “Sergeant Gavin. Casey Gavin,” he paused, and then continued, “How many others they bring in from your squad?”

Kirby looked around again, and for the first time, noticed that Billy and Littlejohn weren’t there with him. “Two other Privates… I thought they were right behind me. Were they taken to interrogation?”

Gavin shook his head. “I don’t know. I think they put them in another barracks. We’re missing three guys from our squad who came in on the truck with us.”

“Oh, well, so much for our rescue attempt.”

Gavin looked down at him. “Rescue attempt?”

Kirby nodded. “We were sent to get you guys out before, well you know.” The thought of what was going to happen to them all at four the next day was a bad one, and Kirby didn’t want to say it.

“What about Saunders?”

Kirby looked over to his left now. One of the other guys had spoken. “One of the Krauts said he got him and Doc… but I don’t believe him. The Sarge is too good for that, so is Doc.”

Gavin nodded. “I hope you’re right about your medic. I know you are about Chip… He’s managed to get himself out of too much trouble to be gotten on a mission like this.”

Kirby was glad he found another Sergeant who agreed with him. “So,” Kirby asked, “how we gettin out of this place?”

* * *

Captain Kelso strode across the dirty road towards the building he knew the young Lt. was held up in. It had been one of the only buildings left standing, and his platoon had gotten to it first, so he’d set up his command post there.

He hurried to let a jeep go by, and then pushed open the door to the dirty and crumbling building.

It was considerably darker inside, and he took off his helmet just in time to hear a mess of static coming over a radio.

“Damn,” the Lt. sitting in front of him said as he slammed the phone back into the radio pack. “Johnson!”

A clerk appeared from a doorway that lead to the back, and the Lt. said, “Stay on top of this radio. I want to know the second Saunders checks in.”

“Yes sir,” the clerk said, before he realized the Captain was there, and stood up straight in a salute. The Lt. saw his clerk do this, and swung back around to face Kelso. He too, stood up and saluted the Captain.

“At ease Lt.”

The Lt. let his hand fall back to his side, and he asked, “Can I help you Captain?”

Kelso looked the Lt. over. He was dirty, and he looked as if he could use a hot meal and a good night’s sleep.

“Yes Lt, uh…”

“Hanley,” the man finished for him.

“Lt. Hanley. I need to know if your men are close to completing their mission.”

Hanley looked down in a way that told the Captain he had bad news for him. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, “but we haven’t heard from the squad I sent. They were supposed to check in a couple of hours ago, but they might have gotten out of range.”

Kelso nodded. “Alright Lt. do you have another squad you can send?”

The Lt. shook his head. “No sir. My second squad is out on recon. They won’t be back until sometime tomorrow, and third is out of commission. The Sergeant and five of his men are in the med tent recovering from a bad fight a couple of days ago.”

Captain Kelso sighed. “I see. Well, Item Company has a squad out there on the same mission. They haven’t checked in either… not since this morning anyhow. Hopefully one of them will come through, eh?”

Kelso turned to leave, but stopped when the Lt. went to speak again. “Don’t worry Captain. Saunders will get the job done. He’s my best Sergeant leading my best Squad.”

Without turning, Kelso smiled, before he placed his helmet back on, and stepped out the door.

* * *

Saunders ran his hand through his messy hair. He had one gun and limited ammo. The only man he had left with him was one that wasn’t allowed to fight, and he had two missions to complete. One which he’d been sent on by Lt. Hanley: to nab a Lt. from the Kraut compound behind them, and the other, to rescue one of Item Company’s squads, as well as the rest of his own, from the Kraut compound in front of them, before it got blown to pieces.

They were so far into enemy territory, that reinforcements were unlikely, had they been in range to ask for them in the first place. Their radio had stopped working the day before, and now they couldn’t call off the strike they knew was going down the next day.

The Sergeant sighed, and Doc looked over at him. “Ok there Sarge?” Doc asked.

Saunders nodded. “Yeah, fine. I just don’t know what to do, that’s all.” Normally he wouldn’t have made this statement, as he was supposed to be their leader, and the strong one, but this situation was different, and he was open to suggestions.

Doc nodded and moved forward to check the Sergeant’s bandaged leg anyhow. It looked fine, but the bandage would need to be changed in an hour or so. “What about Caje?” Doc asked.

The Sarge looked up again. “What about him? He’s too far off to get a hold of,” he paused a second and then looked down at his leg, “especially with my wound Doc. I can make it to the compound to get our guys out, but…” he trailed off, and shook his head.

The breeze picked up again, and Doc got an idea, though he didn’t know if the Sarge would go for it.

“What if I went to get Caje? Then he could take the radio back towards our lines until he’s back in range to call off the strike.”

“You don’t have a weapon Doc,” Saunders reminded him. It was half a day’s walk back to where Caje was waiting for them, keeping watch over the other enemy compound.

