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.
Thanks to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading.
Lady-in-Waiting
by: Queen's Bishop
[] Indicates French or German is being spoken, depending on the character.
()()()() Denotes time has passed or the focus of the story has shifted
to a different location or character.
Paul and Jeanette walked in silence. Each had been lost in his own thoughts since leaving her father's small bakery where she tended to customers behind the counter. She had slipped her hand into his out of habit. But, other than that, they could have been two strangers who happened to be going in the same direction.
They entered the park and walked until they reached the fourth bench, the bench where she had been sitting when he first saw her. He had boldly come up to her, bowed and introduced himself.
She usually smiled at the memory of that moment. Today, however, the tears ran freely down her cheeks as she turned to face him. He looked so tall and handsome in his uniform. He bent over and softly kissed the hand he was still holding.
[You know I have to go,] he quietly said.
Her reply, [Yes,] was barely audible.
[It won't be for long. I'll be back before you know it.]
[Couldn't you wait just two more days? Tomorrow is to be our wedding day. Surely your captain will understand…] Her voice trailed off.
[It won't be for long,] he said again. [I'll meet you right here, at noon. Come every day and check. I'll be back before you know it and then we'll be wed.] He smiled and then became serious. [You will wait, won't you?]
[Of course I will…]
Her hand slipped from his as he started to leave.
[Oh, Paul, please don't go. I love you so very much,] she said, pleading with him.
He turned one last time and said, [Right here, at noon,] once more and then he was gone.
She sat down on the bench as the church bell began to toll. When it had rung twelve times she quietly said, [I'll be here every day waiting for you, my love.]
()()()()()()()()()()
Lt. Hanley was standing outside the CP watching the sun rise as Saunders approached.
"You're up early, Lieutenant," the sergeant said as he noted the dark circles beneath the officer's bloodshot eyes.
Hanley didn't respond. The sergeant lit two cigarettes and passed one to the officer. The two men stood in amiable silence, smoking and listening to the early morning quiet.
After several minutes, the lieutenant said, "Come inside. Brockmeyer should have the coffee about ready."
Saunders followed him into the CP and waited while Hanley rummaged around to find two cups, then watched while he poured the coffee, strong and hot, from the dented pot the lieutenant carted from one small French village to another. The sergeant had seen him leave late last night and he knew something must be up. He also knew that Hanley would tell him in his own good time.
Once again there was an extended silence between the two men as they sipped the hot liquid.
At last, the lieutenant said, "S-2 has gotten reports from the French Resistance that the Krauts have pulled back all along the line."
"What does air reconnaissance show?" Saunders asked.
"Not much. The weather has limited flights and those that have made if off the ground have only come back with photographs of dense forest. S-2 thinks they might be regrouping and preparing for an offensive push. If they are, we need to know where they're going to strike. We're pretty thin right now so they might be able to break through. We're sending out patrols all along the line to set up observation posts. Hopefully that should give us some idea of where the push will come."
"What do you want us to do, Lieutenant?"
For the first time, Hanley looked down at the map that was spread out on the table between them. "Set up an OP here at," he picked up a pencil and drew a circle, "the village of Armolé. S-2 reports that it's deserted, so you shouldn't have any problems."
"When do you want us to leave?"
"As soon as the squad is ready."
The NCO nodded and set his cup on the table. "That coffee gets worse every day," he said.
"I'll give Brockmeyer your compliments," Hanley replied with a grin.
()()()()()()()()()()
Saunders watched the street through his field glasses, studying the civilians, old men, women and children, as they went about their daily business.
Staring up into the branches, Billy asked, "How's it look, Sarge?"
"Quiet."
"Do you see any Krauts?" This time the questioner was Littlejohn.
"No, just civilians."
"Civilians!?" Kirby responded with surprise. "I thought S-2 said it was deserted."
"Well, I guess they got that one wrong," the sergeant replied.
The rest of the squad members rolled their eyes or sighed in frustration. It wasn't the first time S-2's information had been inaccurate.
Saunders tucked the binoculars back into his field jacket. He bent and grabbed hold of the branch he was standing on and lowered himself before dropping to the ground while the squad waited expectantly for orders.
"Alright, listen up. We'll move to the edge of the next field, then Caje, you're on me. The rest of you, give us cover. Got it?"
The men all nodded their understanding, so the sergeant waved them forward. The squad spread out, each man taking full advantage of whatever opportunities for concealment he could find. Once everyone was in position, the NCO and the scout crouched low and hurriedly crossed another field to a small foot bridge. After receiving a nod from Saunders, Caje sprinted across. He hid behind a bush and waited for the sergeant to join him.
They carefully looked around, amazed at what they saw. They had entered the village through a park with flowers, a few meandering paths, scattered benches and mature shade trees. In the center was a fountain. The only sounds were the tinkle of falling water and the chirping of birds. On one bench sat an older woman dressed in the clothes of a by-gone era. It could have been a scene from any American small town.
As they watched, two young boys entered the park, kicking a ball back and forth. They approached the woman, spoke a few words and handed her something. She responded with a smile and a nod. With their task completed, the boys continued playing.
When they were close, Saunders nodded to the Cajun and he stepped out from behind the bush.
"[Petit,]" he quietly said to the closest child. [Are there any Boche in the village?]
[No, monsieur. They all left the night before last,] the boy responded.
[Are you Americans?] the other one asked, his eyes wide open in amazement.
[Yes, but…]
The sudden tolling of a church bell drown out the rest of Caje's statement as well as the first happy shouts of the boys as they ran back through the park to spread the word that the Americans had arrived.
