"Captain, you'd better get over here."
Captain Miller looked up from his map.
"I'm serious, Captain," Private Caparzo said.
Miller ground out his cigarette in the dirt, refolded his map, and stood.
"Right over here, sir." The pair walked to the medical tent, where they were immediately assaulted with the smell of burnt flesh and the screams of dying men.
"Where's your jacket, soldier?" Miller asked Caparzo, who was standing in the rain without his slicker. He didn't want one of his men to fall victim to a cold.
Caparzo stopped and pointed over to where the squad's medic, Wade, was crouched over a prone body.
Miller ducked into the tent and came to stand behind Wade.
"Sir," the young medic said as he balanced back on his heels. "Pulled from the rubble of the German command compound."
Miller looked down at the patient.
The young woman was dwarfed by the American slicker she wore. It was wrapped tightly around her shoulders and fell almost to her knees. Her legs were bare, her feet naked, covered in ugly bruises and a few bleeding gashes. Her hair, so fair as to almost be white, clung to her scalp, soaked by the rain. Makeup ran from her eyes, but her lips were still a venomous looking red.
Wade gently lifted up the jacket, revealing the rest of the woman's body. The thin lingerie barely covered her, made worse by the fact it had been thoroughly soaked by the rain. Just above her hip, two red stains adorned the crème lingerie.
"Shot twice. There's one exit wound. The other bullet's still lodged in there somewhere," Wade said as he recovered the woman.
"Why'd you bring me over here, son?" Miller asked.
Wade didn't answer. Silently, he nudged the woman's shoulder.
Her eyes flickered open, revealing two of the bluest orbs Miller had ever seen.
They were unfocused and misty. Wade nudged her again. "Tell him what you told me," he urged her.
The woman blinked and she zeroed in on Miller's face.
In a surprisingly strong voice, she said, "I am Penelope Rhodes, an American counterintelligence agent, with the infiltration division. I have been with this German patrol for the past six months, posing as a call girl to high ranking German officials. I have intelligence that needs to get to Commander J. P. Morgan, 15th Battalion, before he leaves for Paris."
Miller pursed his lips.
"You got any proof, kid?" he asked finally, after a long stretch of heavy silence.
Rhodes threw back the slicker, once again exposing herself and her wounds. "I was shot twice. It hurts like hell, sir. You've gotta believe me. I swear to God, you get me to Morgan, and we can win the war."
Miller stared into Rhodes's eyes, searching for something. What, he didn't know. She stared right back at him, her baby blues filled with conviction.
Miller stood. "How long till she can walk?"
"A couple of days," Wade answered.
"Patch her up best you can, Wade, then bring her to my tent. Warm her up. Can't have her dying. I'll go talk to the Commander," Miller said.
Before he could leave, Rhodes reached out and grabbed Miller's boot, holding him there.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered, her whole body trembling.
Miller ducked his chin, not sure if he had just made the biggest mistake of his military career.
"Okay boys, the 15th Battalion has already left for Paris. They reach the city in three weeks. We've gotta cover about thirty miles a day if we're to catch them before they get there. Should be no problem. Fewer men, less to carry, we'll move faster."
Captain Miller looked down his line of men.
"Got it?"
"Yes sir," they parroted in unison.
"This mission's a bit unusual. I want no complaining, all of you boys on your best behavior. Got it?"
"Yes sir."
Miller turned to Penelope Rhodes.
She was dressed in a spare Private's uniform. Even though it had been the smallest they could find, the billowing sleeves and pantaloons still dwarfed her small frame. She had caught her long hair back in a plait and her face was clean of any makeup, making her look much younger than her twenty years. No longer hidden under layers of rouge, a patch of freckles had cropped up at the tops of her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.
"You're expected to travel just as well as any of these boys, you got it?" Miller asked.
Rhodes nodded. "Yes sir."
"We ain't gonna slow down for you or give you any special privileges, understand?"
"Yes sir. Wouldn't expect you to, sir."
"There will be no complaining."
"Yes sir."
"And you are to keep to yourself at all times. No cavorting with the boys, understand?"
A smile pulled at the corner of Rhodes's lips. "Yes sir. No cavorting, sir."
Miller nodded.
"Very well then." He turned back to his squad. "Reiben, you're in charge of Rhodes. She so much as sprains her ankle, you'll be carrying her, understood?"
Private Reiben let a look of distaste pass across his stubbled face before quickly regaining composure. He nodded. "Yes sir."
"Then let's roll out, boys."
