Disclaimer: The guys don't belong to me...yadda, yadda, yadda. Wish they did.G
Copyright 2001
Kirby limped through the fog, cursing his luck. He was tired, his ankle throbbed, his feet hurt and he was hungry. He was also lost.
Hobbling to a stop, Kirby listened for any signs of life. Nothing disturbed the eerie silence but his own harsh breathing. He was completely alone. He'd been wandering in the haze for what seemed like days. According to the scarred face of his mud splattered watch, it had only been two hours.
Kirby wasn't really sure how he'd come to be so lost and totally alone. The whole Platoon had been dug in; all had been quiet for hours. Then the fog had rolled in...and that was when all hell had broken loose...
The Germans opened up with the big guns; it seemed like the whole world was exploding. Dirt and debris rained down on Kirby and Caje, huddled against the edge of the foxhole they shared. Another explosion, this one too close for comfort, nearly deafened the pair. As more debris fell over them, Kirby heard a thud and turned his head to see a GI boot roll to a stop behind him. Swallowing convulsively, Kirby conjured up the horrible image of what could still be inside that boot.
Hearing the shout for retreat, Kirby tore his eyes away from the gruesome object. Caje was already hauling himself from their haven. Crouching low, the scout took off running, waving for Kirby to follow. Needing no further encouragement, the BAR man scrambled up the foxhole's side, digging his toes in the loose dirt. He reached the top and set his sights on the hazy treeline fifty yards ahead. A blast of dirt and air nearly made him topple as he started his run, but he managed to retain his balance. Dodging craters and foxholes, he sprinted for the relative safety of the trees as fast as the heavy BAR would allow.
The noise around him was overpowering, but somehow seemed strangely distorted. The mist appeared to become thicker with each passing second. Kirby wondered what happened to Caje; it was as if the man just disappeared. He caught a glimpse of Billy and Littlejohn, then the two were gone...swallowed by the fog.
Reaching the woods safely, Kirby had to slow his pace or risk running headlong into a tree. He trotted in as straight a line as he could, hoping he was going in the right direction. He could hear the muffled sounds of German artillary behind him, like distant rolls of thunder. The fog became heavier, and gave the feeling of a physical weight pressing down on Kirby's tired limbs. It was as if he'd entered another world. Kirby jogged slowly, eyes straining to see through the pea soup. Sweat trickled down his neck, tickling the little hairs that stood on end from adrenaline.
The lone soldier could hear occasional muffled shouts now, but couldn't tell from which direction they'd come. He couldn't even tell which language was being spoken, for that matter. The shouts appeared to come from six different directions, all at once. It was very disorienting.
Then, as if things weren't bad enough, Kirby stepped in a rabbit hole.
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Now here he was, alone and worried, with his ankle swollen and throbbing. Kirby wasn't quite willing to go so far as to admit he was scared. Yet.
He was hurt, the fog was...well...a little spooky, and he had no idea which way he was headed. He could be making his way to H.Q., or back the way he'd come for all he knew. Just the thought of going the wrong way made him falter in his steps.
Kirby stopped and bent down to tighten the buckle of his boot, giving his weak ankle more support. He glanced around and thought the fog-shrouded trees looked almost threatening. Okay, this is definitely starting to give me the creeps, he thought to himself. He could feel the prickly sensation of goose bumps dance across his arms.
Once again hearing muffled shouts, Kirby turned in a circle trying to pinpoint a direction. He limped a few tentative steps, then broke into a painful jog when he heard the sound of a shot. As Kirby drew closer, he could make out a few words. American! He jogged even faster when he realized the other shouts were in German.
The American voice now raised itself above the German, and the words were clearer. "Stop! Stop, you can't do that! Leave him alone!"
Suddenly, the trees thinned and Kirby could just make out three forms in a small clearing. He instantly dropped behind a thicket, and raised his BAR. One of the forms was writhing on the ground, moaning in obvious pain. It was hard to tell, but the wounded man looked like Jamie from 3rd squad. Nobody else was that short and skinny. The German stood with his rifle pointed at the man lying on the grass. Standing with his body placed between the wounded man and the German's rifle, was another American...a corpsman, from the crosses on his helmet.
The corpsman had his hands raised in a non-threatening manner, and he was desperately trying to reason with an enemy soldier who spoke no English. Shaking his head and pointing at the weapon, the American spoke. "You can't just shoot a wounded man in cold blood. I can't let you do that!"
Kirby's jaw nearly hit the ground. Doc! Kirby sent a silent thanks to the Man above. The fog wouldn't seem so spooky with a friend by his side. If the medic was here, maybe the others weren't far away. Maybe he wasn't so lost after all.
The enemy soldier gave Doc a shove, then once again pointed his rifle at the wounded soldier squirming in the tall grass. Kirby raised his BAR to fire, but lowered it again as Doc lunged at the German. Kirby could only watch as the medic wrestled the kraut over possession of the weapon. The BAR man couldn't take the risk of hitting the wrong soldier.
Doc was fighting for his life; fighting for the life of the wounded Pvt. James. As the kraut levered the smaller medic towards the ground, Doc managed to bend his leg and plant a boot to the German's chest. The medic shoved with all his might and the kraut stumbled backward, leaving Doc holding the rifle. Hitting the ground, the medic rolled over and scrambled to his feet.
The German reached to his hip, removed his bayonet, and jumped at the medic. Doc reflexively squeezed the trigger of the weapon he held in his trembling hands. Nothing happened; it was jammed. The blade was making it's way to the medic's chest, and Doc thrust the rifle up in an effort to block the deadly blow. He managed to turn aside the intended thrust, and swung his head back as the bayonet was diverted towards his face. Doc felt a searing line of fire on his forehead. The blade had opened up a three inch gash on the medic's brow, and blood dripped into Doc's eyes obscuring his vision.
Doc tried frantically to wipe away the warm stickiness so he could see, but stumbled over Jamie's supine form. He hit the ground with a thump, driving the air from his lungs. He'd lost.
Kirby raised his BAR when Doc hit the ground, and fired as the kraut smiled and went in for the kill. The German screamed as he spun around from the impact of the bullets, fell to the ground and lay still.
Limping as fast as he could, Kirby made his way through the weeds and brush. Doc was kneeling next to Jamie, one hand on the man's leg and the other hand pressed to his own forehead.
"Doc! Man, am I glad to see you."