“I can do it Sarge,” Doc said, knowing he’d have to either way. What other choice did they have but both try and take out an entire compound to get their guys out. It would be too hard with a wounded man and another who couldn’t fight.

Saunders looked up and met his medic’s eyes. He knew it was the only way.

He leaned forward a little and said, “Alright Doc, but you listen to me. You’re going to stay low and take your time. Take the path we took here, and watch out for Krauts. If you see or hear ‘em coming, get out of it. I mean it. You can’t get any message to anybody if you’re dead.

The medic nodded, and picked his helmet up off the ground, placing it back on his head. “Ok Sarge, I’ll be back. Just sit tight.” And with that, he crawled out from their cover a little ways, took a look around, and made a dash for the trees on the other side of the clearing, as Sarge took aim with the Carbine to provide cover if he had to.

* * *

“Alright Kirby, what was your plan to get us out before you got captured?”

Kirby looked up at the Sergeant and scratched the back of his head. “Well, we didn’t exactly have one yet.”

Another Private from the other side of the room hissed, “What?! What did you guys think yeh were gonna do? Huh? Just walk right in the front door?”

“Hey!” Kirby said angrily, “We were on a different mission! And the Sarge would’ve come up with something!”

The other private made a gesture and gave a small “Ha!” as if to say he thought otherwise, and Kirby made a threatening move towards him. Nobody insulted his Sergeant and got away with it.

Before Kirby could get two steps forward however, Sergeant Gavin stepped in between the two men and said, “Alright you two, Cool it!”

Kirby glared at the Private leaning against the wall, who now wore a smirk on his face, as if to say, And-just-what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it?

“Now I mean it, knock it off Ashland,” Gavin told his Private.

Ashland looked away, but Gavin ignored him, and turned back to Kirby. “Well, this place is new,” he said, “I get the feeling we’re the first GI’s to get a room here, so I don’t think there’s any tunnels out; and we don’t have time to dig one either,” he added, fielding the question he knew someone would ask before they got the chance.

Kirby nodded. “We’ve got to get word to the other barracks too once we’ve got a plan.”

Gavin looked at him for a second, and then over at Private Ashland. “Somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem Private,” he told him.

Oslo watched as the young Private massaged his jaw. He’d taken a pretty good hit from the Kraut guard on his way into the barracks.

“Lousy Kraut,” his tall friend said, watching him just as Oslo, Peter, and Roger were.

“I’ll be ok Littlejohn,” he told him. “Wouldn’t be the first time a Kraut’d hit me in the mouth.”

“Yeah, well I’m still gonna get a piece of ‘em on our way outta here,” Littlejohn told him.

Oslo looked at the tall soldier now. “You two still haven’t told us how we’re going to do that.”

Billy and Littlejohn looked over at the three soldiers from Item Company that they’d been thrown in with. “We already told you that we’ve got people on the outside,” Billy said.

Peter wondered just how dense Nelson was. He’d already told them that the Germans said they shot and killed the rest of their squad. “You don’t know that they’re alive,” he told him.

Littlejohn glared and said, “We don’t have to see them to know they are.”
Peter shook his head and rolled his eyes. It was useless to depend on people you couldn’t count on coming for sure.

“Listen, this isn’t helping,” Billy said, “now if you guys would just cut it out then we might be able to work together and hatch a plan of our own. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to stick around to see what happens at four o’clock tomorrow.”

Littlejohn nodded at his friend’s statement, and so did the other Private, Roger, who had so far stayed silent, with the exception of telling them his name earlier, and to put in the fact that they didn’t know where the rest of their squad had been taken to.

“So, any ideas?”

* * *

He tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his leg as he lay there on his back, looking at the treetops above him. Doc had been gone for an hour or more, and wondering where he was and how he was faring was enough to keep Sarge busy for the time being.

Saunders’ ears were strained to hear any movement that might indicate an enemy soldier’s approach, just as they had been since he’d gotten there, but at the moment, the only sound they detected, were that of the rustling leaves overhead. Unless the Germans had decided to start disguising themselves in orange and differently colored shades of green and yellow Fall leaves, then Saunders knew he was ok for the time being.

He put his hands behind his head as he stared thoughtfully at the leaves, and was suddenly taken back to a time when he was home with his brothers and sister, and everything was good again. In the Fall he’d sometimes go out to the back yard and lie in the grass or on a pile of freshly raked leaves, and just gaze up at the trees for hours, watching the wind blow through them. Then his father would come out and pull him to his feet, asking if he was trying to stay warm under his new blanket, as he would be covered in freshly fallen leaves. Sometimes his siblings would be the ones to come and get him. One of his brothers would want to play football, and so he’d get up and teach them the new moves he’d learned in school the day before.

He didn’t know how long he’d lain there before he’d actually drifted off to sleep, dreaming about home and his family, but he was suddenly brought awake again by a loud noise.

