The characters of "Combat!" are the property of ABC. This work of fiction was not written for
profit.
Copyright 2002 by Cheryl Ann Dameron
Snowflake
Forever Young
Finally clean after more than a week on the move the entire squad had until 2200 for some rest and
relaxation and they were going to make the most of it. Racing to stow their shaving kits they elbowed and
joked with each other. Trudging through the rain and mud the last two days had fizzled their remaining
strength. The idea of paved streets and a roof over their heads brought them new energy. The village they
occupied was far enough from the front lines that some semblence of normal life was slowly returning to it.
Their first priority was to find a beer.
Objective secured; they found the cafe. Most of the fighting had been to the north of the village, other then
some broken glass in the front window the cafe was intact. Through a collection of locals and a few GIs,
they spied a couple of empty tables and settled in for the evening.
Sarge bought the first round. It was time to relax, a boyish smile replaced his tough battle worn appearance.
"I'm feeling generous. Miss, a round of beers over here." Saunders peeled off a couple of bills and settled
into a chair in the corner; habit forced him to keep an eye on the door. Kirby, Doc and Billy each grabbed
a chair and planted themselves around the closest table. Caje, who had stopped for a moment to talk to the
waitress, found a spot facing the door and rocked his chair back against the wall. It took Littlejohn a few
minutes to find a chair he would trust with his towering frame.
Kirby stood as the dark haired waitress came carrying the tray loaded with glasses.
He took her arm to help steady the tray and tried one of his sure-fire charming smiles. His smile and deep
brown eyes were not entirely lost on her although she tried not to show it. She smiled at him and coyly
dropped her eyes. Kirby's spirits soared as he caught her smile "Looks like there may be some possibilities
here!"
"Oh, sit down and drink your beer." Doc pulled him down.
"She's not interested in you." Littlejohn's rumbling voice egged him on.
"I'm tellin' ya, she smiled at me." He insisted as he sat back down. Kirby downed his beer, pushed back
from the table and looked around the room for the dark-haired girl. "I think I'll go scout out the possibilities
here. Hey, Billy, Caje, want me ta find out if she has a friend?"
"No chance, Pal." Caje laughed and waved him off.
Staring into his glass, Littlejohn nudged Billy, "Hey, Billy, did you know that a slug likes beer so much it will
drown in a bowl full of it?"
"What...?" Billy might have been the youngest member of the squad but he wasn't entirely gullible.
Littlejohn kept a perfectly straight face, "A slug, you know - a snail without a shell."
"What are you talking about Littlejohn, why would a slug be anywhere near a beer?" Billy looked up
incredulously.
"You set out bowls of beer to lure them away from your tomato plants. They get in the bowl and then can't
get out - they drown."
That pleasing image in his mind, Billy shuttered, "Yuk, I can't stand tomatoes, let the slugs have them. I'll
have the beer."
Saunders sat back, hands clasped around his beer and chuckled. Sometimes he wondered why these
particular men had become such good friends. Would he have had anything in common with them back in
the states?
After Kirby left in search of a little female company another group of GI's came
through the cafe door. Sergeant Saunders spotted a familiar face, Sergeant Trimm of the
487th. The two sergeants nodded to each other and the men from the 487th found an
empty spot near the bar. Caje and Billy threaded their way through the tables for the next round of drinks.
Leaning against the bar they overheard Kirby getting shot down again by the pretty young lady, although he
had managed to discover her name, Lynette.
"Hey sarge, I thought you guys would be here." Another GI came barrelling through the front door.
"Collins, over here." Sergeant Trimm waved him over.
At the sound of the voice Caje looked up, "I don't believe what I just heard! Joseph Collins! Is that you?"
The newcomer bypassed his mates, "Why Paul LeMay, this is where you've been
hiding yourself. Sarah asked me if I've seen you since being here." A enthusiastic bear hug added to their
long overdue handshake.
"We're thirsty over here, you bringing the beers or what?" Saunder's voice came
from the corner. Collins followed Saunders' men back to their table. They could have been brothers, same
black hair and angular features but Collins had a few pounds on his lean scout. "I take it you two know
each other."
"Sure sarge, this is Joseph Collins, we've been friends since we were kids."
"Ya, 'til I stole your girl and convinced her to marry me instead of you." Joe
teased. Caje cut him off with a good natured elbow to the ribs. Caje set down the beers
and made the introductions.
"Joe, lets get a bottle of wine and you can catch me up on everyone."
"Just remember to be back by 2200, right Caje." Sarge reminded.
"I'll get him home from the dance on time sergeant, I have to be back by then too." Laughing, Collins gave
Caje a shove back toward the bar. "You're buying."
The long time friends found an empty table, settled in with a bottle of wine and let
the rest of the room fade into the background. "Here, I've got something to show you."
Collins dug into his walet and held out a photograph. "It came in this week's mail call. Have you ever seen
two more beautiful people. Jacob was one year old last week."
Paul took the offered picture to see Sarah's wavy blond hair and pressed to her
check a little boy with huge dimples and dark hair sticking straight up. A wistful look showed in his dark
eyes. "What did you ever do to deserve two people like this."
Joe let out a long melancholy sigh, "I don't know Paul, I don't know." This war better be over soon, I can't
wait to get back to them.
Caje paused his glass midair, "to home"
"To home," Joe echoed.
Next, Joe asked about Theo. Theo and Paul had enlisted together and he knew they
ended up in the same outfit after basic. Paul tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat.
He couldn't keep his voice from cracking when he told Joe about that day on the beach. Sometimes it
seamed a lifetime ago. Today the nightmare of seeing his best friend die was fresh in his mind. Paul blinked
back the tears before they had a chance to fall. They raised another, sober toast to friends lost.
Determined to change the mood, Joe poured another glass of wine for each of them. "All right, I told you
my news from home, what's yours?"
"Ah, my sister wrote, she had a boy, I'm an uncle now!"
"If those kids do half the things we did, I'll grow old before my time Uncle Paul."
Caje reached for his pack of cigarettes, "Hey, how's my car?"
