Turnabout

The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. Copyright 2002 by Figment

Turnabout

The noise was horrendous. It hadn’t let up for two days and the battling soldiers were sure they would be deafened if it didn’t quiet down soon. They all dreaded conflicts such as this; seemingly never-ending.
Second Platoon’s First and Second squads were being constantly pounded with mortars and three German machine guns set up in strategic positions in the small town. Most of the buildings had been demolished already and the soldiers found only piles of rubble to hide behind for cover. No one had been able to sneak up close enough to the machine guns to get a grenade in and the constant shelling and firing had nerves worn to a fine line.
The men were split up, unable to communicate effectively with each other. They fought on, hoping to get a break sooner or later, preferably sooner.
Kirby and Littlejohn crouched behind a partially crumpled wall. They seemed to be directly in front of one of the Kraut guns and were unable to move in any direction. Getting low on ammunition, they had begun to space their shots, hoping their friends would get to them soon. It was growing dark again and neither of them relished the thought of spending another night pinned down next to the slowly dwindling wall. Bricks and mortar flew in every direction every time the machine gun opened up on them.
“Where’s the sarge, anyhow?” Kirby grumbled as he loaded his last clip into the BAR.
“He’ll get to us when he can, Kirby,” Littlejohn’s voice didn’t seem to hold as much hope as his words did.
Kirby looked up at his big companion with a frown. “Yeah,” he nodded. “If he has a good trick up his sleeve. Those Krauts ain’t lettin’ nobody get in or outta here.”
A burst from the machine gun sent debris flying his way as Kirby ducked and threw an arm up over his head.
“Hey, Kirby!” Littlejohn grabbed the smaller man’s arm. “Look!”
He pointed and Kirby looked back behind him to see what the big man was so excited about.
A few yards up the street they could see a soldier darting from a doorway to a pile of rubble, heading in the general direction of the machine gun nest. Even through the thick smoke, dust and distance, they both recognized the familiar camouflage-covered helmet of their sergeant, Saunders.
“See? I told ya,” Littlejohn grinned from ear to ear.
Kirby only grinned and turned back to the task at hand.
“Let’s keep ‘em busy,” he told his friend.
Both of the soldiers started firing on the machine gun with renewed vigor.
If they could just keep the Germans busy for a few minutes more, they knew their sergeant would be able to get close enough to free them from this mess.
Suddenly Kirby turned his back to the rubble and sat down, clutching his BAR close to him. Littlejohn glanced down at him, then worriedly squatted beside his friend.
“Whassa matter, Kirby? Ya hit?” Littlejohn asked frowning.
Kirby looked up at him, his face pale and eyes wide.
“C’mon, Kirby!” Littlejohn shook the BAR man’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“They got ‘im!” Kirby gasped quietly.
“Got who?” Littlejohn was getting exasperated. “Who, Kirby?”
“The Sarge,” Kirby looked at Littlejohn plaintively. “They got the sarge. I saw ‘im go down over there behind that fountain.” Kirby looked down at his hands hopelessly. “We’re on our own, buddy.”
Littlejohn looked at Kirby incredulously.
“Maybe he ain’t dead, Kirby,” Littlejohn yelled above the roar of gunfire. “And if he’s alive, he needs us.”
Littlejohn stood up and began firing once again at the machine gun nest.
“Get up, Kirby!” Littlejohn screamed at him.
Kirby slowly rose to his previous position and looked towards the fountain where he’d last seen his friend and leader fall. Nothing moved and the BAR man’s sorrow slowly turned to anger as he brought the Browning rifle to his shoulder once more. He and Littlejohn laid down a barrage of bullets that was impenetrable. For a few seconds the machine gun was silent as the enraged Americans poured their last few rounds in on the nest.
“That’s it!” Kirby shouted as he set the BAR aside. “I’m outta ammo.”
“Me, too,” Littlejohn said as he turned away and checked his belt once more for any clips he might have missed.
“Hande Hoche!” a gravely voice made both of them jump.
They looked up behind them to find three German soldiers with their weapons trained on them. Slowly and carefully Kirby and Littlejohn placed their weapons at their feet and raised their hands high in the air.
Kirby glanced once again towards the fountain where he’d seen Saunders fall. His sergeant was nowhere to be seen. He shook his head as a German jerked his helmet from him and released his web belt. The two of them were herded towards the machine gun nest.
Two more Kraut soldiers stood up from behind the machine gun and joined the procession. They turned the Americans towards a building that was still partially intact just a few yards down the street. When they reached the front of the building their hands were tied behind them and they were made to sit with their backs against the front of the building. Three of the Germans settled themselves in front of the prisoners to guard them, while the other two headed down the street in a crouching run.
“Hear that?” Littlejohn whispered near Kirby’s ear.
“Hear what?” Kirby grumbled almost inaudibly.
“Nothing,” Littlejohn answered.
Kirby sat erect straining to see in every direction. One of the guards waved his rifle threateningly and Kirby settled back against the wall.
“Wonder what’s goin’ on?” the BAR man said softly.
He had realized that he could no longer hear mortars and only sporadic gunfire disturbed the silence that had fallen over the smoky village. It wasn’t long before he had an answer to his question.
Several more GIs appeared in the street to their right. They had their hands on their heads and were being herded like cattle towards the building where Kirby and Littlejohn waited. Kirby recognized most of the men from Second Squad. It seemed everyone was there except their non-com, Sgt. Evans. Kirby frowned. Were they killin’ off all the leaders? There were no Americans above the rank of PFC present.
Soon all five of the men from Second Squad were tied and sitting beside Kirby and Littlejohn along the front of the building. More and more Germans converged on the area until it looked like half the Kraut army was present. The little village had fallen silent and the Germans seemed to have relaxed. They apparently did not expect any more confrontations any time soon.
“Wonder where Caje, Nelson and Doc got off too,” Littlejohn whispered close to Kirby’s ear.
Kirby shrugged. “Maybe they got away. Maybe they got it like the sarge.” He returned.
“They couldn’t have,” Littlejohn insisted. “They were supposed to be escortin’ the lieutenant back to HQ.”
“NO TALK!” an incredibly young German waved his rifle at Kirby and the two GIs fell silent.
Just before dark all of the Americans were made to enter the old building. The roof was partially blown away and rubble and debris was scattered everywhere. But the walls were still standing and with only two windows facing the street, the small shop made an efficient prison. The GIs freed themselves and began investigating their surroundings.
The German soldiers built campfires in the street in front of the shop and went about preparing an evening meal. Kirby, of course, was first to notice that they didn’t even offer the Americans so much as a drink of water. He had positioned himself near one of the windows and watched the proceedings outside carefully.
“No way we’ll ever get outta here,” he grumbled, assessing their situation.
“We’ll get out,” Bingham, a private from Evan’s squad assured him.
“We gotta get out.”
“Where’s Evans?” Kirby asked the young recruit.
“I don’t know. He told us to hold where we were then disappeared. I never saw him again,” Bingham answered. “Where’s Saunders?”
“He got it,” Kirby said looking away.
“Oh,” Bingham frowned. “Sorry.”
The Americans settled down to sit with their backs against the ragged stone walls, each one trying to come up with some way of getting out of their present situation.

