Author's Note: Next corrected chapter will be up later today.

Disclaimer: I don't own Saving Private Ryan

The old church was dark and gloomy. It had taken damage during the bombing, but compared to the rest of the surrounding buildings was in decent condition. Henderson and the rest of the men were scattered in the lower part of the building, stretching out wherever they could find a comfortable looking bench or bit of floor. Wade was sitting up with a flashlight, trying to rewrite Caparzo's bloodstained letter. The Captain and Horvath were sitting together in another part of the church, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, occasionally laughing. They were too far away for Henderson to discern what they were saying, but he was starting to doze off so he didn't try to pay attention to them.

"I don't know how he does it." Henderson glanced up from his spot on the floor at Reiban's comment.

"What's that?" Mellish asked, following Reiban's gaze to Jackson's sleeping form.

"Falls asleep like that. I mean look at him," Reiban continued, nodding his head towards Jackson as the rest of the group looked over. "The guy's lights out the minute his head hits the pack."

"Clear conscience."

"Yeah, what's he say? If God's on our side, who the hell could be on theirs?" Mellish snorted as Reiban stopped talking.

"If God be for us, who could be against us?" Upham corrected him quietly as he stared at the dimly lit wall.

"Yeah and what'd I say?" Reiban sounded annoyed at the correction.

"Well actually, the trick to falling asleep is trying to stay awake." Wade spoke for the first time, still tediously copying down the blotchy words.

"How's that?"

"Well when my mother was an intern she used to um...work late through the night, sleep through the day. So the only time we ever got to talk about anything was when she'd get home. So what I used to do, I used to lie on my bed and try to stay awake as long as I could but it never worked cuz the harder I'd try the faster I'd fall asleep." Wade chuckled slightly as he finished talking.

"Well that wouldn't have mattered none at my house. My mom, she would come home, shook me awake, chatted me up till dawn. I swear that woman was never too tired to talk."

"It was probably the only time she could ever get a word in." Mellish said, ribbing Reiban as he lit a cigarette.

"The only thing is, sometimes she would come home early and I'd pretend to be asleep."

"Who, your mom?"

"Yeah. She'd stand in the doorway looking at me and I'd just keep my eyes shut. I knew she just wanted to find out about my day so she came home early just to talk to me. And I still wouldn't move. I'd still pretend to just be asleep. I don't know why I did that."

All the men, even Reiban remained silent after Wade stopped speaking. As they were just sitting there in the silence, Captain Miller walked over to them.

"We've got a couple hours. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"Captain. Sir?" Upham called quietly to Miller as he stood next to Wade.

"Corporal? How you doing there? You all right?" Miller asked as he sat next to Upham.

"Yeah, I think this is all good for me, sir."

"Really. How is that?" Miller sounded slightly skeptical.

"War educates the senses, calls into action the will, perfects the physical constitution, brings men into such swift and close collision in critical moments that man measures man."

"Well, I guess that's Emerson's way of finding the bright side."

"You know Emerson, sir?"

"I know some."

"So where you from captain? What did you do before war?"

"What's the pool up to?"

"Up over three hundred, sir."

"Well when it gets up to five hundred I'll give you the answers and we'll split the money. How about that?"

"Well if that's the way you feel sir, I feel that it's my duty and your command to suggest that we wait until it gets up to a thousand sir."

"And what if we don't live that long?" That seemed to stump both men for a few seconds.

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred would be good, yeah. Get some sleep Corporal." Miller ordered as he stood up and walked off.

"Yes sir."

Henderson turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, hoping to get in a few hours of shut-eye before they were on the move again. He drifted off, listening to the faint sounds of bombs causing more destruction, and the louder, more annoying noise of Mellish snoring.

A little over an hour later Henderson was up again. Try as he might, sleep would not return so he carefully stood and made his way quietly to the door so as not to wake his companions.

It had finally stopped raining, though water still dripped off the eaves of the building. Light flashed in the distant sky. It could have been thunder, more likely it was artillery.

Henderson sat on the steps of the church, leaning his back against the wall and staring out at that lighted sky.

A voice behind him made him jump, and he stayed tense as Reiban followed him out of the door and sat beside him.

"Y'know, when the Captain says sleep he don't mean for ya to go out and watch the fireworks."

"Can't sleep, and you're one to talk."

Reiban shrugged and joined him on the steps. "How old are you anyway?"

"I'll be 20 in three weeks." Henderson told him. "Helluva place to spend a birthday."

Reiban nodded. "You got any siblings?"

