Mirror Image
Chapter 4
Krieger had scattered his men through the woods just this side of the road, hoping the dragnet would find Devereux.
With satisfaction, he heard Kleinhanz call. [ I have him, Oberleutnant! ]
[ Bring him out, Gemeiner! ]
The German officer paced, waiting for Kleinhanz to bring the scavenger out of the woods. He had only one intention before catching up with the rest of his battalion: to deal out German justice. He turned to the rest of his men. [ We must obey the forms, gentlemen. Had you all seen what this man, Devereux, did to a helpless German soldier? ]
[ Ja! ] The squad responded, almost in unison.
Muller spoke harshly. [ This scavenger deserves whatever you do to him, Oberleutnant. There is not a man here who will object. ] His look around the squad indicated you had better not. If there was any dissent, no one dared express it.
Krieger nodded with satisfaction as Kleinhanz brought the man out, hands in the air, from the woods.
xxx
The squad had no sooner hit the top of the rise than Kirkbride came back from point. "There! Sarge, look!"
Down the hill, a German patrol was spread out. An officer who appeared to be in charge came to the left side of the road, where a dark haired man, looking unsettlingly familiar in mixed civilian and military clothing, came out of the trees, hands raised, followed by a Kraut soldier holding a rifle on him. He was wounded in his shoulder, if the blood on his clothing was any indication. Hanley pulled his binoculars from his jacket and focused on the scene below.
"My God." He breathed. "It's Caje!"
Sarge snatched the binoculars from Hanley.
The squad watched in horror as the German officer walked behind the man and knocked him to his knees. The officer grabbed his victim's chin and raised it – and cut his throat in one swift, economical move.
Saunders felt, rather than saw, Kirby drop to his knees in shock, heard Doc's strangled cry and Billy's rush to the side of the road, followed by the sound of retching. Hanley and Kirkbride were immobile from disbelief. He realized he had started to run down the road and was being forcibly restrained by a grim Littlejohn. "No, Sarge," the big man said roughly, "it won't help if you get yourself killed, too."
"Let him go." The squad looked at Hanley, stunned. "We're going. We're all going."
First Squad moved as quickly as they ever had, nearly running through the trees on the side of the road until they were in range of the German patrol. "Fire! " Hanley called, voice harsh with emotion. Caught off-guard, Krieger and his men fell in a hail of gunfire from Saunders' Thompson, Kirby's BAR, Littlejohn's, Billy's and Kirkbride's Garands M1s and Hanley's carbine. They had avenged their friend, their brother, but Saunders wondered if anything would make them feel right again.
xxx
Light began to filter through Caje's uncovered eye, and a hand was gently, but firmly, patting his face.
[ Monsieur soldat, you must wake up. Wake up, G.I. ]
Caje shuddered awake and rose to a sitting position with the help of the elderly man who was squatting near him, holding a rifle. The pain from his shoulder was a constant thudding pressure, and he nearly closed his eyes and lay down again.
[ Qui êtes-vous? ]
[ I am Maquis, G.I. My name is Rene Alphard. I have been pursuing you for the whole day, it seems, since your friend was killed. ]
[ Oh. ]
[ I saw that you were wounded and needed help, but I lost you for a while and I didn't catch up with you again until just now. I tapped you on the back with my rifle, but I didn't expect you to pass out. ]
[ Can you help me back to my lines? ]
[ Not necessary, monsieur. Some of your friends have come to you. ] He started to move away, and Caje stopped him.
[ Wait. What has happened? I thought the Krauts were retreating. Has the fighting moved here? ]
[ Non. Well, perhaps a small bit of it. The Boche have killed Devereux. ] He shrugged. [ No great loss – no loss at all, really. But I think perhaps your friends assume it was you who was killed. They wiped out the Boche patrol completely and with great anger. I must go to them for help for you, and tell them what has happened, before they leave. ]
Caje's hand slid off the old man's arm; he had passed out again.
xxx
Saunders stood like a statue in the middle of the squad's activity. Littlejohn had taken out his rain cape and put it over - . He couldn't think any further than that. It wasn't just that he relied on Caje and liked him, or even that they'd been together since Omaha Beach. It was how he died, murdered, for all intents and purposes. He just couldn't comprehend it.
Hanley was standing apart, shoulders slumped. Saunders saw that he was studiously avoiding looking at the squad, and felt a flicker of resentment. I didn't like this from the beginning.
As if reading Saunders' mind, Hanley turned to look at him. A small spark of mutual anger flew between them and might have burst into flame - when they were interrupted.