* * *
“It’s no use, Lieutenant,” Caje reported to his superior. “They’ve got all the guys in a building near the middle of the village. Krauts are everywhere. We’d never get anywhere near ‘em.”
“Okay, Caje,” Lt. Hanley frowned at his scout as he frantically sought a solution in his mind. “We’ll get as close as we can without being seen. Maybe an opportunity will present itself and we can do something about it. Did you see Saunders or Evans with the men?”
“No, sir,” Caje shook his head. “They weren’t there. Just the privates.”
“You and Nelson spread out and look around, but don’t get too close. I don’t want any more of you captured, understand?” Hanley looked at the Cajun squarely.
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Caje nodded as he moved away with a hand motion to Billy Nelson to follow him.
Hanley found a convenient low stone fence and sitting down, he stretched his long legs out before him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and slowly lit one as he stared at the glow caused by the campfires of the enemy. He had to get his men back, but they were all badly outnumbered and outgunned.
Doc sat close by, his expressive face showing the anxiety that his lieutenant strove to hide.
In just a few minutes, Caje appeared, flushed and breathing hard from exertion.
“Doc!” he called softly.
Both Doc and Lt. Hanley jumped up and rushed to meet the scout.
“I found Saunders,” Caje explained hurriedly. “He’s wounded. He needs help!”
“Where’s Nelson?” Hanley asked.
“I left him back there with the sarge,” Caje explained.
“Come on,” Hanley motioned to Doc and the three of them sped down the side street now darkened with evening shadows.
They came to a fountain standing in the middle of the cobbled avenue. Billy sat with his back against the fountain and Saunders’ head cradled in his lap. He was pressing a bandage against the sergeant’s forehead. Fear creased the young soldier’s features and his hands shook as he tried to stop the blood flowing freely from the sergeant’s head.
“Hurry, Doc!” Nelson pleaded as the medic knelt beside them. “He’s bleedin’ bad.”
Doc checked the sergeant’s pulse finding it fast and his breathing was light and shallow.
Caje and Lt. Hanley scanned the immediate area finding it quiet and devoid of Germans. Hanley propped one foot on the edge of the fountain and looked down at his non-com’s still form.
“He’ll make it, Lieutenant,” Doc assured him. “Looks like a bullet grazed his head. His skull may be cracked. I don’t know. But he’s out of it.”
“Hmmm.” Hanley nodded as his eyes searched the rubble and debris spread around them. He could see where the Germans had removed the machine gun and as his eyes wandered he caught a glimpse of something familiar behind a broken wall.
“Do what you can for ‘im, Doc,” Hanley said as he moved towards the wall.
He stooped to pick up two helmets and web belts that had been thrown aside. One of them sported the shoulder straps for carrying heavy BAR clips. He knew this is where Kirby and Littlejohn must have been captured. He carried the equipment back to the fountain and dropped it shaking his head.
A low moan from the ground near him attracted his attention. He turned to find Doc slowly raising the sergeant to a sitting position. The lieutenant squatted in front of his friend.
“Hi Saunders,” he smiled as he produced a cigarette. Lighting the stick, he offered it to the groggy sergeant.
Saunders stared at the cigarette until his eyes actually focused on it, then accepted it gratefully.
“I…I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he spoke softly.
“Sorry for what, Sergeant?” Hanley asked.
“I lost my squad and bungled the whole mission.” Saunders remembered Kirby and Littlejohn desperately needing his help.
“Your squad has been captured, but they’re alive, Saunders,” Hanley informed him. “And this mission isn’t over until I say it is.” He added.
“Yes, sir,” Saunders placed a hand on his forehead just over his right eye. The bandage felt as if it weighed ten pounds.
Accepting a canteen from Doc, Saunders drank greedily and placed a hand on the edge of the fountain to lever himself up.
“Now, just take it easy, Sarge,” Doc placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “You better stay still for a while.”
Saunders pushed the medic’s hand away and managed to get to his feet. He swayed dizzily and Hanley and Doc both grabbed an arm to steady him.
“I’m gonna send you back to the aid station with Doc,” Hanley stated firmly.
“I’m okay, Lieutenant,” Saunders insisted. “Just getting my sea legs.”
Hanley smiled, but affirmed his statement. “You’re goin’ back.”
The sergeant looked at his superior for a moment and seeing no chance of argument, dropped his head and sat down on the edge of the fountain in defeat.
“When you get back, send McDonald’s squad up here,” Hanley instructed. Since we’ve been unable to use radio communication because of those hills between us and home, I haven’t been able to get any help up here.”
“Yes, sir,” Saunders nodded. “What if they move the prisoners before your help gets here?”
“I’ll leave Nelson here to let the reinforcements know which direction to take,” Hanley pulled a map from his jacket.
“They’ll probably have to follow this road to Rochelle,” the lieutenant traced a line on the map. “If they do, we may be able to catch them between these bluffs just about a half mile from the town. If you don’t hear from us within the next twenty-four hours, report to Captain Jampel.”
“Yes, sir,” Saunders frowned, but accepted his orders.
He slowly placed his battered camouflaged helmet on his bandaged head and stood unsteadily. Doc immediately moved closer to place a hand behind the sergeant’s left arm. Saunders pulled away from the medic and turned towards the hills just east of the little ravaged village. Doc followed shaking his head as the lieutenant motioned to his remaining men.
Hanley, Caje and Nelson moved stealthily towards the street where the prisoners were being held. They quickly found a good position in a half-blown-away building from which they could watch the Germans and the front of the shop where the prisoners were being held. There were at least a dozen Germans mingling around a small fire in the middle of the street. It would be impossible to rescue the Americans at this point, so the three of them settled to watch and get as much rest as possible. Things could get crazy real fast and they’d need all the energy they could muster.
“Lieutenant?” a soft voice issued from the rear of the building the Americans had settled into.
All three GI’s jumped and pulled their weapons to firing position.
“Easy!” the voice came again. “It’s me, Evans!”
“Evans!” Hanley called in a loud whisper. “What are you doin’ here?”
“I was lookin’ for Saunders when the Krauts showed up out there with half of our platoon. I ducked in here to hide and watch, but I couldn’t do nuthin’ for ‘em,” Sgt. Evans explained.
“Okay,” Hanley nodded. “Just stick with us. I sent Saunders for help. They should be here by mornin’ at the latest.”
“Yes, sir,” Evans turned to one of the windows facing the street to watch the activities near the imprisoned Americans.