The medic looked up in surprise at the familiar voice. All he could see through the blood in his eyes was the blurry image of a man. "Kirby? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Kirby removed the bandage and sulfa packages from his belt and opened them up. "Here, Doc. Move your hand, and I'll get a bandage on this guy's leg. Then we'll see what we can do for that cut on your head."
Releasing his hold on the wound, Doc crawled around in the grass, squinting and sweeping his hands, mumbling to himself. "My bag? Where's my bag? Gotta find my bag."
Tying the bandage in place, Kirby looked around for the missing medical pouch. Finally spying a flash of red, he reached into a patch of weeds and retrieved his prize.
"Here it is, Doc. I found it!"
Doc sighed in relief. Jamie was in bad enough shape before, after being hit by shrapnel. Now with the leg wound on top of that, the injured private was going to need all the help Doc could give him. For that, the medic needed the supplies in his bag.
"Thanks Kirby. Give me some gauze, sulfa, and a bandage so I can clean out this cut. Do me a favor and check his shoulder wound to make sure it didn't start bleeding again. I can't see worth a darn right now."
"Sure. No sweat." Kirby handed over the requested items, then examined Pvt. James' bandage. Seeing blood seeping through, the BAR man added a clean bandage on top of the old one, and tied it snugly.
Wetting the gauze with water from one of his canteens, Doc succeeded in clearing the blood from his eyes. Being unable to see the wound on his own forehead, however, Doc gave up trying to bandage himself. Sighing in frustration, the medic simply held gauze to the wound.
"Kirby, can you give me a hand. I can't see where to put this stupid bandage."
Chuckling at the medic's exasperation, Kirby took the proffered supplies. "Lay back, so I don't get this sulfa in your eyes."
Doc lay back on the soft grass, as Kirby went about bandaging the laceration with surprisingly gentle hands. His drooping eyes snapped open at the sound of Kirby's voice. "Doc, please tell me you know where we are."
Sitting up when Kirby finished tying off the bandage, Doc shrugged. "Well, I was sorta headed in the direction I thought H.Q. was, but in this fog...I don't know; I coulda gotten turned around."
Slipping off his helmet, Kirby ran a hand through his close-cropped brown hair. "Did you see anybody else, Doc? Sarge, Caje, or any of the other guys?"
"No. I was helping Jamie get back, and there was a couple guys from 3rd squad with us, but we got separated in the fog. I guess me and Jamie weren't going fast enough, but I was afraid I'd run us both into a tree if I went any faster. It sure got hard to see."
Nodding ruefully, Kirby glanced over at the body of the German soldier. "How'd you run into that guy?"
Doc, too, stared at the German. The medic didn't bother with checking for signs of life. It was obvious, even from there, that the soldier was dead. "I don't know if he heard us moving around, or if he was just as lost as we were, but we almost literally ran into him."
Doc returned his gaze to Jamie and frowned. "I guess he didn't want to take a wounded prisoner. I dunno, maybe he was gonna kill me, too. He went to shoot Jamie in the chest, and I tried to stop him. Guess I didn't do too good a job, 'cause he still shot him."
Kirby touched Doc on the arm to get his attention. "Hey, at least you stopped the kraut from killing him. Wounded is better than dead, take my word for it."
Climbing wearily to his aching feet, Kirby sighed. "Well, I doubt anyone's gonna find us in this pea soup, so I guess we better get ourselves home."
Eyeing Kirby as the wiry man limped over to the German soldier, Doc knew he'd have to carry Jamie alone. Besides, Kirby would need his hands free for the BAR. The medic was thankful it was Pvt. James lying in the grass, and not Littlejohn. Doc doubted he'd be able to carry his big squadmate very far.
Hobbling back over to Doc, Kirby helped the medic pull the semi-conscious private to his feet. Together they managed to manhandle Jamie onto Doc's back. Slipping his hands under Jamie's knees, Doc adjusted the man's weight to a more comfortable position. The wounded man's head rested on the medic's shoulder, and his arms dangled uselessly. Even as small as he was, Doc knew the young man would grow very heavy, very quickly. This wasn't like giving a piggy-back ride to his ten-year-old cousin, Stephen.
After a brief consultation, they turned in the general direction they'd been headed before. Kirby's steps were a little lighter. Somehow, just having Doc there made the fog seem thinner and the trees less threatening.
Having Kirby by his side, with the BAR, made Doc feel more secure as well. He just hoped they were close to the village. He wasn't sure how far he could carry his burden, and Pvt. James needed a doctor. The two men trudged wearily in silence, lost in their own thoughts, but each drawing comfort from the other.
Just as Doc was about to call a halt before he dropped the poor wounded man, a large shape loomed out of the fog. As they got closer, they could see that it was a church. The windows were broken, and both men noticed shell damage to one wall. It looked to be abandoned.
Kirby motioned for Doc to stay by the low stone wall running the length of the nearby cemetery. The BAR man slowly approached the church, keeping his weapon ready. Doc just wished Kirby would hurry; his back was killing him. The medic shifted Jamie's weight and watched as Kirby slipped into the church. After what felt like an eternity, he saw Kirby lean out of the door and wave his arm. Doc breathed a sigh of relief and, almost stumbling with weariness, walked the last few yards to sanctuary.
When the medic entered the church, he was surprised to see that it was occupied. A nun and six ragged children stared back at him. The children looked frightened, and the nun whispered comforting words to them before stepping forward and motioning towards the polished wooden pews. "Please, lay the young man down. I am Sister Marie, and you are welcome to seek shelter here."
With help from Kirby, Doc lowered the wounded man onto the nearest pew. The medic smiled at the nun in gratitude. "Thank you, Sister. I don't know how much longer I could've carried him." Kneeling next to Jamie, Doc checked both wounds and frowned at the fresh bloodstains. He replaced the top bandage on the shoulder wound, and added a fresh bandage to the wound on the man's leg. They'd need to let Jamie rest, if the bleeding was going to stop.
The medic slipped his helmet off, in deference to his surroundings, and ran a hand through his damp hair. He hated to put the nun and children in danger with the American's presence, but Jamie simply had to rest a while before he lost too much blood.
Looking back from his position by a window, Kirby lifted a questioning eyebrow. "So how is he, Doc? He gonna be okay?"