His eyes snapped open, and again his senses were sharp and fully alert of what was going on around him. He flipped over onto his stomach, and looked around quickly for what had made the noise. He saw nothing, so he relied on his ears instead. It sounded as if there were footsteps far off, snapping branches or small twigs as their owner walked. He raised his head a little, and looked around once more. Off in the distance there was a single German soldier walking towards him, looking around on the ground for any sign of Americans, or whatever they had left behind. Saunders had almost let his head fall back to the ground again, below the log and boulder’s cover, but he didn’t, and saw three other Krauts come into view from the field behind the first.

The Sergeant flipped onto his side, and began working frantically to undo the neat bandaging Doc had put around his ankle. Those krauts were coming his way, and if he didn’t do something quick, then he was going to be taken to the doomed POW camp where the rest of the squad were.

Quickly accomplishing the first task, he ripped open his shirt and placed the bandage as convincingly as he could on his stomach, before buttoning his shirt part way again. He quickly stowed his gun under the log and covered it with as many leaves as he could, put his helmet down near his feet, closed his eyes, and lay still.

He slowed his breathing so that his chest barely rose, and he could hardly hear his own shallow breaths in his ears. The German footsteps drew ever closer, and he wondered if his trick would work. He’d never been one to hide like this, pretending to be dead, but the situation called for it. Finally he heard the leaves on the other side of the boulder crackle as someone stopped, and no doubt lay eyes upon him. More footsteps, and then all was silent.

* * *

He knew his friend had told him to take it slow, but time was of the essence, and he sprinted along as fast as he could go while still watching for enemies; they were in Kraut territory after all. He leapt over a fallen log and landed lightly on the other side. He was running just off the road, the same path they’d taken earlier that morning when it was still dark out. He knew that as of now, he probably had two or three hours until it was dark again, but he couldn’t be sure. He only caught glimpses of the sky above as he ran under the thick canopy of brightly colored fall leaves.

Out of breath, he stopped and leaned against a tree for a moment. He took a quick look around him before he mopped the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He still had a long way to go before he got back to the spot where they’d left Caje to stand guard. Once he got there it would be simple to give him the message to radio in and tell Lt. Hanley about Item Company’s missing squad. Caje would have to hike back towards their own lines further until he got a signal. There was no telling how long that would take. Then it was up to Doc to make it back to Saunders, and then the POW camp on his own.

He took another look around him again, and once more took off running, not for the first time, wishing there was somebody else with him, or at the very least, that he had an extra couple of hours to get there. The simple fact was, that he didn’t have an extra minute. Remembering this, he quickened his pace, and ran with renewed determination. The lives of a dozen or more men were depending on him now, and he couldn’t let them down.

* * *

Although they all remained awake, thoughts of doom on their mind, there was silence. Kirby looked around at the group of men he was with, and decided that he didn’t like the lingering stillness that hung there in the air. If he was with the rest of his squad in a situation like this, then he was sure they’d still be working on some sort of scheme to get themselves out of the situation. But with the apparent lack of ideas among this group, they had conceded to defeat, and decided that it was up to somebody on the outside to get them out.

Unable to stand it any longer, Kirby stood from his spot leaning against the wall, and moved over to the solitary window by the door. He felt, rather than saw, eyes following him, as he looked out over the dark compound. He knew it was probably only eight o’clock, but still felt that they were running short on time, which he forcibly reminded himself, that they were.

Suddenly a question popped into his head, and Kirby spun like a top to ask it. “Why hasn’t someone come to interrogate us yet?”

The Sergeant, already having been watching Kirby, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I don’t know.” He’d been wondering the same thing since about an hour after they’d gotten there. In any other POW compound, he was sure that the commanding German officer would have come to interrogate at least one man, possibly even torture, until one of them talked.

Kirby frowned. “Well, do you think they took the others to interrogate them?”

“I don’t know,” the Sergeant said again, quietly.

This Sergeant was really starting to get on Kirby’s nerves. Why didn’t he know? He was supposed to be their leader. He was supposed to have some idea of what was happening and of what to do, but he didn’t seem to. Again, he was confident that his own CO would have gotten them out of this hours before, had he been there.

   At Kirby’s last thought, his mind wandered back to where the Sarge and Doc must be, and if they were all right. The Kraut Private’s words suddenly came back to mind, and he started to worry for the first time since he’d gotten there, that it was true. If it wasn’t, then where were they? Shouldn’t they have been there by now?

* * *

Sergeant Saunders had long since replaced his worn coat. Before night fell, he knew it was going to turn out to be a cold one. In the feeble moonlight that shone down on him through the trees, he could see his breath form into fog in front of him.

After the Krauts had left, apparently satisfied that the GI was dead, having given him a couple of good kicks, and getting no response, Saunders had begun to tear strips off of his undershirt, in the attempts to make new bandages for his wounded ankle, thus making the coat an essential piece of equipment to keep him alive.