* * *

Saunders and Doc moved through the woods to the base of the rocky hills that separated them and 2nd Platoon’s Command Post. It had gotten dark and traveling was hazardous. Roots and rocks seemed to purposely place themselves in front of the two GIs to trip them and they stumbled often.
Saunders fell to one knee and made no effort to rise. Doc caught up with him and slipped a hand beneath his arm to help him to stand.
“Take five, Doc,” Saunders gasped. He slumped against a large boulder and removed the helmet. His head was pounding and his energy was spent.
Doc rummaged in his medical bag and produced a bottle of aspirins, offering a couple to the sergeant. Saunders gratefully accepted them and the canteen the medic extended to him as he slid down to sit on the ground beside the boulder.
The evening was unusually silent, for which the sergeant was thankful. After only a few minutes the sergeant struggled to his feet once more and motioned for Doc to follow. Saunders knew they had to get back as fast as they possibly could. Every moment his fellow soldiers spent in captivity gnawed at him like a cancer. He pushed himself and Doc as fast as the dark forest would let them travel.
The two soldiers soon came to a narrow dirt road that led from the hills to the town and HQ. Keeping to one side of the road, they followed it. The traveling was easier and they made better time.
Just as they rounded a bend they came upon a squad of Germans changing the tire on a large transport truck.
Saunders motioned Doc down into the edge of the woods.
“We’ll wait until they’re finished,” he whispered close to Doc’s ear.
Doc nodded and adjusted his medical bag at his side for better comfort as he lay face down behind a log on the forest floor.
The German soldiers didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and Saunders fidgeted restlessly. It would take too much time to try going around the enemy, yet they were wasting time sitting here waiting on the Krauts to move on. Saunders cursed softly under his breath as two of the Germans produced boxes of rations and decided to enjoy a meal while they waited for their fellow soldiers to finish with the tire repairs.
Without warning another truck appeared from the direction Saunders and Doc had just come. It pulled up behind the crippled vehicle and several more Germans disembarked to greet their comrades.
“This is getting worse and worse,” Saunders grumbled quietly as he aimed his Thompson towards the growing group of Germans.
“C’mon, Doc,” Saunders whispered. “We’ll have to go around.”
“Okay,” Doc acknowledged and turned to crawl behind his sergeant as
they turned away from the road. Several yards into the woods, the two Americans stood and made their way along the bottom of a steep hill rising on their left. They could still hear the voices of the Germans and moved as quietly as possible through the underbrush.
The GIs hadn’t traveled far before they were stopped once more by the sound of German voices. The woods seemed to be full of them. Saunders and Doc dropped into a shallow dry creek bed to lay listening to the noises around them. Germans were everywhere.
Saunders laid a hand on Doc’s shoulder as the bushes rustled only a few feet from them. They held their breaths as three Kraut privates passed close enough that the GIs could have touched them.
It soon became apparent that they would not reach headquarters going in this direction, but with Germans seemingly all around them, they were unable to leave their ditch to find a way around them. The two of them lay absolutely silent in the dark recesses of the shallow ditch.
With the exception of slowly stretching sore muscles stiffened by prolonged waiting, the GIs were still in the ditch when morning’s hazy light started to penetrate the thick tree limbs above them.
Saunders motioned for Doc to stay where he was and moved from their hiding place on his belly. The medic became nervous before the sergeant finally returned.
“They’re camped all around us,” Saunders whispered to Doc. “Our only option is to go back the way we came. Maybe they won’t be looking for more Americans between here and Luieve. C’mon.”
Doc followed the sergeant as he rose to a crouch and moved back towards the hills they had traversed the night before. They stayed away from the road and followed a twisting animal trail along the base of the sharply rising hills. They did not run into any more Germans and with the help of daylight, they were soon on the outskirts of the small village once again.
They crouched and moved cautiously towards the street where they last knew their companions to be. There was no movement and no noise. The entire village seemed to be deserted.
Saunders motioned for Doc to stay back as he crept along the side of the street where the Americans had been imprisoned. As he passed a small shop front he heard a low whistle. Recognizing the signal, he returned it and Billy Nelson stepped from the building.
“Gee, I’m sure glad to see ya, Sarge,” the young private grinned as he approached his sergeant.
“Where is everyone?” Saunders asked.
“They pulled out just before daybreak,” Nelson replied. “They headed north just like the lieutenant thought they would.”
“We’ll have to catch up with them,” Saunders frowned as he thought about their already depleted ammunition supply. Not to mention rations and water. He turned and signaled for Doc and started down the narrow street to the north. When he reached the edge of the village, he started moving double-time and the privates were hard pressed to keep up with him. All three were bone-tired and Saunders’ headache was persistent.
It was not long before the small group caught up with Lt. Hanley, Caje and Sgt. Evans.
The lieutenant waved them all into the woods and turned to face the sergeant.
“I told you to get back to headquarters!” he snapped, his face only inches from Saunders’ face.
“We couldn’t make it, Lieutenant,” Saunders explained. “Krauts are between us and home in force. Looked like half a platoon or more.”
Hanley looked away as his anger ebbed.
“Looks like we’re on our own,” he said finally. “Give me an ordinance check, then send Caje ahead to recon. We aren’t very far behind the Krauts with the rest of our guys.”
“Yes, sir,” Saunders nodded and motioned to Caje.
“Check things out ahead,” the sergeant ordered as he waved towards the road. “How ya doin’ on ammo?”
“Okay, Sarge. I got one and a half clips left.” the Cajun slung his rifle across his shoulder and trotted off in the direction indicated.
“Nelson, how much ammo ya got?” the sergeant asked.
“Two clips left, Sarge,” Billy spoke as he checked his pouches and pockets.
“How ‘bout you, Evans?” Saunders turned to the other sergeant.
“One clip for my rifle and two clips for my sidearm,” Evans replied.
The sergeant turned back to the lieutenant and reported his meager findings.
“Looks like we’re gonna hafta avoid an out and out battle,” Hanley stated grimly. “Put you’re thinkin’ cap on, Saunders. We gotta find a way to get our men away from those Krauts.”
Saunders pulled the camo helmet from his head and ran a hand through his thick blond hair, tugging slightly at the bandage that circled his head.
“I oughta change that, Sarge,” Doc spoke from his perch on a convenient log nearby.
“Yeah, later, Doc.” Saunders replaced the helmet and squatted near Hanley as the lieutenant produced a map and spread it across his knee. Evans leaned against a tree on the other side of the lieutenant where he could scan the document.
“They aren’t very far ahead of us. If we hurry we might be able to catch them between these bluffs,” the lieutenant pointed to a spot on the map. “With a little diversion maybe we can get our guys out of there. What d’ya think, Saunders?”
The sergeant studied the map carefully for a moment.
“Looks good, Lieutenant,” he finally agreed. “Got anything in mind for a diversion?”
“I thought I’d leave that up to you, Saunders,” Hanley grinned as he folded the map and replaced it inside his jacket.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Saunders frowned as he rubbed the bandage over his right eye. “Evans will have to come up with somethin’. I can’t even think.”
“Now, get over there and let Doc take care of that,” Hanley waved indicating the soiled bandage.
“Yes, sir,” Saunders turned and strode over to where Doc was rearranging his medical bag. He sat on a convenient rock as the medic went to work cleaning the wound and replacing the bandage.

