Disclaimer: Not mine, Bellisario's
Luke 24: 5b.
Spoilers: Situated after the final episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas". The conflict on the Balkan has flared up again and Harm was sent back to flight duty.
So this was it. This was why she had returned to combat duty. To get confirmation. To see with her own eyes.
A pile of soil, a wooden cross, his dog tag nailed to it. She slid her fingers over the roughly carved letters: Harmon Rabb, American, Luc 24: 5b.
Harm. Fate had brought them together, he had said. Fate could keep them together forever. Now fate has separated them … forever.
A slight noise behind her. She turned her head to see the chaplain of the unit approaching her, carefully avoiding the several headstones. He kneeled next to her.
"So now you have certainty?"
"Yes. What does this reference mean: Luke 24: 5b?"
He took his little bible out of his pocket and read it to her. "It's a part of the story of Jesus' resurrection" he added
He looked at her with compassion.
"Is their anything I can do for you?"
She shook her head.
"No, thanks."
After more than an hour she rose. She suddenly felt the need to know more, more about his final moments. The undertaker was busy removing weeds between the graves. He saw her look and approached.
"Something you want to ask, Ma'am?"
She nodded.
What can you tell me about … him?"
"Not much, Ma'am. It happened at night. You know, we had an evening clock. Who ever dared to be outside after sunset could be shot. In fact, some people in the next village have been. We could hear the planes though, the noise of the guns. And the explosions, on the other side of the mountain. We didn't go to look. It wouldn't have done any good. The place was crawling with Serbs just 45 minutes later. At dawn they brought the body to me."
He hesitated.
"Proceed", she urged him.
He shrugged.
"He was pretty messed up, Ma'am. His face was practically gone. Probably his parachute didn't unfold completely. It wasn't a nice sight, so we had the casket closed during service."
"There was a service?"
"Yes, father Thaddeus lead it."
"He was also the one who picked the text on his headstone?"
"Maybe. But probably it was Yanka."
Who is Yanka?"
"She is an elderly lady, living in the woods. She is kind of a healer, knows a lot about herbs. Some people call her a witch. In fact, she might be the one who can tell you something more. The fight must have been directly above her place."
He nodded towards the grave.
"Were you close to him?"
"He was the man I loved. The man I was going to marry."
"I'm sorry for your loss," he bid her his condolences. "Shall I send for Yanka, if you like to talk to her?"
"I would appreciate that."
That evening she sat, away from the crowd. The villagers were celebrating and the soldiers were happy to join them. There was music, dance and some carefully kept liquor.
"Ma'am? There is someone to speak to you."
She turned to see an elderly woman, a strong tanned face with black hair, interleft with grey.
"I am Yanka. You asked for me?"
She stood up.
"Yes, I'm glad you could come. I'm Colonel MacKenzie. I understood that you could tell me more about the air fight in which Captain Rabb died."
"Yes, Sarah, I can."
She was stunned. How could this woman know her given name? Was she really a witch?
Yanka raised her hand, preventing her from asking questions and smiled.
"I'll come to that. Let's sit down." And after they did "Well, that night. It was about two hours before sunrise. We could hear them coming, an American plane and a Serbian, chasing each other. They sound different, you know. I think it was the Serbian one which caught fire first. But the aviator managed to fire a final missile which hit the American plane. Then they both exploded in midair. In the light of the fire we saw two parachutes."
"We?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.
Yanka shrugged.
"Me … and a couple of friends."
Probably a small resistant group, Mac understood. Yanka continued.
"We calculated where they should come down. We knew we had to act fast, the Serbs could be at the scene any moment. First we found the Serb. He was dead, dangling from a tree branch. We start to undress him; we had always a good uses for uniforms. Then we found the American. Luckily they were about the same size. We undressed him too, redressed the Serb in his uniform and hung him in the tree again. Then we had to disappear really quickly."
She smirked.
"There a lot of caves out there those Serbian bastards don't know about. The next night we brought the American to my place and hid him there so I could treat him further. His injuries were not that severe."
Mac just stared at her, not able to let the meaning of her words sink in. Yanka saw her bewilderment and smiled.
"Why, do you think, did I choose those words to put on 'his' grave? Lucas 24: 5b Why are you looking in the place of the dead for someone who is alive? It was my own little joke, my little payback. Making the Serbs believe they found his body was the best way to protect him … and us."
She nodded to the edge of the wood.
"He is still on crutches. He doesn't walk that fast yet. And anyway, we thought it better that I told you the story first."
Between the large trees stood a tall, familiar figure with a full-blown flyboy smile on his face.
HARM!
The end