A cricket chirped somewhere, breaking the silence for a moment, for which the Sergeant was glad. It was too quiet for his liking. Normally he would have been glad for silence, especially considering all the noise of the war, but silence now, meant a possible sniper waiting somewhere out there, trying not to make noise.

Saunders hadn’t seen where the two or more Krauts had gone off to after they’d spotted him, but he was reasonably sure that they hadn’t had time to walk across the field before he’d opened his eyes again.

He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. He was sure his hair must have looked a real mess now that he’d done this so many times in the past 12 hours. He couldn’t help it though. He was hurt, and his squad was splintered. He had no idea how they were faring, with the exception that he was sure Caje was all right if Doc hadn’t gotten there and sent him on his way to get a radio signal. Caje had been hidden pretty well under a few bushes on a nice bluff above the Kraut compound, and all he had to do was keep an eye out and observe what they’d been doing while the rest of the squad was away.

The Sergeant shook his head again, and looked around in the darkness for any sign of the enemy. He was finding it difficult to stay awake, and had a sudden urge to light a cigarette to keep himself awake and calm his nerves. He discarded the thought however, as he knew that the first flash of fire from his Zippo, would tell any snipers out there that he was still alive, and give his exact position. He was already hurt, and didn’t need to provide another target for the Krauts.

* * *

Their feet pounded the ground as they ran, almost in unison. They had little time to make it back within range of their CO’s radio, and they knew it. Caje slowed down to let Doc catch his breath. He’d been extremely surprised to find the medic bursting into his clearing on the bluff an hour before, red, and out of breath. The poor man had had to run all the way back to his position from near the other Kraut compound. Caje didn’t know exactly how far that was, but had a general idea. He stopped, and crouched down, and a second later, Doc, was there by his side.

“What’re you waiting for?” he asked, a pained expression on his face.

“You Doc. You’ve gotta catch your breath.” Doc just shook his head though.

“Un uh. I ran this far, and then you wanted me to come with you just because you can shoot and I can’t if Krauts show up. Keep going Caje, they don’t have time for this.”

Caje gave him an admiring look, and then nodded. He stood, and they were off again. They’d wait a few more minutes before they tried the radio once more. “Just at the top of the next hill Doc, that’s all, just the next hill, then we’ll try again.”

Doc didn’t reply, and instead clutched the stitch in his side that’d been aching for hours. Lord it’d better work there, he silently threatened.

Lt. Hanley sat at his desk, head in one hand, pouring over a map one of his squads had just brought back. They’d found it on a dead German Corporal. They’d gotten back ahead of schedule, and Hanley seriously considered sending them straight back out, but in Saunders’ direction instead. The squad was beat though, so Hanley granted them some time to rest. That was an hour ago, and it was now nearing nine o’clock. With every passing hour that Saunders and his men didn’t check in, Hanley had a larger sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that something had gone wrong. It was making him feel sick, and he knew he had every right to be. Those were his friends out there.

With one last look at the tattered map, he brushed it aside and stood up. He’d taken his clerk’s place waiting for the radio call, and told him to get some sleep. He wasn’t due to come back for a few hours yet.

He gave the radio a disapproving look, as if daring it to stay silent, and was somewhat surprised when it crackled to life. Someone was trying to call through.
He nearly leapt the short distance between himself and the radio, and snatched up the phone, listening intently. There was too much static to distinguish what the voice on the other end was saying however, and he cursed.

The radio went silent again, and he looked at it, disgusted. He knew he hadn’t made whoever it was on the other end go silent, but nevertheless…

“Listen,” Hanley said into the mouthpiece, “you’ve got to get to higher ground or get into better range… I can’t make out what you’re saying…” he paused for a moment to listen, and then continued, “I repeat, get to a better position to transmit, over.”

The radio remained silent, and he shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this up tight about a simple mission like this, but something in his gut just told him the whole situation wasn’t right.

His clerk suddenly appeared in the doorway, and Hanley knew he must have woken him with the noise he’d made.

“Did you get something sir?” he asked, looking uncertain, but hopeful.

Hanley looked at the machine again and shook his head. “I don’t know Corporal, I thought I did.”

Caje and Doc looked at each other, still out of breath. “Did you hear that Doc?” Caje asked. They’d tried to raise their Command Post, and gotten a bit of static in return, but Caje thought he’d heard a garbled voice in there too.

Doc nodded. “I sure did… come on. Let’s move on a bit farther.”

They stood and ran for five more minutes. Luckily the hill didn’t slope downward again for a distance. They stopped just before it did, and once again, they kneeled, and Caje took the radio off his back. He pulled the phone out, and began speaking frantically into the mouthpiece.

“Checkmate King Two, this is White Rook, over.” They waited, and got only more static.

“One more time Caje,” Doc urged.

Caje complied, and said, “Checkmate King Two, this is White Rook, do you read?”