"Oh..., no..., you sold it to me remember..." Spirits buoyed, they talked through the evening and a second
bottle of wine.
Twenty-two hundred hours was coming up fast. Sergeants Saunders and Trimm
headed over to collect their men. "We better move it if we're going to make it back in time."
"All right sarge." The two pushed back from the table and reluctlently joined the
rest of the men through the quiet streets on their way back to their bedrolls. The cobblestone streets were
still slick from the afternoon's rain. At the end of the block the two squads parted ways.
Doc turned up the collar of his jacket against the night air. "So you two have know
each other a long time, huh?"
"Long time , Doc." Caje slipped his beret from its shoulder loop to put it on. "We would get into such
terrible trouble with our fathers for some of the stunts we pulled together. After high school I went to work
building furniture with my father and uncle. Joe and his father ran the trucking company that delivered it."
His life in the states was another world it seemed. "I used to have this '37 Chrysler, we'd spend hours under
the hood of that thing." Caje laughed at the memories. He hadn't told that much about himself to any one
person since before England, but it was easy to talk to Doc.
It wasn't much but it was home, at least for tonight. The squad had claimed the barn and small courtyard of
a farm on the outskirts of the village. Fieldstone walls kept out the wind and there was a roof. "There's a
briefing tomorrow afternoon, better turn in. I'm going to check in with the Lieutenant." Saunders headed for
the CP.
Doc rolled out his blanket. "So Kirby, how'd you do with Lynette?"
"Ah, her uncle owns the place. He didn't let her out of his sight the whole night." The wiry BAR man sat
dejected.
"Well, do you blame him?
Kirby turned to snarl at Doc and arranged his blanket around his shoulders to keep out the crisp night air.
Billy and Littlejohn were still discussing the benefits of beer versus tomatoes but soon the whole room was
asleep.
*******
It took surprising little in the way of creature comforts, a hot breakfast and lunch
after a nights rest had everyone in a good mood.
Lt. Hanley found them in the middle of a poker game. He knelt, laying out the map of tomorrow's mission.
"Listen up, gather around. Tomorrow 0430 2nd platoon will follow the 487th Fox company and advance
on the area around the village northeast of here. Saunders, your squad will follow this ravine until you reach
a farmhouse. Beyond the farmhouse is a wooded valley, patrols report Kraut activity in the woods. The
main attack will come from the 487th. Your job is to keep them from being outflanked. Be ready to go at
0430. Any questions?" The men nodded their understanding. "Good," Hanley rose to his full height, folding
up the map. "Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more."
Kirby cocked his head in a question. "Shakespeare Kirby, it's Shakespeare," Doc answered.
*******
The men started a small fire in the courtyard to heat coffee. "You think if they want us traipsing all over
France they could at least send us off with some hot food."
"They don't want to spoil you now Kirby." Saunders looked at his watch, "all right, everybody saddle up.
Caje, take the point." Caje poured what was left of his coffee on the fire, cradled his rifle along his right arm
and headed out.
It was still too dark to see if the weather would hold but at least it wasn't raining at the moment. Water
trickled down the middle of the ravine, its walls were deep enough to keep them hidden from any vantage
points above but that meant they would have to watch for trip wires among the scrub brush and fallen trees
that lay across their path. It took them an hour to make their way down the ravine with no incidents.
The ground flattened out 30 yards from the side of the farmhouse. What little morning light there was
coming through the trees backlit the farmhouse; the door and window facing the ravine were still in shadows.
A woodpile gave some cover between the side window and their current position. The contrast between
the pink dawn sky and the dark shadows made the approach to the farmhouse more dangerous then had it
still been dark. Not until they reached the building and the dawn light was blocked would they be able to
see into the dark interior. The farmhouse looked quiet, of course they couldn't know for sure until they
crossed the open ground.
"Caje, Littlejohn, around the woodpile, check out the back. Nelson, you're on me, we're going through the
front door. Kirby, cover us from here." Saunders looked around, "Doc..."
"I know... stay put." He gripped his medical bag close to his side.
Caje scrambled out of the ravine. Littlejohn, a few paces behind, made himself as small as he could. They
made their way to the woodpile in a crouching run. Saunders and
Nelson started for the front of the house when the sounds of mortars and machine gun fire burst out. They
raced for what little cover they had at the side of the building. Plastered against the wall a foot from the
door, Saunders motioned to Billy. Heart pounding, Saunders inched his way to the front door and kicked it
in, but the house was still quiet.
Littlejohn and Caje, dived back behind the woodpile at the sound of gunfire, they slowly crept back out
when they realized it wasn't directed at them. Circling around the back they found no sign of Krauts.
Saunders gave the all clear and Kirby and Doc ran up to join them. Kirby shifted his BAR, "I guess they
hadn't made it this far yet."
Only a table and two chairs remained in the abandoned structure, everything else the owners had been able
to take with them, or been scavenged. Surveying the spartan interior Saunders figured they had time for a
short rest. He reached for a drink from his canteen. "All right, be prepared for anything going through these
woods." Saunders took the lead, "Head out."
Beyond the farmhouse, up a small bare incline, lay the woods. Sounds of the barrage were still going strong
across the valley.
Daylight never made it through the low clouds. Almost as soon as they entered the woods they heard the
sounds of German and American weapons, closer this time. "Lets give them some help." Weaving their
way through the trees they raced towards the sound. Saunders pointed out the German's muzzle flash and
the squad fanned out. Billy came out on the left flank of a Kraut machine gun, he let a grenade fly toward
the automatic weapon and the rest of the squad took out the remaining Germans. As the noise and smoke
abated, Saunders sent Caje and Billy to check out the Germans then he looked around to find out just who
they had helped. Littlejohn and Kirby were already on their way to where they had last heard the American
weapons. Saunders joined them and watched as two GIs removed the dogtags from those they had fought
beside. Doc knelt to check each man but there was nothing for him to do here.
One of the new men looked familiar. "Sergeant Saunders, 361st, King Co., who are you?"
"Private Collins, 487th, Fox Co., this is Private Bergen. You want these?" He extended the handful of
dogtags.
