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No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author.
I want to formally thank and acknowledge the huge contribution of Leslie Backus. Without her time and editing skill, this story would never have seen the light of day. Thanks also to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading and offering encouragement.
Pvt. Joseph Lydecker
by: Queen's Bishop
Part 1: Nine Rules
denotes character is speaking in German
Pvt. Lydecker lay on his cot, staring up into the darkness. He had long since given up on getting to sleep. Now, he listened as Uncle had taught him on their long treks through the woods. First he concentrated on his own heartbeat and breathing, recognizing them and then removing their sounds from his consciousness. Next he listened to the sounds of the men around him in the tent. This was harder. There were nineteen of them. Nineteen men, some snoring, some mumbling in their sleep, one softly crying in the night, that he had to identify and then block out. At last he was ready to move to the sounds outside the tent. He identified the slow pacing of two different sentries as they made their rounds and the occasional passing of men going to and returning from guard duty. All of those he heard and removed from his consciousness. Finally, he could hear the sounds he sought, the sounds that calmed him, the chirping of the crickets and the songs of the night birds. Those were the same type of sounds he heard from his bedroom at home. Only he wasn't home. He was in France and he knew that as the new day began, so would his journey to the front lines.
At first light the soldiers were roused from their various stages of sleep by a sergeant. The rest of the early morning was what he had learned was the time-honored Army practice of 'hurry up and wait.' Hurry up, get up and get cleaned up, then wait in line with hundreds of other soldiers to pass through the mess tent. Hurry up, eat and grab your gear, then wait in formation for your name to be called. Hurry up and climb into your assigned truck then wait for the convoy to finally move out. Still, by 0900 they were moving forward.
He was sitting in the middle of the bench. He couldn't see out the back, and the tarps were pulled down on the sides. He looked instead at his hands to see if they were visibly shaking or if he only imagined they were. He looked at the faces of the other soldiers sitting on the bench across from him and he wondered if he was also pale and wide-eyed.
Over time, other trucks in the convoy turned off, taking soldiers to various outfits along the front lines. He didn't know where he was headed, only that the truck kept moving forward. Finally, the truck slowed and came to a stop. A sergeant opened the tailgate and called out two names. Those soldiers jumped down. The rest of the men handed them their duffle bags. The sergeant spoke to them but he couldn't hear their orders. The tailgate was lifted and locked back into place and the sergeant returned to the cab of the truck. Lydecker looked at his hands again. He thought the trembling was more pronounced. He didn't bother to look at the faces of the other soldiers.
When the truck next stopped the routine was repeated. The sergeant called out the names, "Butler, Gibbs, Jankowski, Lydecker, Mitchell…grab your gear." He got up and jumped off the back of the truck. Another soldier handed him his duffle bag and gave him a weak smile.
"Good luck," was all the soldier said.
"You, too," Lydecker replied. He turned and stood in line with the other four men, facing the sergeant.
"You men are assigned to Second Platoon, King Company, 361st Regiment. Report to Lt. Hanley. You can find him down this street at the building marked 'CP'. Butler, give the lieutenant these papers." He handed a folder to Pvt. Butler.
The sergeant turned, lifted the tailgate, put the cotter pin in place, walked to the front of the truck, and climbed into the cab, slamming the door. The truck moved off, leaving the five men standing in the street watching it disappear.
"Hey, you guys replacements? Pick up your gear an' follow me. I'll take ya to Lt. Hanley."
The soldiers turned and looked at the disheveled private standing off to their left. The private's shirttail was out, his boots were covered with mud and he had one hand inside his field jacket, scratching his armpit. But before any of them could respond, the man turned on his heel and started walking away. The soldiers looked at each other, shrugged, picked up their duffle bags and hurried to catch up with the fast-moving private.
Their guide stopped before a building that had sustained some shelling damage. It had a board with the letters 'CP' painted on it leaning against the wall. There was no door so the private rapped on the door jamb and waited until he heard a deep voice telling him to enter.
"Lieutenant, I was just walkin' down the street an' I seen these men. I figured they was the new replacements. Come in here you guys. This is Lt. Hanley."
The five replacements entered, stood at attention and saluted. The lieutenant casually returned the salute while he looked them over.
"Thanks Kirby. Wait outside for a minute. You can take the men for First Squad back with you." Lt. Hanley smiled to himself. 'I'll bet you were just passing by,' he thought. 'You've probably been lurking down by that corner for the last half hour, wanting to get the first look at the new men.'
"At ease men. Who has your transfer orders?"
Butler looked at the folder he was holding. "I guess I do, Sir. Least ways the sergeant on the truck told me to give ya this." He handed the folder to the lieutenant.
"Thanks. And you are?"
"Butler, Sir. Pvt. Calvin Butler."
"Thanks, Butler."
The lieutenant quickly scanned the paperwork, calling out each soldier's name. As the soldier identified himself, the lieutenant looked at the man, trying to commit the face and the name to memory. When he had a name for each new face, he gave his usual short welcoming speech.
"You men are at the front now. Listen to your squad leaders and do what they tell you to do. Any questions?"
The five soldiers looked at the lieutenant and shook their heads. They had so many questions, but none they could put into words.
"Well, if any come up, talk to your squad leaders. BROCK…!"
A corporal suddenly appeared from another room. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Take Butler and Mitchell to Second Squad. Gibbs goes to Third."
"Yes, Sir. Come on, guys. Grab your gear an' follow me."
The three soldiers saluted the lieutenant. Brockmeyer led them out of the CP, giving Kirby a grin as he passed him.
"KIRBY!" the Lieutenant yelled, although he knew he didn't need to raise his voice. There was no way Kirby would have wandered off or engaged in a conversation with another soldier, taking the chance he would miss out on anything the replacements had to say.
And he was right. Kirby had been lounging just outside the door, away from the door jamb so he couldn't be seen, but close enough so he could hear what was being said. He entered the room saying, "Yes, Sir, Lieutenant, Sir."
Lt. Hanley again had to smile to himself. How Saunders put up with Kirby he didn't know. The man was always just an inch away from being brought up on charges. Actually, Hanley did know why Saunders tolerated him. Kirby was a royal pain in the ass, but in the field he was the best BAR man in the platoon, maybe in the entire company. For that, Saunders could and did endure a lot.
"Kirby, take Jankowski with you and introduce him to Sgt. Saunders."
"Sure, Lieutenant. Grab your gear, Jankowski."
Pvt. Jankowski gave the lieutenant a salute. Both he and Kirby glanced at Lydecker and then walked out of the building. Hanley waited until he could see the two men moving across the street before he spoke.
The lieutenant again surveyed the young soldier standing in front of him. It was obvious the boy had not yet even begun to shave. "Pvt. Lydecker, just how old are you?"
Pvt. Lydecker wondered if this was one of the 'idiot officers' that 1st Sgt. Walters had told him about, a man who had no business being in charge and giving orders that sent other men to their deaths. But when he gazed at the lieutenant, he saw a man who looked tired and weighed down by the job he had to do, just like 1st Sgt. Walters.
Speaking with a soft Southern drawl the young soldier responded, "Sir, Ah'm seventeen."
"Uh-huh. And do your parents know that you enlisted and are here in France?"
"Yes, Sir. That is mah guardians do, Sir. They signed the permission so Ah could enlist."
Hanley looked down at the names of the KIA from his platoon and the letters he had been writing. Letters to loved ones telling them that their sons or husbands would never be coming home, that they had fought and died bravely. He could only wonder about what kind of person would sign a piece of paper that sent a kid into this madness.
"Alright, Private. First Squad is billeted just across the street to your left, the barn on the corner. And, tell Sgt. Saunders that I want to see him when he's through getting you and Jankowski settled. You're dismissed."
Lt. Hanley returned Lydecker's salute and watched as he picked up his duffle bag and walked out the door. The young soldier stepped out into the bright sunlight, slowly looked both ways as if he were home and crossing the street on his way to school. Hanley could only shake his head. Once again he thought, 'That kid has no business being here.' He walked to the doorway and watched as three soldiers from Third Squad passed by, laughing at some unheard joke. 'Did they have any business being here? Did he? Any or all of us could be killed tomorrow.' He was still standing and ruminating when Brockmeyer returned.
Lydecker looked around. He wondered what the village had been like before it had been shelled. The large stone church further down the street dominated the other buildings, many of which looked as if they might have been small shops. The families who owned them had probably lived in the back or on the second floor, just like home. From the barns set back behind some of the houses he knew that it had been an agricultural community, that the people had lived close to the land. They would have walked from their houses down the paths to the fields that surrounded the village to graze the few cows they kept for milk and butter, or the workhorse that pulled the plow and the hay wagon. It all reminded him of the villages that dotted the landscape of the Shenandoah Valley, except, of course, for the war damage.
When he reached the building on the corner, Pvt. Lydecker stood before the door and wondered if this was where First Squad was billeted. The lieutenant had said a barn, but this was a house, or what was left of a house. Just the door and frame remained of the front of the first floor and the front of the second floor wasn't in much better shape. He could look into the rooms and still see a jumble of furniture. It reminded him of the doll house he had seen in the window of Wilson's Mercantile at Christmas time last year.
"Hey, Lydecker, back here."
Lydecker turned toward the voice and saw Pvt. Kirby standing just beyond the corner of the house. He picked up his duffle bag and walked toward his new squad mate. Set back and to the side of the house was a small barn that had escaped the shelling. It was enclosed on the two sides by the remains of a stone wall.
Kirby led the way through an opening in the wall where a gate had once hung, taking care to step over a few stones that lay on the ground.
"I thought ya'd be comin' right along so the Sarge told me to wait outside for ya. What'd the lieutenant have to say? Just wanted to give ya a special welcome to the platoon?" Kirby said it with a laugh, but Lydecker could see that he was waiting for an answer.
"No, he gave me a message to give to the sergeant."
"Well then, right this way an' I'll introduce ya. We don't wanna keep the Sarge waitin'."
Lydecker followed Kirby into the barn. Jankowski was standing just inside the door and several other men were scattered around, two lying on blankets spread out over a pile of hay, and two bent over a couple of basins washing shirts and socks. A final soldier was seated with his back against a stall wall sharpening his bayonet. Lydecker could hear the rhythmic scratch of the steel against the whet stone.
"Lydecker, this is Sgt. Saunders."
Another man, the sergeant, stepped out from behind Jankowski. He was a bit shorter than the other replacement but with broader shoulders and a sturdy build. His blonde hair seemed rather unruly, but what caught Lydecker's attention were the piercing blue eyes.