Private Mellish approached Rhodes as the squad readied themselves to leave.
"I'll carry your pack for you, miss," he offered with a smile and a wink, holding out a hand.
Rhodes didn't even spare him a passing glance. "I can carry my own damn pack, thank you very much," she snapped as she shouldered her gear.
Caparzo slapped a shocked looking Mellish on the back. "No cavorting," he said with a grin and a mock kissy noise.
Reiben was impressed with how quickly Rhodes could move. She still had a bit of a limp, but it didn't seem to bother her much. Either that, or she was good at hiding the pain. Only once he had had to help her over a rock ledge, and that had been after watching her struggle on her own a few minutes.
"So, Rhodes," Reiben said as the squad tromped through an empty field. "Where ya from?"
Rhodes glanced at Reiben from underneath her helmet, which was so big that it had the tendency to slip over her eyes.
"San Diego," she answered.
"No kidding? Bet you miss the beach."
Rhodes didn't answer.
"I'm from Brooklyn, New York," Reiben said finally. "Born and raised."
Rhodes didn't reply.
Reiben sighed. "Nice talking with ya."
Rhodes snatched the gun from Upham's grip, raised it to her chin, and fired.
"What is that thing?" Reiben asked.
The squad was crouched in a dry stream bed, looking across the field to a half crumbled structure.
"An old propaganda board?" Horvath guessed.
"That's a German machine gun outpost," Rhodes said quietly.
All the men turned to her.
She shoved her helmet up out of her eyes and explained, "The Germans decided to start building those boards so that their machine gun nests would be hidden from planes. American and British wings kept bombing their men. The board shields the nest from the aerial perspective."
"You telling me there's a machine gun up there?" Miller asked.
Rhodes nodded. "Yes sir."
[The squad argues over whether it is worth it to try and take out the gun. Eventually, Miller wins the argument and the squad moves in on the nest. Upham and Rhodes are left behind. After an intense firefight, Upham is called forward to bring medical supplies.]
Rhodes hung back. She didn't feel like she belonged as she watched the squad frantically crowd around Wade.
"Pressure! Apply pressure!" Jackson snapped.
"More clotting powder!" Miller commanded.
"Hold on there, kid, hold on there," Mellish crooned.
"Oh God," Wade groaned. "Oh God."
"God dammit," Reiben hissed. "We're out of clotting powder."
"Give him morphine," Upham suggested.
Rhodes watched as Horvath tore open a morphine capsule with his teeth and jammed the needle into Wade's leg.
"Wade, tell us how to fix you," Miller said to the dying boy. "Tell us how to fix you."
Wade grimaced. Through clenched teeth he said, "More morphine'd be nice."
The squad didn't move.
"Give him more morphine," Miller said.
Still, no one made to administer the sedative.
Miller snatched the extra morphine capsules out of Horvath's hands. "Give him the god damn morphine."
Wade's cries faded to a pathetic whimper as the blood continued to flow out of the two bullet wounds that marred his naked chest. Rhodes grimaced every time a morphine capsule was jabbed into the boy's skin.
"Mama," Wade began to cry. Hot tears slid down his smooth cheeks. "Mama."
The squad was silent.
"Mama," Wade cried. "I wanna go home!"
Rhodes couldn't take it anymore. She rounded the group of men, shoved Mellish out of the way, and took Wade's head in her hands.
"Mama," Wade whimpered.
"I'm right here, kiddo," Rhodes whispered, her voice shaky. "I'm right here."
Wade's unfocused eyes locked on to Rhodes. "Mama?"
"Shhh, shhh," Rhodes crooned. "I'm right here." Gently, she wiped the tears and blood from Wade's cheeks.
"Mama, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Mama," Wade sobbed.
"Shhh, shhh, don't be sorry," Rhodes whispered. "I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of you," Rhodes said as she wiped more tears from the dying boy's face.
"Mama," Wade whimpered.
"I'm right here," Rhodes said. She leaned over Wade and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Shhh, shhh," she hushed him. "I'm right here."
"Mama," Wade said with his last breath.
"Shhh," Rhodes said. She kissed the boy's forehead again and gently closed his eyes. Her hands were stained with his blood. As she dragged the back of her hand across her eyes to wipe away her own tears, a smear of blood and dirt fell upon her cheek. Silently, she looked to Miller.
Miller bowed his head in her direction in appreciation.
"That bastard killed him!" Jackson roared suddenly as he jumped up and stormed towards the machine gun nest.
At seeing no sympathy in the men's eyes, the German soldier turned to Rhodes.