Sitting back on his heels, Doc scrubbed his hands on his thighs. "If I can get the hemorhaging to stop, he should be okay. He needs to be still, though." The medic turned a worried frown to Sister Marie, his blue eyes pleading. "Ma'am, I hate to ask it, but can we stay here? Just for a short while, until he's okay to travel. If Kirby, there, sees any Germans we'll duck out the back and be outta here."
Sister Marie layed a comforting hand on the medic's shoulder, and smiled kindly. "Of course you can stay. The children and I heard the artillery earlier. Is that when the young man was wounded?"
Seeing Jamie shiver, Doc stood and removed his jacket. Draping it over the wounded man, he nodded. "Yes. Well, sorta. He got some shrapnel in his shoulder, but he got the leg wound later as we were trying to get back to Tourleron."
"Monsieur. Docteur. A quoi est-ce que cela sert?"
Doc looked behind Sister Marie to see a small boy pointing at the little flashlight in the pocket of his medical bag. The boy had curly brown hair and appeared to be about eight or nine. The medic turned to look at Sister Marie in confusion. "What did he say?"
Smiling, the nun translated the boy's request. "He wants to know what that is."
Kneeling next to the thin child, Doc took the light from its pocket and shone it on his palm. He smiled back at Sister Marie and asked, "Can you tell him it's a little flashlight? For looking at wounds and stuff." The nun translated the medic's words, and the boy smiled in delight. Taking the light from Doc, the child went over to his friends to show off his prize.
Sister Marie laughed at the boy's enthusiasm, and explained to Doc and Kirby that the children were orphans. There had been more children, but the others had all been evacuated. "One of the farmers was supposed to have come for these children almost a week ago, but he has not come. I fear the worst. I do not know what to do. The children must be evacuated, because we are almost out of food. We are also in much danger here. The church is between the German and American lines, and the shells are getting closer all the time. I fear for the children's safety." Lines of worry and strain settled across her brow.
The little boy returned to Doc and handed him back the flashlight. "Merci beaucoup, Docteur." Doc wracked his brain for the words that meant "You're welcome"; he knew he'd heard Caje say them many times. His tired brain finally dredged up the memory, and Doc ruffled the boy's hair. "De rien."
Kirby looked over from his post by the window, and laughed. "Hey, Doc. Caje would be proud of ya. Good thing the Sister speaks English, or we'd be playing charades."
Gathering the children, Sister Marie led them to another room. When she returned, she had paper and a pencil in hand. Waving Doc over to a small table, she laid the paper on the scarred surface. "Monsieur, I will draw you a map to get you back to Tourleron. It should only take a few hours for you to get there. Normally I would tell you not to take the road, but with this weather, I think it would be safe." She carefully drew the directions on the paper, but hesitated before giving the map to Doc.
"Messieurs, I ask a favor of you. When you get back to Tourleron, send someone for the children. They are in great danger here. Send a truck to take them to safety, s'il vous plait. Please."
Doc glanced over at Kirby, who nodded seriously. Doc was just as solemn when he spoke, "You have our word, Sister Marie, that we'll make sure someone comes for the children." Kirby nodded his agreement.
Feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her narrow shoulders, Sister Marie gave the map to Doc. She smiled in gratitude to both men. "Merci. Merci beaucoup."
Taking the map over to Kirby to show him the way, Doc glanced at his watch. It was almost 1730. Sunset would be soon. The fog was bad enough before, but what little light was trickling through would soon be gone. After giving the map to Kirby, the medic went to check on Jamie. Lifting the uppermost bandages, he could see that the bleeding had stopped for now. It was time to leave. He retrieved his jacket from the wounded man, and slipped it back on.
"Kirby, we need to get goin'. We gotta get Jamie to a hospital, soon. Give me a hand with him, would ya?"
Once again the two men managed to get Jamie settled on Doc's back. Kirby cautiously opened the door and peered outside. It looked clear, so he waved for Doc to go ahead. Before stepping outside, the wiry soldier looked seriously at Sister Marie. "We'll make sure the kids are taken somewhere safe, I promise." Then he trotted after Doc, leaving the church behind.
They stuck close to the road, the fog giving them protection. Doc had to stop and rest several times, but they kept a pretty good pace. The medic was sure Jamie had somehow gained ten pounds in the last hour. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Doc caught Kirby looking at his watch, then the map in puzzlement. "Kirby, how much further?"
Consulting the map again, Kirby nodded to himself. He looked up and smiled. "Should be just around that bend up ahead."
Shifting Jamie's weight for the hundredth time, Doc glared at the BAR man. "Kirby, you said that two 'bends' ago! You better not have gotten us lost, fer cryin' out loud, or you'll be carrying Jamie."
Returning the medic's glare, Kirby straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. "I didn't get us lost! I'm tellin' ya, it's just around that curve. Geez, you're worse than the Sarge!"
"I'll be sure to tell him you said that, Kirby."
"You do, and I'll break your arm!"
"Oh, yeah? You and who else?"
The two stared at each other, then burst out laughing. They were still smiling when they rounded the bend and Tourleron appeared through the mist. "Ha! Told ya so."
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"Hey Caje, what time is it?"
Taking a quick check of his watch, Caje sighed and raised his head off his cot. "It's 2015, Billy. Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked."
Folding his arms behind his head, Billy shifted on his own cot. "Sorry, Caje. I'm just worried is all."
Littlejohn stopped his pacing to look at his watch, though he wasn't really seeing the time. "Don't worry, Billy. You know we can't get rid of Kirby this easily. He's like a bad penny...he always turns up."
Giving a half-hearted smile, Billy was grateful for Littlejohn's attempt to reassure him. Still, he worried for his missing squadmates. The rest of them had trickled in hours ago. 3rd squad had suffered the worst casualties and still had several men missing. 1st squad had lost two new replacements, but still had two men unaccounted for. Kirby and Doc.
Raising up on his elbows, Billy shot Littlejohn a worried look. "Yeah, but what about Doc?"
Sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, Caje tried to ease Nelson's fears. "Don't worry about Doc. He's gotten himself out of messes before."
Despite their assurances to one another, however, all three men returned to brooding. Caje cupped his chin in his hands and bounced his leg up and down with nervous energy. Littlejohn resumed his pacing, from one corner to another and back. Billy lay back down and chewed his lower lip with worry.