The sergeant looked Lydecker up and down, finally settling on his face, taking in the dark chestnut hair which had grown out enough that it was beginning to wave at the ends. The downy cheeks pegged the soldier for no more than eighteen although he looked about fourteen. In fact, he looked like any of the hundred or more other young soldiers he had been thrown together with in the last three years. Hell, he looked like he himself had looked a hundred lifetimes ago.
"You can drop your duffle bag an' take off your helmet when you're inside. What's your name?"
"Lydecker, Pvt. Joseph A. Lydecker."
"Okay. Jankowski, Lydecker, you've already met Kirby." The sergeant pointed to the other men, "That's Littlejohn an' Nelson." He turned and looked over his right shoulder. "That's Doc an' Willis, an' Caje over in the corner." Turning back to the two replacements he asked, "You two go through Basic together?"
"Yes, Sergeant," Lydecker responded.
Jankowski chortled and looked at the sergeant, a smirk on his face. That caught the attention of the rest of the squad and the men, except for the one sharpening the bayonet, shifted their positions, moving forward so they could better hear what the Sarge was saying to the new men. Saunders didn't usually spend a lot of time talking to replacements. There usually wasn't a lot of time available for anything other than getting their names and maybe if any of them could handle any weapons besides their rifles. But, something was making this initial introduction last longer than usual, and if that something would affect their chances of survival, they wanted to know about it.
"That strike you as funny, Jankowski."
"Well no, Sergeant. Like he said, we was in Basic together, me an' Joey, the Drill Sergeant's favorite little soldier," he responded, continuing to smirk.
The other squad members glanced at each other and then at Lydecker. Lydecker looked down at his feet. The barn suddenly felt very warm and he could feel the sweat beginning to accumulate between his shoulder blades. When he looked up it was into the sergeant's clear blue eyes.
"Sarge, ain't ya gonna ask him what he means by that?" The BAR man said what the others were probably thinking.
"Shut up, Kirby!" the sergeant said without removing his gaze from Lydecker.
"But, Sarge…"
"I said to shut up, Kirby!" the sergeant growled.
The sergeant looked at Jankowski and then back again at Lydecker. "Either of you have any special skills I should know about?"
"No, just the usual training," Jankowski responded, but still with a smirk.
Everyone's attention was focused again on the young soldier. "Ah'm fluent in German, if that's the kind of special skill you want to know about," Lydecker answered quietly.
The NCO lifted his eyebrows, "Did you learn German in high school? How well do you speak?"
"No. Ah was mostly raised by mah grandparents and that's what we spoke at home. So, Ah guess Ah pretty much speak like a native."
The sergeant gave a small smile. "Yeah, that might come in handy."
"Tell him the rest," Jankowski challenged Lydecker.
Saunders looked at the private again and waited.
Lydecker figured he might as well say it…if he didn't, Jankowski would. And, it might not come out the same. "Sergeant, Ah just listened to our Drill Instructor and tried to do the best Ah could. Some of the other fellas resented that, Ah guess."
Jankowski laughed and said sarcastically, "He didn't TRY to do his best; he had to BE the best… Mr. Spit an' Polish, the best shot…the PERFECT little soldier…the PERFECT little pain in the ass, if ya ask me."
"Nobody asked you, Jankowski," Saunders calmly responded.
The NCO turned around and looked at the rest of the squad. "Willis, you an' Doc help Jankowski get settled. Make sure he's only carrying what he needs for tomorrow's mission. Nelson an' Littlejohn, do the same with Lydecker.
"Sergeant."
"Yeah, Lydecker, you got something more to add."
"No, Sergeant…Ah mean, Yes, Sergeant… well, only that the lieutenant wants to see you when you're through with us."
"Okay, I want to see the lieutenant, too." With that, Saunders put on his helmet, slung his Thompson over his shoulder and exited the barn.
The NCO knocked on the door jamb as he walked in, removing his helmet. "Lieutenant, you wanted to see me."
Hanley looked up at his friend and smiled. He wondered if Saunders ever combed his hair or just relied on his habit of running his fingers through it when he was stalling for time to try to keep it in some semblance of order.
"Yes, Sergeant, that replacement you just got, Pvt. Lydecker, does he seem alright to you?"
"He looks like a kid but he seems okay. He told me he speaks German. Why, is there a problem?"
"No. His paperwork is all in order. Like you said, he just looks young."
"Jankowski said he was the best shot in the unit. Funny he didn't get sniper training."
"Maybe you should ask him about that…I just got a report. There was air recon of the area you'll be moving through tomorrow, including that farmhouse the brass is interested in and the valley below. No activity was spotted, so S-2 still doesn't know what's going on. Have your squad ready to leave at first light, as soon as Sgt. Adams and Second Squad return from night patrol. Any questions?"
"No, Lieutenant." Saunders left the lieutenant hunched over a map of current company positions.
The sergeant stopped outside the CP and pulled out his crumpled pack of cigarettes. He watched a couple of men from Third Squad head out for sentry duty as he lit the slightly bent cigarette and then inhaled deeply. He usually didn't have time to think about the replacements joining the squad. Most of the time he was just waiting long enough for them to show up before the squad had to move out. He didn't know quite what to make of the kid, but he had a pretty good idea about Jankowski. He already had him pegged as a trouble maker, something he and the squad didn't need. He finished his cigarette and, out of habit, absent mindedly field stripped it. Hitching the Tommy gun up on his shoulder he slowly walked back toward the barn where the squad was billeted.
As Saunders left the barn, Jankowski picked up his gear and walked over to where Willis and Doc were standing while Lydecker headed toward Nelson and Littlejohn.
Nelson offered his hand in greeting, "Hi, I'm Billy."
"Joey," Lydecker said as he shook hands with his new squad mates.
"Don't let Kirby bother you. He complains about everything," Billy said with a laugh.
"Yeah, if he won $100 in a poker game, he'd complain that it wasn't $101," continued Littlejohn. "Let's get your pack squared away before the Sarge returns."
Lydecker hesitated.
Littlejohn gave a questioning glance to Billy and then said. "Don't worry, we wouldn't steer you wrong."
"It's just one of 1st Sgt. Walters' rules for survival. He was mah Drill Instructor in Basic. He said to do everything the way Ah learned it in Basic."
Billy laughed. "Gosh, now the Army's got RULES for survival. Did you know that, Littlejohn?"
"Well, not so much that if you follow the rules you'll survive. It's more like if you break a rule you'll probably end up dead. Like this one, Rule Number One. 1st Sgt. Walters said that sometimes fellas like to razz a new man."
Littlejohn laughed and gave Billy a nudge, "Like Kirby telling you to clean your rifle by washing it with soap an' water."
"Oh yeah! Boy, was the Sarge mad! He yelled at me 'til my ears started to bleed. Well, almost, but he was sure mad. How many rules are there? What's the next one?"
"There're seven. Number Two is to stick to your sergeant like white on rice."
Littlejohn nodded in agreement. "You'll learn a lot just by staying close to the Sarge. In a frontline unit, nobody gets to be a sergeant without earning his strips."
"Yeah, an' Saunders is one of the best NCOs in the ETO, so you can't go wrong by following his example," added Billy. "What's the next one?"
"When a sergeant gives an order, you obey it immediately, no questions asked."
"Hey, Kirby, you hear dat." Caje just couldn't resist needling his friend. Kirby complained and questioned the Sarge about everything. It drove Saunders crazy, much to the amusement or annoyance of the rest of the squad, depending on how tired they were of listening to him.
"Yeah, yeah, if the Sarge says to jump, I'm supposed to say, "Yes sergeant," or, "'How high sergeant." Well, not William G. Kirby. I'm not jumpin' for nobody, unless I want to. Besides, the best soldiers are the ones that complain the most."
The squad members burst out laughing.
"Kirby, you're so full of it," Littlejohn said, shaking his head.
"Oh, what do you know, ya big ox."
"Hey, knock it off, you two. Ah wanna hear these rules. Go ahead, Lydecker. Don't pay any attention to Kirby." Doc, like the rest of the men, had been listening to Billy and Lydecker's conversation.
Lydecker looked around at the men and then at his feet. He didn't want to give his new squad mates the wrong impression. But, he also trusted his Drill Instructor to have given him good advice. After all, 1st Sgt. Walters had earned the Silver Star and had two purple hearts, so he knew from experience what being on the front lines was like. "Well, 1st Sgt. Walters said that a lot of officers are idiots and they aren't worth the powder it would take to blow them up. Rule Number Four is obey your sergeant, not some idiot officer."
"Amen to that," said the BAR Man. "It's better to be judged by six than carried by six."
"Idiot officers?" Billy looked worried. He had always respected Lt. Hanley's judgment but never really given much thought to other officers. After all, Billy was just a private and he did what he was told to do.
"1st Sgt. Walters said that idiot officers are ones that haven't come up through the ranks, or haven't been in combat and shown that they know what they're doing, or don't have sergeants at their sides giving them advice that they follow."
"Oooh!" said Billy, much relieved. "You mean those chicken-shit ninety-day wonders."
Littlejohn looked at Caje who had stopped sharpening his bayonet to listen to the conversation. Caje stared intently at the young replacement before he spoke. "Well, you don't have to worry about Hanley. He and Saunders were sergeants togeder and he was wid us on D-Day, before he got his commission. He's a good officer."
Billy eagerly agreed, "Yeah, Hanley's a good officer. So, what's Rule Number Five?"
Lydecker again looked at the rest of the men in the squad. They all looked tough and experienced. Maybe 1s t Sgt. Walters had been wrong. "Number Five is that every soldier is scared." Lydecker looked around again, but this time the rest of the men weren't looking at him. "Every time, all the time," he quietly added.
The barn became very still. Nobody said anything, and nobody wanted to look at his squad mates. Their fears were not something they liked to talk about or even acknowledge most of the time, and here this green replacement had said the truth right out loud.
Billy turned to Littlejohn for reassurance because he knew for sure that he was scared every time they went out on patrol. Willis hadn't been with the squad for very long, but he had thought he was the only one whose knees were knocking whenever the Sarge gave the order to 'saddle up.' The knocking was so loud he had been sure everyone could hear it. For once Kirby, whose hands shook so bad sometimes he didn't think he could load his BAR and who tried to escape from his fear with too much booze and bravado, didn't say anything. He didn't want to meet anyone else's eyes at that moment, especially not Caje's. He was sure that his pal Caje was never afraid. Caje, however, had often felt the cold hand of fear gripping his heart, and he knew from the look he had seen in the sergeant's eyes before they advanced on an enemy position that Saunders felt it too.
Finally, Caje quietly answered, "You're right. We're all afraid, but you have to deal wid dat fear. We have a job to do and de rest of dese guys are depending on you." All of the men nodded in agreement.
