8
Title: "Foreshadowing," Chapter Four
Author: Darkover
Characters: Dick Winters, Bill Guarnere, Don Malarkey, Skip Muck, Raymond Schmitz, George Luz, Harry Welsh, Lewis Nixon
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One.
Summary: Please see Chapter One.
On one of Easy Company's recent runs, Skip Muck had been struck with a charley horse which had caused him to stumble momentarily, and his best buddy, Don Malarkey, had grabbed Skip by the arm to keep him from falling. Sobel had witnessed it, and had not only cancelled their weekend pass; he had added misery to the life of Sgt. Bill Guarnere by ordering the Sergeant not only to find a punishment for their infraction, but to supervise them personally as well. So, Muck and Malarkey were policing the parade ground by the Quonset huts, and Guarnere was standing by smoking a cigarette, when the large, burly Lieutenant in the uniform of the 82nd Airborne approached them. The three young men of the 101rst all came to attention and saluted.
"At ease," the big man said. The name on his uniform shirt read: SCHMITZ. "There's supposed to be a Lieutenant Dick Winters in this outfit. Tell me where I can find him." From his tone, one might have supposed that Winters owed him money.
"Why do ya wanna know, Lieutenant?" Guarnere asked.
"None of your damn business, Sergeant," the big man snarled. "Now, do one of you three tell me where Winters is, or do I have to start kicking ass?"
Schmitz's attempt at intimidation failed completely. The three paratroopers of Easy Company, long used to being berated and threatened by Sobel, merely gazed at him dispassionately, without the slightest hint of fear. Guarnere blew smoke in Schmitz's direction, and then flicked away his cigarette butt. "Hard to say, sir. Lt. Winters is a busy man."
Even as the Sergeant spoke, the door of a nearby Quonset hut opened and their Lieutenant came out. Schmitz instantly turned his attention that way, shouting; "Winters!"
The red-haired man stopped and turned as Schmitz strode up to him. "Thought I wouldn't find you? You still have to prove yourself to me, Winters. And no cheap tricks this time."
"Schmitz, I have nothing to prove to you," Dick said shortly. "Get lost."
"Winters, that ought to be a chicken on your shoulder patch instead of an eagle," Schmitz sneered.
The red-haired man exhaled. "Schmitz, haven't you been able to think of a new insult by now? I'm not interested in fighting you. Go away."
"Damn, Winters, why in hell did you join the airborne if you're too chickenshit to fight?" Dramatically, Schmitz took out his wallet, removed some money, and then waved the bill in front of the other man's nose. "Here! Five dollars says you can't beat me!"
Winters glanced over at the parade ground. Guarnere, Malarkey, and Muck, all three his men, were watching; there was no doubt they had heard Schmitz's challenge. Besides, he was tired of the other man's bluster. This had gone on long enough.
"Fine. Let's take this behind the hut."
"Don't want your men to see you get beat, huh?" Schmitz said loudly, obviously hoping the Easy Company men would overhear. "Not surprised. Let's go!"
The three enlisted men stopped what they were doing and ceased all pretense at not staring or listening as they watched the two young lieutenants go around the back of the nearest Quonset hut.
"Five bucks says Winters beats the blowhard," Don Malarkey said.
"I dunno," Skip Muck said dubiously. "That's a pretty big guy."
"And Winters don't even drink—" Bill Guarnere started to say. That was as far as he got before there was the sound of a loud thud as something hit the back of the Quonset hut, immediately followed by a scream.
"That's not Winters," Malarkey said, grinning.
"Geez, that lieutenant screams like a little girl," Guarnere said. "What a pantywaist."
A moment later their own lieutenant, looking slightly perturbed, came back from around the Quonset hut. Sounds of moans and curses drifted from behind the hut. The three young paratroopers snapped to attention.
"Muck, go find a medic," Winters ordered. "Tell him there's an injured man here who needs attention. A stretcher may also be required."
"Yes, sir!" Muck snapped off a salute and then took off running.