"Caje'll be surprised to see you again so soon." Saunders recognized the name of
Segeant Trimm as he pocketed the tags. He hadn't known Trimm as well as some of the others; it was little
consolation. Caje and Billy joined the others, the unexpected sight of Joe Collins brought a smile to the
Cajun's face, if only for a moment. This wasn't the time or the place for another reunion.
Sergeant Saunders lead out in the direction he figured the Germans would be coming from. The terrain
dipped into a wooded river valley, they stepped carefully to avoid crunching through the leaves littering the
floor. The close packed trees provided good cover; it would also conceal any Krauts who were
undoubtedly out there. It wasn't long before the sergeant dodged behind a tree and waved the rest to take
cover. He could see a dozen Krauts moving into range parallel to their position 20 yards to the east. The
sergeant belly crawled back to where to rest of the squad had taken cover. "Caje, you take three men and
move to cut them off before they reach that rise. I don't want them disappearing behind that hill and coming
up behind us. When your ready, open up, when we hear you the rest of us will move in from here."
"Right, Sarge," Caje's eyes darted toward the advancing Germans and then toward the rise. "Kirby, Collin,
Bergen, on me. Lets go." They moved silently into position. Blood pounding in his ears, Caje took leveled
his M1 and squeezed off the first shot.
The first German in line dropped, the rest scrambled for cover returning fire. Even the dense stand of trees
proved inadequate cover against the dual assault; the Krauts pulled back splitting into groups. Following
Saunders' lead the squad broke cover, chasing them in a confused volley of gunfire. The Sarge, Littlejohn
and Billy trailed a half a dozen Krauts retreating to the northwest. Kirby and Bergen pursued another,
smaller group of Germans disappearing into the trees.
Three Germans cut away from the rest, Caje nudged Collins, "They're trying to get behind us. Lets go!"
They raced back the way they had come. If the Germans made it behind the hill the squad could be caught
in a crossfire. The cover of the trees ended at the top of the knoll; the Germans turned and fired. Caje hit
the ground behind the remains of a fallen tree, his right arm burning where a Schmeisser creased him. He
saw Collins to the right hit the ground and roll halfway down the incline. He slapped another clip into the
M1, his deliberate aim finding his targets.
*******
Time froze, the noise of the assult on the village and the struggle in the woods behind him seemed to
disappear. Images of Theo and Omaha Beach played through his mind. Unable to move he stared down
the hill at Collins' still body, "Mon Dieu." ~ Wake up Caje, this isn't your first day; you're not back on
the beach. Theo is gone but Joe still needs your help.~ He forced himself up, it took just a moment to
make sure the Germans were dead.
Running across the open ground he slid to a stop at Collins side. Dropping the Garand at his knee, Caje
gently rolled him over afraid of what he would see. His throat tightened at the sight of blood seeping through
Collins' field jacket. Yes, he was alive; his breathing shallow. "I'll get you home Joe, hold on."
Intent on stopping the bleeding from the right side of the soldier's chest, he grabbed for the sterilized dressing
in Collins' web belt. Unrolling the ends of the bandage Caje pressed it down to stop the steady red flow.
Anxious eyes searched the woods. They couldn't stay out here in the open. The only cover was back at the
farmhouse. The bleeding checked, Caje hastily tied the ends of the bandage around Joe's chest. His arm
burned when he forced the damaged muscle to lift his wounded friend over his shoulder and made his way
to the farmhouse. He would check the bandage there to make sure the bleeding had stopped.
With both hands holding Collins steady, Caje balanced kicking open the door. Unable to regain his balance,
he stumbled through the doorway, fell to his knees and rolled Collins to the floor as smoothly as he could.
The first bandage was soaked; he pulled out the fresh bandage from his belt and placed it over top. Collins
groaned and tried to move away but Caje kept steady pressure on the chest wound until he was sure the
bleeding had stopped.
Joe was too pale and too cold to last long without attention, he needed morphine and he needed a hospital -
now. Neither was something Caje could provide. How he wished Doc was here with his medical supplies.
There was nothing else to use as bandages; Caje couldn't afford to move him and have the bleeding start
again. Caje stripped off his jacket, laying it gently over Collins - it was the best he could do.
Now that the surge of adrenaline had passed, Caje sat back wearily against the wall, knees drawn up, heart
pounding. He decided to wait a few minutes to look at his arm, there was nothing to use as a bandage
anyway. He searched his shirt pockets for a cigarette. His bloodstained hands fumbled the lighter twice
before it was lit. A deep drag and a long slow exhale helped calm him. He lay his head back against the
wall.
*******
"Paul, where are we?" Even whispering took almost more energy then he had.
Caje's eyes flew open, who would call him Paul out here? Realizing now, he rushed to his friend, flicking
the untended cigarette aside. "Don't move Joe. The bleeding stopped butthere's no more bandages. We're
back at the farmhouse."
He reached out weakly for Caje's arm, "Paul... will you write Sarah?"
Caje tried to ignore the question, "You can write her yourself from England." He checked the bandage and
helped Joe with a drink from his canteen. "The sarge and Doc will come back this way and we'll get you
back to batallion aid."
"What if they don't come back this way?"
"Then I'll get you back myself." He hoped he sounded convincing enough. They both knew that wasn't
likely.
Caje moved to a position by the front window. He needed to be on guard for either the squad approaching
or the Germans. He pulled one of the chairs over next to the window where he could keep watch on the
woods without being observed.
Collins was more insistent this time, "Paul, I want you to write Sarah. Tell her... I'm sorry." His voice
broke, the words came between labored breaths, "I didn't want to leave her alone to raise Jacob."
"Quiet, save your strength." Paul turned his attention from the woods, " I never told you how close I came
to asking Sarah to marry me. You're not going to let go of her that easily are you?"
He managed a slight smile, "I knew you had ideas about her. I knew I had to ask her first." Joe's eyes fixed
on his, "You know... she would have said yes. Is there any more water?"
Joe's statement caught him by surprise, but there wasn't time to think of that now. "There's a pump out
front, I'll go fill the canteens."