The young soldier looked gravely at the Cajun and replied. "That's what 1st Sgt. Walters said was Rule Number Six, do your duty." Lydecker gave a little laugh. "1st Sgt. Walters said that if Ah fail to do mah duty, Ah will bring disgrace an' dishonor down on mah family, on the United States Army an' most especially on him. He said that if Ah bring disgrace an' dishonor down on him, he will hunt me down, even if he has to rise up outa his grave to do it, an' he will find me, even if he has to pull me outa mah grave, so that Ah will know the full measure of his displeasure."
Billy could only say, "Holy Mackerel!"
Doc laughed. "It sounds like your Drill Sergeant was a good ol' Southern boy. He talks the way mah granpappy did."
"Yeah, he sure had a way of getting his point across."
"What's the last rule?"
"Oh, that one's from Herbie Connors. He was with me in Basic. His father was a soldier in The Great War an' Herbie said that his father's parting words to him were, 'Never Volunteer!'."
"Amen to that one, too," Kirby said loudly, drawing a laugh from the rest of the men.
During all of this conversation Lydecker had been pulling things out of his pack and getting a yes or no nod from Littlejohn and Nelson. With that task done and the rules finished, he asked them for directions to the latrine and left the barn.
Jankowski watched him go. He turned to the other men, "See what I mean. He followed Walters around like some mamma's boy."
He was greeted by a chorus of, "Shut up, Jankowski!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Saunders saw Lydecker standing by himself in the woods beyond the barn. He figured he would speak to him about the sniper training while he was alone, so he started toward the young soldier. At least, he had thought Lydecker was alone, but as he approached, he heard him talking to someone. For a moment Saunders was puzzled as he didn't see anybody else around. Then he realized the young soldier was praying.
It had been a long time since he had prayed. Not since he was twelve and he had asked God to cure his father. That prayer had gone unanswered, and the boy had blamed God for his father's death. Now, the man didn't even know if there was a God, but if there was, He was certainly not getting involved in the affairs of mankind. Saunders turned to leave, but paused and listened for a moment.
"… and Dear Lord, tomorrow Ah'll be going into combat for the first time. You know Ah've thought long and hard about Your commandment 'Thou shalt not kill,' wondering if Ah should or even if Ah could take another man's life…if Ah should've been a conscientious objector. But in the Old Testament, You often sent soldiers into battle to fight against evil. So Ah know now Ah must do mah part to fight the Nazis, because they surely are evil. What Ah ask, Dear Lord, is that You keep mah hand steady and mah aim true so that if Ah must kill, it is swift and merciful. Finally, Ah know You've got a lot of people to tend to, but Ah'd also ask that You keep watch over all of the men in mah squad and hold us in the palm of Your hand. But, if one of us must die, that You let it also be swift and merciful. Ah ask these things in the name of Your Son, who taught us to say when we pray, Our Father who art in heaven…"
Saunders turned and quietly walked away. His question answered, he had no need to speak to Lydecker about sniper training.
The NCO entered the barn, followed a few minutes later by Lydecker.
"Took ya long enough," said Jankowski sarcastically.
Lydecker's response, "Some things take longer than others," drew loud raucous laughter from the rest of the men.
"All right, settle down," hollered the sergeant to be heard above the commotion. "Be ready to move out at first light, as soon as Second Squad returns from night patrol. Littlejohn, Nelson an' Lydecker, get enough ammo for each man to make up a triple load of clips. Kirby, how many mags do you have?"
"Uh, two full an' one in the chamber, Sarge."
"Willis, ammo for four more mags for Kirby an' five for my Thompson. Kirby, grenades to go around, three for each man. Caje, rations for three days."
Littlejohn looked up. "Caje, would you get me an extra day of rations?"
"Sure, Littlejohn. And Kirby, get me an extra grenade. Nelson, ammo for two extra clips for me."
"Everyone, leave your canteen. Jankowski, requisition a radio an' check with Brockmeyer to make sure it works. When you get back, fill the canteens. Doc, get what supplies you think you'll need. Plan on us being out for three days. Any questions?"
"Yeah, Sarge, what are YOU gonna be doin' while we're all scurryin' around?" Jankowski said belligerently.
Saunders turned and gave the replacement a cold stare, his eyes suddenly a very deep shade of blue. Even Kirby was glad that he was not on the receiving end of that glare.
The sergeant responded quietly, but it was like a volcano ready to erupt, "An' just what do you think I should be doing, Jankowski?"
Jankowski, who had been a bully all his life, was now face to face with a man who didn't take any shit from anyone. "Oh, nothin' Sarge. I just thought that if there was somethin' else that ya were gonna do an' ya needed help, I'd give ya a hand. That's all."
'Like hell,' Saunders thought. "Get moving!" he growled.
Once outside the barn Kirby started to laugh.
"What's so funny?" asked Caje.
"Oh, it's just nice to see someone else on the receivin' end of the Sarge's glare. How long do ya think it will be 'fore he explodes an' eats Jankowski for lunch?"
"I don't know, mon ami. Maybe he got de message."
"Yeah, but maybe now the Sarge will 'preciate me more."
"If you mean maybe he'll let you get away wid stuff, don't count on it. The Sarge can handle bod of you at de same time. What about de oder one, Lydecker?"
"He seems pretty serious, what with his rules. An', I don't like havin' to think 'bout bein' afraid."
"Well, at least he's dinking, which is more dan most of de replacements do. We'll see how he does in de field."
For the rest of the afternoon the men prepared for the next day's mission, filling their clips or mags with ammo and preparing their packs so they would be ready to go at first light. By evening the squad had eaten a hot meal and settled down in the barn. Kirby had a poker game going, trying to fleece Nelson, Willis and Jankowski slowly enough that he wouldn't scare them off from future games. Littlejohn sat looking over Billy's shoulder, offering him advice, much to Kirby's annoyance.
"Look, ya big moose, quit kibitzin' with Nelson. If ya wanna play, ante up," could be heard several times above the normal ebb and flow of the game.
Doc and Caje were writing letters while the sergeant was stretched out on his bedroll reading an ASE (a) book.
Lydecker approached the sergeant and quietly said, "Sorry to interrupt you, Sergeant, but, well… Ah've squared away mah pack an' cleaned mah rifle…Ah was wondering if it would be alright if Ah went outside and played mah harmonica? Ah'll do it quietly."
Saunders looked up from his book. He knew that while the veterans enjoyed the down time, for some replacements it was only an opportunity for them to worry about the upcoming mission. "Okay, Lydecker. Make sure you wear your helmet an' take your rifle…an' don't wander off."
"Thanks, Sergeant."
Lydecker got his gear and walked outside. The evening was pleasantly warm so the doors of the barn were propped open. He crossed the small barnyard and settled down against the outside of the barnyard stone wall facing out toward the road. Within a few minutes, the notes of The Red River Valley floated across the little enclave and back into the barn.
Doc looked up from his writing and smiled. "Guess Ah'll go out an' take the night air."
"Wait a minute, Doc. I'll join you." Littlejohn lifted his big frame from the chair and stretched.
"Cash me out, Kirby." Nelson hurried to catch up with his pal.
Outside, Lydecker was soon fielding requests and the air was filled with You Are My Sunshine, Swanee River and Sweet Betsy from Pike, as well as quiet talking and occasional laughter. Even Kirby stopped dealing and listened when the sweet strains of Londonderry Air drifted into the barn.
Saunders finished his book and wandered into the yard. He saw the lieutenant standing across the street and walked over to join him. Hanley pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to his friend.
"Nice night isn't it," he said as he lit both of their smokes, illuminating their faces for a brief instant. "Replacements settling in okay?"
"Jankowski needs to be straightened out," Saunders replied while maintaining his typical stoic expression.
Hanley laughed. "I'm sure you can take care of that."
They smoked in silence, listening as the American tunes filled the French night. They heard Nelson ask Lydecker to play his own favorite song. There was a pause before the notes of Oh Shenandoah filled the air. As the last note died away, Saunders crushed out his cigarette. He started to field strip it, but saw Hanley watching him and smiling, so he dropped the butt.
"Thanks for the smoke, Lieutenant. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Sergeant."
Saunders returned to his men, most of whom were now outside sitting around Lydecker. "Do you know Taps?" he asked with a smile.
As the men slowly rose and wandered back into the barn, the mournful sound of the Civil War classic filled the air.
That night, whether from sheer exhaustion or because the music had quieted his racing mind, Joey Lydecker slept soundly.
Saunders was awake before the sun had peeked over the horizon to signal a new day. He quietly grabbed his boots, helmet, Thompson and the book he had finished reading last night. He walked outside into the cool dark morning air. He had liked this time of day ever since his first paper route when he was twelve. Even then, he had felt a sense of freedom, being up when nobody else was awake, when it was still dark and the weight of his self-imposed responsibilities hadn't yet pressed down upon him. Then it had been the responsibility of fulfilling the promise he had made to his dying father to help look after the family.
Now, he had to look after his men and keep them safe, if that was possible. Even when he was wounded he disliked having anyone else lead his squad, his men, although he knew that Caje or Hanley would do a good job. They were still his men, his responsibility. He was good at being a sergeant but, as he smoked his first cigarette of the day, the burden weighed heavily. He thought about the day's mission and the ground the squad would have to cover. He hoped Second Squad would bring back a satisfactory report, that there was little Kraut activity in the sector his squad would be moving through. At 0500 he walked down to the mess truck to grab a cup of coffee.
"Hey, Tony, I'm taking the squad out at 0600. Think we could get a hot breakfast before we leave?"
"I don't know, Saunders. If it was any squad but yours, what with that Kirby. I just don't know."
He and Tony, Sgt. Tonelli, had had this same conversation every time they had stayed in one place long enough for the mess truck to be brought up to the line. He knew that whether he had come to see Tony or not, a hot breakfast would be ready by 0530 for the men coming off sentry duty and those going out on patrol, but he enjoyed the ritual of the banter.
Saunders smiled. "Well, do your best. I finished this book last night. You want to read it?"
He handed the small volume to Sgt. Tonelli who examined it.
"This's a good one. I already read it, but ya can leave it here. Some Joe will pick it up before the end of breakfast." He pulled a book out of his hip pocket. "Ya interested in this one? It's real good."
Saunders took the offered book and checked the title to make sure he hadn't already read it. "Yeah. You sure you're done with it."
"Finished it last night. I was just holdin' it 'til I seen ya this mornin'."
"Thanks"
"OK, Saunders. See ya in a few minutes."
The sergeant returned to the barn and carefully stowed the new book in his duffle bag before he began waking up his men. "If you want a hot breakfast before we pull out, drag yourself out of bed. If you don't want a hot breakfast, get up anyway. We're moving out in thirty minutes."