The silence around them was deafening, and then, “This is Checkmate King Two, White Rook, we read you loud and clear! Where have you guys been?”

Doc sighed in relief as a grin spread across their faces. Lt. Hanley’s voice was a sound for sore ears.

“We’ve got trouble sir,” Caje said. “Three have been taken into the new Kraut POW camp along with a whole squad from Item, and we have one injured.”

Hanley rubbed his forehead with his free hand. He knew something had been wrong. “All right. We’ll take care of things on this end, but until then, you’ve got to mount a rescue attempt… can the two of you manage?” He was trying to find out who was with Caje, because he knew they weren’t supposed to give out identification over the radio, just incase the enemy were intercepting the transmission.

“Well he can’t fight, but I think he’ll be of some use,” Caje told him, “and from what I hear, it sounds like we’ll get some help from above.”

Lt. Hanley smiled at the Cajun’s ingenuity. He knew Doc couldn’t fight, and with the exception of Saunders, the squad was comprised of Privates.

“All right White Rook, we understand. Now high tale it back there and get them outta there just in case I can’t pull things my way. We’ll send help out soon. King Two out.”

Caje looked over at the medic, who was on his knees. “Ready to go back Doc, or do you want to catch your breath for another few minutes?”

Doc looked at him, and decided against resting for too long. If he sat to take a breather for more than a minute or so, than he wasn’t going to want to get back up, and he told the Cajun so.

* * *

“I think it’s about time we see if the rest of our men have been put in another barracks, or if they’re being interrogated,” Sergeant Gavin told his squad, and Kirby.

Kirby nodded, but didn’t understand how they were going to do that. He gave the Sergeant a questioning look, but only saw him nod to the Private Kirby’d gotten into a fight with earlier.

Kirby was just about to ask what the plan was, when Private Ashland rushed him, and knocked him over.

“What the hell?!” Kirby managed to get out before Ashland hit him in the stomach and knocked the wind out him.

Kirby made a wild swing and got the other man square on the jaw. He reeled with pain for a moment, before they started in again, and the rest of the squad egged them on.

“What-are- you-doing!?” Kirby demanded as they struggled. He heard angry shouts from the rest of the squad, and wondered just what he’d done wrong to deserve this.

After another minute of the scuffle, someone pulled Ashland off the top of him, and pulled Kirby to his feet. They were both still struggling to get at each other, and another Kraut guard moved to restrain Kirby further.

His side ached, and so did his nose. It was bleeding freely down over his captor’s arm now, but Kirby took some satisfaction to see that his opponent had a nice gash above his eye that Kirby’d caused.

“What the hell was that for!?” Kirby demanded of Private Ashland again, but all he got in response was an angry shout from one of the Krauts.

“Halt sie klappe!”

Kirby gave him a dirty look, but just then, another German came in through the already open door, and took in the sight of the American’s, two of them, dirty and bloodied.

“What has been going on here?” he asked quietly.

Gavin stepped forward, and suddenly Kirby understood what was going on.

“That bastard just started beatin’ the shit outta me!” Kirby yelled, making another angry movement towards Ashland. The two Krauts tightened their grip.

“HE INSULTED MY SERGEANT!!” Ashland roared.

“All I said was that he couldn’t shoot straight if the gun was tied down and already aimed for him!” Kirby shouted, “It wasn’t like I was lyin!”

“Alright, Enough!” The German Lt. said loudly. He said something in German to the two guards, and they pushed Kirby forward and out the door into the cool night air. One of the guards let go of Kirby’s right arm, and he used his newly freed appendage to wipe his bloody nose.

“Gehen!” the guard shouted, and Kirby moved off.

“We shall see how you fare with two of your own men until the Captain gets here in the morning Private,” the Lt. said loudly, walking off back towards his own post, or more likely, his bed, Kirby thought to himself, as they pushed him towards the other side of the compound.

* * *

Dawn broke early, and Saunders was surprised to find that he was not alone when he woke up. Doc was there re-bandaging his ankle, and Caje was keeping an eye out for Krauts.

“Look for snipers,” Saunders said, making the other two men jump. They hadn’t noticed that he was awake.

“Ok Sarge,” Caje said, smiling.

Doc looked at the Sergeant, and said, “I see you managed without me.”

“I can say the same,” Sarge said.

Caje chuckled, and Saunders felt like doing the same. He had only been expecting Doc to come back, and not this early.

“Did you get through to the Lt?” he asked.

Doc nodded. “He said he was gonna try an call off the air strike and send help, but that we’d better try and make a rescue attempt anyway, just incase he couldn’t pull it.”

Saunders nodded, that made sense. “Any ideas?” he asked.

Caje took his eyes off the surrounding woods and distant field, and grinned. “Sarge, have we got a plan for you.”

Doc chuckled. It sounded like the Cajun was trying to sell him a car.

Saunders suppressed a laugh, and waited patiently for Caje to tell him.