[ G.I.s! ]
Sarge and the Lieutenant turned to look at an elderly Frenchman who had stepped out of the woods. Littlejohn and Billy, arrested in the act of cutting poles for a litter to take the body back, dropped what they were doing and grabbed their rifles.
[ Non! ] The old man put his hands out in supplication.
[ That is not your friend! He is here! ]. He pointed to the woods, where Caje lay.
"I'm not in the mood for this", Hanley growled. He started towards the Frenchman. Saunders grabbed the Lieutenant's arm to stop him.
The Maquis walked over to the body and waved his hands over it, looking for all the world like an umpire calling a runner safe. [ This is NOT your friend! ] He looked at the squad one at a time, and when he saw Doc's helmet, he pulled on the medic's sleeve and pointed to the woods. [ He is there! He needs help! ]
Doc looked at Saunders and Hanley. "Sarge, I think he's sayin' –"
Sarge saw his own hope mirrored in Doc's eyes and nodded. "I think so, too. Let's go, Doc."
The two of them followed the elderly man as quickly as they could. When they recognized the huddled figure on the ground under the tree, Doc started praying. "Oh, Lord. Thank You, God, thank You …" He knelt beside the unconscious man and started checking him over.
Saunders dropped on the other side of Caje with a nearly overwhelming sense of relief. He stood back up and bellowed through cupped hands. "You guys! IT'S CAJE! It's really Caje!"
xxx
Doc stood by Caje's bed in the aid tent. The scout hadn't returned to consciousness since he was brought in. It was mostly blood loss - the shoulder wound was a through and through and the calf wound only a graze. The medic was concerned about Caje's eye, though, and recommended he be moved to Battalion for evaluation after he was stable.
The guys in the squad had dropped by as their duties allowed, talking to him, hoping it would help. Doc had his doubts. He didn't know what had happened to Pascow, but he remembered the scout had been acting squad leader once before and a man had died saving his life. Caje had taken it hard. He thought it was possible that it had happened again, and if it had, it might be a while before Caje came back to join them.
"Doc?"
A harsh whisper jolted Doc from his thoughts. "Yeah, Caje. I'm here."
"Water?"
Doc carefully raised him up to drink. "Here ya go."
"Am I back?"
"You're back, Caje." He squeezed the scout's good shoulder. "Just rest. Looks like you'll get some time back at Battalion."
Caje wasn't listening. He stirred restlessly. "Doc, Pascow. He stayed back so I could get away with the film. He died and it was my fault. I shouldn't have left him."
Doc looked his squad mate straight in the eye. "I don't believe it. If I know anything about you, it's that you'd never run out on one of us unless there was no choice or we made you do it – likely at gunpoint. You keep on insistin' on doing things you shouldn't. Heck, half the time I can't even get you to admit you're wounded. I'm not sayin' you're perfect, Caje, but you're no coward either."
"Hanley should never have put me in charge."
Doc shook his head, but Caje didn't see it; he was unconscious again.
xxx
The second time Caje awoke, it was to find a somber Lieutenant Hanley standing by his cot.
"Lieutenant."
"LeMay." Hanley sighed. "We thought the German officer murdered you. Who did he kill? Do you know?"
The Cajun nodded. "He was a scavenger, taking things from the dead after battles, or wherever he found them. His cabin was full of all kinds of things, German and Allied. I don't know what he did to the Krauts to make them want to chase and kill him, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out he was stealing from a dead soldier or finished off a wounded one and they saw it." Caje tried to raise up, but the movement made him dizzy and he fell back on the cot. For a moment, he saw two Hanleys.
"Easy, Private." The Lieutenant paused. "We got the film back to S2. I wanted you to know." He hesitated. "We brought Pascow back, too."
Caje stiffened and looked away from the officer.
"LeMay. Caje. " Hanley stopped to collect his thoughts. "Look, I never went through OTC. All I know is what I've learned on the line. You can only count on two things up here: One, men, even men you know and like, are going to die. And two, there's nothing you can do about it. Most of the time it's out of your hands. That goes double when you're in charge. We have our orders, and we pass them on. Some of those orders, and the choices we make – well … " He spread his hands helplessly.
Caje nodded briefly.
"Forgive yourself, Private." Hanley tried for a lighter tone. "That's an order."
"Yes, sir."
The lieutenant looked at Caje for a moment, troubled. Then he turned and left the Cajun to his thoughts.
xxx
"Caje." When the scout looked up, he saw there were two men by his bed. He realized they were Saunders and Levine, the sergeant of Second Squad – Pascow's sergeant.
"LeMay. Good to see you're awake."
"Sergeant Levine."
"They gave me Pascow's tags and the necklace. Thank you for getting them back. I'm guessing there's a story there?"