They were so lost in their own thoughts, all three jumped when Calvin from 3rd squad poked his head in the dilapidated room and shouted happily. "Hey! Jamie's back. Two of your guys just brought him in. The doctor thinks he's gonna be okay!" His eyes widened in surprise when they just stood and stared at him, open-mouthed. "Did you guys hear me? Your medic and your BAR man made it back. Sgt. Saunders and Lt. Hanley are with them over at the aid station." The words had barely left his mouth before he had to jump back out of the way, as the three soldiers nearly bowled him over in their haste to leave.
It was with lifted spirits that the three men jogged down the narrow streets, making their way to the aid station. When they finally found the others, a doctor was just finishing up the stitches on Doc's forehead. Littlejohn waved his arms expansively and laughed. "The prodigal sons return!"
Rebuckling his boot, Kirby joined in the laughter. "Yeah, I bet you thought you were finally rid of me, didn't ya?"
Caje grinned, slapping Kirby on the back. "Naw, Kirby, we're not that lucky."
Smirking, the wiry man pushed Caje's hand away. "Ha, ha. Very funny wiseguy. See what we came back to, Doc? They just don't appreciate us."
Billy shook his head and smiled. "Don't listen to him, Doc. It's Kirby we don't appreciate."
Saunders shook his head at his squad. He, too, was enormously relieved at the return of his missing men. As the banter between the men grew too loud, the sergeant waved an arm for silence. "Come on you guys, get back to your bunks. Kirby and Doc will be there in a few minutes, and you can celebrate all you want. Go on, before the doctor kicks us all out."
Caje, Littlejohn, and Billy reluctantly trailed out of the room, but not before getting in a few parting shots at Kirby.
Lt. Hanley stood patiently, waiting as the doctor taped a bandage over the newly stitched cut on Doc's head. When the doctor finished, Hanley gave the man a questioning look.
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "Well, Pvt. Kirby should rest his ankle a day or so, but it's not sprained very badly. Your medic is released back to duty." Helping Doc off the table, the doctor gave the medic a small frown. "You know the drill. Keep the stitches as dry as possible, and come back in about five days to see if they're ready to come out."
Resisting the urge to scratch at the itchy wound, Doc nodded understandingly. He knew the drill, alright. "Yes, sir."
When the foursome stepped out into the street, Kirby stopped. "Lieutenant, wait a minute. I almost forgot something. Remember us tellin' ya about the church and Sister Marie? Well, she needs someone to go and evacuate the kids. They're in a dangerous spot, and they're runnin' outta food. So, can ya send someone to get them?"
Sighing, Lt. Hanley shook his head. "Kirby, there's no way I can get anybody to evacuate civilians at the moment. Maybe in three or four days, but not right now."
"But, Lieutenant, they're just kids. Doc and I can go get them."
The lieutenant frowned. He hated situations like this. He wanted nothing more than to get those children to safety, but his hands were tied. They needed every man available right now. "I'm sorry, Kirby, but Sgt. Saunders is taking the squad out for patrol in the morning, and Doc has to go with them. The only reason you're not going, is so you can rest that ankle."
"But, Lieutenant..."
Saunders interrupted, "You heard the man, Kirby. Now button it."
Grumbling to himself, Kirby trailed behind Saunders and Hanley, his mind racing. Finally coming up with a plan, he smiled. Sneaking a look at Doc walking beside him, he cleared his throat. "Um, Sarge. Tell the guys to go ahead and get some sleep; me and Doc are gonna grab a quick bite to eat. We're starved."
Doc opened his mouth to protest but, receiving a warning look from Kirby, shut it again. He had a feeling Kirby was up to something, and he wasn't gonna like it.
Saunders rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Sure, Kirby, you guys go ahead and grab a bite. Don't be surprised if we're all asleep when you get back. We've got that patrol at 0930."
Grabbing Doc's arm, Kirby pulled the medic aside and waited for Saunders and Hanley to get out of earshot. Doc yanked his arm out of the smaller man's grip and frowned. "Kirby, I am beyond tired. Whatever it is you've dreamed up in that head of yours, forget it. I'm goin' ta bed. Some of us have to get up for a patrol in the morning."
Kirby stared back at the medic in surprise. "But Doc, what about the kids?"
"Lt. Hanley said he'd get someone there as soon as he could." Doc avoided Kirby's eyes; he knew what the BAR man was hinting at. The medic wanted to go get those kids, too, but orders were orders.
"Aw, c'mon, Doc. You know it might be too late then. Besides, we gave Sister Marie our word!"
Gesturing for Kirby to lower his voice, Doc hissed, "I know that Kirby, but you heard Lt. Hanley. Orders are orders. I have a patrol in the morning."
Grinning conspiratorially, Kirby poked the medic in the chest. "C'mon Doc, you've disobeyed orders before. Stole an ambulance, too, as I recall. Lt. Hanley yelled at ya for hours if I remember correctly."
Slapping Kirby's hand away, the medic scowled back at him. "I had to take that ambulance, and I had to disobey Sarge's orders. His and Caje's lives depended on it. I did what I had to do to keep them from getting killed."
"Don't those kids deserve the same?" Kirby paused and tried a different approach. "Look, if we leave now, we can get the kids and be back in plenty of time for the patrol. We'll just sneak out. I've done it a hundred times."
"Somehow, Kirby, that doesn't exactly comfort me." Doc rubbed a hand across his face, trying to resist the urge to scratch his forehead. He looked at his watch and made a few calculations. If they left in the next half hour...they'd have about twelve hours to get to the church and back. That was plenty of time, even with a bunch of small children. Besides, Kirby was right...they'd given their word. "Okay, Kirby. Look, I'll go back and get my bag refilled. Run over to supply and see if you can get anyone to give us some rations. Tell 'em it's for tomorrow's patrol. I'll meet you there."
Smiling in triumph, Kirby slapped the medic on the back and trotted around the corner. Doc retraced his steps to the aid station to get supplies. When they met at supply, the medic was mildly surprised to see that Kirby had managed to get the rations. He was even more surprised to find that the devious BAR man had even gotten a few extra. Kirby grimaced and answered the question he saw on the medic's face. "Well, it cost me, but I'll get it back in the next poker game."
They waited ten minutes, then jogged over to the shop where their squad was bunked down. The two were relieved to find everyone asleep. It had been a long, exhausting day for them all, and Doc wanted nothing more than to join the others in blissful slumber. It was going to be a long night.