He hoped the well wasn't dry. Slinging his M1 over his shoulder he gathered both canteens. It took both
arms to prime the pump and start the water flowing. By the time the canteens were filled the blood was
flowing down his arm again. He had forgotten how much his arm hurt. The Cajun looked toward the edge
of the woods; it appeared clear. He took a moment to wash the gash on his arm gasping at the frigid water
until it numbed his arm. He capped the canteens, adjusted the rifle hanging from his shoulder and turning to
head back to the house, caught a flash of movement from the woods.
Caje sprinted for the cover of the farmhouse at the instant German weapons erupted from the woods. He
slammed against the open door, knees buckling from the pain in his right side. Desperation propelled him to
the window to return fire.
He could make out four German positions. There was too much open ground between the woods and the
farmhouse. He was trapped but at least the Germans couldn't advance on the house without being seen.
Unless they moved around back.
He rested the Garand's barrel on the windowsill and loaded a fresh clip into the rifle. He tried to get a hold
on his breathing. Each breath sent ribbons of pain through his side. His bare hand pressed to his side was
the only thing he had to stop the flow of blood. Now all he had to do was prevent the Krauts from circling
the house and tossing a grenade through the window. ...Easy...
He shifted position to relieve cramping muscles, pain from his side radiated along his spine; the woods
blurred. He had to close his eyes to shut out the nausea and dizziness. He lay his head down on his arm for
just a moment. The Germans opened up again, but this time the barrage was answered by American fire
coming from deep in the woods. Caje raised his head but his body refused to raise the rifle. The woods
were silent again. Caje scanned the edge of the woods uneasily until a familiar camouflage helmet emerged
from the treeline.
*******
Four dead Krauts behind them, Sergeant Saunders and the rest of the squad made their way to the
farmhouse.
"I heard an M1 firing from here a minute ago, do you think its Caje?"
'I don't know Kirby, be careful just the same. You three check around back. Bergen, Doc we'll check out
the house." Saunders pushed open the door with the tip of the Thompson. "Doc, quick!"
Relief flooded over Caje, what little strength he had that held him upright gave way
and he slid to the ground. Doc dropped his bag and hauled Caje by the shoulders over to the unconscious
Collins.
"Bergen, bring me my bag." Working quickly Doc cut the blood soaked shirt open. The wound thru his
side had begun to clot but lifting the shirt away started the bleeding again. Weakened by the loss of blood,
Caje did little to protest as Doc rolled him on his side to reach both sides of the wound.
Saunders walked back outside giving Doc room to work.
Kirby skidded around the corner heading for the door. "So, was that Caje inside?"
The sergeant stepped between Kirby and the door. "We need to rig up two stretchers, take Littlejohn and
Billy, get the coats off those Germans back there.
"Caje is wounded?"
"Ya, Collins too, get those stretchers made."
Sure Sarge." Kirby turned on his heels to gather the others.
"He's lost a lot of blood Sarge, they both have."
"I know, I sent Kirby and the others to make a couple of stetchers. We'll get them back as soon as you're
ready."
*******
Doc looked up from replacing his supplies. "OK Sarge, ready. The bleeding stopped and I gave them both
morphine. We better hurry. Collins is bad; I think there is internal bleeding. Caje will be OK once we get
him back but I don't know about Collins."
*******
Another jarring bump almost bounce him out of his seat. "You think you can tryavoiding some of those pot
holes sergeant?"
"Sorry, Lieutenant." Saunders slid the open jeep to a stop in front of division headquarters.
Lt. Hanley unfolded his long legs from the jeep. "I don't know how long I'll be, stick close."
"I thought I'd go over to the hospital and check on Caje."
"All right, check back here in an hour."
Saunders drove the jeep around to the building serving as the field hospital. Stepping through the doorway
he almost collided with a nurse. He caught her arm to steady her, "Are you OK, Lieutenant?"
She straightened her uniform, "Yes, thank you. Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for one of my men. PFC Paul LeMay."
Checking over the names on her clipboard, she looked up, "Oh, yes, he'll be fine."
"There was another man brought in with him, Private Joseph Collins."
She turned to her lists again, "I'm sorry, he didn't make it. LeMay is the second bed from the corner."
Saunders set his helmet down at the foot of the bed. Caje was sleeping. He had a while to wait for the
Lieutenant, better to spend it in the company of a friend. He sank into the seat next to the bed, ran a hand
through his tangled blond hair and lit a cigarette to pass the time.
"Sarge...?" Caje's hoarse whisper startled him. "Sarge, is Joe here?"
"Quiet Caje." Saunders moved to the edge of the bed.
"Is he here?" Caje struggled to sit up, arm pressed against his bandaged side.
"No." Saunders rested his hand on Caje's shoulder and helped ease him back down. "Collins didn't make
it." They sat in silence. He could feel Caje's chest rise taking in deep uneven breaths. No words would
help; he'd let his friend grieve quietly. He dropped his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes and sighed. Caje's
breathing slowly evened out.
Saunders looked up to find Lt. Hanley standing next to him, Caje appeared to be asleep again. "Didn't take
as long as I thought. How is he?" The Lt. nodded at the Cajun.
Physical wounds heal quickly enough, "Oh, he'll be fine, Sir."
"Sarge..." Caje cleared this throat before continuing. "Can you get me a pencil and paper?"
"Sure, but can't it wait..."
"No, there's something I have to do."
Saunders left to ask the nurse he had collided with earlier for the items. Lt. Hanley was helping Caje to sit
up against the wall when he returned.
"Take it easy, see you in a week or so."
Caje avoided looking at Saunders and the Lieutenant as they turned to leave, turning his attention instead to
the blank paper. He wasn't ready for anybody to see the heartache reflected in his eyes. He would write to
Sarah like Joe had asked, but there was something else he had to do first.
Jacob,
I want you to know who your father was. You'll never know your father except from what we can
tell you about him. He loved you very much, the hardest thing he ever did was leaving. There is
nothing in this world your father wanted more then to come home to you and your mother. He never
stopped thinking about you.
I want you to know your father was a hero, not because he received a medal but because he did
something he believed in. The men he fought beside trusted him with their lives and he didn't let
them down...