“There’s a Captain going from Outpost, to outpost, to outpost,” Caje said. “He pulled into the Kraut OP last night just before Doc came and got me. I figured they had to be waiting for somebody, because they’d been running around all day. It looked like they were cleaning up or something…well, you know how it goes.”

Saunders nodded. He saw where this was going. “And since there’s a new POW camp in the area, he just might want to tour that too.”

“Exactly,” Caje said.

Doc looked from the Sarge, to Caje, and back to Sarge again. “Now wait a minute,” he said. “Just what are you two planning?”

Sarge looked at him. “There’s only one road into that place from the Captain’s direction Doc, and we’re going to be waiting there.”

* * *

Kirby’d found that it wasn’t much better in the second barracks. With the exception of his arrival, it was a quiet night. Billy, Littlejohn, and the other three men from Item didn’t know anymore about the situation than they did, and as the hours ticked by, the feeling of the end once again settled over them. Morning was almost over, and they had only a few hours left to make their daring escape… whatever that would be.

“Come on Sarge,” Littlejohn muttered under his breath.

“How can it be the end already?” Billy asked no one in particular a little while later. “It’s just barely been the beginning.”

Kirby tried to ignore them. The last thing he wanted to hear in the hours before they died, were things about dying. Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply tune his brain out, like he could the others.

“Come on Sarge,” Kirby finally muttered under his own breath.

* * *

They waited silently in a small ravine beside the road for any sound of an engine coming their way. It had taken them twenty minutes to get there from their previous position, and Saunders had been extremely glad that he had been wrong about the snipers.

“How many did you say were with the Captain again?” Doc asked Caje.

“Two… the driver and a guard.”

“Don’t worry Doc,” the Sarge told him, “we can handle them.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Doc said, “It’s me cleanin’ up the mess afterwards,” he finished under his breath.

Saunders watched as a small beetle made it’s way across a small branch in front of him, and then trip and fall on it’s back. He was just about to roll it back onto it’s legs, when a sound off in the distance caught his attention.

The three men looked at each other, and Saunders nodded to Doc. “Alright Doc, ready?”

“Not really,” he said, “but I guess I’ll have to be.” He didn’t like being used for bait, but under the circumstances, and the waning amount of time they were dealing with…

Doc stood and used a vine to pull himself up out of the ravine, and onto the road, Caje and the Sarge giving him an extra push up to help him up there.

The sound of the engine was getting louder, and finally, they could see it come into view as it came around a corner down the road a ways.

They watched the medic, with fake bandages tied around one arm, and his head, wave the black town car down, and then the car stop, and three puzzled Germans cautiously step out, all three with their guns aimed.

“Please,” Doc said with fake feebleness in his voice, “help.” He moved forward towards the Captain, stumbling a little, and Caje and Saunders waited like tigers in a jungle, waiting to pounce on their prey.

“Er ist Americaner!” the driver said. “Ein dochter!”

“Helfin sie,” the Captain said, just as Doc pretended to collapse, and the driver and guard caught him, preventing him from hitting the ground.

At that moment, Caje and Sarge leapt out from their hiding place, and attacked the three Germans. Caje swung his rifle at one of the Germans holding Doc, and Saunders brought his Carbine around to the front of the Captain, pulling it tight in front of his neck. Doc ducked out of the way as the other German tried to grab Caje, and a single shot rang out before Caje kicked the German driver. The driver dodged him, and Saunders, finished with the Captain moved to help Caje fend off the other two.

The whole incident happened so fast, that no one had seen Doc hit the ground.

As Caje took the final Kraut down, Saunders looked around and spotted the medic, lying on the ground in front of the still running car in a heap.

“Doc,” he breathed, going to him, and kneeling down. The medic didn’t move, but with a sigh of relief, Saunders saw his chest rise and fall. He was still alive.

“Which one shot him?” Caje asked, looking around at the three dead Krauts on the ground. Another shot rang out in answer to his question however, and he hit the deck.

Saunders ducked down too, and grabbed up his gun again, looking around quickly. Another shot, and he had seen the flash of the gun, as the bulled made a near miss, and hit the dirt next to him.

“There!” Saunders shouted to Caje, pointing to the trees down the road. Both he and Caje aimed, and fired off several rounds, until they heard a shout, and saw a man fall from one of the trees.

They looked at each other, and then moved to see if there was anything they could do for Doc again.

“Damn it,” Saunders said.

Caje shook his head, and they set to work trying to bandage the wound to stop the bleeding. When they had finished, Caje looked at his watch, and said, “Sarge, we gotta go. There’s only an hour left.”

Saunders looked up at him. He’d nearly forgotten about their mission to free their friends. He nodded and said, “All right. Help me move him back down into the ravine.”

“We’re leaving him here?” Caje asked.

“What choice do we have?” Saunders asked angrily. He didn’t want to leave their friend any more than Caje did, but they couldn’t take him with them. They’d have to get him on their way back.