Copyright 2001
Kirby limped through the fog, cursing his luck. He was tired, his ankle throbbed, his feet hurt and he was hungry. He was also lost.
Hobbling to a stop, Kirby listened for any signs of life. Nothing disturbed the eerie silence but his own harsh breathing. He was completely alone. He'd been wandering in the haze for what seemed like days. According to the scarred face of his mud splattered watch, it had only been two hours.
Kirby wasn't really sure how he'd come to be so lost and totally alone. The whole Platoon had been dug in; all had been quiet for hours. Then the fog had rolled in...and that was when all hell had broken loose...
The Germans opened up with the big guns; it seemed like the whole world was exploding. Dirt and debris rained down on Kirby and Caje, huddled against the edge of the foxhole they shared. Another explosion, this one too close for comfort, nearly deafened the pair. As more debris fell over them, Kirby heard a thud and turned his head to see a GI boot roll to a stop behind him. Swallowing convulsively, Kirby conjured up the horrible image of what could still be inside that boot.
Hearing the shout for retreat, Kirby tore his eyes away from the gruesome object. Caje was already hauling himself from their haven. Crouching low, the scout took off running, waving for Kirby to follow. Needing no further encouragement, the BAR man scrambled up the foxhole's side, digging his toes in the loose dirt. He reached the top and set his sights on the hazy treeline fifty yards ahead. A blast of dirt and air nearly made him topple as he started his run, but he managed to retain his balance. Dodging craters and foxholes, he sprinted for the relative safety of the trees as fast as the heavy BAR would allow.
The noise around him was overpowering, but somehow seemed strangely distorted. The mist appeared to become thicker with each passing second. Kirby wondered what happened to Caje; it was as if the man just disappeared. He caught a glimpse of Billy and Littlejohn, then the two were gone...swallowed by the fog.
Reaching the woods safely, Kirby had to slow his pace or risk running headlong into a tree. He trotted in as straight a line as he could, hoping he was going in the right direction. He could hear the muffled sounds of German artillary behind him, like distant rolls of thunder. The fog became heavier, and gave the feeling of a physical weight pressing down on Kirby's tired limbs. It was as if he'd entered another world. Kirby jogged slowly, eyes straining to see through the pea soup. Sweat trickled down his neck, tickling the little hairs that stood on end from adrenaline.
The lone soldier could hear occasional muffled shouts now, but couldn't tell from which direction they'd come. He couldn't even tell which language was being spoken, for that matter. The shouts appeared to come from six different directions, all at once. It was very disorienting.
Then, as if things weren't bad enough, Kirby stepped in a rabbit hole.
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Now here he was, alone and worried, with his ankle swollen and throbbing. Kirby wasn't quite willing to go so far as to admit he was scared. Yet.
He was hurt, the fog was...well...a little spooky, and he had no idea which way he was headed. He could be making his way to H.Q., or back the way he'd come for all he knew. Just the thought of going the wrong way made him falter in his steps.
Kirby stopped and bent down to tighten the buckle of his boot, giving his weak ankle more support. He glanced around and thought the fog-shrouded trees looked almost threatening. Okay, this is definitely starting to give me the creeps, he thought to himself. He could feel the prickly sensation of goose bumps dance across his arms.
Once again hearing muffled shouts, Kirby turned in a circle trying to pinpoint a direction. He limped a few tentative steps, then broke into a painful jog when he heard the sound of a shot. As Kirby drew closer, he could make out a few words. American! He jogged even faster when he realized the other shouts were in German.
The American voice now raised itself above the German, and the words were clearer. "Stop! Stop, you can't do that! Leave him alone!"
Suddenly, the trees thinned and Kirby could just make out three forms in a small clearing. He instantly dropped behind a thicket, and raised his BAR. One of the forms was writhing on the ground, moaning in obvious pain. It was hard to tell, but the wounded man looked like Jamie from 3rd squad. Nobody else was that short and skinny. The German stood with his rifle pointed at the man lying on the grass. Standing with his body placed between the wounded man and the German's rifle, was another American...a corpsman, from the crosses on his helmet.
The corpsman had his hands raised in a non-threatening manner, and he was desperately trying to reason with an enemy soldier who spoke no English. Shaking his head and pointing at the weapon, the American spoke. "You can't just shoot a wounded man in cold blood. I can't let you do that!"
Kirby's jaw nearly hit the ground. Doc! Kirby sent a silent thanks to the Man above. The fog wouldn't seem so spooky with a friend by his side. If the medic was here, maybe the others weren't far away. Maybe he wasn't so lost after all.
The enemy soldier gave Doc a shove, then once again pointed his rifle at the wounded soldier squirming in the tall grass. Kirby raised his BAR to fire, but lowered it again as Doc lunged at the German. Kirby could only watch as the medic wrestled the kraut over possession of the weapon. The BAR man couldn't take the risk of hitting the wrong soldier.
Doc was fighting for his life; fighting for the life of the wounded Pvt. James. As the kraut levered the smaller medic towards the ground, Doc managed to bend his leg and plant a boot to the German's chest. The medic shoved with all his might and the kraut stumbled backward, leaving Doc holding the rifle. Hitting the ground, the medic rolled over and scrambled to his feet.
The German reached to his hip, removed his bayonet, and jumped at the medic. Doc reflexively squeezed the trigger of the weapon he held in his trembling hands. Nothing happened; it was jammed. The blade was making it's way to the medic's chest, and Doc thrust the rifle up in an effort to block the deadly blow. He managed to turn aside the intended thrust, and swung his head back as the bayonet was diverted towards his face. Doc felt a searing line of fire on his forehead. The blade had opened up a three inch gash on the medic's brow, and blood dripped into Doc's eyes obscuring his vision.
Doc tried frantically to wipe away the warm stickiness so he could see, but stumbled over Jamie's supine form. He hit the ground with a thump, driving the air from his lungs. He'd lost.
Kirby raised his BAR when Doc hit the ground, and fired as the kraut smiled and went in for the kill. The German screamed as he spun around from the impact of the bullets, fell to the ground and lay still.
Limping as fast as he could, Kirby made his way through the weeds and brush. Doc was kneeling next to Jamie, one hand on the man's leg and the other hand pressed to his own forehead.
"Doc! Man, am I glad to see you."