"Did the poor fella fall down and hurt himself, sir?" Guarnere inquired, sounding solicitous. Malarkey was fighting to keep a straight face.
Winters eyed him. "Yes, Sgt, Guarnere, I believe he did. When the medic gets here with the stretcher, you two men give him a hand. Schmitz doesn't want me near him."
"Yes, sir!" The two enlisted men chorused, each snapping off a salute. They managed to contain themselves until their lieutenant departed, but making eye contact with each other a moment later, they both burst out laughing.
A few minutes later, upon entering the quarters that he shared with Nixon, Welsh, and Matheson, Winters found Harry Welsh in residence, listening to George Luz. Welsh was laughing out loud at whatever Luz was saying, and Winters had just heard—"kicked his ass but good—" when Luz caught sight of him. Luz instantly broke off his talk and came to attention; Welsh was still laughing.
"At ease, Luz," Winters told the private.
"Oh, Dick," Welsh said, shaking his head and wiping his eyes. "Luz was just telling me how you shut Lt. Schmitz up once and for all. I wish I could have seen that."
"He shoulda sold tickets, from what I hear," Luz said.
"It wasn't that big a deal," Winters started to protest.
"Are you kiddin', sir?" Luz was beaming with pride at his lieutenant. "Not only did you shut up some loudmouth blowhard who compared our Screamin' Eagle to a chicken, you kicked the ass of a guy a lot bigger than you. Made him scream like a little girl, Bill Guarnere said."
"Is that who told you about this? Guarnere?" Winters demanded.
"No, sir. I heard it from Alec Penkala, who heard it from Skip Muck. Skip says Doc Roe said you broke this Schmitz's guy's wrist and did somethin' to his back. He ain't goin' to be doin' no more drops anytime soon, sir."
"Or challenging anybody to any more fights," Welsh said, still chuckling.
"Doc Roe says Lt. Schmitz probably won't be able to go overseas with his outfit, much less have to make the big drop," Luz told Welsh, and then turned back to Winters. "Sir, will you break *my* arm for five dollars?" Welsh burst out laughing again.
"You're dismissed, Luz," Winters told him.
"Yes, sir." Still smiling, the private saluted, and then took off.
"Harry, you're an officer," Dick reminded his friend. "Do you really think you should be listening to the enlisted men's gossip?"
"When it's about something like this? Hell, yes!"
"He's not the only one," Lewis Nixon said, entering their quarters in time to hear the last few remarks. "I hear you haven't been playing nicely with others, Dick."
Winters looked from one man to the other. "Is it all over the camp?"
"Probably," Nixon said, with a grin every bit as wide as that on the face of Harry Welsh. "Am I in the presence of Easy Company's new boxing champ?"
"We were wrestling," their friend said, so automatically that both Nixon and Welsh laughed.
"Glad we've got that straight," Welsh said.
"Schmitz didn't know you were a champion wrestler in college, did he?" Nixon asked.
"He found out the hard way," Welsh said. "Come on, Dick. You can't expect us not to enjoy this. It's long overdue. Schmitz had it coming."
Nixon nodded. "You've been putting up with Schmitz for awhile, but I knew you'd get fed up eventually." Especially when he insulted you in front of your men, the intelligence officer thought.
Winters smiled at his friends, but his smile faded when he spoke again. "Has Colonel Sink heard about this?"
"Yeah. Schmitz has a broken wrist and two cracked vertebrae. Because his injuries are such that he's going to have to remain stateside for awhile, Colonel Sink has ordered that there's to be no more fighting for any reason." Nixon studied his best friend. "Relax, Dick. He's not going to reprimand you. And the men think what you did was great."
Of course, the story spread all over the camp, and Luz's rejoinder as well, for during the week that followed, Winters was asked repeatedly by the men of Easy Company; "Sir, will you break my arm for five dollars? Get me out of the big jump, sir!" Winters was sensible enough to take it all with good grace. Nothing more was heard from Schmitz, who returned to the 82nd Airborne, and seemed more than content to stay there.