"Yeah, two older brothers. Ned's in the Air Force and Tommy's in the Navy."

"They the reason you joined up?"

"I suppose. I've always tried to do whatever they did. Broke m'arm, knocked out m'teeth, who knows how many concussions. Now I'm here. Ma thinks I'm her little baby, she'll kill me when, if, I get home."

"Didn't tell her you joined?"

"Nah, the woman would've chained me up in the basement. What about you?"

"Three younger sisters."

"That must be rough."

"Yeah, if I don't make it through this damned war whose gonna kill the boys who break their hearts?"

The two lapsed into silence.

"Com'on kid. If any of us needs sleep it's you, you're hardly more than a stick."

Henderson followed him back into the church to wait.

The squad started out before daybreak. The only light came from distant exploding bombs as they trekked through the French countryside.

Later that day they were still walking, this time through a more forested area, when they came upon a downed allied aircraft. On the other side of the wreck, wounded men were lined up on the ground and unhurt officers were shouting orders and yelling for medics.

"Wade!" Miller called as the squad filed through the plane and entered the turbulent campsite.

"Yes sir."

"See what you can do. Hold on fellas, it won't be much longer."

Wade was immediately down with the wounded, trying to see if he could do anything for them.

"How are we doing here. All right, yeah you're all right so don't worry about it. The doc's in town." Wade told the wounded men as he got out some bandages.

"Don't worry fellas. 29th infantry's breakin through. They'll be here soon." Jackson said as he tried to make one of the guys more comfortable.

"Cap'n, hey cap'n." One of the men called out to Miller.

"Soldier, you wanna fill me in?"

"Hey yeah, Lieutenant Dewidt, sir. Ninety-ninth Troop Carrier Squadron, carrying the 327th glider infantry. This one was mine, sir. I was the pilot."

"Private, private take care of this one here." Wade's voice carried over that of the Lieutenant.

"Twenty-two men dead. I ended up over there without a scratch, took my co-pilot's head right off."

"Well where's the unit? Who are these people?"

"Well the guys we came in with sir, they headed off first night. I haven't seen em since. Meantime, other guys just keep showin' up. One, two, half a dozen at a time. Then some officer will come along, patch together a mixed unit and head off to make trouble, sir."

"We're looking for a Private James Ryan. He was in Baker Company five oh six in the hundred and first."

"Got me, sir. A lot of guys come in and out of here, sir."

"Upham!" Miller called the Corporal over.

"Yes, sir."

"Check that squad. See if Ryan's in."

"Yes, sir." Upham said, as he headed over to the squad Miller had pointed out.

"Reiben? Smell that leg right there. Find out if it's smells of cheese." Reiban gave Wade a look as he knelt to smell the man's leg.

"What?" Wade asked as Reiban came back up.

Reiban merely nodded in reply.

Henderson looked up from his position next to Wade. Mellish was taunting the German prisoners with his Star of David, telling them that he was Jewish as he passed.

Miller, Horvath, and Dewindt were heading towards the wreckage of the plane.

"Yeah I couldn't pry him outta there hard as I tried. I need a winch."

"Stars." Horvath told Miller as he took a closer look at the body.

"Yep. Brigadier General Amend. Deputy Commander hundred and first. Some fucking genius had the great idea of welding a couple of steel plates onto our deck to keep the general safe from ground fire. Unfortunately, they forgot to tell me about it until we were just getting airborne. Well that's like trying to fly a fright train. Okay? Gross overload, trim characteristics all shot to hell. I nearly broke both my arms trying to get her level. And, and, and when we released, you know, I cut as hard as I could. Tried to gain and some altitude, still keep her from stalling. We came down like a fucking meteor. And this is how we ended up. The oth...the others, they stopped easy enough okay though, you know. We were just, we were just, we were just too damn heavy, you know? The grass was wet, downward slope and all. Twenty two guys dead." Dewidt wound down as he and Miller stood inside the wreckage, the rest of the squad looking in the windows.

"All that for a general?"

"One man."

"A lot of that going around." Reiban commented, adding his two cents.

"Fubar."

"Fubar."

"Fubar."

"Fubar."

"Y'all got that right." Jackson said quietly.

"Hey, I looked up fubar in the German Dictionary. There's no fubar in the-" Upham began, effectively destroying the mood.

"Upham?"

"Yes, sir?"

"There's more paratroops out there. Find out if one of them's Ryan."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh you might wanna check these out, sir. Dogtags. More than I really wanna count, sir. I've got covered a lot of bodies, sir."