The medic looked up in surprise at the familiar voice. All he could see through the blood in his eyes was the blurry image of a man. "Kirby? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Kirby removed the bandage and sulfa packages from his belt and opened them up. "Here, Doc. Move your hand, and I'll get a bandage on this guy's leg. Then we'll see what we can do for that cut on your head."
Releasing his hold on the wound, Doc crawled around in the grass, squinting and sweeping his hands, mumbling to himself. "My bag? Where's my bag? Gotta find my bag."
Tying the bandage in place, Kirby looked around for the missing medical pouch. Finally spying a flash of red, he reached into a patch of weeds and retrieved his prize.
"Here it is, Doc. I found it!"
Doc sighed in relief. Jamie was in bad enough shape before, after being hit by shrapnel. Now with the leg wound on top of that, the injured private was going to need all the help Doc could give him. For that, the medic needed the supplies in his bag.
"Thanks Kirby. Give me some gauze, sulfa, and a bandage so I can clean out this cut. Do me a favor and check his shoulder wound to make sure it didn't start bleeding again. I can't see worth a darn right now."
"Sure. No sweat." Kirby handed over the requested items, then examined Pvt. James' bandage. Seeing blood seeping through, the BAR man added a clean bandage on top of the old one, and tied it snugly.
Wetting the gauze with water from one of his canteens, Doc succeeded in clearing the blood from his eyes. Being unable to see the wound on his own forehead, however, Doc gave up trying to bandage himself. Sighing in frustration, the medic simply held gauze to the wound.
"Kirby, can you give me a hand. I can't see where to put this stupid bandage."
Chuckling at the medic's exasperation, Kirby took the proffered supplies. "Lay back, so I don't get this sulfa in your eyes."
Doc lay back on the soft grass, as Kirby went about bandaging the laceration with surprisingly gentle hands. His drooping eyes snapped open at the sound of Kirby's voice. "Doc, please tell me you know where we are."
Sitting up when Kirby finished tying off the bandage, Doc shrugged. "Well, I was sorta headed in the direction I thought H.Q. was, but in this fog...I don't know; I coulda gotten turned around."
Slipping off his helmet, Kirby ran a hand through his close-cropped brown hair. "Did you see anybody else, Doc? Sarge, Caje, or any of the other guys?"
"No. I was helping Jamie get back, and there was a couple guys from 3rd squad with us, but we got separated in the fog. I guess me and Jamie weren't going fast enough, but I was afraid I'd run us both into a tree if I went any faster. It sure got hard to see."
Nodding ruefully, Kirby glanced over at the body of the German soldier. "How'd you run into that guy?"
Doc, too, stared at the German. The medic didn't bother with checking for signs of life. It was obvious, even from there, that the soldier was dead. "I don't know if he heard us moving around, or if he was just as lost as we were, but we almost literally ran into him."
Doc returned his gaze to Jamie and frowned. "I guess he didn't want to take a wounded prisoner. I dunno, maybe he was gonna kill me, too. He went to shoot Jamie in the chest, and I tried to stop him. Guess I didn't do too good a job, 'cause he still shot him."
Kirby touched Doc on the arm to get his attention. "Hey, at least you stopped the kraut from killing him. Wounded is better than dead, take my word for it."
Climbing wearily to his aching feet, Kirby sighed. "Well, I doubt anyone's gonna find us in this pea soup, so I guess we better get ourselves home."
Eyeing Kirby as the wiry man limped over to the German soldier, Doc knew he'd have to carry Jamie alone. Besides, Kirby would need his hands free for the BAR. The medic was thankful it was Pvt. James lying in the grass, and not Littlejohn. Doc doubted he'd be able to carry his big squadmate very far.
Hobbling back over to Doc, Kirby helped the medic pull the semi-conscious private to his feet. Together they managed to manhandle Jamie onto Doc's back. Slipping his hands under Jamie's knees, Doc adjusted the man's weight to a more comfortable position. The wounded man's head rested on the medic's shoulder, and his arms dangled uselessly. Even as small as he was, Doc knew the young man would grow very heavy, very quickly. This wasn't like giving a piggy-back ride to his ten-year-old cousin, Stephen.
After a brief consultation, they turned in the general direction they'd been headed before. Kirby's steps were a little lighter. Somehow, just having Doc there made the fog seem thinner and the trees less threatening.
Having Kirby by his side, with the BAR, made Doc feel more secure as well. He just hoped they were close to the village. He wasn't sure how far he could carry his burden, and Pvt. James needed a doctor. The two men trudged wearily in silence, lost in their own thoughts, but each drawing comfort from the other.
Just as Doc was about to call a halt before he dropped the poor wounded man, a large shape loomed out of the fog. As they got closer, they could see that it was a church. The windows were broken, and both men noticed shell damage to one wall. It looked to be abandoned.
Kirby motioned for Doc to stay by the low stone wall running the length of the nearby cemetery. The BAR man slowly approached the church, keeping his weapon ready. Doc just wished Kirby would hurry; his back was killing him. The medic shifted Jamie's weight and watched as Kirby slipped into the church. After what felt like an eternity, he saw Kirby lean out of the door and wave his arm. Doc breathed a sigh of relief and, almost stumbling with weariness, walked the last few yards to sanctuary.
When the medic entered the church, he was surprised to see that it was occupied. A nun and six ragged children stared back at him. The children looked frightened, and the nun whispered comforting words to them before stepping forward and motioning towards the polished wooden pews. "Please, lay the young man down. I am Sister Marie, and you are welcome to seek shelter here."
With help from Kirby, Doc lowered the wounded man onto the nearest pew. The medic smiled at the nun in gratitude. "Thank you, Sister. I don't know how much longer I could've carried him." Kneeling next to Jamie, Doc checked both wounds and frowned at the fresh bloodstains. He replaced the top bandage on the shoulder wound, and added a fresh bandage to the wound on the man's leg. They'd need to let Jamie rest, if the bleeding was going to stop.
The medic slipped his helmet off, in deference to his surroundings, and ran a hand through his damp hair. He hated to put the nun and children in danger with the American's presence, but Jamie simply had to rest a while before he lost too much blood.
Looking back from his position by a window, Kirby lifted a questioning eyebrow. "So how is he, Doc? He gonna be okay?"