The quickly undressed the Captain and the driver, and changed into their clothes. Caje moved down to check on Doc one more time, placing his medic’s kit next to him just in case he woke up, and then went back up to the road, and got into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t worry Caje,” Saunders told him, “he’ll be ok.”

Caje nodded and put his foot to the floor.

* * *

“Hier kommt der hauptmann!”

“Der hauptmann kommt!”

Kirby could hear the guards relaying the same message from guard to guard, until it finally reached the German Lt. Whoever it was that they were waiting for was there. And what they were waiting for, was less than a half hour off.

Billy swallowed, and found it hard, as there was a large lump in his throat. They heard more shouts from outside, and his mouth went dry.

“Well at least we won’t get the chance to be interrogated,” Littlejohn said.

One of the men from Item nodded in agreement.

Kirby moved to the window to see if he could get a look at the Captain, just as the guards opened the gate to let him in.

“At least we’ll take him with us,” Peter said. Billy nodded.

The sleek black car pulled up next to the two large trucks that had brought them in the day before, and two men stepped out.

Now it was Kirby’s turn to find his mouth go dry. “Oh no,” he said, as the one dressed in a Captain’s uniform turned towards him.

Billy looked up and moved to the window to take a look too, along with Littlejohn.

“We’re saved,” Littlejohn said.

This got the attention from the three Privates from Item Company, and they moved to the window too.

“What’re you three on about?” one of them asked.

“That’s our Sergeant,” Kirby said.

“You’re nuts Kirby,” Peter told him. “That’s a Kraut Captain.”

“No he’s not,” Billy told him, “That’s our Sergeant. You just get ready to run for those covered trucks, that’s all.”

Saunders looked around him as half a dozen Krauts came running towards them. He took a deep breath, and wondered if they knew he wasn’t their Captain. Instead of attacking him however, they all fell in line and stood up straight, bringing their feet together in salute to him. He did the same, and then nodded to Caje.

Caje moved off towards one of the trucks, and noticed a curtain drawn back on a window in one of the barracks. He strained to see if he recognized any of the faces in the window, but it was too far away.

Saunders watched as a Lt ran over and saluted. He asked something in German, and Saunders ignored him. They were in real trouble if he didn’t figure out how to communicate with them.

Taking a desperate guess, Saunders put on his best German accent, and said in English, “I know you speak English Lt. Just lead me to the Americans so I can get this over with. I have other places to be today.”

“Ya Herr!” he said promptly, leading him off to one of the barracks.

Saunders pretended to take some interest in the facility as they walked, and he let a small smile curve his lips. “Wunderbar,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for the Lt. to hear.

“Danke Herr,” the Lt. said.

When they got to the barracks a second later, the Lt. held open the door for the Captain, and let him enter. Saunders looked around and found Nelson, Littlejohn, and Kirby there along with three other GI’s that he could only assumed belonged to Casey.

“What are your orders?” Saunders asked Billy in his fake German accent.

Billy tried to look defiant, and said nothing.

“You will answer the Captain when he speaks to you!” the Lt. spat angrily, moving to hit Nelson.

Saunders put a hand forward to stop him however, and said, “There will be enough time for that later Lt. Right now I wish to see the men together. Where are the others I was told you caught?”

The Lt. smiled proudly, and stood up a little straighter. He motioned with his hand to let Saunders pass through the door before him, and as Saunders did, he gave one of the men from Item a meaningful look he hoped he understood.

As the Lt. led him to the other barracks, Saunders heard two of the guards herding the five men out and into the bright sunlight.

The Lt. stopped, and said, “Bitte hauptmann, wait here.” Saunders nodded curtly, and the Lt. moved forward, shouting something in German to the other guards, who ran forward to the other barracks. A few seconds later, they were pulling the rest of Item out into the clearing.

Saunders saw the astonished look on Casey’s face, and tried not to smile. He failed, and was lucky that the Lt. took it to mean he was happy with all the men they’d caught.

He looked down at his watch, and then looked around for Caje, who was nowhere in sight. They had ten minuets until the bombers were scheduled to start their run.

The guards roughly pushed the men into formation in three neat rows for the Captain to inspect them. Finally, with a wave from the Lt, Saunders moved forward and walked down the first line of men, the Lt. a few paces behind him.

“Truck,” he whispered to Kirby as he passed him, and also to Casey in the next row.

“I suspect we will get good information from these men Lt,” Saunders told him. “And for capturing them, I will make sure there is a medal in it for you.”

The Lt, smiled, and just as he was about to say, “Thank you,” a distant rumble met their ears.

Saunders instinctively looked toward the sky, and his stomach dropped. The bombers were coming.

The Lt. looked up too, and Saunders pointed. Immediately there was chaos, as the Lt. started shouting out orders to his men, and one of the trucks roared to life.