"Jackson. Start going through those."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll help." Reiban said, following the sniper.

"Well what do you think, Jackson? You think that little pricks in there?" Reiban asked, grabbing the bag of dogtags out of Jackson's hands.

"Well if he is, I'm gonna find him." Jackson replied, taking the bag back.

"I bid money saying this guy is still alive."

"Ten bucks says I nail him first." Mellish cut in as he sat down.

"Let's see what we got here. Okay, you think this little shitbird's in here or what?"

"Just keep looking."

"All right. Gary Ananago. Vin Almarcio. Mike Suzeski. I swear, all the guinies are buyin it."

Dogtag after dogtag fell onto the makeshift table, the piles growing larger by the second. Even Captain Miller had joined the search.

"Where is this son of a bitch?"

"Don't mix em up Jackson, all right? Keep em in your own fucking pile. How am I supposed to know who we got?"

"Why don't you just shut up Reiben, all right?"

"Everybody be friends."

"I think I got a winner." Jackson said as he rubbed some dried blood off a tag.

"What are you talkin about?"

"Ryan."

"Ryan. You know what? You're a genius, you really are. R-I-E-N-N-E. That's Rienne, that's French, all right? You know what that means?"

Henderson watched Wade as he stood up, wiping some of the blood from his stained hands. He had a scowl on his face as he stalked towards the rest of their squad.

"What the hell are you doing? The whole goddamn airborne's watching. They aren't poker chips. Put em back in there!"

The men sat in ashamed silence as they watched the soldiers filing past, some looking over at them.

"He's not here. Maybe we should bust up into a couple of different groups, huh? And wander the woods like Hansel and Gretel calling his name. He's bound to hear us sooner or later. Ryan!"

"That might be a little hard to do, cap'n."

"Maybe the locals have seen him. Hey do you know a...excusez moi, parlez vous Ryan? James Ryan? Ryan! Anybody know Ryan? 101st airborne? Ryan? You know a guy named Ryan? Private James Ryan from Iowa? Anybody know a Ryan? James Ryan?"

"Hey Joe! Doesn't...ah...Michaelson pal around with a Ryan from C Company?" One of the soldiers said as he stopped a moment.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well bring him up here, would ya?"

The soldier, Joe, ran towards the back of the line looking for Michaelson. He returned a few minutes with another man.

"Do you know a Private Ryan?" Miller asked as the two men reached him.

"You're gonna have to speak up, sir. My hearing isn't so good. It comes and goes. A German grenade went off right by my head." Michaelson said loudly, bringing his hand up to his ear.

"Got it, got it. Do you know Private Ryan?"

"Who?"

"Private Ryan? James Ryan?"

"Jimmy Ryan?"

"James. James Francis Ryan."

"No, no, no. James Francis Ryan."

"All right. Give me a pencil. Something to write on. Something to write on. Some...quick, quick come on, a pencil."

"Small one, sir." Upham said, fishing out a pencil stub.

"Write this down. James Francis Ryan, question mark. Iowa, question mark. Do, do you know him? Does he know him? Read the message, look."

"Yeah of course I know him, sir."

"Does he know where he is?"

Upham hurriedly wrote down the question and showed it to the man.

"Yeah, yeah. We missed our drop zone by about twenty miles. Ended up way over by uh...Bumville or some damn place. Him, me and a couple other guys were coming here to the rally point. Ran into a colonel who was gathering men to go to uh...Ramelle."

"Ramelle."

"To baby-sit a bridge. That's the last I've seen of him, sir."

"Great, great. Than, thank you. Write thank you. Read, read and thank you."

"Your welcome!"

Miller and the rest of the squad walked forward a bit to a place a bit out of the way of the walking soldiers.

"Assemble around me." The Captain said, kneeling on the ground and pulling out a map. "Ramelle...we're here. There. Ramelle is on the Merderet River right here. This is southwest of us."

"What, do you think this was the bridge he was talking about, cap'n?"

"Yep. The target has always been Cherbourg. We can't push no Paris until we take in deep water port and Rommell knows that so he's gonna try to get his armor across the Merderet river any where he can. That way, he can hit our invasion forces in flank when we make the big right turn to Cherbourg. That makes any village on that river, with an intact bridge, solid gold real estate."

Miller's hand was shaking as he held his compass over the map. The men fell silent as they noticed it and looked at their Captain. Miller stared back tensely before closing the metal device with a snap.

"Let's go."

TBC