The men grumbled and stretched and complained and scratched as they roused themselves, splashed a bit of water on their faces and headed off to the latrine and then to the mess truck.
"Hey, Littlejohn, what do you think we'll have for breakfast this morning?" Nelson, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, asked as they stood in line.
"I don't know, Billy."
Kirby, although further down the line, still managed to butt into the conversation. "Probably powdered eggs an' burnt toast or maybe some of that wallpaper paste they call porridge, Nelson. Which would ya prefer?"
Nelson turned around. "Jeez, Kirby, you make it sound so appetizing. I'll be happy if the coffee is hot." Nelson turned back and saw Sgt. Tonelli, one of the cooks, with a big ladle in his hand. "Good morning, Sergeant. What's for breakfast?" he said with as much good cheer in his voice as he could muster.
"You boys're in luck. I got some nice hot chipped beef on toast all ready for ya."
"S.O.S." The word passed down the line of hungry soldiers until it reached Pvt. William G. Kirby.
"SHIT ON A SHINGLE! How do ya 'spect us fightin' men to face them Krauts with that in our bellies?" he loudly exclaimed.
"I don't know, Kirby. Maybe they'll be so jealous that y'all are so well fed that they'll just up an' surrender to ya," responded Sgt. Tonelli equally loudly.
The exchange drew laughter from not only the rest of First Squad but from all the men up and down the line. Since this turned out to be one of the rare occasions where second helpings were available, most of First Squad took advantage. Littlejohn even went back for a third serving before they walked back to the barn to get ready to head out. Their sergeant, however, ambled over to the CP to see if the report from the night patrol had come in yet.
Cpl. Brockmeyer looked up from the papers he was trying to organize. "Mornin', Sarge. Lt. Hanley isn't here. He said he was gonna walk out to the sentries to meet Second Squad after havin' breakfast."
Saunders looked puzzled, so Brockmeyer continued, "There's been a couple of transmissions from other platoons. Night patrols haven't returned from the rest of King Company or from Item or Love."
Saunders nodded then headed toward the perimeter, greeting two members of Third Squad as they came off guard duty. He leaned against the wall of the last building and lit up another cigarette as he waited for the lieutenant to return. He watched as Hanley approached, moving first at a crouch but then uncurling his tall lean body as he neared the building. But, his dejected posture told Saunders that there was still no sign of the night patrol. The two men headed back to the CP, both silently worrying about Sgt. Adams and Second Squad.
0600 became 0630 and then 0700, but there was still no sign of Second Squad. However, reports from the night patrols from other companies began to drift in. All reported a heavy Kraut presence and casualties.
"Lieutenant, we've got to get going."
"I know, Saunders. Alright, get ready to pull out at 0730 whether they're back or not."
"Right."
Back at the barn the men had been wondering what was holding things up. The Sarge had told them they would be moving out at first light and it was already 0700. The waiting was wearing on everyone's nerves, and Kirby's relentless pacing only added to the tension. As the sergeant entered the barn, he was greeted by silence as the rest of the men got to their feet.
"Okay, listen up. There was heavy Kraut activity last night so taking an' holding the farmhouse might be tougher than S-2 thought. Nelson an' Littlejohn, extra ammo all around. Be ready to move out in thirty minutes."
Doc left and returned with a few more supplies for his rucksack. Billy and Littlejohn returned with the extra supplies, and the men added the ammo to their already heavy web belts. Again, the men sat, smoked and waited, but there wasn't much discussion. Not even Kirby's continuous pacing drew a comment.
Finally, Saunders gave the order to 'saddle up.'"Willis an' Lydecker, carry Kirby's extra ammo. Jankowski, the radio. Doc, can you carry Jankowski's pack?"
"Sure, Sarge."
The squad was almost ready to move out when they hear the yell coming from the perimeter.
"MEDIC! MEDIC! GET SOME STRETCHERS!"
Doc and the rest of the squad, along with the two members of Second Squad who hadn't been on the night patrol, ran toward the call for help. What was left of Second Squad was coming in. Sgt. Adams, carrying a wounded man over his shoulder, staggered to a halt. He was followed by two other soldiers, both of whom had been wounded and were leaning on each other for support as they approached. Doc and Saunders lifted the wounded man from Sgt. Adams shoulder and laid him gently on the ground. Relieved of his burden, the sergeant dropped to his knees, his head sagging against his chest.
While Doc tended to the wounded man, Saunders squatted beside his fellow sergeant. He pulled his canteen from his web belt and offered it to Adams. The exhausted sergeant drank thirstily. As the rest of First Squad helped the other soldiers to the ground, Lt. Hanley appeared. He told them that help was on the way from the aid station. Within a matter of minutes two jeeps came roaring up with medics and stretchers. The wounded men were carefully lifted onto the stretchers and transported to the aid station.
Adams, his face pale and eyes glazed, looked up at Saunders. He handed back the canteen.
"Thanks. I lost two men. Kraut patrols and snipers every way we turned," was all he said. The two squad members who hadn't been on night patrol helped him to his feet and he staggered back to where his squad was billeted with them.
Saunders looked around. "Willis," he called. "Get this filled." He handed his empty canteen to the private before walking over to where Hanley stood.
"Well, Lieutenant, it looks like the Krauts are planning a little surprise of their own."
"I'll talk to Cpt. Jampel, but I've got a feeling that our attack is going to be moved up. You'll need to get to that farmhouse as soon as possible and radio back what's going on. And Saunders…"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Be careful."
"Always, Lieutenant, always."
Saunders walked back to his men and upon Willis' return, he said, "Alright, be alert an' watch for snipers," for the benefit of the replacements. "Caje, take the point. Kirby, the rear. Move out."
Lydecker fell in behind and to the left of the sergeant. He slowly but constantly moved his head, sweeping from his left shoulder to the center, looking low, mid-level and high, then repeating the pattern for the next two hours as the squad moved cautiously along a rutted path that meandered north. No-one was in the mood to talk after having seen the casualties Second Squad had taken. Twice Caje waved his arm in the air signaling Krauts ahead and the members of the squad melted into the surrounding woods. Finally, the sergeant called a halt.
"Take ten, but no smoking. Nelson an' Lydecker, forward security. Send Caje back here. Willis, watch the back trail."
Saunders himself desperately wanted a cigarette, but with so much Kraut activity, he wouldn't take the chance. So he just rolled the Lucky Strike in his fingers before carefully putting it back into the crumpled pack in his shirt pocket. Caje arrived at his side, and the two men reviewed the map.
"At the rate we're traveling, how long do you figure before we get to this path?" the sergeant asked pointing to a line on the map.
The scout studied the map. "Maybe anoder hour," he responded.
"OK, turn off into the woods about a quarter mile before we hit it an' head toward the farmhouse. Until then, continue following this path."
"OK, Sarge."
Caje walked over to where Kirby was sitting and exchanged a few words with his friend.
Thirty yards ahead, the two young privates were crouched behind a fallen log, surveying the terrain before them.
"How you doing, Joey," Billy asked.
"Ah'm okay. Actually, Ah feel pretty comfortable moving through the woods. Back home Ah spent almost all mah free time when Ah wasn't practicing or in school in the woods with Uncle."
"Was your uncle a hunter?"
"No. He wasn't mah real uncle. He was an Indian who lived a mile or so from mah grandparents' house. He said that when he was young, the older men of his tribe taught the boys the skills they would need, like tracking and hunting and fishing. The boys would call the men Uncle, as a term a respect. He didn't have anyone to teach, so when Ah'd tag along he started showing me."
"Holy mackerel, a real Indian! Where was the rest of his tribe?"
"He was a Choctaw and he had served in the Great War (b). When he was taking the train back home to the reservation, he just got off at our station. He said he needed to think about what he'd seen and done. He never got back on the train."
"Did he teach you how to shoot?"
"Yeah, but just target practice." Lydecker was quiet for a moment, then added, "Uncle said he lost his desire to hunt because of the war. He only liked to track and watch animals or," he added with a chuckle," sneak up on other hunters." He paused again. "Ah never kilt anything."
"Oh." Billy decided to change the subject. "Hey, maybe the Sarge will tell you to take the point once he's used to you. I always get real nervous when he says," Billy lowered his voice, "Nelson, take the point."
Lydecker chuckled then said, "I thought Caje…"
"Yeah, mostly. Boy, he moves like a cat. Sometimes he'll come up on me an' scare the bejeebers outa me. But if Caje is wounded then it has to be someone else. Or sometimes Sarge will give Caje a break or even send someone out to cover the flank."
Lydecker turned around and saw the scout advancing toward them. He nudged Billy and the two fell silent.
"Anyding?"Caje asked when he reached the young soldiers.
"No, it's real quiet."
"Okay, I'll take over. You two can go back."
"Thanks, Caje," Billy said as he got up.
Lydecker, however, remained but said nothing. Caje crouched down beside him and began scanning the woods.
Billy went back and sat down beside Littlejohn. "Hey, Littlejohn, how do you think Caje can move like that?"
"Like what, Billy?"
"You know. Like a cat...Sneaking up on people without them hearing him."
"I don't know, Billy. People can sure hear me coming."
Billy laughed. His large friend was known more for having two left feet than for his ability to move silently.
"What are you laughing at, Billy?"
"Oh, I was just thinking about you all hunched over an' slinking around like a cat."
Kirby piped up, "Hah, that big moose! His hunkerin' down an' movin' is more like a bull in a china shop than a cat."
Fortunately, the sergeant intervened before Kirby and Littlejohn could get into an argument. "Rest time's over. Saddle up."
They continued forward for another thirty minutes.
Then, suddenly, Lydecker yelled, "SNIPER!" He dove to his left behind a tree.
The sergeant dropped and rolled to his right behind a clump of bushes. The other squad members immediately scattered, moving behind whatever cover they could find.
"Caje, you see anything?"
"No, Sarge, not a ding."
Calling behind, Saunders repeated the query to the rest of the squad. The men stayed hidden but none had seen or could see anything.
"Lydecker, are you sure you saw a sniper?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Can you see him now?"
"Yes, Sergeant. He's off to the left."
"Then take the shot."
Lydecker looked over at the sergeant and was met by his icy gaze. He hesitated.
"Lydecker!" the sergeant growled.
The young soldier responded, "Yes, Sergeant." He whispered to himself, "Do your duty."
Joey shifted his position slightly and fit the butt of his rifle snuggly against his shoulder. He switched the safety off as he sighted down the barrel. He quickly acquired his target, held his breath and gently squeezed the trigger.
The silence of the forest was ripped apart by six separate successive noises. First came the crack of the shot and immediately on its heels, the echo. That was followed by an eerie silence.
Next, Jankowski jumped up and shouted, "YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT, THERE WAS NOTHIN' THERE!"