* * *

“We gotta do somethin’ soon,” Kirby grumbled as he walked close to Littlejohn’s side.
“Yeah, but wait for a good time,” Littlejohn warned. “We wanna get away alive, ya know.”
“Well, keep yer eyes open,” Kirby glanced around nervously at the German soldiers surrounding the small group of prisoners as they walked along the dusty country road.
They had been roused before dawn and made to start marching along the road without any food or water. The Americans had not rested well during the night and that coupled with hunger and thirst weighed heavily on their stamina.
Each one of the American soldiers was watching for the opportunity to escape. The Germans were just as determined to prevent any such action. So the morning was spent trudging along the dusty narrow road leading from Luieve to Rochelle, which was situated on the banks of a small lake a few miles to the north.
The young recruit from Evans’ squad, Bingham, began to lag and was constantly being prodded with bayoneted rifles to keep up. Kirby dropped back and pulled one of Bingham’s arms across his shoulders to help the lad along.
“Come on, Bingham,” Kirby whispered. “Don’t let ‘em get to ya.”
“I…I’m tryin’, Kirby,” the young private stammered. His throat was so dry that his voice cracked as he tried to speak.
With a concerted effort, he straightened at Kirby’s side and attempted to look unperturbed. Kirby smiled and shifted slightly to take some of the boy’s weight on his own shoulders.

* * *

Caje came trotting back to the lieutenant just as Doc finished tying off the ends of the new bandage on Saunders’ head. The sergeant stood and made his way over to listen to the Cajun’s report.
“They’ve taken a break about a hundred yards ahead, Lieutenant,” Caje puffed. “Doesn’t look like they’re in any kinda hurry.”
“Okay,” Hanley nodded approvingly. “We’ll cut through the woods from here and see if we can get ahead of them. Everyone ready to move?” he asked looking meaningfully at Saunders.
With a round of ‘yes, sirs’, the small squad of men moved out, Caje taking the point with Saunders bringing up the rear. They moved as quickly and quietly as possible through a stand of elms. Within a few minutes the land started to slope sharply upward. The lieutenant called softly to Caje and held a hand up to halt the rest of the group.
“We have to climb the hill to our right,” he told them. “That should put us overlooking the road about half a mile from Rochelle. Okay, let’s move.”
The exhausted men pushed themselves to their feet and began climbing the rocky hill before them. Footing was precarious and their progress slowed for more cautious movement. Closer to the top of the hill the men started pulling each other up the side of the larger boulders. They were wasting precious time, but there was little they could do about it.
Finally the group crawled to the edge of a cliff overlooking the narrow road at least eighty feet below them.
“This would be a perfect spot for an ambush, but our guys would be in the way and we don’t have the ammunition for any kind of assault,” Hanley mused as he assessed the view before him.
He turned to look at his men to find Saunders staring at a spot a few yards up the road.
“What d’ya think, Saunders?” the lieutenant prompted.
“Well, Lieutenant,” the sergeant pointed to an outcropping of rocks further back and just below the ledge they were now resting on. “If we could loosen those rocks, they’d fall into the middle of the road. That should cause some diversion while the rest of us hit ‘em from the other side behind those boulders.”
The lieutenant considered it for a moment and nodded. “Sounds good, Saunders,” he agreed. “How you gonna get those rocks loose?”
“I still got a couple grenades I was gonna use on that machine gun nest, Sir,” Saunders produced the two small pineapple shaped bombs from within his jacket front. “With some proper timing, I think I could pull it off, sir.”
Hanley turned to the others.
“Okay. Evans, Caje and Nelson are on me. Doc, you stay here with Saunders,” the lieutenant turned back to Saunders.
“We’ll be ready. Make it count; and be careful,” he warned the sergeant.
“Yes, sir,” Saunders started crawling towards the group of large rocks with Doc close on his heels.
Hanley turned back the way they had come with the others and they were soon lowering each other from boulder to boulder as they descended the back side of the rocky hill. The lieutenant moved as quickly as possible to the road, Evans, Caje and Nelson following closely. Finding no one in sight they crossed the road one at a time, hiding themselves among the boulders on the other side. Glancing upwards, Hanley realized that they were positioned uncomfortably close to the area that should be pelted with rocks when the sergeant detonated his grenades. With no other suitable hiding places available along this stretch of the road, Hanley had no choice but to stay where he was as they watched for the approaching Germans and their prisoners.
They didn’t have to wait long. The GIs could hear the soldiers coming long before they appeared around a bend in the road. Most of the Germans were marching along in front of the prisoners, with only three or four guarding the sides and rear. Hanley could only hope that the American prisoners would be ready to jump their guards as soon as they were distracted. They would only be able to fire their weapons at the group of Krauts moving in front of them without endangering the captives’ lives.
Hanley got Evans, Caje and Nelson’s attention and motioned to the Germans walking at the head of the procession. The Privates nodded their understanding and trained their weapons on the first group of captors. They were almost even with Hanley’s squad now and the men tensed as they watched them march closer and closer. The Germans passed the boulders without so much as a glance at them.
Suddenly it seemed the entire side of the hill exploded and rocks, boulders and dust rained down on the unsuspecting group of Krauts.
“Fire!” Hanley cried as he opened up on the Germans.
Kirby, Littlejohn, and Evans’ squad immediately took advantage of the confusion and jumped the startled guards, who had swung their weapons towards the attacking Americans in the rocks.
The assault worked perfectly. The surprised Germans were overpowered. Falling rocks and fire from Hanley’s ambush killed many of them. When the lieutenant stood and walked casually out to meet his freed squadmembers, only eight German soldiers had survived to become prisoners themselves.
“Wow, Lieutenant,” Kirby laughed as he checked out a Mausser he’d pulled from the hands of one of the Kraut guards. “Now that’s what I call TIMING!”
