Author's note: This chapter has random flashbacks...just wanted to warn you guys. Yeah, I update rather quickly (Finally got internet. Yay!) Fanfiction writing is all I do (even though I should be doing my schoolwork...oops). Hope you enjoy!!!!

Chapter Six: Family Ties

Holton watched the German digging graves from a distance. He was still struggling with a headache. The cigarette he was smoking was not helping much but he did not care.

He watched every movement the prisoner made. Upham would try to help from time to time only to be pushed back by Jackson. Holton could not blame Upham too much. He had never been in combat and still believed that the rules were upheld out here. Holton believed that once too, back in Italy.

Private Patrick Holton walked through the ruins of a small town just outside Anzio. They had shelled every inch of the place to make sure there were no Germans left. Unfortunately, they had missed a few spots including a machine gun nest that overlooked the entire place. They had taken a few casualties clearing out the town but now it was relatively safe.

He walked toward what seemed like the center of town. Almost no one was there. Most guys had gone off treasure hunting. There was a corporal there though. He was shouting in Italian at a prisoner.

Holton had turned to look at what was left of a fountain when he heard the gunshot. He dived for cover at first, thinking there was a sniper somewhere. When he looked up, all he saw was the corporal walking in his direction, a dead German in his wake.

"What'd you do that for?" Holton asked standing up. "He was a prisoner."

"Can't take them." He replied looking at his souvenir luger. "'Sides, you remember that injured guy we left for a few minutes? The one with a broken foot?"

"Yeah." Holton said remembering. "We came back and he was dead."

The corporal looked at him with cold eyes. "Guess who was the sick bastard that shot him."

If that guy deserved to die, why shouldn't this one? He had broken the rules by killing their medic. That should be punishable by death out here.

Yet, as he watched the prisoner, he could not help but feel that there was something familiar about him. Maybe it was the way he walked or stood. It did not matter which. Holton just knew he had seen that man somewhere.

Captain Miller walked over and sat next to him. They did not say anything for a while; they just watched the German dig graves.

"Almost thought we lost you." Miller said breaking the silence.

"No sir." Holton replied flicking away the cigarette. "The Germans keep forgetting I'm immortal."

Miller smiled. "You alright?"

"Except for a headache and the need to strangle something, I'm fine, sir."

The Captain stood. He was never much for long conversations except with Horvath. The only time anyone could pry a lot of words out of him was during combat or anytime that involved orders. That's why the pool started, because he was the only man who would not talk about home.

"Sir, are you really gonna go through with it?"

Miller said nothing but walked away in reply. Holton stood and followed.

By now, the German had finished digging graves and was enjoying a smoke with Upham. Something that even the most hard core rule followers Holton had seen never did. Upham almost seemed to connect with the German.

The rest of the squad moved in and surrounded the two. Their prisoner grabbed hold of Upham and began to shake him, telling him that he was sorry over and over again.

"Sir, please don't." Upham said as Miller grabbed the prisoner. "Sir!"

The squad followed Miller as he walked a few paces away. He pulled out a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the German's eyes. They got their rifles ready.

"Sir, please-″

"Upham, tell him to march a thousand paces in that direction." Miller said pointing. Holton lowered his rifle. He had expected this…unfortunately.

"Then he can take off the blindfold, we'll be gone and he turns himself in to the first Allied patrol he comes across." The rest of the squad lowered their rifles too. They looked at each other, surprise etched on their faces.

"Thank you, sir." Upham said. He led the German for the first few steps then watched him walk off.

Miller turned to the squad and answered what they were all thinking. "He's a prisoner of war, we can't shoot him… our boys will pick him up soon.

Reiben spit into the ground. "Only if he doesn't get picked up by his own wehrmacht first and then thrown back into circulation. Captain, you just let the enemy go." He said as though Miller had not realized that fact.

"Gear up. We're leaving." Reiben just stood there watching the Captain.

"You heard him." Horvath said walking over. "Gear up. The Captain just gave you an order."

Mellish, Jackson and Holton gravitated toward each other. They stood back to watch the developing fight. Reiben was sick of the mission and would not stop ranting until it got through to Miller.

"Yeah, like the one he gave to take this machine gun. That was a real doozy, wasn't it, Sarge?"

"Soldier, you are way out of line!" Horvath shouted. His words fell on deaf ears.

"Yes sir. That was one hell of a call coming to take this nest but, what the hell, we only lost one of our guys going for it." Reiben dropped his BAR and walked over to the Captain, raising his voice to make sure he would hear. "I hope Mama Ryan's real fucking happy knowing that little Jimmy's life is a little bit more important than two of our guys! But then again, we haven't found him yet, have we? Have we!"

Horvath grabbed Reiben and tossed him to the ground. "Reiben, get up. Gear up. Fall in." Reiben did stand but that's all he would do.

"I'm done with this mission." Reiben walked past Horvath and began to head down a dirt road.

Horvath looked at Miller a moment then ran after Reiben. "Don't you walk away from your Captain. Reiben get back in line!"