~*~*~*~*~*~
END
profit.
Copyright 2002 by Cheryl Ann Dameron
Snowflake
Forever Young
Finally clean after more than a week on the move the entire squad had until 2200 for some rest and
relaxation and they were going to make the most of it. Racing to stow their shaving kits they elbowed and
joked with each other. Trudging through the rain and mud the last two days had fizzled their remaining
strength. The idea of paved streets and a roof over their heads brought them new energy. The village they
occupied was far enough from the front lines that some semblence of normal life was slowly returning to it.
Their first priority was to find a beer.
Objective secured; they found the cafe. Most of the fighting had been to the north of the village, other then
some broken glass in the front window the cafe was intact. Through a collection of locals and a few GIs,
they spied a couple of empty tables and settled in for the evening.
Sarge bought the first round. It was time to relax, a boyish smile replaced his tough battle worn appearance.
"I'm feeling generous. Miss, a round of beers over here." Saunders peeled off a couple of bills and settled
into a chair in the corner; habit forced him to keep an eye on the door. Kirby, Doc and Billy each grabbed
a chair and planted themselves around the closest table. Caje, who had stopped for a moment to talk to the
waitress, found a spot facing the door and rocked his chair back against the wall. It took Littlejohn a few
minutes to find a chair he would trust with his towering frame.
Kirby stood as the dark haired waitress came carrying the tray loaded with glasses.
He took her arm to help steady the tray and tried one of his sure-fire charming smiles. His smile and deep
brown eyes were not entirely lost on her although she tried not to show it. She smiled at him and coyly
dropped her eyes. Kirby's spirits soared as he caught her smile "Looks like there may be some possibilities
here!"
"Oh, sit down and drink your beer." Doc pulled him down.
"She's not interested in you." Littlejohn's rumbling voice egged him on.
"I'm tellin' ya, she smiled at me." He insisted as he sat back down. Kirby downed his beer, pushed back
from the table and looked around the room for the dark-haired girl. "I think I'll go scout out the possibilities
here. Hey, Billy, Caje, want me ta find out if she has a friend?"
"No chance, Pal." Caje laughed and waved him off.
Staring into his glass, Littlejohn nudged Billy, "Hey, Billy, did you know that a slug likes beer so much it will
drown in a bowl full of it?"
"What...?" Billy might have been the youngest member of the squad but he wasn't entirely gullible.
Littlejohn kept a perfectly straight face, "A slug, you know - a snail without a shell."
"What are you talking about Littlejohn, why would a slug be anywhere near a beer?" Billy looked up
incredulously.
"You set out bowls of beer to lure them away from your tomato plants. They get in the bowl and then can't
get out - they drown."
That pleasing image in his mind, Billy shuttered, "Yuk, I can't stand tomatoes, let the slugs have them. I'll
have the beer."
Saunders sat back, hands clasped around his beer and chuckled. Sometimes he wondered why these
particular men had become such good friends. Would he have had anything in common with them back in
the states?
After Kirby left in search of a little female company another group of GI's came
through the cafe door. Sergeant Saunders spotted a familiar face, Sergeant Trimm of the
487th. The two sergeants nodded to each other and the men from the 487th found an
empty spot near the bar. Caje and Billy threaded their way through the tables for the next round of drinks.
Leaning against the bar they overheard Kirby getting shot down again by the pretty young lady, although he
had managed to discover her name, Lynette.
"Hey sarge, I thought you guys would be here." Another GI came barrelling through the front door.
"Collins, over here." Sergeant Trimm waved him over.
At the sound of the voice Caje looked up, "I don't believe what I just heard! Joseph Collins! Is that you?"
The newcomer bypassed his mates, "Why Paul LeMay, this is where you've been
hiding yourself. Sarah asked me if I've seen you since being here." A enthusiastic bear hug added to their
long overdue handshake.
"We're thirsty over here, you bringing the beers or what?" Saunder's voice came
from the corner. Collins followed Saunders' men back to their table. They could have been brothers, same
black hair and angular features but Collins had a few pounds on his lean scout. "I take it you two know
each other."
"Sure sarge, this is Joseph Collins, we've been friends since we were kids."
"Ya, 'til I stole your girl and convinced her to marry me instead of you." Joe
teased. Caje cut him off with a good natured elbow to the ribs. Caje set down the beers
and made the introductions.
"Joe, lets get a bottle of wine and you can catch me up on everyone."
"Just remember to be back by 2200, right Caje." Sarge reminded.
"I'll get him home from the dance on time sergeant, I have to be back by then too." Laughing, Collins gave
Caje a shove back toward the bar. "You're buying."
The long time friends found an empty table, settled in with a bottle of wine and let
the rest of the room fade into the background. "Here, I've got something to show you."
Collins dug into his walet and held out a photograph. "It came in this week's mail call. Have you ever seen
two more beautiful people. Jacob was one year old last week."
Paul took the offered picture to see Sarah's wavy blond hair and pressed to her
check a little boy with huge dimples and dark hair sticking straight up. A wistful look showed in his dark
eyes. "What did you ever do to deserve two people like this."
Joe let out a long melancholy sigh, "I don't know Paul, I don't know." This war better be over soon, I can't
wait to get back to them.
Caje paused his glass midair, "to home"
"To home," Joe echoed.
Next, Joe asked about Theo. Theo and Paul had enlisted together and he knew they
ended up in the same outfit after basic. Paul tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat.
He couldn't keep his voice from cracking when he told Joe about that day on the beach. Sometimes it
seamed a lifetime ago. Today the nightmare of seeing his best friend die was fresh in his mind. Paul blinked
back the tears before they had a chance to fall. They raised another, sober toast to friends lost.
Determined to change the mood, Joe poured another glass of wine for each of them. "All right, I told you
my news from home, what's yours?"
"Ah, my sister wrote, she had a boy, I'm an uncle now!"
"If those kids do half the things we did, I'll grow old before my time Uncle Paul."
Caje reached for his pack of cigarettes, "Hey, how's my car?"
"Oh..., no..., you sold it to me remember..." Spirits buoyed, they talked through the evening and a second
bottle of wine.