Evans scanned his men approvingly as he motioned for them to cover the Germans they’d lined up against a rock wall of the narrow canyon.
Littlejohn slapped his buddy, Nelson, on the back nearly bowling him over in his exuberance.
“Hey! Easy, big guy,” Billy laughed as he straightened himself.
Glancing around with a puzzled look, Kirby asked, “Who blew the rocks down here? Doc?”
“No, Kirby,” Caje grinned at his wiry friend. “Sarge did it.”
“What?!” Kirby said in unbelief. “I thought he was dead!”
“Not yet, Kirby,” a familiar voice came from behind him.
The BAR man turned to find his sergeant standing only a few feet from him.
“Sarge!” he yelled in delight. Without thinking, he grabbed the sergeant in a bear hug. Then remembering military protocol, he released him and stepped back embarrassedly and said, “Uh, sorry, Sarge. But I’m sure glad they didn’t kill ya back there.”
Saunders just smiled as he walked to the pile of weapons they had confiscated from the captured Germans.
“Here, Kirby,” he said bending to retrieve a weapon. “This should make you even happier.” The sergeant extended Kirby’s BAR to him.
“Huh,” Kirby huffed. “lotta good that’ll do me. Ain’t got no ammo for it.”
It wasn’t long before all the Americans were armed once more. Some of them had to settle for German firepower since their own weapons had been discarded after their capture.
Lt. Hanley motioned for his non-coms and knelt beside the road with his map spread before him.
“They were taking your men to Rochelle for some reason. I want to find out why,” the lieutenant started. “Evans, your squad will take the prisoners back to Luieve and wait there for further orders. There’s water in the town and you might be able to find some food if you scout around a little.”
“Yes, sir,” Evans nodded as he surveyed the small group of prisoners and his bedraggled squad.
“Saunders, you and your men are on me,” Hanley continued. “We’re gonna make a visit to Rochelle. Maybe we can find out what’s goin’ on in this sector.”
“Yes, sir,” Saunders straightened and stretched his tired muscles, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in the right side of his head.
Hanley caught the gesture and frowned as he stashed the map back in the front of his field jacket. He stood and moved closer to the blond sergeant as Evans turned and headed for his squad.
“You gonna be alright?” Hanley asked the sergeant quietly.
“I’m okay, sir,” Saunders assured him. “Just a little tired’s all.”
The lieutenant accepted the answer and turned to watch his men separate and prepare to travel in different directions.
Evans’ squad quickly gathered the captured Germans and got them started back down the road to Luieve. They soon disappeared around a curve and Hanley turned to his First Squad.
“Saddle up,” he called as he settled his helmet on his head and shouldered his carbine.
“Caje, take the point,” the lieutenant ordered. “Kirby, the rear.”
The men settled into a ragged line behind the Cajun scout and moved out down the road to Rochelle. When they emerged from the narrow rock canyon, the men moved close to the tree line so as not to be totally exposed in the middle of the road.
Caje had moved ahead several yards, and when he held a hand up, everyone halted. The scout came trotting back to kneel in front of the lieutenant, who had found a soft mound of grass to settle himself into for a moment.
“The village is just up around the next curve, Lieutenant,” the Cajun reported.
“What’s the setup?” Hanley queried.
“The road turns to paving stones as it enters the town. I didn’t see any way of checking it out before goin’ in,” Caje replied.
“Okay,” Hanley heaved a sigh. He knew all the men were close to total fatigue and didn’t want to just walk right into trouble if he could help it.
“We’ll move into the woods here and wait until dark. That should give us a couple hours’ rest. Then I’ll send a patrol in to recon before we try to flush it out,” Hanley looked over at Saunders who had wilted against a large log, his bandaged head leaned back and eyes closed.
The sergeant opened one eye then waved a hand to indicate that he had heard and understood the plan, then he closed the eye again as he started reaching for his Thompson, which lay beside him.
All of the men struggled to their feet once more as the lieutenant led the way through the underbrush that grew thickly beside the road. Once through the brush, the forest opened before them. The trees were tall and offered welcome shade from the late afternoon heat and the lieutenant motioned the men to fall out, which is practically what they were ready to do anyway. Each one found the most comfortable spot he could and stretched out for a much-needed rest. Nelson followed his big buddy, Littlejohn, to a large patch of deep green moss that looked invitingly soft and comfortable.
Littlejohn immediately dropped onto the moss and stretched his large frame its full length and heaving a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes. Then his eyes popped open again at a sudden exclamation from Nelson, who had stepped over him to check out the cover they would have while resting there.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” Littlejohn asked worriedly.
“Look at this, Littlejohn!” Nelson exclaimed, looking at his feet.
Everyone heard the commotion, and though mildly interested, no one did any more than lift their heads to check on the young private.
“What is it?” Hanley called over to the two privates.
“Billy found a stream, Lieutenant,” Littlejohn explained. “It looks real clear and it’s cool.”
Nelson lifted a foot that was dripping from where he had accidentally stepped into the water before seeing it.
“That’s great,” Doc exclaimed. “We can fill these canteens we got from the Krauts. I have some halizone tablets.”
“Okay,” Hanley nodded approvingly. “Everyone get some rest. We won’t be here very long.”
That was one order he knew he would not have to repeat. Caje took security at a motion from Saunders and the rest of the men were asleep practically before their tired bodies touched the ground.
Doc scooted over close to the sergeant and gently shook his shoulder.
“What is it, Doc?” Saunders mumbled without opening his eyes.
“Take these,” Doc spoke quietly.
The sergeant turned his head to find the medic extending some aspirin and a canteen to him.
Pulling himself up on one elbow, Saunders accepted the pills and water, then nodding his thanks, he settled back onto a pile of leaves and let his entire being relax. A cool breeze played beneath the trees lulling the men into blissful release.