This was followed by the sound of a rifle falling through the branches of a tree and hitting the ground, with a body close behind. Finally, there was the sound of someone vomiting.
Experience told Caje and Kirby to hold their positions, scanning ahead and behind for any other unwelcome intruders. Littlejohn, Nelson, Willis and Jankowski rushed to the side of the fallen Kraut while Doc and the sergeant moved toward Lydecker. He was on his knees with his right hand braced against the barrel of his rifle, pushing the butt so hard into the ground that his arm and the rifle were both shaking. His left hand was flat against the ground, holding him up as he continued to retch. Doc knelt by Lydecker's side and put an arm across his shoulder. Doc knew that their first kill was often traumatic for young soldiers.
"Are you okay, Joey?" he asked quietly.
The young soldier lifted his head; his face was ashen and covered with sweat. "Yeah…yeah, Ah'm alright."
Doc pulled Joey's canteen from his web belt. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to the young soldier.
"Here, wash your mouth out an' then take a sip or two. You'll feel better."
Lydecker sat back on his haunches and did as instructed, spitting out one mouthful and then a second of vile liquid. After he took a sip of water, he began to rise shakily. Doc held his arm to steady him.
Willis came over and started talking excitedly, "Wow, what a shot…"
Saunders turned around and shook his head. Willis looked at Joey, nodded and returned to the other men still gathered around the body.
"Ah'm okay now," Lydecker said.
"Doc, stay with him for a few more minutes," the NCO said before turning and walking over to the body.
"He didn't have any papers or maps on him, Sarge," Littlejohn offered.
"OK, drag the body into the underbrush an' hide it."
He walked forward and squatted down beside Caje. "The kid got him right between the eyes," he said as he opened up the map. "It was either a damn lucky or a damn good shot."
"Nobody else even saw de Kraut. I'll go wid good. Why do you dink dat Kraut didn't shoot me? He must've had me dead in his sights?"
"I don't know. Maybe he wanted more targets available with the hope of getting two or three of us. Let's get off this trail an' move east toward the farmhouse. It won't be as easy going, but I've got a feeling that if we continue on this path we'll meet more snipers an' patrols. We might not be as lucky next time. Watch out for booby traps."
"Right, Sarge."
Caje stood and started to make his way slowly through the underbrush, inspecting where he would place each foot before he carefully put it down. Saunders signaled the rest of the men to join him. As Doc and Lydecker came forward, Lydecker kept his eyes focused on the ground. He wasn't ready to engage with any of the other men just yet.
Still, Billy moved over to stand by his side and quietly said, "Thanks, Joey, you really saved our bacon."
When the sergeant started to speak, all other conversation ceased. "Okay, listen up. We're going to move into the woods. There might be booby traps. Walk single file behind Caje. Don't bunch up. Any questions?...Move out."
As the squad members headed one-by-one into the woods, Jankowski muttered to himself, "It was a lucky shot. What's the big deal?"
Doc heard the comment and shook his head in disbelief.
Since leaving the town the squad had been moving gradually but steadily uphill. When they arrived at the base of a rise, Caje stopped.
"Sarge, dat farmhouse should be at de top. Do you want me to go up and take a look?"
"The rest of you men wait here, an' no noise. Caje, you're on me."
Moving slowly and carefully from tree to tree, the scout and the sergeant made their way up to within ten feet of the top. They dropped to their bellies and crawled the rest of the way. Cautiously, they peered over the top and saw an open field. However, the foliage offered precious little cover since much of it had recently been trampled down. They spotted the sad little house they needed to take and hold. It sat about seventy-five yards straight ahead and fifty yards from each side of the tree line which extended roughly around three sides of the field. They could see nothing on the far side of the field. It looked as if the top of the rise suddenly ended, with everything disappearing beyond the back of the farmhouse.
The front of the house consisted of two stories. There were stones, probably unearthed when the field was cleared, piled up along the bottom of the structure which formed a rough wall up more or less to the base of the windows. The back part of the structure was an attached barn. It was small with only one story. They could see no windows but it looked like there was a small door on the side that was closed.
In the top floor of the house a machine gun stuck menacingly out of the far window. It was paired with another in the bottom window at the opposite side of the front. Two sentries were slowly pacing back and forth about halfway between the house and the tree line where the Americans were lying. Each sentry made a complete arc from one side of the field to the other, passing each other at the front of the house.
Saunders and Caje painstakingly made their way around the edge of the tree line, but didn't see any other Krauts. To the left they saw that if the machine gun on the bottom floor could easily be moved to the corner window on that side of the house, and on the right side, with the same set-up for the second story window, it gave the Krauts a greater than 180 degree field of fire.
Although the rise itself wasn't much of a hill, when combined with the gradual increase in elevation since leaving the village, it ended up being higher than anything else around. On the backside of the rise, all of that elevation was lost more abruptly, providing a clear view of the wide valley below. And, that view was, for the most part, unobstructed by trees, unlike the other sides of the rise. Saunders instantly realized that the farmhouse was a valuable OP for whichever side controlled it.
"You see dose machine guns? Dey've got de entire field covered," Caje whispered.
Saunders didn't reply. He was already formulating a plan of attack as he watched the guards make several crossings. He signaled Caje to retreat and they returned to the waiting squad. Back at the bottom of the rise, the men gathered around their leader. Saunders took his helmet off, wiping his sweaty brow on the sleeve of his field jacket, and then raked his other hand through his damp hair. He knelt down and scratched out a rough map for the men to see as he described the set-up.
Kirby looked at the drawing and said, "Sarge, it's suicide. Them machine guns'll cut anybody who tries to cross that field to ribbons."
"What are we gonna do, Sarge?" asked Nelson.
The sergeant looked at Lydecker. Jankowski had said he was the best shot in their unit at Basic, and he had certainly shown his ability earlier. "Lydecker, do you think you could pick off the machine gunners if they're both in the front windows?"
Lydecker drew in a sharp breath and looked away from the sergeant. He was momentarily lost in his own thoughts, with 'Do your duty!' and 'Thou shalt not kill!' both running over and over through his mind.
Saunders continued. "Seventy-five yards is a long distance for an accurate shot, let alone two of them. You think you can make them?"
The private closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He turned back to look at the sergeant. "Ah'm not concerned about the distance, Sergeant. It's whether Ah can get a clear look at both of the machine gunners at the same time. Ah'd like to see the set-up."
The rest of the men looked at the young soldier. He had made his decision. His gaze did not waver as he looked at the NCO.
"Okay, it's worth a look. You men stay here. Lydecker, you're on me."
Once again, the sergeant made the slow ascent, this time followed by the young soldier. As they neared the top, they got down on their bellies and crawled the last few yards. When they peeked over the rim, Joey could see the layout as the sergeant had described it. He watched the sentries make their rounds and when they were both at the furthest point of their circuit he crawled cautiously to his right to a tree stump that was about halfway between the two front windows. It would offer him both some protection and a place to brace his rifle. He looked at the machine guns in the two windows and could make out the men behind them. Bracing against the stump he sighted in on one and then moved his rifle in a small arc and sighted in on the other one. After making the small arc several times, he nodded to the sergeant. The two men quietly moved away from the top and back down the hill.
"Well, Lydecker, whacha think?" Kirby asked when the men had gotten all of the way down.
The private looked at his sergeant and nodded. Saunders returned to his drawing. "Nelson, you're on me. We'll move off to the right side. Caje, you take Willis an' move off to the left. Lydecker will position himself about here," he indicated on the drawing, "to take the shots at the machine gunners." He looked at Joey. "Take the shots when the sentries are at the front of the building. As soon as Lydecker shoots, Kirby, Littlejohn and Jankowski open up, take out those sentries an' provide cover fire. Caje, Willis, Nelson an' I will make our run from the flanks then an' toss in a couple of grenades. It's important that nobody fires until after Lydecker shoots. Everybody got that. Any questions?"
Nelson and Willis exchanged glances. Neither said anything. It was a good plan, if Lydecker could make the shots. But, there was still a lot of open ground to cross.
The sergeant pulled out his canteen and took a drink. He looked at his men. Even if Lydecker could make the shots, it was still going to be dangerous and difficult to wrestle the house from the Krauts. If he had a choice, he would turn around and go back to the village. But, he didn't have a choice. The house was a perfect OP and it had to be taken. That was the mission.
"Doc, wait below the rim until the shooting's over."
The medic knew that Saunders didn't want him in danger when the bullets started flying and didn't want to have to worry about him jumping up and running to attend to a wounded man. But, as Doc saw it, the sergeant didn't want him to do his job. He needed to be able to get to an injured squad member as quickly as possible. After all, that was what he was there for. This difference of opinion was the cause of tension between the two men whenever the squad was getting ready to go into battle.
Doc acknowledged the order, although he didn't like it.
Caje and Willis moved off to the left and began making their way up the rise. Saunders signaled Lydecker to start up. Once he had eased down to his belly, the sergeant indicated that Kirby, Littlejohn and Jankowski should go, followed by Doc. At last he turned and nodded to Nelson. They moved to the right and began their ascent.
The young private crawled to the stump he had previously selected. When he was in position, Lydecker watched both the left and right sides at the tree line. Because he knew approximately where they would be, he waited until he saw both Caje and Willis and then the sergeant and Nelson appear at the rim. When everyone was in position, he turned his attention to the windows. He could see the machine gunner in the top window, but the bottom window was vacant. He looked over at Kirby and shook his head. Kirby signaled Littlejohn and Jankowski to wait.
Finally, after several agonizing minutes, the Kraut reappeared. Now Lydecker waited for the sentries to move into position. As they turned around at the far edges of the field and headed back paralleling the sides of the farmhouse, he slowly raised his rifle, clicked off the safety and took aim first at the top window and then at the bottom one. He could see his targets. One was seated at his weapon, facing out toward the field. Joey imagined he saw smoke curling from the hand the Kraut was raising to his mouth. The other one, the one who had been away from his position, was turned slightly sideways perhaps engaged in a conversation. He wondered if either of them had any premonition that they were about to die.
The sentries came around from the corners and headed for the front of the farmhouse. When they passed each other, Lydecker took a breath, aimed at the machine gunner in the top window, squeezed the trigger, rotated slightly, aimed at the machine gunner in the bottom window and squeezed the trigger again. There was hardly a space between the two shots as both targets slumped and fell across their weapons.
Kirby, Jankowski and Littlejohn immediately opened fire, laying down a fierce barrage as Saunders, Nelson, Caje and Willis raced across the open ground for the safety of the walls of the house. The Germans returned fire. Each side expended hundreds of rounds of ammunition as they strove to protect their own lives and the lives of their comrades.