"Please, Fräulein." The man grabbed onto the lapels of Rhodes's jacket.
Reiben made to shove him away but Miller grabbed onto his soldier's jacket, holding him back. He was almost curious to see what the girl would do.
"Please, Fräulein, spare me. Spare me, please," the soldier begged of Rhodes. It was almost comical. The giant German soldier, on his knees before Rhodes, who barely broke five foot and probably weighed just as much as the pack she carried.
Rhodes looked down at the soldier, her mouth twisted in disgust. Her eyes were foggy with tears.
"Please," the German begged in heavily accented English. Suddenly he pulled Rhodes closer to him.
Miller motioned to Reiben. The American soldier shoved the German back from Rhodes.
Staggered from the push, the German fell to his butt. He clasped his hands together, as if to pray. "Please, Fräulein, spare me!" he cried.
Rhodes swallowed once and stepped in front of the pleading soldier.
The man stifled his sobs and fell silent.
Without warning, Rhodes brought her hand back and slapped the German clean across his unshaven cheek. The sharp crack echoed through the small valley.
The German reeled away from her, the red outline of Rhodes's small hand on his cheek.
Rhodes spat viciously at the German before turning her back once and for all on the treacherous soldier.
"It still hurt?" Reiben asked over that night's dim fire.
Rhodes looked up from massaging her sore hand.
"Yeah, a little," she answered.
Reiben nodded. After they had let the German go, the squad had barely spoken.
"That was a pretty fine slap," Reiben said. "You have much practice?"
Rhodes smiled. "A bit."
Reiben pulled out a smoke and offered one to Rhodes. After a moment's hesitation, the girl accepted it.
Once both of them were lit, Reiben asked, "So, you got a Johnny back home?"
Rhodes took a thoughtful drag on her cigarette.
"His name's Mickey," she said quietly.
Reiben peered into Rhodes's face, lit by the fire, which cast stark shadows across her chin and cheeks.
"He isn't back home," she added. "He's in Europe. Somewhere. Fighting."
Reiben thought back to the way Rhodes had cried over Wade's dying body, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. He wondered if she had pictured her Mickey where Wade had laid.
"Thanks for the smoke," Rhodes said as she ground out the cigarette into the dirt. Without another word, she settled down into her pack and closed her eyes.
Reiben took another long drag. He wondered how much longer it would be before Rhodes had to wipe away his tears and blood as he died.
Miller knelt over the body of the dead American paratrooper.
"Ninety-eighth airborne division," he said quietly after inspecting the soldier's patches.
Rhodes's head snapped up. "Did you say ninety-eighth?" she asked.
Miller nodded.
Rhodes dropped her pack and began a frantic search, peering into the faces of each dead soldier in the trampled clearing. There were easily over thirty men, all dead.
It wasn't until the fifteenth or sixteenth body that Rhodes let out a wail and dropped to her knees beside a downed soldier.
The squad ran over to her.
"No!" Rhodes cried, tears streaming down her face. "No! No! No!" she screamed.
Miller watched as Rhodes ripped open the soldier's slicker and shirt. His chest was mottled and bruised. The corpse smelled of death, a few days ripe. With trembling fingers, Rhodes lifted the man's dog tags.
She let out another gutrenching wail and collapsed over the body.
"No!" she moaned. "No! No! No!"
"Captain?" Reiben said, his voice broken. Every man turned to Miller, the same question in their eyes. What were they to do?
"No!" Rhodes sobbed.
Miller nodded.
Reiben stepped forward and grabbed Rhodes by the waist. She tried to struggle as the soldier pulled her off the corpse, beating at Reiben's chest and arms. The man took the hits without flinching. After a few fruitless kicks, Rhodes sagged into Reiben's arms, her whole body racked by sobs. Reiben supported her, holding Rhodes up as her entire world seemed to crash down around her. Mellish reached out a hand and gently patted the girl's trembling shoulder.
Miller stepped forward and kneeled beside the body.
"Michael Johnson," he read off the dog tags.
Rhodes let out a wail.
Miller flicked back the dead soldier's coat and reached into the inside pocket.
Nestled there, beside a folded letter and a package of cheap cigarettes, was a single photograph. It showed a beaming woman, with hair so fair it was almost white, and a dusting of freckles, across the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. A waxy lipstick print was pressed against the corner of the photograph.
"Mickey," Rhodes sobbed into Reiben's chest. "Oh, Mickey."