* * *

Caje felt more than heard the sergeant moving up behind him. He was not surprised when a hand lightly tapped his shoulder and he turned to grin up at his squad leader.
“Everything’s quiet, Sarge,” the Cajun reported.
“Good, go get some rest,” Saunders smiled as he leaned against a convenient tree.
“You okay, Sarge?” Caje asked concernedly.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Caje,” Saunders straightened and pulled the Thompson sub machine gun around to his arms as he squatted beside the scout.
Caje stood and stretched his muscles as he started back towards the rest of the squad. He had been standing guard a little less than an hour and he was sure the sergeant hadn’t gotten as much rest as he needed, but he didn’t dare confront his leader about it. Saunders wasn’t known for having a very long fuse and the Cajun certainly didn’t want to get him riled up, especially when fatigue had a lot to do with the sergeant’s present frame of mind. Still, the scout couldn’t help worrying about his friend and leader. He decided to himself that he would just keep an eye on him and help him any way he could. Caje found a peaceful spot beneath a large fir tree and curled up, finding that Saunders wasn’t the only one in need of rest. He was asleep almost immediately after closing his eyes.
Saunders sat scanning the woods around him, forcing his eyes to focus on every detail of his surroundings. The blinding headache that had jerked him from a deep sleep now threatened to blur his vision as he tried to will the pain away. It seemed as if this was one battle he wasn’t going to win. He sat with his elbows on his knees and placed his hands on either side of his head trying to squeeze out the pain. The aspirin that Doc had given him had offered only slight relief for less than half an hour. He knew that he would be unable to function at 100 percent in his present state and this meant that he was now a liability to his companions. He dreaded facing the lieutenant and admitting to his incapacity to function as a soldier, but he knew he’d rather face his fallibility than endanger anyone else because of it.
He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to find Lieutenant Hanley leaning on the tree above him lighting a cigarette. The officer passed the Lucky to the sergeant who accepted it gratefully. Hanley sat cross-legged on the ground beside Saunders and waited for his friend to speak first.
“I can’t do it, Lieutenant,” Saunders finally said softly. “I won’t be any help to ya.”
“I know, Saunders,” the lieutenant acknowledged what he already knew.
“Take one of the men and head back to Luieve,” Hanley spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Saunders looked away, unable to face his superior.
Hanley reached out and placed a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder.
“You know you’re doin’ the right thing, Saunders,” He assured his non-com. “Just take it easy and watch yourself.” Hanley turned and motioned to Doc, who had been watching the two of them intently.
The medic moved up close as Hanley stood to walk away.
“Give him somethin’, Doc,” He ordered. The sternness in his voice left the sergeant no room to argue. He knew he needed help and he didn’t resist.
“Just don’t knock me out, Doc,” Saunders pleaded. “I’ve got a long walk ahead of me.”
“I’m gonna give ya about half a dose of morphine, Sarge,” Doc said as he rummaged in his medical bag. “It won’t knock you out, but it might make you a little groggy.”
“I’m that way without medication,” the sergeant grinned.
He rolled up his sleeve and let the medic administer the shot.
Doc put his kit away and sat down next to the sergeant as he waited for the morphine to take effect.
In just a moment, Saunders was pleasantly surprised to find the blinding pain ebbing and his vision cleared considerably.
“Thanks, Doc. I feel better now,” he announced as he placed a hand behind his neck and stretched sore muscles.
Doc stood and placed a hand beneath Saunders’ left arm to help him up. He swayed slightly, feeling the effects of the drug, then straightened as he watched Lt. Hanley, Littlejohn and Nelson walking towards them.
“Nelson will take over security,” Hanley announced. “Littlejohn will go back with you.”
“Lieutenant, I think I can make it on my own,” Saunders said as he slung the strap of the Thompson across his right shoulder.
“Littlejohn’s goin’ with you,” the lieutenant said flatly.
Saunders gave up arguing and settled his camo helmet on his head as he nodded at Littlejohn.
“See ya back in Luieve, Saunders,” Hanley smiled as he watched the two soldiers head towards the road.
The sergeant lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave ending the motion with a wave to Littlejohn to take the lead.
They passed the narrow cliffs and the dead Germans they’d left there only an hour or so before. Traveling along the road was much easier than trying to fight the uneven ground in the woods. The two Americans made good time and they were better than halfway back to Luieve before Saunders finally called a halt. They walked into the edge of the woods and plopped down next to a large tree trunk lying dead on the ground. The cover around them was good and they both were ready for a rest. The morphine had worked better than Saunders had anticipated, and he felt more at ease. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes and found the small bottle of aspirins Doc had slipped in there when he had helped the sergeant to his feet. Saunders smiled. Good ole Doc, always thinkin’ ahead.
He replaced the aspirin bottle and pulled a cigarette out and lit it, savoring the familiar flavor as he laid his head back against the log and blew the smoke skyward. The sergeant’s eyes slowly closed and sleep crept up on him before he was aware of it.
When he woke again it was dark. He grabbed the Thompson lying beside him and jerked himself to a sitting position. He could barely make out the outline of the giant Littlejohn sitting only a few feet from him. He raised himself to his knees and crawled to the big private. Grabbing a handful of the man’s sleeve, the sergeant pulled himself up into Littlejohn’s face.
“Why didn’t you wake me?!” he hissed angrily.
“I…I was just followin’ orders, Sarge,” Littlejohn explained shakily. He did not like being on the wrong end of the sarge’s anger, but he knew this was coming and had tried to steel himself for it.
“ORDERS!” Saunders nearly exploded. “What do you mean; orders!”
“Well,” Littlejohn tried to keep his voice even. “The lieutenant told me that if you fell asleep somewhere along the way back, not to wake you; to let you sleep. We weren’t in that big a hurry to get back.”
Saunders released the big man’s jacket and sat back to look at his watch. He couldn’t fault a man for following orders, but they had wasted a lot of precious time. On top of that, the headache was back and his anger wasn’t helping it a bit.
It was nearly 1800 and they should have already been back with the men in Luieve. Saunders pulled the bottle of aspirins from his pocket and took a couple with a swallow from his canteen. Then he rose and motioned to Littlejohn. They reached the road again in short order. The moon was shining bright enough to light up the stretch of dirt track leading to the village.
Saunders chose to stay close to the shadows of the tree line. If they could see that well, then so could any Krauts along the way. They moved along cautiously, watching for any movement from the woods on either side of them.

* * *

Lieutenant Hanley tapped Caje and Kirby on their shoulders to wake them. The soldiers were refreshed from their brief, but effective rest.
It was nearly dark and the lieutenant wanted to recon the village of Rochelle as quickly as possible.
“You two get in as close as you can and check it out,” Hanley instructed them. “If you see anything at all pull back and report. Don’t get stuck in there, and meet us back up on the road when you’re finished.”
“Yes, sir,” the two privates echoed each other.
They moved out with Caje in the lead as Hanley turned back to wake Nelson and Doc. If trouble started they would all have to be ready to move fast.
Nelson stretched his muscles and took a long drink from his canteen. He glanced at Doc as the medic immediately started checking his supplies in his medical bag.
Doc frowned at the meager supplies, but drew the shoulder strap over his shoulder and settled the bag against his side as he stood and stretched the kinks out of his own muscles.
The lieutenant smiled to himself. He knew these men were still dog-tired, but were ready for anything nonetheless. He recalled the times he’d heard comments about his adept First Squad and he knew all the compliments could never come close to praising them enough. He motioned to the men and they followed the officer towards the road.
Settling into a ditch beside the dusty thoroughfare, the three Americans were able to see for several yards in both directions. Nothing would come up the road in any direction that they would not be able to see. All they had to do now was wait for their patrol to return.
Caje and Kirby moved cautiously up to the side of the first building on the street dissecting the tiny village. There were only a few shops and houses crowded on either side of the only avenue and those seemed to be deserted.
Caje motioned for Kirby to take the left side while he stayed on the right side of the street. They watched each other as they leap-frogged from doorway to doorway, searching for any sign of life. It didn’t take them long at all to reach the other end of the street. They found nothing whatsoever.
Kirby moved up close to Caje’s shoulder and whispered, “Looks like everyone took a powder.”
“Yeah,” the Cajun nodded his agreement. “We better get back and report.”
They headed back down the street, still watching the doorways and windows suspiciously. Months of facing conflicts in small country villages had taught them that sometimes things weren’t always as they appeared. The quiet could be shattered at any second with the terror of enemy fire.
Fortunately the two GIs made it to the end of the street without incident and were quickly on their way back up the road to rejoin their companions. It wasn’t long before they heard the low whistle signaling the presence of the rest of the squad. Kirby returned the whistle and they were joined by Lt. Hanley, Nelson and Doc.
“Looks clean, Lieutenant,” Caje reported. “We went all the way through the village and didn’t see anything.”
“Okay,” Hanley nodded. “We move in again, and this time we flush it out good. Look for anything that might indicate whether or not the Germans were using the village for a command post.”
He tapped Caje on the shoulder and the Cajun moved out again towards Rochelle with the rest of the squad falling in behind.
When they reached the first building, the lieutenant split them up into two groups. Caje, Nelson and Doc moved off to the left side of the street, while Lt. Hanley and Kirby went to the right. This time they moved into each building checking it thoroughly.
A small café about midway down the right side of the street caught Hanley’s full attention when he discovered a batch of papers that were supposed to have been burned in the stove. Some of the documents did not burn completely and they were clearly written in German. He gathered the remnants together and stashed them inside his jacket, then sent Kirby after the others. When they arrived, Hanley turned to them.
“Looks like the Germans have moved back from this sector. We head for home. Caje, take the point. Kirby, the rear,” he said as he resettled his helmet on his head.
They moved out casually towards Luieve once more. Some of the tension had left the men since they had not found any sign of the enemy behind them, and since they had been given a short rest, their steps were lighter as were their spirits.