Willis was hit mid-stride and fell, but the other three made it unharmed to the house. Once pressed against the walls, the three men each pulled out a grenade and yanked the pin. Ducking low, they moved along the walls. Nelson positioned himself at the bottom right window. Saunders aimed for the top right one that held the machine gun. They tossed their grenades and then flattened themselves against the base of the piled up stones. Caje tossed his into the bottom window where the other machine gun was positioned and then threw himself to the ground. Three explosions ripped the house in succession followed by nothing but silence from inside the building.
Saunders yelled, "HOLD YOUR FIRE," as he yanked the Thompson off his shoulder.
The NCO moved to the front of the farmhouse and stood beside the door. Nelson stood on the other side, rifle at the ready. With a nod, Billy pushed the door open and, crouching low, rushed into the room. The sergeant was right behind him, sweeping the room with his eyes and the Tommy gun. There was no movement. Caje entered through the small barn door and quickly cleared it. Saunders signaled Nelson to check upstairs. Caje came into the front room and the sergeant told him to check out the cellar. The two men efficiently carried out their assignments and reported back to the NCO. There were no survivors. The battle was over. It had only lasted a few minutes, or an eternity, depending on whether you had survived it or not.
When the 'all clear' was sounded from Nelson and Caje, Saunders returned to the doorway and signaled Kirby. The BAR man stood and motioned to Doc and the rest of the squad to move ahead. Doc rushed to Willis. He gently turned the man over, but he knew it was too late to help him. Saunders walked over to where Doc knelt and looked down at the medic. Doc looked up and shook his head. He closed Willis' eyes and reached for the chain around his neck, pulled off one of the dog tags and handed it to the sergeant. Lydecker walked slowly across the yard, holding his rifle loosely in one hand. His face was again pale and his eyes were slightly glazed.
He knelt at Willis' side, across from Doc. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked hopefully.
"No," Doc said. "He's dead."
"Dead! But he can't be dead. He was just…" Tears filled Lydecker's eyes as he stood and turned away.
Caje had also joined the small group. He turned to Lydecker. "Here's anoder rule for you. 'Don't get close.' It hurts too much when you lose a friend." The Cajun walked away, his head bent over as if he was looking for something on the ground, but he wasn't really seeing anything.
Perplexed, Saunders watched the scout as he moved away. He took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, scratching the back of his head. He knew the loss of his friend Theo (c) was a painful emptiness that Caje would probably never be able to fill. He knew he would never truly get over losing Grady (d). That was the one rule he knew, 'In war, young men die.' And try as he might, he couldn't change that rule. He decided he would find out later from Doc what Caje's remark to Lydecker about rules meant. But, right now, he was just tired, and there wasn't much daylight left to accomplish the work that needed to be done.
"Jankowski, where's the radio?"
The private glared at the sergeant. "I left it below the rim with Doc."
"Well go get it. Caje, anything in the barn?"
"No, Sarge, but I want to show you someding."
Saunders figured since the scout hadn't mentioned it before, whatever it was could wait. "After I call in," he replied.
"Kirby, Nelson, check the perimeter. I don't want any surprises. Littlejohn, check out the Kraut machine guns. See if either of them still works. Doc, start digging a grave for Willis."
"Come on, Doc. I'll help you until de Sarge is ready for me," offered the scout.
When Jankowski returned with the radio, the sergeant said, "Jankowski an' Lydecker, go through the Krauts' pockets an' pull out any papers. Then drag the bodies out of the house an' to the tree line."
The men separated to do as the sergeant had ordered. As the two replacements approached the farmhouse, out of the hearing of Saunders, Jankowski whined, "Why do I have to do this?" to no-one in particular, although Littlejohn and Billy heard the comment.
"Because," Littlejohn explained patiently, "we're going to be here for a while an' we don't want to be tripping over the bodies in the house. And, after a bit they're going to start to smell an' attract flies. So, just do what the Sarge told you to do."
The two veteran soldiers watched Lydecker and Jankowski enter the farmhouse. Billy shook his head, clearly disgusted. "Boy, Littlejohn, you've got the patience of a saint."
"What do you mean, Billy?"
"Well, I just want to just smack that Jankowski. He's worse than Kirby an' I didn't think that was possible."
Littlejohn chuckled. "Yeah, that is hard to image, but I think you're right."
"Why do you think that is? Joey's real nice an' he does what the Sarge tells him to do. But Jankowski, he's just…well, he's just…obnoxious."
Littlejohn laughed at his young friend. Since Billy always tried to see the best in everyone, maybe Jankowski was worse than the big farmer had thought. 'Maybe Jankowski will cross Caje or Kirby. Now that would cause some fireworks.' Littlejohn smiled at the thought of that happening. Then he looked sternly at his young friend.
"Speaking of doing what the Sarge says, aren't you supposed to be checking the perimeter with Kirby?"
"Oh, yeah," and he hurried away.
While Littlejohn finished inspecting the Kraut machine guns, the sergeant turned on the radio to make contact with the CP.
"King Two, this is White Rook. King Two, this is White Rook, over."
"White Rook, this is King Two, over."
"King Two, we have arrived at Fresno, repeat, we have arrived at Fresno, over."
"Roger, White Rook. Anything to report?"
"Fresno is a first class city. It's well worth visiting to see the sights."
"Roger, White Rook. Maintain your position. Check in at 0600 unless situation changes."
"Roger, King Two. 0600. Over and out."
When Saunders finished, Littlejohn approached him. "Sarge, I'm pretty sure I can make one working machine gun. Where do you want me to set it up?"
"One of the first floor front windows."
"Okay, Sarge." Littlejohn lumbered off to begin assembling the machine gun pieces he had started to collect.
Before Saunders could head back outside to find Caje, Nelson and Kirby came in to report.
"Sarge, me an' Nelson covered the whole perimeter. The only thing we found was the path up to this place. It's over on the far left side. We checked it out down to the bottom of the rise. Nothin'."
"Alright. One of you take security an' watch that path. The other one can help Jankowski an' Lydecker."
Kirby quickly spoke up. "Nelson, you take security. I gotta take care of somethin' an' then I'll be out an' relieve ya so ya can help them two."
Nelson didn't know what Kirby was up to, but he knew it had to be something. "Okay," he said cautiously. Still speculating on what scheme Kirby was hatching, he headed back to the tree line to pick out a good spot for keeping watch on the trail.
The sergeant went outside to find Caje. Kirby looked around. He could hear Littlejohn, Lydecker and Jankowski moving around what was left of the upstairs. This was his opportunity. Caje had swept the cellar for Krauts, but he probably hadn't looked to see if there was any drinkable wine left down there. Kirby pulled a flashlight from his pack, slipped through the cellar door and down the stairs. There on a rack were a few bottles of wine the Krauts hadn't taken. He promptly opened and tasted them one by one. Only one satisfied his discerning palate. He promptly re-corked it and stuffed it inside his field jacket. He figured it would keep him warm on guard duty that night. He hurried back upstairs, put the flashlight away and headed out to trade places with Nelson, chuckling to himself. He had pulled it off and nobody was the wiser.
Although it was not one of Billy's favorite duties, when Kirby appeared he returned to the house. He told himself he was helping Joey, not Jankowski. That help was much appreciated since Jankowski was doing as little as possible as slowly as possible. But, with Billy's help, the Kraut bodies were soon removed from the house and the front yard and hidden out of sight beyond the perimeter.
Lydecker had the papers they had removed from the bodies, and he separated them into personal and military. The military pile was quite small. He would go over those with the sergeant when he and Caje returned. In the meantime, Joey and Billy went out to help Doc finish Willis' grave.
Caje led the way to the side door of the barn. It was a small structure with sunlight filtering in through the cracks between the boards. There was no loft. A door at the front led directly into the main room of the house. A few pieces of old furniture were stacked haphazardly in one corner. In another corner were a short stool and several buckets. Caje walked across the floor to a set of small barn doors at the back of the building.
"Dis is what I wanted to show you," he said as he opened the doors.
Saunders walked over and joined the scout. As he had observed before, the valley spread out before him. What he hadn't noticed was that coming out from the back of the barn was a very narrow path that zigzagged several times across the back side of the rise leading finally to the valley below.
"Sarge, do you want me to check out de path?"
"Get the binoculars from my pack an' Littlejohn first."
A few minutes later the Cajun returned with the big farmer. He handed the binoculars to the sergeant. Littlejohn looked around the barn, taking in the short stool and the pails. When he joined the other two at the back doors, he looked at the zigzag path.
He turned to the sergeant and solemnly announced, "Goats."
"Goats?"
"Yeah, Sarge. I'll bet it's an old guy who lives here with maybe half a dozen goats."
Caje rolled his eyes. Although Saunders struggled to maintain his stoic expression, the scout did notice a smile fleetingly appear and as quickly disappear from the sergeant's face.
Littlejohn continued on with his story. "He probably keeps them in the valley in the winter but then moves up here and grazes them up and down this hillside the rest of the year. Goats will eat anything so you don't need a regular pasture. My Uncle Pete keeps five or six…"
"Okay, Littlejohn. How's the machine gun coming?"
Littlejohn smiled. "All put together. I dry fired it so it's ready to go."
"Okay. See if Doc needs any help."
As the big man lumbered off, Saunders sat down. He bent his legs so that he could rest his elbows on his knees and then he slowly and carefully scanned the valley below. There was a curving road but no traffic. Numerous patches of woods were interspersed among tidy fields of varying sizes. He was quiet as he studied each of the wooded areas. Finally, he pulled the glasses away and rubbed his eyes.
"Air recon didn't show anything an' I don't see anything. I think the Krauts are down there, but where?"
He handed the binoculars to Caje and the scout looked, but was also unable to spot anything out of the ordinary.
"Caje, go about half-way down the path. See if it looks like there's been any recent activity… other than Littlejohn's goats," he added with a chuckle.
While the scout was gone, Saunders carefully marked the location of each of the wooded patches on his map.
Caje quickly but carefully made his way down and back. Upon his return he reported that it didn't look as if the path had been used at all this year and that it wasn't in very good shape. He also told the sergeant that there was a cave for curing cheese dug into the hillside about a third of the way down.
"Cheese?"
"Yeah, Sarge, goat cheese," he said with a laugh.
By the time the sergeant and the scout returned, the grave was ready to receive Willis. The men stood around the burial site. Willis hadn't been with the squad for very long, but he had been well liked and a dependable soldier.
Doc asked, "Would anyone like to say a few words?"
This was met with an awkward silence, but then Lydecker quietly started, "The Lord is mah shepherd, Ah shall not want…"
Doc and Littlejohn joined in. When the 23rd Psalms was finished, Caje crossed himself. Littlejohn, Billy and Joey quietly began filling in the hole. Kirby attached the bayonet to Willis' rifle and pushed it into the ground at the head of the grave. When he was finished, he returned to guard duty. Caje picked up Willis's helmet and placed it over the butt of the inverted rifle. Before walking away, Saunders placed his hand on the helmet and held it there for a moment.