"This is not going to be good." Holton whispered. He knew that if any of the other guys were doing this, Horvath's reaction would not have been as severe. But it was Reiben, the one man that Holton believed Horvath truly hated. He was finally going to get his revenge on him.

Reiben turned around. "I'll spend the rest of my life in the stockade if I have to but I'm done with this."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, soldier." Horvath pulled out his pistol.

Reiben did not look surprised. "So, you're gonna shoot me now?"

Holton pushed Jackson and Mellish out of the way as he ran over to the two. He stood between them, just in front of Reiben. Miller had been out of it since Wade died, so it was up to him to make sure that Reiben did not get shot.

"Mike…what the hell are you doing?"

"He's finally getting some balls, that's what!"

Holton turned. "Reiben shut the hell up!" Reiben was actually quiet for a moment.

Horvath began to laugh. "Oh, so you'll listen to him but not the Captain."

"He's better than the Captain."

Holton sighed. "Oh geez…" He put his hands on his head. This was not working.

"Well, then listen to him and fucking fall in!"

"Nothing's gonna make me do that."

Horvath shoved Holton over and pointed the pistol closer to Reiben's head. "Then you won't mind if I shoot you!" Holton looked desperately over at Miller, hoping for a sign of life. Mellish and Upham were shouting at him, trying to get him to intervene. Jackson had pulled out his pistol and was slowly pointing it in Horvath's direction.

"You don't kill that son of a bitch Kraut. Now you're going to shoot me."

"He's better than you."

"Mike…put it down." Holton said uselessly. Nothing was going to stop him, except the Captain…or a bullet. He began to reach for his pistol.

"Then why don't you just do it, Sarge? Put one in my leg and-″

"I'm gonna shoot you in your big goddamn mouth!"

"Mike…" Holton pointed his pistol downward. He would shoot him in the foot if he had too.

"Then put you money where your mouth is and shoot me already!"

"Reiben, you are a coward son of a bitch!"

"Mike!" Holton pulled the trigger back. He began to pray for a miracle.

God would answer him this time.

Miller seemed to come to life.

"Mike, what's the pool on me up to?" All the shouting stopped and everyone looked at Miller. He just stood there, unfazed by the fact that Horvath was pointing his pistol at Reiben, and Jackson and Holton had theirs pointed at Horvath.

"What's it up to, three hundred?" He paused. "I'm a schoolteacher."

Holton's jaw dropped, as did others.

"I teach English composition in this little town called Addley, Pennsylvania. The last eleven years, I've been teaching at Thomas Alva Edison High School. I was coach of the baseball team in the spring." Holton lowered his pistol. So did Horvath and Jackson.

"People would hear about my job back home and think 'well, that just figures,' but over here… it's a big mystery." He paused and walked over to Reiben and Horvath. "I don't know anything about Ryan, I don't care. The man means nothing to me. He's just a name."

Holton put his pistol away. He began to think about his hatred for the name.

"You want to leave? You want to go off and fight the war? I won't stop you; I'll even put in the paperwork. Just know that every man I kill the farther away from home I feel."

Miller walked away. He put down his stuff and began to drag a body toward the graves. The others followed, except Reiben. He turned to walk down the road again but soon his pace slowed. He stopped and looked at the squad, then began to walk over and help.

Jackson and Holton began to bury one of the paratroopers. Holton had a little shovel while Jackson used a helmet he found.

"Hey Jackson." Holton said as he shoved some dirt in the grave. "Is that my helmet?"

Jackson looked at it. "Yeah, I think it is." He offered the helmet to Holton.

"Nah, I'll just take yours."

Upham walked past them. He nodded to Holton. "Sergeant."

"Hey, Upham." The corporal stopped. He did not think anyone would want to talk to him. "Did that German tell you where he was from?"

Upham thought for a moment. "Yeah…I think it was Landsberg."

Holton dropped the shovel.

Patrick stood on the train platform. In a few minutes, it would take him away to New York City where he would board a ship bound for England.

His father had sent Christine and Amanda away. He wanted to speak with his son alone.

He handed him a picture. "This is my family. If you ever reach Landsberg, look for them, tell them who you are. They can hate me forever but there is no excuse to hate a child they never met."

Patrick nodded and put it in his pocket.

"I would have taken you there before. Your mother would have loved to see it again. But, then the war broke out and I knew we would never make it back."

That is where he had seen him. That picture…in the upper right corner. It had to have been taken thirty years earlier but he looked just like that man. Perhaps it was his father… Could he be related to the man who killed their medic? The man he nearly killed?

"Holton…Holton, you alright?" Jackson asked.

Holton snapped out of his daze. "Yeah…I'm fine." He looked over at the sniper. The paratrooper's dog tag was in his hand.

"What's his name?"

Jackson squinted at the small writing. "Thomas…" He fell silent.

"Thomas what?"

Jackson looked up at him. "Thomas Ryan."

Ooo…another Ryan! Not related to James Francis Ryan though…Just thought it would be nice to throw that in.

Yeah, Holton is FINE- Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional…

Oh, and ha ha Beth…very funny.