Sitting back on his heels, Doc scrubbed his hands on his thighs. "If I can get the hemorhaging to stop, he should be okay. He needs to be still, though." The medic turned a worried frown to Sister Marie, his blue eyes pleading. "Ma'am, I hate to ask it, but can we stay here? Just for a short while, until he's okay to travel. If Kirby, there, sees any Germans we'll duck out the back and be outta here."
Sister Marie layed a comforting hand on the medic's shoulder, and smiled kindly. "Of course you can stay. The children and I heard the artillery earlier. Is that when the young man was wounded?"
Seeing Jamie shiver, Doc stood and removed his jacket. Draping it over the wounded man, he nodded. "Yes. Well, sorta. He got some shrapnel in his shoulder, but he got the leg wound later as we were trying to get back to Tourleron."
"Monsieur. Docteur. A quoi est-ce que cela sert?"
Doc looked behind Sister Marie to see a small boy pointing at the little flashlight in the pocket of his medical bag. The boy had curly brown hair and appeared to be about eight or nine. The medic turned to look at Sister Marie in confusion. "What did he say?"
Smiling, the nun translated the boy's request. "He wants to know what that is."
Kneeling next to the thin child, Doc took the light from its pocket and shone it on his palm. He smiled back at Sister Marie and asked, "Can you tell him it's a little flashlight? For looking at wounds and stuff." The nun translated the medic's words, and the boy smiled in delight. Taking the light from Doc, the child went over to his friends to show off his prize.
Sister Marie laughed at the boy's enthusiasm, and explained to Doc and Kirby that the children were orphans. There had been more children, but the others had all been evacuated. "One of the farmers was supposed to have come for these children almost a week ago, but he has not come. I fear the worst. I do not know what to do. The children must be evacuated, because we are almost out of food. We are also in much danger here. The church is between the German and American lines, and the shells are getting closer all the time. I fear for the children's safety." Lines of worry and strain settled across her brow.
The little boy returned to Doc and handed him back the flashlight. "Merci beaucoup, Docteur." Doc wracked his brain for the words that meant "You're welcome"; he knew he'd heard Caje say them many times. His tired brain finally dredged up the memory, and Doc ruffled the boy's hair. "De rien."
Kirby looked over from his post by the window, and laughed. "Hey, Doc. Caje would be proud of ya. Good thing the Sister speaks English, or we'd be playing charades."
Gathering the children, Sister Marie led them to another room. When she returned, she had paper and a pencil in hand. Waving Doc over to a small table, she laid the paper on the scarred surface. "Monsieur, I will draw you a map to get you back to Tourleron. It should only take a few hours for you to get there. Normally I would tell you not to take the road, but with this weather, I think it would be safe." She carefully drew the directions on the paper, but hesitated before giving the map to Doc.
"Messieurs, I ask a favor of you. When you get back to Tourleron, send someone for the children. They are in great danger here. Send a truck to take them to safety, s'il vous plait. Please."
Doc glanced over at Kirby, who nodded seriously. Doc was just as solemn when he spoke, "You have our word, Sister Marie, that we'll make sure someone comes for the children." Kirby nodded his agreement.
Feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her narrow shoulders, Sister Marie gave the map to Doc. She smiled in gratitude to both men. "Merci. Merci beaucoup."
Taking the map over to Kirby to show him the way, Doc glanced at his watch. It was almost 1730. Sunset would be soon. The fog was bad enough before, but what little light was trickling through would soon be gone. After giving the map to Kirby, the medic went to check on Jamie. Lifting the uppermost bandages, he could see that the bleeding had stopped for now. It was time to leave. He retrieved his jacket from the wounded man, and slipped it back on.
"Kirby, we need to get goin'. We gotta get Jamie to a hospital, soon. Give me a hand with him, would ya?"
Once again the two men managed to get Jamie settled on Doc's back. Kirby cautiously opened the door and peered outside. It looked clear, so he waved for Doc to go ahead. Before stepping outside, the wiry soldier looked seriously at Sister Marie. "We'll make sure the kids are taken somewhere safe, I promise." Then he trotted after Doc, leaving the church behind.
They stuck close to the road, the fog giving them protection. Doc had to stop and rest several times, but they kept a pretty good pace. The medic was sure Jamie had somehow gained ten pounds in the last hour. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Doc caught Kirby looking at his watch, then the map in puzzlement. "Kirby, how much further?"
Consulting the map again, Kirby nodded to himself. He looked up and smiled. "Should be just around that bend up ahead."
Shifting Jamie's weight for the hundredth time, Doc glared at the BAR man. "Kirby, you said that two 'bends' ago! You better not have gotten us lost, fer cryin' out loud, or you'll be carrying Jamie."
Returning the medic's glare, Kirby straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. "I didn't get us lost! I'm tellin' ya, it's just around that curve. Geez, you're worse than the Sarge!"
"I'll be sure to tell him you said that, Kirby."
"You do, and I'll break your arm!"
"Oh, yeah? You and who else?"
The two stared at each other, then burst out laughing. They were still smiling when they rounded the bend and Tourleron appeared through the mist. "Ha! Told ya so."
___________________________________________________________________________________________
"Hey Caje, what time is it?"
Taking a quick check of his watch, Caje sighed and raised his head off his cot. "It's 2015, Billy. Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked."
Folding his arms behind his head, Billy shifted on his own cot. "Sorry, Caje. I'm just worried is all."
Littlejohn stopped his pacing to look at his watch, though he wasn't really seeing the time. "Don't worry, Billy. You know we can't get rid of Kirby this easily. He's like a bad penny...he always turns up."
Giving a half-hearted smile, Billy was grateful for Littlejohn's attempt to reassure him. Still, he worried for his missing squadmates. The rest of them had trickled in hours ago. 3rd squad had suffered the worst casualties and still had several men missing. 1st squad had lost two new replacements, but still had two men unaccounted for. Kirby and Doc.
Raising up on his elbows, Billy shot Littlejohn a worried look. "Yeah, but what about Doc?"
Sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, Caje tried to ease Nelson's fears. "Don't worry about Doc. He's gotten himself out of messes before."
Despite their assurances to one another, however, all three men returned to brooding. Caje cupped his chin in his hands and bounced his leg up and down with nervous energy. Littlejohn resumed his pacing, from one corner to another and back. Billy lay back down and chewed his lower lip with worry.