By 1800 Caje and Saunders had placed a dozen grenade booby traps at intervals about ten feet below the tree line and several more on the path. The sergeant didn't want to be surprised the way the Krauts had been. The guard rotation was set with Jankowski in the barn watching the zigzag path and Littlejohn and Nelson watching the front path and the perimeter. However, Billy had to wear Kirby's helmet. Kirby was making coffee in Nelson's since the NCO had said they could have a small fire. The rest of the squad was enjoying a supper of K-rations.
When Kirby bent over to pour Saunders a cup of coffee, the sergeant suddenly looked up from the Kraut papers Lydecker was translating for him.
"What's that noise?"
"What noise, Sarge?" asked Kirby.
"It sounded like sloshing."
"That was me, Sarge, pourin' the coffee."
"No, it sounded more like…What's inside your field jacket?"
Doc and Caje traded knowing smiles.
"Well, Sarge, I was lookin' 'round in the cellar…"
"I thought I told you to keep a lookout on the path," Saunders snapped at the BAR man.
"Well, yeah, but this was before. Nelson was watchin' the path an' I thought maybe Doc might need some wine…ya know, for medicinal purposes."
Doc shot Kirby a look that contained daggers. He didn't want to be involved in any of Kirby's schemes and he certainly didn't want the sergeant upset with him, thinking he'd asked Kirby to find some wine.
Saunders held out his hand and asked, "Did you find any wine… for medicinal purposes?"
"Well, yeah. I just forgot to give it to Doc." He reluctantly handed Saunders the bottle.
Saunders looked at it and then handed it to Doc. "Take care of this, Doc, since it's for…medicinal purposes."
Caje shook his head. His friend would never learn.
Doc gave the scout a grin. "Too bad Littlejohn and Billy missed the show," he said in a low voice.
With the Kirby comic relief over, the men settled down for what they hoped would be a quiet evening.
At 2000 the quiet was unexpectedly broken by a voice from the Kraut radio which sat in the corner of the room.
Iron Man, this is Fortress. Come in, Iron Man.
"Lydecker, answer the radio. The rest of you keep quiet," the sergeant quickly ordered.
"But, Sergeant, what do you want me to say."
"Pretend you're a German private. Just say a lot of 'Yes, Sirs' an' 'No, Sirs'."
Lydecker replied, "Yes, Sergeant," but he didn't look very confident.
He picked up the mic and flicked the switch on the front of the radio to open up the channel so he could reply.
This is Iron Man, over. He turned the switch.
Lydecker listened and furrowed his brow. He thought of the personal papers he had seen and picked out a name, hoping that whoever was calling didn't know that particular private. This is Pvt. Werner, Sir. The sergeant and the rest of the squad are outside checking the perimeter, over. Again, he threw the switch.
The German on the other end asked a short question and Lydecker immediately responded, No, Sir, all is quiet. The sergeant is just being cautious, over. Click, he opened the channel for the Kraut to talk.
Again, a quick response to another short question, No, Sir, we haven't seen or hear anything of the Americans all day, over. Click.
The German talked for over a minute as Lydecker listened carefully to what the Kraut was telling him. Finally, he responded, Yes, Sir. I'll let the sergeant know immediately. We'll be expecting the reinforcements. Iron Man, over and out.
Lydecker turned the channel off, set down the mic, and breathed a big sigh of relief.
"Well, what did the Kraut want?" the sergeant asked.
Kirby jumped right in, "Yeah, Lydecker, what did that Kraut say? Do ya think ya fooled him?"
Lydecker looked at his squad mates and then focused on Saunders. "It was mostly a routine call from a major, just checking in. But, at the end he told me that the Krauts will begin an artillery barrage tonight at 2230. He said that the American night patrols should all be out by then and they would be caught in the open. Their troops will begin moving up under the barrage at 0530 and be in position to attack when the barrage lifts at 0730. He also said that he will be sending us…er Ah mean the Kraut squad that was here…reinforcements. We should expect them about 0800.
"Anything else?" the sergeant asked.
"He wanted to know if there had been any American activity. Ah told him we hadn't seen or heard anything from the Americans."
Kirby laughed and said, "Yeah, we was just ghosts an' we scared 'em to death," which drew an approving chuckle from Doc and Caje.
Saunders glared at the BAR man. "Shut up, Kirby. Lydecker, anything else?"
"No, Sergeant. That was all."
Saunders immediately got on the radio and made contact with King Two. He relayed the information the private had gotten from his radio conversation with the German major, listened for a moment and then signed off.
"The lieutenant will call back to let us know what's going to happen. In the meantime, check your weapons. Caje, go out to the barn and relieve Jankowski."
Saunders went outside to speak with Nelson and Littlejohn. He left Littlejohn where he was, watching the main path but moved Nelson into the house to watch the perimeter from the second floor windows. The rest of the squad checked their arms before trying to get some sleep, although they were now too apprehensive to doze off. Finally, the return call came in. The sergeant listened quietly, nodding his head at times, but he didn't say anything except to sign off. He told the men to move upstairs so that Nelson could hear.
"Alright, listen up. The lieutenant has notified Battalion an' the scheduled night patrols are being postponed all along the line. Our guys are gonna move back a mile an' hunker down for the Kraut bombardment. At 0730, just when their artillery goes quiet, our 105s will open up. We should catch the German advance out in the open, so the surprise will be on them."
This was greeted with approval by the men.
"Also," Saunders continued, "S-2 thinks we might be looking right down the throats of the Kraut gun emplacements. That's why this OP is so important. We're going to spot the muzzle flashes from their artillery an' call in the positions. Our artillery will target not only the Kraut infantry moving up but also their gun emplacements."
Again, this news was well received by the squad.
"But, we're on our own against the reinforcements the Krauts are sending. Once our artillery opens up, they're gonna know we're up here," Saunders concluded.
"Yeah, Sarge, there's always a 'but.' How long do we gotta stay?" Kirby asked.
"We'll have to call in adjustments, Kirby, you know that. We'll leave when we've completed the mission."
The soldiers all thought back to how they had been able to overcome what should have been a strong defensive position. They didn't like the idea of not only having to wait around while more Krauts arrived but also being caught behind enemy lines when the American barrage began.
"Well, what are we going to do, Sergeant?" Jankowski demanded.
Saunders glared at the soldier. "I'll let you know when it's time."
He could depend on Billy to fill Littlejohn in as soon as they were off guard duty so he went out the connecting door to the barn. After he went over the situation with Caje, he sat down with his back against the barn wall and smoked. He knew the Cajun wouldn't disturb him while he was thinking.
He decided there were three options, fight to hold the OP for as long as possible, fight their way back the way they had come, through the Kraut lines, or try to escape down the backside of the rise, hoping the Krauts in the valley would be too occupied with the artillery barrage to notice them. And then what? None of the choices was overly appealing.
Lydecker went out to the tree line and relieved Littlejohn at the path while Jankowski took over for Nelson on the second floor. Down on the first floor, Kirby began to pace. After he had practically worn a rut in the boards at the front of the room, he suddenly changed direction and headed for the door to the barn.
"Hey," called Littlejohn. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm gonna go sit with the Sarge, if it's any of your business, ya big moose."
"You mean you're going out to pester him."
"Yeah, Kirby, let the Sarge think in peace an' quiet," piped up Nelson.
Kirby came back and sat down, but not without muttering, "Ya call this peace an' quiet." For the BAR man, the fight had already begun.
The Kraut barrage opened up on schedule at 2230. As the sergeant had suspected, their artillery batteries were hidden in the valley among the patches of woods he had already marked on his map. Saunders and Caje watched the muzzle flashes from the 88s and noted the wood lots the firing was coming from. By 2330 the NCO had called in the coordinates to Ramrod at the artillery fire direction center. When that was done, he relieved Caje and sat smoking while he kept an eye on the path and watched and listened to the Kraut artillery in the valley below. He did a stint of guard duty outside. Finally, at 0300 Saunders went inside, lay down and promptly fell asleep.
The NCO awoke at 0500. He looked around at his men. Littlejohn, Lydecker and Jankowski were on guard duty and Nelson, Kirby, Caje and Doc were stretched out in different parts of the room sleeping. He got up and walked over to Nelson. As he did, he saw Caje sit up.
He shook Nelson. "Billy, make some coffee. Caje, come with me."
Saunders grabbed a couple of grenades and a flashlight and headed for the door to the barn. Lydecker turned around as the two men entered.
"Anything happening?" the sergeant asked the private.
"No, Sergeant. Ah can see the Krauts moving out against the artillery flashes, but nothing on the path that Ah can see."
Saunders turned his attention to the Cajun. "Caje, can you booby trap this door and the front door of the house? That should give us enough time to get away."
Caje looked at the door and decided where he could attach the grenades. "Yeah, I can do dat. Hold de light for me."
While the men ate, Saunders gave them their orders. Caje and Jankowski would be in the barn, Caje to determine the adjustments for the artillery shelling and Jankowski to work the radio, calling in those adjustments. Doc would be at the connecting door. As soon as the artillery was on target, Caje would holler to Doc and the medic would yell to the rest of the squad members that it was time to get out. Then those three men would head down the path for the cave Caje had found, with Jankowski carrying the radio. Back in the main room of the house, Littlejohn and Nelson on the machine gun, Kirby with his BAR, the sergeant with his Thompson, and Lydecker with his accurate shooting would keep the Krauts away from the farmhouse. Once Doc hollered, they would head for the barn. The last man through would arm that booby trap. Saunders mentally gave the job to himself.
"With any luck the Krauts will trip one of the grenades on the path so we'll know they're here. But, whoever's on guard duty at the path needs to be alert in case they don't. Once we know they're here, the guard moves inside an' we arm the booby trap on the front door. Any questions?"
The experienced men looked at each other. They had been in tight spots before, and the Sarge had always gotten them out. He had earned their trust. They nodded their acknowledgement.
Now it was a waiting game. The sergeant called King Two at 0600 to check in. He told his platoon leader they would be calling Ramrod at 0730 with the adjustments to the artillery fire. He also confirmed the coordinates of the OP and told Hanley to bombard it at 0745 although he knew that would be cutting it close. With everything in place, Saunders went outside to relieve Jankowski, Kirby took over for Littlejohn on the second floor and Nelson replaced Lydecker in the barn. Even the men coming off guard duty moved to the windows to continue their vigil while they ate a quick breakfast.