* * *

Saunders moved close to the crumpled buildings as he and Littlejohn entered Luieve. The nature of the sergeant was to be suspicious and every dark corner housed potential danger as far as he was concerned. They managed to traverse two streets, climbing over rubble and skirting broken equipment and obstacles littering the narrow passages.
At the vague sound of voices, Saunders motioned Littlejohn through the door of a nearby shop.
“Stay here,” he ordered the big private. “I’ll check it out and come back for you. If anything happens, get back to Hanley, fast. Got it?”
“Yeah, Sarge. I got it,” Littlejohn frowned, but positioned himself near a front window of the shop where he could see the street outside. “Watch yourself, Sarge.”
The sergeant gave a crooked grin and moved away from the shop towards the distant noises perhaps a street over from them.
When Saunders rounded a corner he encountered a sight that sent him scurrying for cover.
The German prisoners were no longer prisoners and several more Krauts had joined them. They were all well armed and talking boisterously around a fire they’d built in the center of the street. Along the front of a crumbling building sat Evans and his entire squad. They apparently had their hands tied behind them and their feet stretched out before them were also tied.
Saunders slammed a fist down on the pavement he now lay on. He had taken cover behind a burned out half-track and he had a perfect view of the Germans and their captives. He let his eyes wander over the entire area. Though the moon was brilliant, there was still too much hidden in shadows. Getting to the prisoners looked to be impossible. The sergeant slowly pushed himself backwards until he was near the corner of the street, then he got up to a crouch to sprint back to where he’d left Littlejohn.
“What’s up, Sarge?” Littlejohn asked, concerned about the way the sergeant was panting and sweating.
“The tables have turned again, Littlejohn,” Saunders replied. “The Krauts musta had friends waiting for them. Evans and his men are captured. We gotta find a way to get ‘em outta there.”
“How’re we gonna do it, Sarge?” Littlejohn asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Saunders admitted. “We’ll circle around and come up from the other side of them. I didn’t see any way of getting near them from this side. C’mon.”
Saunders turned back to the door of the shop and slipped into the street, followed closely by the hulking figure of Littlejohn. The two GIs moved as quickly as possible through the rubble until they came to the opposite end of the town. They reached the street where the captives were being held in short order and dropped to crawl furtively towards the firelight and the Germans.
“What we need is a coupla Kraut uniforms,” Saunders whispered pensively.
“No way, Sarge. I don’t see any one of those guys big enough that I could wear his clothes.” Littlejohn averred.
“They should have someone on guard duty around here somewhere,” the sergeant muttered. “Just look for ‘im.”
“Okay,” Littlejohn moved to one side of the sergeant so that he would be able to cover the smaller man should a firefight break out.
Saunders moved forward only slightly before he held a hand up to halt their progress. He pointed to a battered vehicle near the opposite curb. A dark figure leaned against the broken fender casually smoking a cigarette.
Saunders motioned for Littlejohn to stay put as he crawled cautiously towards the unsuspecting German guard. In just a few seconds, Littlejohn heard a grunt and a soft thud as the guard fell to the ground. Saunders waved for the private to join him and started pulling the Kraut private into the shadow of a nearby storefront.
Littlejohn sprinted across the street and grabbed the Kraut’s collar, pulling him deeper into the shadows.
“Put his jacket on and lean against that car, Littlejohn,” Saunders instructed the big man.
Littlejohn donned the German’s tunic, but his arms were about five inches too long and it looked ridiculous on him.
“This ain’t gonna work, Sarge,” Littlejohn muttered examining the seams stretching to their limits in the garment.
“It doesn’t have to be pretty, Littlejohn, just convincing.” Saunders assured him.
“Well, I hope it convinces you, ‘cause it doesn’t convince me,” Littlejohn shot back.
“Just stay here like you’re on guard. If a fight breaks out, try to back me up,” Saunders checked his Thompson and moved away from the darkened storefront.
Littlejohn could see the sergeant creeping closer to the Germans’ position as he settled himself against the fender of the wrecked vehicle.
Saunders was able to crawl within thirty feet of the prisoners staying close to the buildings and the darkest shadows. He was lucky enough to be able to crawl through the broken window of a storefront that would take him very close to Evans and his squad. Moving by feel in the total blackness of the partially demolished store, he made his way slowly to the front door.
Evans sat only about six feet from the door. Saunders picked up a small piece of mortar beneath his feet and choosing his timing carefully, he tossed the rock so that it landed against Evans’ leg.
The sergeant jumped and looked in the direction the rock came from. He could barely see a shadowy figure crouched just behind the frame of the nearest door to him. Moving very slowly and carefully, Evans scooted closer to the door. Getting the attention of Bingham, who sat next to him, Evans motioned with his head for him to slowly move with him so that the Germans might not notice their movements. They managed to get within three feet of the door when one of the Kraut guards decided to check their bonds.
Saunders ducked back further into the shadows as the German tediously checked each prisoner then turned back to watch a card game in progress near the fire in the middle of the street.
“Evans,” Saunders whispered tentatively from his hidden position behind the doorframe.
“Saunders?” Evans was surprised and tried to hide his elation at seeing his friend and fellow sergeant.
“Sit tight. I’ll try to find a way to get you guys outta there,” Saunders instructed as he carefully scanned the positions of each German in the area.
“Be careful, Saunders. Krauts are everywhere,” Evans whispered urgently.
“How many are with you?”
“Just me and Littlejohn,” Saunders explained. “I gotta go now. I’ll be back.”
“Okay, pal,” Evans moved closer to Bingham to send the news down the line that help had arrived and to be ready for anything. Soon his entire squad was sitting up straighter and watching everything closely.
Saunders slipped back through the window and crawled down the sidewalk until he was out of sight of the Germans, then he rose and sprinted quickly towards Littlejohn’s position.
When Littlejohn heard him coming he quickly knelt behind the ruined vehicle and waited.
“Littlejohn!” Saunders called in a loud whisper.
“Over here, Sarge,” Littlejohn relaxed and rose to greet his leader.
“We can get right up to the guys this way,” Saunders began. “One of us needs to create a diversion while the other frees Evans’ men.”
“Okay, Sarge. Whaddya want me to do?” Littlejohn whispered excitedly.
“Go back to where we saw that bombed-out tank and see if you can find some gasoline or something that will start a big fire a couple streets over. That should give me enough time to get back to Evans,” Saunders instructed. “Let me borrow your bayonet.”
“Right, Sarge,” Littlejohn unsheathed his knife, handing it to the sergeant, then slipped away amazingly silently for a man his size.
Saunders turned and began making his way back to the shop near Evans’ squad. He said a silent prayer that this stupid plan would work. If it didn’t, he could get them all killed. It wasn’t long before he was slipping through the broken window and crawling carefully to the doorway.
“Evans,” he called softly.
“Glad you’re back, Saunders,” Evans grinned without looking around.
“Littlejohn’s gonna make a diversion and I’ll try to get you guys out,” Saunders explained hurriedly.
“Okay, we’re ready,” Evans told him.