Twenty-two hundred hours was coming up fast. Sergeants Saunders and Trimm
headed over to collect their men. "We better move it if we're going to make it back in time."
"All right sarge." The two pushed back from the table and reluctlently joined the
rest of the men through the quiet streets on their way back to their bedrolls. The cobblestone streets were
still slick from the afternoon's rain. At the end of the block the two squads parted ways.
Doc turned up the collar of his jacket against the night air. "So you two have know
each other a long time, huh?"
"Long time , Doc." Caje slipped his beret from its shoulder loop to put it on. "We would get into such
terrible trouble with our fathers for some of the stunts we pulled together. After high school I went to work
building furniture with my father and uncle. Joe and his father ran the trucking company that delivered it."
His life in the states was another world it seemed. "I used to have this '37 Chrysler, we'd spend hours under
the hood of that thing." Caje laughed at the memories. He hadn't told that much about himself to any one
person since before England, but it was easy to talk to Doc.
It wasn't much but it was home, at least for tonight. The squad had claimed the barn and small courtyard of
a farm on the outskirts of the village. Fieldstone walls kept out the wind and there was a roof. "There's a
briefing tomorrow afternoon, better turn in. I'm going to check in with the Lieutenant." Saunders headed for
the CP.
Doc rolled out his blanket. "So Kirby, how'd you do with Lynette?"
"Ah, her uncle owns the place. He didn't let her out of his sight the whole night." The wiry BAR man sat
dejected.
"Well, do you blame him?
Kirby turned to snarl at Doc and arranged his blanket around his shoulders to keep out the crisp night air.
Billy and Littlejohn were still discussing the benefits of beer versus tomatoes but soon the whole room was
asleep.
*******
It took surprising little in the way of creature comforts, a hot breakfast and lunch
after a nights rest had everyone in a good mood.
Lt. Hanley found them in the middle of a poker game. He knelt, laying out the map of tomorrow's mission.
"Listen up, gather around. Tomorrow 0430 2nd platoon will follow the 487th Fox company and advance
on the area around the village northeast of here. Saunders, your squad will follow this ravine until you reach
a farmhouse. Beyond the farmhouse is a wooded valley, patrols report Kraut activity in the woods. The
main attack will come from the 487th. Your job is to keep them from being outflanked. Be ready to go at
0430. Any questions?" The men nodded their understanding. "Good," Hanley rose to his full height, folding
up the map. "Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more."
Kirby cocked his head in a question. "Shakespeare Kirby, it's Shakespeare," Doc answered.
*******
The men started a small fire in the courtyard to heat coffee. "You think if they want us traipsing all over
France they could at least send us off with some hot food."
"They don't want to spoil you now Kirby." Saunders looked at his watch, "all right, everybody saddle up.
Caje, take the point." Caje poured what was left of his coffee on the fire, cradled his rifle along his right arm
and headed out.
It was still too dark to see if the weather would hold but at least it wasn't raining at the moment. Water
trickled down the middle of the ravine, its walls were deep enough to keep them hidden from any vantage
points above but that meant they would have to watch for trip wires among the scrub brush and fallen trees
that lay across their path. It took them an hour to make their way down the ravine with no incidents.
The ground flattened out 30 yards from the side of the farmhouse. What little morning light there was
coming through the trees backlit the farmhouse; the door and window facing the ravine were still in shadows.
A woodpile gave some cover between the side window and their current position. The contrast between
the pink dawn sky and the dark shadows made the approach to the farmhouse more dangerous then had it
still been dark. Not until they reached the building and the dawn light was blocked would they be able to
see into the dark interior. The farmhouse looked quiet, of course they couldn't know for sure until they
crossed the open ground.
"Caje, Littlejohn, around the woodpile, check out the back. Nelson, you're on me, we're going through the
front door. Kirby, cover us from here." Saunders looked around, "Doc..."
"I know... stay put." He gripped his medical bag close to his side.
Caje scrambled out of the ravine. Littlejohn, a few paces behind, made himself as small as he could. They
made their way to the woodpile in a crouching run. Saunders and
Nelson started for the front of the house when the sounds of mortars and machine gun fire burst out. They
raced for what little cover they had at the side of the building. Plastered against the wall a foot from the
door, Saunders motioned to Billy. Heart pounding, Saunders inched his way to the front door and kicked it
in, but the house was still quiet.
Littlejohn and Caje, dived back behind the woodpile at the sound of gunfire, they slowly crept back out
when they realized it wasn't directed at them. Circling around the back they found no sign of Krauts.
Saunders gave the all clear and Kirby and Doc ran up to join them. Kirby shifted his BAR, "I guess they
hadn't made it this far yet."
Only a table and two chairs remained in the abandoned structure, everything else the owners had been able
to take with them, or been scavenged. Surveying the spartan interior Saunders figured they had time for a
short rest. He reached for a drink from his canteen. "All right, be prepared for anything going through these
woods." Saunders took the lead, "Head out."
Beyond the farmhouse, up a small bare incline, lay the woods. Sounds of the barrage were still going strong
across the valley.
Daylight never made it through the low clouds. Almost as soon as they entered the woods they heard the
sounds of German and American weapons, closer this time. "Lets give them some help." Weaving their
way through the trees they raced towards the sound. Saunders pointed out the German's muzzle flash and
the squad fanned out. Billy came out on the left flank of a Kraut machine gun, he let a grenade fly toward
the automatic weapon and the rest of the squad took out the remaining Germans. As the noise and smoke
abated, Saunders sent Caje and Billy to check out the Germans then he looked around to find out just who
they had helped. Littlejohn and Kirby were already on their way to where they had last heard the American
weapons. Saunders joined them and watched as two GIs removed the dogtags from those they had fought
beside. Doc knelt to check each man but there was nothing for him to do here.
One of the new men looked familiar. "Sergeant Saunders, 361st, King Co., who are you?"
"Private Collins, 487th, Fox Co., this is Private Bergen. You want these?" He extended the handful of
dogtags.