The two squads leapt into action at once, trying to incapacitate their captors. Saunders went after the Lt, and hit him over the head with the Captain’s Lueger.

“GO GO GO!!” Saunders shouted at the men. They ran for the truck, and Kirby ran to the second one to start it up. There wasn’t going to be enough room in the first one.

The few remaining guards stationed around the walls tried to stop the escape of their prisoners, but were unsuccessful. Two of the men from Item took a bullet in the leg or arm, and Littlejohn got nicked on the shoulder, but other than that, the rest made it into the trucks unharmed.

“Move ‘em out Caje!! Kirby!!” Saunders shouted, diving into the back of one of the trucks the best he could with his injured leg.

One of the guards lying there suddenly sprang back to life however, and grabbed onto the Sergeant’s wounded ankle, preventing him from climbing into the truck.

Billy used one of the rifle’s he’d taken from another guard, and swung it at the Kraut’s head. He hit it solidly, and they pulled the Sarge the rest of the way into the truck. Thinking quickly, Billy and Peters reached down and pulled the wounded Kraut up into the truck with them as the trucks started to move.

“Hurry up!” Casey shouted up to Kirby, who promptly put his foot to the floor. He didn’t wait for someone to open the gate, and instead, sped right through it, some of the wood and metal crashing through the windshield.

“Ha ha!” Kirby shouted back to Sergeant Gavin, “I told ya we’d go through the front door!!”

“Stop here,” Saunders instructed them fifteen minutes later.

“What for?” Gavin asked.

“Our medic’s down there.”

Kirby put his foot to the break so suddenly that they all slid forward on the floor or their seats a foot.

Billy and Kirby jumped out and ran down to the ravine that ran along side the road as Saunders instructed, and a minute later they returned with the still unconscious, but breathing, Doc.

They loaded him carefully into the back of the crowded truck, and once again, took off towards home.

* * *

The whole Command Post jumped to life when the Private on guard announced the arrival of two German trucks. Caje and Kirby wisely stopped however, and jumped out, showing that they were friendlies. Of course it didn’t help Caje’s case very much, since he was still wearing the German Corporal’s uniform.

“It’s ok,” Saunders told the guards, “he’s American. Now let us through, we’ve got wounded.”

Lt. Hanley came running over to them as the trucks pulled up outside the Med. tent and they started helping the wounded down.

“Saunders!” he shouted over the noise. “Are you alright!?”

“Yes sir,” he told him. “Doc’s gonna have a rough time though.”

The Lt. looked down at the medic as they pulled him out of the truck and loaded him onto a litter. “What happened?” he asked.

“Sniper,” Caje said as he walked by, helping one of the wounded men from Item.

Hanley shook his head, “Well at least you all made it back ok.”

“And with my prisoner.”

Saunders and Hanley turned to see Captain Kelso striding towards them. He was looking at the wounded prisoner they’d just pulled off the truck.

“Yes sir,” Saunders said, wondering who the new Captain was.”

“So you speak English eh?” Kelso asked.

Hanley and Saunders looked at each other, a little puzzled, before Saunders remembered that he was still wearing a German uniform.

“No sir,” Hanley said, “this is Sergeant Saunders. Your prisoner is the Corporal they just took into the aid station.”

They watched as the Captain’s face fell, and then as he frowned. “This is your best Sergeant and best squad Hanley?” He was clearly noticing the state of them all and their wounded.

Hanley stood a little straighter, and said, “Yes sir, and the squad from Item Company. Saunders and Caje just rescued the rest of these men from the new POW camp you refused to call the bombing off of.”

“Just in time too sir,” Saunders said. “We could feel the blast right behind us as we pulled out.”

The Captain just shook his head. “Where’s my prisoner!?” he shouted as he walked away and into the aid station.

Hanley shook his head. There were too many CO’s like Kelso in this war, and in the end he knew it would be them that did them in if they lost, which he knew they wouldn’t because of men like Sergeant Saunders.

“So,” Saunders said as they watched the retreating figure of Kelso, “saying good things about me I hear?”

Hanley chuckled, “Come on Chip, lets go get that leg checked out, and see about Doc.”

Together they walked off into the aid station, where Doc was sitting up and feebly fighting off one of the doctors. “I’ll be alright,” he told Lt. Hanley as he approached.

“Not if you don’t let me treat you, now just hold still and let me give you a local!”

Saunders laughed. “Better do what he says Doc. You know how Doctors are.”

He looked at Saunders, and then up at Hanley. “And just what’s that supposed to mean?” Doc asked.

“Nothin, Doc, nothing.”

“You just let him do what he’s got to, or your medal will get sent home to your family instead,” Lt. Hanley said.

“My medal?” Doc asked, stunned.

“From what I heard Caje and Saunders saying, you’re the one who did all the work…”

Doc nodded, and finally lay back on the table. A nurse moved around to the other side of him and started to put him under. He was tired from his long run after all, so he let himself drift of to sleep.

End