When Jankowski came inside, Caje filled him and Lydecker in on their assignments. Jankowski was seething. "I don't know why I have to carry the radio." he said in a low voice to no-one in particular.
Caje glared at him. "Because Doc, you and me might be de only ones to make it out, that's why. If you want to be de scout, I'll carry it."
Jankowski scowled. He knew that the Cajun had the most dangerous job on a patrol. He was angry, but not stupid. He said nothing more, but he vowed not to forget that Saunders had made him pack the extra weight.
The minutes slowly ticked away. The Kraut shelling was becoming more sporadic. Suddenly, the sergeant stiffened. He couldn't hear anything when the Kraut artillery was booming in the background, but he thought he had seen something move on the path. Then, for just a moment, there was enough of a break in the barrage that he could just make out some laughter. Since the Germans were expecting to rendezvous with one of their own squads, they weren't moving quietly up the rise. Saunders got up and ran back to the house.
From the second floor Kirby yelled, "CAJE, THE SARGE IS COMIN'!"
Caje flung the front door open as Saunders arrived. After he closed the door behind the sergeant, he attached the line to arm the booby trap.
COMRADES, DON'T SHOOT. IT'S US, YOUR REINFORCEMENTS, one of Germans called out.
He was greeted by silence from the farm house. That was shattered by a loud explosion as one of the grenade booby traps was set off. Shrieks and shouts were followed by another explosion.
"I guess they're here, huh, Sarge."
"Yeah, Littlejohn, they're here."
It was only 0645. 'So much for German punctuality,' Saunders laughed to himself. 'Now we'll have to hold them off for longer than I'd hoped. But, with any luck, those explosions will eat up some of that time.'
"Doc, get back. Everyone hold your fire. Let's see what they do next."
The initial panic among the German troops had subsided. Their lieutenant ordered his men to fall back. While they tended their wounded, he sent up a detail to search for and disarm any other booby traps between them and the top of the rise. Once the path and the tree line had been cleared, the platoon moved forward to the rim of the rise.
YOU'VE BOOBY TRAPPED YOUR OWN COMRADES, yelled the German lieutenant.
Lieutenant, I don't think they can hear you with the artillery. The major told them we'd be here at 0800. Let me go forward under a white flag so that they can see who we are.
Very well, Sergeant. Tell those idiots to stand down.
The German sergeant found a white handkerchief and stuck it onto his bayonet to make a flag. Waving it over his head, he stepped out from the tree line and walked toward the house.
Saunders told his men to hold their fire. He wasn't going to shoot a man holding a white flag. When his counterpart was about thirty yards from the house, Saunders told Lydecker what to say.
Lydecker yelled out the window, HALT! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!
WHAT'S GOING ON? HAVE YOU GONE CRAZY? LOOK, I KNOW YOU SET THE BOOBY TRAPS AS PROTECTION AGAINST THE AMERICANS, BUT STOP BEING FOOLISH AND COME HELP US WITH THE WOUNDED!
Lydecker translated for Saunders and then he yelled back the reply the sergeant gave him.
YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO WITHDRAW OR WE WILL START FIRING!
"Caje, you, Jankowski an' Doc move to the barn."
Jankowski quickly headed for the door to the barn. Reluctantly, Caje left his position. Doc didn't want to leave in case someone was wounded, but Caje pulled his arm to move him along.
Outside, the German artillery was becoming sparser.
The German sergeant turned and ran back to the cover of the tree line, looking for his lieutenant.
Lieutenant, those aren't German troops. They're Americans.
The lieutenant smiled. He hadn't been at the front for very long and he saw this as an opportunity to gain some notice from his superiors, perhaps even a medal. Very well, he said. Have the men open fire on my order.
Saunders told his men, "Wait until they're in the open, then make your shots count."
The five men knew they had to keep any of the Germans from reaching the farm house. They bided their time as the Sarge had ordered. First the Germans released a heavy barrage of rifle and Schmeisser fire. The Americans remained under cover, protected by the stones piled against the walls of the house. Whenever they saw Krauts trying to advance, they opened fire and cut them down. Saunders checked his watch, 0720. They had to hold out for at least fifteen more minutes.
He looked over at Lydecker. The young soldier was in the far left corner window. He had a couple of clips laid out on the floor where he could easily reach them and seemed to be doing alright, acquiring his targets and then firing. Next to him in the front left window were Littlejohn and Nelson. Nelson was feeding the ammo belts and Littlejohn had made himself as small a target as possible while he laid down a blanket of machine gun fire. In the right corner window on his other side Kirby's BAR was barking out staccato shots. Kirby looked grim but focused.
The Krauts let loose with another full-throated barrage, forcing the Americans to again take cover. This time, when they lifted their heads to take a look, the yard was filled with Krauts. All four guns roared, causing the Krauts to retreat or be killed. There was a momentary silence in the battle, except for the artillery fire in the background. Saunders couldn't tell if they were still the Kraut 88s or if the American 105s had opened up. The silence was followed by an explosion about twenty yards in front of the house.
"MORTARS!" yelled Kirby. "THEY GOT MORTARS!"
Doc waited impatiently just inside the barn, his attention split between watching the five members of the squad who would be engaged in the firefight and the other two trying to make radio contact so they could call in the adjustments once the artillery opened up.
At the other end of the barn, Caje told Jankowski to set up the radio and contact the artillery fire direction center using the code name Ramrod.
"Ramrod, this is White Rook. Ramrod, this is White Rook, over."
Jankowski repeated the protocol, "Ramrod, this is White Rook. Ramrod, this is White Rook, over," but he got nothing but static.
"I can't raise 'em. We've gotta get outa here."
"Pull de antenna all de way out and point it out of de barn."
"We've gotta get outa here!"
Caje grabbed the lapels of Jankowski's field jacket. "You do what I told you to do, now!" Caje's face was contoured with rage. He pushed Jankowski away. "DO IT!"
Caje could see the explosions from the American artillery in the valley below. He quickly determined the adjustments necessary to bring the artillery bombardment on target for each of the Kraut gun emplacements.
Jankowski pulled out the antenna and tried again, "Ramrod, this is White Rook. Ramrod, this is White Rook, over."
"White Rook, this is Ramrod, over."
"Relay dis information," Caje said. One by one the Cajun called out the original coordinates and the adjustment that was necessary as Jankowski repeated the information into the radio receiver. Each time, the adjustment was repeated back and Jankowski acknowledged that the information was correct.
When all of the adjustments had been made, Caje grabbed the receiver and said, "Fire for effect, Ramrod!"
It was several minutes before the 105s responded with intensive shelling of the Kraut artillery positions.
"On target, Ramrod. White Rook, over and out."
Caje didn't wait for an acknowledgement. He instantly yelled to Doc.
"Come on, Jankowski. Pack up de radio and let's go."
Caje started down the narrow path. Jankowski waited until he was out of sight. He checked to be certain that Doc wasn't watching and then he put the radio against the wall behind the furniture. The scout looked back to make sure Jankowski was coming. At first he didn't see him but then the soldier appeared. They continued down the backside of the rise. The next time he turned to check, Jankowski was much closer, but something was wrong. He didn't see the straps of the radio around Jankowski's shoulders and he wasn't carrying it. The Cajun stopped.
"WHERE'S DE RADIO?" he shouted.
"I FORGOT TO BRING IT! SOMEONE ELSE WILL PICK IT UP!" Jankowski yelled back.
"YOU DIDN'T FORGET! YOU LEFT IT ON PURPOSE!"
"PROVE IT!" Jankowski responded with a smirk.
Caje took two steps toward Jankowski. "I DON'T HAVE TO PROVE IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU MAY HAVE JUST KILLED US ALL!" The scout wanted to throttle him, but it would have to wait. He turned and continued down the path to the cave.
Doc heard the mortar explode and he crouched in the door jam, holding onto his helmet. He yelled, "SARGE!" Saunders turned to the rear of the room and saw Doc waving his arms.
The Sarge yelled, "LET'S GO!"
Littlejohn, Nelson, Kirby and Lydecker ran toward Doc. Saunders laid down one final burst of fire from his Thompson before running after his men. When he reached the door to the barn, he closed it and connected the line to the pin of one of the grenades. In the front room, a mortar round hit the corner where moments before Lydecker had been crouched. Saunders ran out the back door of the barn and followed his men down the goat path. Above him he heard an explosion as the front door of the house was yanked open.
All of the soldiers made their way as quickly as they could, stumbling, sliding and slipping down the zigzagging path. Saunders turned when he heard a second grenade explosion. No shots came from the rim of the rise or the barn. Caje waited at the mouth of the cave. As his squad mates arrived one by one, he hurried them inside. When Saunders made it down, he stopped the NCO.
"Sarge, Jankowski left de radio. Do you want me to go back up to get it?"
The sergeant looked at the scout and Caje could see his clear blue eyes darken. Saunders looked at his watch.
"No, get inside." Just as the two men stepped into the cave entrance they heard the start of the American shelling which would destroy the OP.
The men looked around the cave but found nothing, not even a round of cheese curing.
"Is anyone hurt?" the NCO asked as he entered the room.
Doc looked at each of the men and then answered, "No, Sarge, we're all okay."
"We're going to be here for a while, so make yourselves comfortable, but no fire. Jankowski, take the first watch."
Jankowski started to make a reply, but he was met by Saunders' glare and thought better of it.
"Nelson, you've got the second watch. Jankowski, the third. Littlejohn, you're next. Jankowski, again…"
"Hey, wait a minute! Why do I have to take every other watch?"
Saunders got right in the private's face. "Because everyone else can follow orders! Maybe after this you'll do what you're told."
"What's that about?" Kirby whispered to Caje.
"De Sarge told Jankowski to carry de radio and he left it."
Kirby chortled. "I knew it was just a matter of time before the Sarge ate him for lunch." Saunders hadn't disappointed him.
(a) Historical Note: The ASE (the Armed Service Edition) supplied 50-77,000 copies each of about thirty different paperback-type books every month for service members at no cost to them beginning in September 1943 through June 1947. Titles ranged from contemporary fiction to historical novels, mysteries, books of humor and westerns as well as numerous other genres. The books were specially designed to fit in a breast or hip pocket and were light-weight. These books were shipped to distribution points selected by the Army and Navy and from there made their way onto ships leaving port, small islands in the Pacific, hospitals, and troops stationed on the front lines throughout the ETO. Sources: When Books Went to War by Molly Guptill Manning and Pvt. James G. Lawrence (the author's father), who served in the ETO.
(b) Although not as famous as the Navajo code talkers, fourteen Choctaw served as code talkers during WWI and tribal members also served as code talkers during WWII.
(c) Reference to 'A Day in June' Combat! Season 1
(d) Reference to 'Far from the Brave' Combat! Season 1