"Caje'll be surprised to see you again so soon." Saunders recognized the name of
Segeant Trimm as he pocketed the tags. He hadn't known Trimm as well as some of the others; it was little
consolation. Caje and Billy joined the others, the unexpected sight of Joe Collins brought a smile to the
Cajun's face, if only for a moment. This wasn't the time or the place for another reunion.
Sergeant Saunders lead out in the direction he figured the Germans would be coming from. The terrain
dipped into a wooded river valley, they stepped carefully to avoid crunching through the leaves littering the
floor. The close packed trees provided good cover; it would also conceal any Krauts who were
undoubtedly out there. It wasn't long before the sergeant dodged behind a tree and waved the rest to take
cover. He could see a dozen Krauts moving into range parallel to their position 20 yards to the east. The
sergeant belly crawled back to where to rest of the squad had taken cover. "Caje, you take three men and
move to cut them off before they reach that rise. I don't want them disappearing behind that hill and coming
up behind us. When your ready, open up, when we hear you the rest of us will move in from here."
"Right, Sarge," Caje's eyes darted toward the advancing Germans and then toward the rise. "Kirby, Collin,
Bergen, on me. Lets go." They moved silently into position. Blood pounding in his ears, Caje took leveled
his M1 and squeezed off the first shot.
The first German in line dropped, the rest scrambled for cover returning fire. Even the dense stand of trees
proved inadequate cover against the dual assault; the Krauts pulled back splitting into groups. Following
Saunders' lead the squad broke cover, chasing them in a confused volley of gunfire. The Sarge, Littlejohn
and Billy trailed a half a dozen Krauts retreating to the northwest. Kirby and Bergen pursued another,
smaller group of Germans disappearing into the trees.
Three Germans cut away from the rest, Caje nudged Collins, "They're trying to get behind us. Lets go!"
They raced back the way they had come. If the Germans made it behind the hill the squad could be caught
in a crossfire. The cover of the trees ended at the top of the knoll; the Germans turned and fired. Caje hit
the ground behind the remains of a fallen tree, his right arm burning where a Schmeisser creased him. He
saw Collins to the right hit the ground and roll halfway down the incline. He slapped another clip into the
M1, his deliberate aim finding his targets.
*******
Time froze, the noise of the assult on the village and the struggle in the woods behind him seemed to
disappear. Images of Theo and Omaha Beach played through his mind. Unable to move he stared down
the hill at Collins' still body, "Mon Dieu." ~ Wake up Caje, this isn't your first day; you're not back on
the beach. Theo is gone but Joe still needs your help.~ He forced himself up, it took just a moment to
make sure the Germans were dead.
Running across the open ground he slid to a stop at Collins side. Dropping the Garand at his knee, Caje
gently rolled him over afraid of what he would see. His throat tightened at the sight of blood seeping through
Collins' field jacket. Yes, he was alive; his breathing shallow. "I'll get you home Joe, hold on."
Intent on stopping the bleeding from the right side of the soldier's chest, he grabbed for the sterilized dressing
in Collins' web belt. Unrolling the ends of the bandage Caje pressed it down to stop the steady red flow.
Anxious eyes searched the woods. They couldn't stay out here in the open. The only cover was back at the
farmhouse. The bleeding checked, Caje hastily tied the ends of the bandage around Joe's chest. His arm
burned when he forced the damaged muscle to lift his wounded friend over his shoulder and made his way
to the farmhouse. He would check the bandage there to make sure the bleeding had stopped.
With both hands holding Collins steady, Caje balanced kicking open the door. Unable to regain his balance,
he stumbled through the doorway, fell to his knees and rolled Collins to the floor as smoothly as he could.
The first bandage was soaked; he pulled out the fresh bandage from his belt and placed it over top. Collins
groaned and tried to move away but Caje kept steady pressure on the chest wound until he was sure the
bleeding had stopped.
Joe was too pale and too cold to last long without attention, he needed morphine and he needed a hospital -
now. Neither was something Caje could provide. How he wished Doc was here with his medical supplies.
There was nothing else to use as bandages; Caje couldn't afford to move him and have the bleeding start
again. Caje stripped off his jacket, laying it gently over Collins - it was the best he could do.
Now that the surge of adrenaline had passed, Caje sat back wearily against the wall, knees drawn up, heart
pounding. He decided to wait a few minutes to look at his arm, there was nothing to use as a bandage
anyway. He searched his shirt pockets for a cigarette. His bloodstained hands fumbled the lighter twice
before it was lit. A deep drag and a long slow exhale helped calm him. He lay his head back against the
wall.
*******
"Paul, where are we?" Even whispering took almost more energy then he had.
Caje's eyes flew open, who would call him Paul out here? Realizing now, he rushed to his friend, flicking
the untended cigarette aside. "Don't move Joe. The bleeding stopped butthere's no more bandages. We're
back at the farmhouse."
He reached out weakly for Caje's arm, "Paul... will you write Sarah?"
Caje tried to ignore the question, "You can write her yourself from England." He checked the bandage and
helped Joe with a drink from his canteen. "The sarge and Doc will come back this way and we'll get you
back to batallion aid."
"What if they don't come back this way?"
"Then I'll get you back myself." He hoped he sounded convincing enough. They both knew that wasn't
likely.
Caje moved to a position by the front window. He needed to be on guard for either the squad approaching
or the Germans. He pulled one of the chairs over next to the window where he could keep watch on the
woods without being observed.
Collins was more insistent this time, "Paul, I want you to write Sarah. Tell her... I'm sorry." His voice
broke, the words came between labored breaths, "I didn't want to leave her alone to raise Jacob."
"Quiet, save your strength." Paul turned his attention from the woods, " I never told you how close I came
to asking Sarah to marry me. You're not going to let go of her that easily are you?"
He managed a slight smile, "I knew you had ideas about her. I knew I had to ask her first." Joe's eyes fixed
on his, "You know... she would have said yes. Is there any more water?"
Joe's statement caught him by surprise, but there wasn't time to think of that now. "There's a pump out
front, I'll go fill the canteens."