They were so lost in their own thoughts, all three jumped when Calvin from 3rd squad poked his head in the dilapidated room and shouted happily. "Hey! Jamie's back. Two of your guys just brought him in. The doctor thinks he's gonna be okay!" His eyes widened in surprise when they just stood and stared at him, open-mouthed. "Did you guys hear me? Your medic and your BAR man made it back. Sgt. Saunders and Lt. Hanley are with them over at the aid station." The words had barely left his mouth before he had to jump back out of the way, as the three soldiers nearly bowled him over in their haste to leave.
It was with lifted spirits that the three men jogged down the narrow streets, making their way to the aid station. When they finally found the others, a doctor was just finishing up the stitches on Doc's forehead. Littlejohn waved his arms expansively and laughed. "The prodigal sons return!"
Rebuckling his boot, Kirby joined in the laughter. "Yeah, I bet you thought you were finally rid of me, didn't ya?"
Caje grinned, slapping Kirby on the back. "Naw, Kirby, we're not that lucky."
Smirking, the wiry man pushed Caje's hand away. "Ha, ha. Very funny wiseguy. See what we came back to, Doc? They just don't appreciate us."
Billy shook his head and smiled. "Don't listen to him, Doc. It's Kirby we don't appreciate."
Saunders shook his head at his squad. He, too, was enormously relieved at the return of his missing men. As the banter between the men grew too loud, the sergeant waved an arm for silence. "Come on you guys, get back to your bunks. Kirby and Doc will be there in a few minutes, and you can celebrate all you want. Go on, before the doctor kicks us all out."
Caje, Littlejohn, and Billy reluctantly trailed out of the room, but not before getting in a few parting shots at Kirby.
Lt. Hanley stood patiently, waiting as the doctor taped a bandage over the newly stitched cut on Doc's head. When the doctor finished, Hanley gave the man a questioning look.
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "Well, Pvt. Kirby should rest his ankle a day or so, but it's not sprained very badly. Your medic is released back to duty." Helping Doc off the table, the doctor gave the medic a small frown. "You know the drill. Keep the stitches as dry as possible, and come back in about five days to see if they're ready to come out."
Resisting the urge to scratch at the itchy wound, Doc nodded understandingly. He knew the drill, alright. "Yes, sir."
When the foursome stepped out into the street, Kirby stopped. "Lieutenant, wait a minute. I almost forgot something. Remember us tellin' ya about the church and Sister Marie? Well, she needs someone to go and evacuate the kids. They're in a dangerous spot, and they're runnin' outta food. So, can ya send someone to get them?"
Sighing, Lt. Hanley shook his head. "Kirby, there's no way I can get anybody to evacuate civilians at the moment. Maybe in three or four days, but not right now."
"But, Lieutenant, they're just kids. Doc and I can go get them."
The lieutenant frowned. He hated situations like this. He wanted nothing more than to get those children to safety, but his hands were tied. They needed every man available right now. "I'm sorry, Kirby, but Sgt. Saunders is taking the squad out for patrol in the morning, and Doc has to go with them. The only reason you're not going, is so you can rest that ankle."
"But, Lieutenant..."
Saunders interrupted, "You heard the man, Kirby. Now button it."
Grumbling to himself, Kirby trailed behind Saunders and Hanley, his mind racing. Finally coming up with a plan, he smiled. Sneaking a look at Doc walking beside him, he cleared his throat. "Um, Sarge. Tell the guys to go ahead and get some sleep; me and Doc are gonna grab a quick bite to eat. We're starved."
Doc opened his mouth to protest but, receiving a warning look from Kirby, shut it again. He had a feeling Kirby was up to something, and he wasn't gonna like it.
Saunders rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Sure, Kirby, you guys go ahead and grab a bite. Don't be surprised if we're all asleep when you get back. We've got that patrol at 0930."
Grabbing Doc's arm, Kirby pulled the medic aside and waited for Saunders and Hanley to get out of earshot. Doc yanked his arm out of the smaller man's grip and frowned. "Kirby, I am beyond tired. Whatever it is you've dreamed up in that head of yours, forget it. I'm goin' ta bed. Some of us have to get up for a patrol in the morning."
Kirby stared back at the medic in surprise. "But Doc, what about the kids?"
"Lt. Hanley said he'd get someone there as soon as he could." Doc avoided Kirby's eyes; he knew what the BAR man was hinting at. The medic wanted to go get those kids, too, but orders were orders.
"Aw, c'mon, Doc. You know it might be too late then. Besides, we gave Sister Marie our word!"
Gesturing for Kirby to lower his voice, Doc hissed, "I know that Kirby, but you heard Lt. Hanley. Orders are orders. I have a patrol in the morning."
Grinning conspiratorially, Kirby poked the medic in the chest. "C'mon Doc, you've disobeyed orders before. Stole an ambulance, too, as I recall. Lt. Hanley yelled at ya for hours if I remember correctly."
Slapping Kirby's hand away, the medic scowled back at him. "I had to take that ambulance, and I had to disobey Sarge's orders. His and Caje's lives depended on it. I did what I had to do to keep them from getting killed."
"Don't those kids deserve the same?" Kirby paused and tried a different approach. "Look, if we leave now, we can get the kids and be back in plenty of time for the patrol. We'll just sneak out. I've done it a hundred times."
"Somehow, Kirby, that doesn't exactly comfort me." Doc rubbed a hand across his face, trying to resist the urge to scratch his forehead. He looked at his watch and made a few calculations. If they left in the next half hour...they'd have about twelve hours to get to the church and back. That was plenty of time, even with a bunch of small children. Besides, Kirby was right...they'd given their word. "Okay, Kirby. Look, I'll go back and get my bag refilled. Run over to supply and see if you can get anyone to give us some rations. Tell 'em it's for tomorrow's patrol. I'll meet you there."
Smiling in triumph, Kirby slapped the medic on the back and trotted around the corner. Doc retraced his steps to the aid station to get supplies. When they met at supply, the medic was mildly surprised to see that Kirby had managed to get the rations. He was even more surprised to find that the devious BAR man had even gotten a few extra. Kirby grimaced and answered the question he saw on the medic's face. "Well, it cost me, but I'll get it back in the next poker game."
They waited ten minutes, then jogged over to the shop where their squad was bunked down. The two were relieved to find everyone asleep. It had been a long, exhausting day for them all, and Doc wanted nothing more than to join the others in blissful slumber. It was going to be a long night.