The soldier slapped his clammy palm over Rhode's nose and mouth and handled her by her hair. She tried to scream but couldn't as the German forced her to the ground, his fist tight around her braid.
He began to mutter something in German as his fingers began to work at Rhodes's belt buckle.
She continued to kick and fight, but it was no use. The man was heavier than her, and the harder she fought, the more pressure he applied to her mouth and nose. No longer could Rhodes suck in clean oxygen.
Tears began to leak from her eyes once the man had her belt buckle undone.
"Fräulein," the soldier whispered, a desperate look in his glazed eyes, nestled deep in his unshaven face.
In a last ditch attempt, her vision nearly black, Rhodes forced open her mouth and sunk her teeth into the soldier's grimy palm.
The man let out a yell and flinched away from her.
Rhodes let a scream rip from her throat. The feral sound echoed against the brick and rubble.
The man clapped his bleeding hand back over Rhodes's mouth.
Without warning, there was a loud clap, and a bullet ripped through the German's skull, splattering blood and gore across Rhodes's face and chest.
Reiben shoved his smoking pistol back into his belt and rushed to the girl's aid, shoving the dead German off of her.
"I found these," Rhodes said, holding out a pair of rusted scissors to Reiben.
Reiben looked at her blankly.
"I need you to cut my hair."
The squad fell silent.
Rhodes held the scissors out to Reiben.
"Hey, Mellish, you said your dad's a barber, ain't he?" Reiben asked.
Mellish shrugged. "I ain't, though."
"You're more a barber than I am. Get over here."
Rhodes knelt and closed her eyes as Mellish chopped away at her hair, remembering the feeling of the German soldier's hands pawing at her body, his fist tangled in her hair.
"I don't have time for this shit," Morgan groaned, turning away from Rhodes.
Reiben grabbed the Commander's shoulder. "Hey, you'd better listen to her," he snapped.
Morgan shoved Reiben away. He fell back into Mellish and Jackson, who steadied him. "Get off of me, soldier, or I'll have you reported."
Miller cleared his throat.
The commander turned to the captain.
"I don't know about you, sir, but I'd sure as hell listen to what this little lady's got to say. We just spent the past two weeks trekking to hell and back to bring her to you because she says that she's got intelligence that could win us the war. So for God's sake, you'd better listen to what she's got to say."
What was left of the squad was lined up before the plane. Miller watched as Rhodes was led out of the tent and onto the tarmac.
She wore a clean pair of breeches, still too big, but no longer stained with blood and dirt. A white blouse made her skin look tawnier that it was. Her hair had grown out a little since its brutal hacking. Unruly and uneven strands stuck up around her ears and at the nape of her neck. She still wore no makeup, and Miller wondered at how young she looked. Her freckles stood out against her tanned cheeks.
The plane's engines started up with a roar.
Rhodes set down her pack and shook Commander Morgan's hand. She then turned to Upham.
"Thank you," she said before she placed two hands on the man's shoulders, lifted herself to her tip toes, and kissed his cheek.
She repeated the ritual twice more, thanking Mellish and Jackson in turn with a kiss on the cheek. She shook Horvath's hand. Finally she came to stand before Miller.
Without a word, Rhodes threw her arms around Miller. After only a moment's hesitation, the Captain returned the hug.
"Thank you for believing in me," she said as she pulled away.
Miller, unable to speak, just nodded.
Reiben was the last in line. Rhodes made to kiss the Private's cheek, but at the last minute, Reiben turned his head and pressed his lips to Rhodes's, bringing one strong arm around her narrow waist and dipped her. Without a fight, Rhodes brought her hands to Reiben's neck and returned the kiss. The squad cheered. Miller grinned, not even making to reprimand his soldier.
Reiben let her go, a grin parting his face.
Rhodes, grinning and blushing, patted down her hair, which was being whipped by the plane's propellers. Without taking her eyes from Reiben's she slipped a tattered, folded photograph into his front pocket.
"Thank you," she said, turning to the whole squad. "Thank you for believing me, for protecting me, and for putting up with me. I will never forget you boys."
"You'd better not," Mellish said with a wink.
Penelope Rhodes winked back at him before bending down and picking up her pack. The pilot helped her up into the body of the plane. Before disappearing into the cock pit, Rhodes turned around and blew the squad a kiss.
After that, she was strapped into the passenger seat and the plane took off.
Commander Morgan turned to Captain Miller.
"I don't know if you're aware of this, man, but I'll be damned if that little girl didn't just win us the war."
Miller smiled. "She promised me she would, sir. I have no doubt about it."