He hoped the well wasn't dry. Slinging his M1 over his shoulder he gathered both canteens. It took both
arms to prime the pump and start the water flowing. By the time the canteens were filled the blood was
flowing down his arm again. He had forgotten how much his arm hurt. The Cajun looked toward the edge
of the woods; it appeared clear. He took a moment to wash the gash on his arm gasping at the frigid water
until it numbed his arm. He capped the canteens, adjusted the rifle hanging from his shoulder and turning to
head back to the house, caught a flash of movement from the woods.
Caje sprinted for the cover of the farmhouse at the instant German weapons erupted from the woods. He
slammed against the open door, knees buckling from the pain in his right side. Desperation propelled him to
the window to return fire.
He could make out four German positions. There was too much open ground between the woods and the
farmhouse. He was trapped but at least the Germans couldn't advance on the house without being seen.
Unless they moved around back.
He rested the Garand's barrel on the windowsill and loaded a fresh clip into the rifle. He tried to get a hold
on his breathing. Each breath sent ribbons of pain through his side. His bare hand pressed to his side was
the only thing he had to stop the flow of blood. Now all he had to do was prevent the Krauts from circling
the house and tossing a grenade through the window. ...Easy...
He shifted position to relieve cramping muscles, pain from his side radiated along his spine; the woods
blurred. He had to close his eyes to shut out the nausea and dizziness. He lay his head down on his arm for
just a moment. The Germans opened up again, but this time the barrage was answered by American fire
coming from deep in the woods. Caje raised his head but his body refused to raise the rifle. The woods
were silent again. Caje scanned the edge of the woods uneasily until a familiar camouflage helmet emerged
from the treeline.
*******
Four dead Krauts behind them, Sergeant Saunders and the rest of the squad made their way to the
farmhouse.
"I heard an M1 firing from here a minute ago, do you think its Caje?"
'I don't know Kirby, be careful just the same. You three check around back. Bergen, Doc we'll check out
the house." Saunders pushed open the door with the tip of the Thompson. "Doc, quick!"
Relief flooded over Caje, what little strength he had that held him upright gave way
and he slid to the ground. Doc dropped his bag and hauled Caje by the shoulders over to the unconscious
Collins.
"Bergen, bring me my bag." Working quickly Doc cut the blood soaked shirt open. The wound thru his
side had begun to clot but lifting the shirt away started the bleeding again. Weakened by the loss of blood,
Caje did little to protest as Doc rolled him on his side to reach both sides of the wound.
Saunders walked back outside giving Doc room to work.
Kirby skidded around the corner heading for the door. "So, was that Caje inside?"
The sergeant stepped between Kirby and the door. "We need to rig up two stretchers, take Littlejohn and
Billy, get the coats off those Germans back there.
"Caje is wounded?"
"Ya, Collins too, get those stretchers made."
Sure Sarge." Kirby turned on his heels to gather the others.
"He's lost a lot of blood Sarge, they both have."
"I know, I sent Kirby and the others to make a couple of stetchers. We'll get them back as soon as you're
ready."
*******
Doc looked up from replacing his supplies. "OK Sarge, ready. The bleeding stopped and I gave them both
morphine. We better hurry. Collins is bad; I think there is internal bleeding. Caje will be OK once we get
him back but I don't know about Collins."
*******
Another jarring bump almost bounce him out of his seat. "You think you can tryavoiding some of those pot
holes sergeant?"
"Sorry, Lieutenant." Saunders slid the open jeep to a stop in front of division headquarters.
Lt. Hanley unfolded his long legs from the jeep. "I don't know how long I'll be, stick close."
"I thought I'd go over to the hospital and check on Caje."
"All right, check back here in an hour."
Saunders drove the jeep around to the building serving as the field hospital. Stepping through the doorway
he almost collided with a nurse. He caught her arm to steady her, "Are you OK, Lieutenant?"
She straightened her uniform, "Yes, thank you. Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for one of my men. PFC Paul LeMay."
Checking over the names on her clipboard, she looked up, "Oh, yes, he'll be fine."
"There was another man brought in with him, Private Joseph Collins."
She turned to her lists again, "I'm sorry, he didn't make it. LeMay is the second bed from the corner."
Saunders set his helmet down at the foot of the bed. Caje was sleeping. He had a while to wait for the
Lieutenant, better to spend it in the company of a friend. He sank into the seat next to the bed, ran a hand
through his tangled blond hair and lit a cigarette to pass the time.
"Sarge...?" Caje's hoarse whisper startled him. "Sarge, is Joe here?"
"Quiet Caje." Saunders moved to the edge of the bed.
"Is he here?" Caje struggled to sit up, arm pressed against his bandaged side.
"No." Saunders rested his hand on Caje's shoulder and helped ease him back down. "Collins didn't make
it." They sat in silence. He could feel Caje's chest rise taking in deep uneven breaths. No words would
help; he'd let his friend grieve quietly. He dropped his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes and sighed. Caje's
breathing slowly evened out.
Saunders looked up to find Lt. Hanley standing next to him, Caje appeared to be asleep again. "Didn't take
as long as I thought. How is he?" The Lt. nodded at the Cajun.
Physical wounds heal quickly enough, "Oh, he'll be fine, Sir."
"Sarge..." Caje cleared this throat before continuing. "Can you get me a pencil and paper?"
"Sure, but can't it wait..."
"No, there's something I have to do."
Saunders left to ask the nurse he had collided with earlier for the items. Lt. Hanley was helping Caje to sit
up against the wall when he returned.
"Take it easy, see you in a week or so."
Caje avoided looking at Saunders and the Lieutenant as they turned to leave, turning his attention instead to
the blank paper. He wasn't ready for anybody to see the heartache reflected in his eyes. He would write to
Sarah like Joe had asked, but there was something else he had to do first.
Jacob,
I want you to know who your father was. You'll never know your father except from what we can
tell you about him. He loved you very much, the hardest thing he ever did was leaving. There is
nothing in this world your father wanted more then to come home to you and your mother. He never
stopped thinking about you.
I want you to know your father was a hero, not because he received a medal but because he did
something he believed in. The men he fought beside trusted him with their lives and he didn't let
them down...
~*~*~*~*~*~
END
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