* * *

Littlejohn sprinted to the next street dodging obstacles and watching for any movements along the buildings. He rounded a building just in time to run headlong into someone!
Startled, the big man reached out and grabbed the person by the throat, throwing him against the front of the nearest building.
“Arrrgh!” Was all Littlejohn’s victim managed to emit.
A hand on the big man’s shoulder stopped him from breaking the neck of his captive.
Littlejohn turned to see Lt. Hanley standing at his side. He released his victim and the small man staggered away from him gasping for breath.
“You big ape!” Kirby coughed and sputtered. “Ya nearly killed me!”
“Be quiet, Kirby,” Littlejohn puffed. He turned back to Hanley.
“Sgt. Evans’ squad has been captured again. Sarge is waiting for me to create a diversion so he can get them out, Lieutenant,” Littlejohn spoke in a whisper, considering the Germans nearby.
“Okay,” Hanley turned to the others. “Let’s give him a diversion. Where are they?” he asked Littlejohn.
“Two streets over and about halfway up,” the big man explained.
“Caje, you, Kirby and Doc stay here. Find a good place to hide. Littlejohn, you’re on me. When we start firing, all of you open up and keep it up until the Krauts appear, then hold up for a while. See if we can’t confuse them a little. Ready?” Hanley looked at each man.
With nods and ‘yes,sir’s the men moved into the shadows to wait for Hanley’s signal.
* * *
Saunders drew his borrowed bayonet and sat in the darkness beyond the doorway waiting for the diversion to begin.
Suddenly it sounded as if a raging battle had started a street or so from them.
A German lieutenant shouted orders and most of the enemy soldiers who had been gathered around the fire grabbed their gear and started running towards the sound of the gunfire. Only three remained to guard the prisoners and their attention was not fully where it should have been.
Saunders stretched out through the door as Evans turned his back towards him. Saunders deftly cut Evans’ bonds and the sergeant quickly grabbed the bayonet and motioned Saunders back into the safety of the dark shop.
“Cut Miller free and pass the knife along until everyone’s free, then we’ll make a run for it,” Evans instructed Bingham after freeing him.
“Right,” Bingham took the knife and moved closer to Miller.
Evans sat back where he had been and placed his hands behind him to try and make it look as if he were still tied. Bingham did the same as he passed the bayonet on to Miller, and so forth on down the line of men.
“Come this way,” Saunders whispered loud enough for Evans to hear.
Evans moved closer to the door and had almost disappeared through it when one of the guards noticed what was going on. The German shouted and brought his weapon around towards Evans just as Saunders appeared in the doorway on his knees. He sprayed the Kraut private with a burst from his Thompson.
Evans men fell face first onto the paving stones as Saunders rolled from the doorway coming to his knees again and spraying a long burst of .45 caliber bullets at the two remaining guards. One screamed and fell as the other dove for cover behind a pile of rubble.
“Get ‘em outta here!” Saunders waved at Evans as he sought cover behind an overturned cart in the street.
Evans motioned to his men and all of them scrambled for the doorway, making it through before the confused guard could bring his weapon to bear on them.
The German rose from his hiding place just enough to see where the prisoners were going. It was just enough for Saunders to get a quick shot and that was all he needed. The German grabbed his head and screamed as he fell to the street unmoving. Saunders let the Thompson drop to his side as he hung his pounding head for a moment.
Evans was suddenly beside him, pulling him up by the shoulder of his jacket and wrapping an arm around him as the rescued squad gathered around him cheering and slapping him on the back and arms. He wished they’d just leave him alone at that particular moment.
His vision blurred and he staggered slightly.
“Whoa, there, buddy!” Evans supported him. “Are ya hit?”
“No,” Saunders shook his aching head. “Just tired. C’mon, we gotta see what’s goin’ on over there.” He indicated the firing two streets over.
“Gimme that,” Evans reached for the Tommy gun. “You stay here with my guys who aren’t armed. I’ll take a look at the situation over there.”
Saunders was hurting too much to argue the point, so he relinquished the gun and slumped against the side of a building and placed his bandaged head in his hands.
Three of Evans men grabbed the rifles dropped by the German guards and followed their sergeant as he headed down the street.
One of the others, Bingham, found a Kraut canteen. Kneeling in front of Saunders, he gently put a hand on the sergeant’s arm.
“Want some water, Sarge?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, thanks,” Saunders accepted the canteen and pulled the aspirins from his jacket pocket. He took two of the pills and drank greedily from the canteen, then passed it back to Bingham.
The young private smiled and took a drink for himself, then left the sergeant in peace.
The firing had diminished and within seconds several GIs could be seen coming up the street towards the fire that the Germans had built.
When Saunders finally looked up, Lt. Hanley and Doc were squatting beside and in front of him.
“Was that diversion enough?” the lieutenant asked with a grin.
“I told Littlejohn to find something to make a diversion with,” Saunders admitted. “I didn’t know he’d go all the way back to find you guys.”
“We arrived at the right time,” Hanley told him. “Littlejohn nearly strangled Kirby before he realized who he had hold of.”
“I’ve thought about doing that a time or two, myself,” Saunders grinned.
“Let me take a look at your head, Sarge,” Doc urged as he reached for the now soiled bandage.
“We’ll talk later, Saunders,” Hanley stood to let Doc get a better position at the sergeant’s side.
“Hi, Lieutenant,” Evans greeted his superior with a wide grin. “All my men are here and unscathed, sir, thanks to Saunders. He came ridin’ in here like the Lone Ranger and wiped ‘em all out before they knew what hit ‘em. Lieutenant, I want to put him up for a commendation.”
“You know how he feels about medals, Evans,” Hanley reminded the sergeant.
“Yeah, but if anybody’s earned it, he has,” Evans insisted.
“Okay, see if you can find something to arm your squad with. We’ll be pullin’ out for home in ten,” Hanley instructed.
“Yes, Sir!” Evans saluted the officer and turned to find his scattered squad.
Hanley turned around to find Saunders stretched out on the street with Doc’s jacket folded beneath his head for a pillow.
“How is he, Doc?” the lieutenant frowned at Saunders’ unmoving form.
“He was in a lot of pain, sir. I gave him a full dose of morphine and he’s out,” the medic explained. “Looks like we’ll have to carry him home.”
“I think you might find some volunteers for that little chore among Evans’ men, Doc,” Hanley grinned.

END