"Yes, a story. And a promise."
"I'd like to hear it, if you feel up to it."
Levine let Caje talk himself out; he listened with no sign of judgment. When he stood to leave, he looked at the Cajun.
"LeMay – Caje. You did right. You have to let it go. I knew Pascow well. He chose what happened and there's no blame attached."
"Thank you, Sergeant."
Levine nodded and left.
Sarge looked down at Caje shrewdly. "You don't believe him, do you?"
After a moment, Caje shook his head silently, with a stubborn look on his face Saunders knew all too well.
"I heard what you told him. You tried to get Pascow back with the film, and it didn't work. He couldn't get away and he came back to help you. You were willing to die in order for him to live – why not the other way around? Do you think so little of yourself that the sacrifice has to be all on your side?"
The Cajun didn't answer and Saunders tried again.
"I used to think it was a good thing that you could still feel. You get a lot of the dirty jobs in this squad – I've lost count of the number of Krauts you've had to take out with your bare hands, never mind all the other stuff. But we've been through this before. All that matters is what's here and now, the squad, the mission. If you try to carry anything else along, pretty soon you'll have more than you can handle. And then, one day, you're just going to explode. You won't be any good to anyone, including yourself." Saunders looked at his friend and comrade. "I'll see you when you get back from Battalion. Get well, Caje."
xxx
"Caje, the ambulance from Battalion's here," Doc said. "Before you go, there's someone here who wants to see you."
[ Bonjour, Monsieur Caje. ]
Doc stepped aside; Amélie was behind him.
[ Amélie! You are all right. ]
The medic could see his squad mate's relief.
[ Oui, Monsieur Caje! I gave Leetlezhon the important thing. ], she said proudly.
Caje grinned. [ Merci, ma petite. ]
[ De rien. I will be going to live with the nuns. Sister Marie Therese has come to get me today. ]
[ That's nice, cherie. You must be a good girl for them. ]
Her smile was mischievous. [ I will try, Monsieur Caje. ] She grew serious, and stepped close to the bed. She brushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed him.
[ You are a good man. I wish you had been my papa. ]
Moved, Caje hugged her to him as best he could with his good arm. [ Thank you, ma petite. That's a very nice thing for you to say. ]
She shrugged. [ It's very true. ]
[ Au revoir, Amélie Devereux. ]
Amélie drew herself up into a good imitation of adult dignity. [ Non, Monsieur Caje. I do not want to be Amélie Devereux any more. I would be ashamed of it. ]
Doc watched her pause dramatically and he smiled to himself. He had heard the argument between Amélie and the nun who had come to fetch her. He didn't speak French, but he figured out enough to know what the little girl was about to tell Caje.
[ From now on, they must call me Amélie LeMay – or I will not answer. ] She peered at the Cajun anxiously. [ You do not mind, Monsieur Caje? ]
I never thought I'd see the day when Caje couldn't come up with something to say, Doc thought, amused. I'd have sooner expected Kirby to give up griping about his dogs barkin', or hear Littlejohn start singin' Broadway show tunes.
[ I -. I -. ] The flustered soldier stopped and collected himself. [ No, Amélie, I do not mind. I'm honored. ]
[ Bon! Au 'voir, Monsieur Caje. We will meet again, no? ]
Doc was relieved to see Caje laugh silently. [ Oui, Amélie. We will meet again, when this war is over. ]
Amélie took Doc's hand and went with him, skipping. She stopped at the door to wave at Caje, blew a kiss to him and left.
Caje felt unexpectedly warmed by Amélie's affection. I think I've been adopted. At least one good thing has come of all this.
xxx
He spent almost two weeks at the rear; he'd needed some surgery for his shoulder after all and despite Doc's patient work around his eye, they'd needed to treat that as well. Now he had been released to go back to the squad – but there was one thing he had to do first.
He paused for a moment at the entrance to the tent. He didn't know how to let the occupant know he was there and after a moment, he'd almost decided to walk away.
"Hello? Is someone there? Please come in."
Caje entered. The inhabitant of the tent was a slight, fiftyish man, with gray hair and warm brown eyes.
"Hello. I'm Paul LeMay. I'm not Jewish, but I wanted to talk to you, if that's all right."
"Quite all right, Paul LeMay who is not Jewish," the chaplain smiled. "Come in, sit down and tell me what I can do to help you."
"Rabbi – is that right?"
"Yes, of course. Pardon me, Private LeMay. I should introduce myself. I'm Rabbi Israel Persky. I'm a Captain, of course, but I don't much care about that." He waved his hand as if brushing away a fly.
"Rabbi Persky, I want to tell you about my friend, Pavel Pascow."