At the sound of the bell, the woman looked up, her eyes searching the paths. When she spotted the scout, she stood and stared at him for a moment before taking a few hesitant steps toward him. As the last peal rang out and then died away, she called, [PAUL!] The scout's head swung in her direction. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him as tightly as she could as she wept tears of joy.
[Paul, oh Paul, I knew you would come today!]
Caje tried to quiet her down. [Madame, I'm sorry, but you have mistaken me for someone else. Please…please, be quiet.]
Saunders came out from hiding and was about to clamp his hand over her mouth when he realized trying to keep her quiet would be useless. The park was rapidly filling with happy Frenchmen who had been summoned by the shouts of the two boys. So instead, he trotted back to the foot bridge and signaled the rest of the squad to come ahead.
The Americans had experienced the joyous scene of civilians celebrating their liberation after years of German occupation before and the village of Armolé proved to be no exception. Shouting, laughing, crying, and dancing were all intermingled as the civilians pulled the soldiers into their outstretched arms to share their happiness.
In between receiving kisses from several pretty young women and taking a swig from an offered bottle of wine, Saunders watched an older gentleman weave his way through the crowd. The man exchanged words of joy and gratitude with the people he passed as he adjusted his sash of office.
When he was close enough to be heard, he called, "AMERICANS! WE GIVE WELCOME TO YOU TO ARMOLÉ. I AM CHARLES VERSAL, DE MAYOR. WHO IS DE COMMANDING OFFICER?"
Saunders extricated himself from the small crowd surrounding him and approached the mayor. "I'm Sgt. Saunders. Sir, this isn't the liberation…"
But, before the sergeant could explain, the mayor rushed over to where Caje was still being held by the woman from the park bench.
[Oh, Charles, I am so happy. Look, my Paul has returned! The war is over! Tomorrow we shall be wed,] she joyously announced.
He gently took her hand. [Jeanette, you must let this soldier go. He is not your Paul.]
She laughed. [Don't be silly. Of course he is. He returned just as he said he would, when the church bell rang at noon.]
[Jeanette, do you remember what Paul was wearing when he left?]
[Of course, his uniform; the uniform of the French Army,] she proudly responded. [Just like you, Charles Versal.]
[I remember it well, the red trousers and dark blue jacket. We all looked so dashing. But, Jeanette, look at this soldier. Look at his uniform. Is this the uniform of Paul Laureate?]
She was clearly confused as she looked from the mayor to Caje. [But, I called to him…]
The Cajun, having listened to the conversation, said, [The fault is mine, Madame. My name is Paul…but Paul LeMay, not Laureate.] He and the mayor exchanged glances.
[Oh…Oh, I beg your pardon. Please forgive me,] she said as she took a step back.
[There is nothing to forgive, Madame…] Caje reached for her other hand and kissed it. […I wish I were your Paul.]
As the woman returned to her bench, Saunders joined Caje and the mayor. The three men watched the woman sit down and again scan the paths. But, after a few moments she stood and slowly walked out of the park. The happy revelers stopped for a moment to step out of her way, the men doffing their caps and the women giving small curtsies.
Kirby, who had also wandered over, stood watching the little scene. "What is she, some sorta princess?" he asked.
"In a way, Monsieur. Mme. Jeanette Mourell and her family live in de village for many, many years. Dey own de bakery and her fader, M. Mourell was mayor until he die, like his fader and grandfader before him. It does not matter who you are, de Mourell family always provide bread in trade or even for free when times dey are difficult. Now, de village take care of Mme. Jeanette while she wait for de return of her betrothed, Paul Laureate."
"He's a soldier in the French army?" the sergeant asked.
The mayor gave a sad smile. "Oui. He join his unit when de government declare war and he write Jeanette every day. De last letter she receive is written de 20th of February…1916. Paul defend Fort Douaumont, outside Verdun. It fall to de Boche five days later."
Kirby scowled. "Verdun? 1916? That's the Great War! An' she ain't heard from him since then? Don't she realize he's dead?"
"She promise him to wait, Monsieur. She does not promise to wait for only a day. When he does not come one day, she believe he come de next. She wait as de years dey pass, day by day."
Caje and Kirby contemplated the mayor's tragic story from another war for a moment before drifting off to join the rest of the villagers. Their happy celebration for what they believed, for them at least, was the end of the current war was continuing unabated.
The sergeant, however, remained focused on the mission.
"Mr. Mayor, this isn't the liberation. We think the Krauts…er Boche…are gonna try to break through our lines. We're here to watch for them, in case they come this way. You should evacuate the village for a few days until we know for sure what they're up to. We'll need a tall building to use as an observation post."
Versal looked shocked. He had thought his little village had escaped the war undamaged. He grimly nodded as he took in the full meaning of what the American sergeant was telling him.
"De bell tower," he finally said. "It stand alone beside de church and it is from dere de Boche also keep watch. If you leave de village and den return carefully so you are not seen it would be best. I meet you dere in dirty minutes and unlock for you de door."
Saunders nodded. "ALRIGHT, SADDLE UP," he shouted to his men who were scattered among the villagers enjoying their hospitality.
"Aw Sarge, how come we gotta leave?" Kirby asked as he nuzzled the neck of a pretty young French woman who was giving only minimal resistance with laughing cries of, "Oh, Monsieur Kerby!"
"'Cause I said so. NOW GET GOIN'! Caje, take the point!" the NCO growled as he signaled the squad to move out.
Amid waves of good-bye and shouts of "MERCI" and "BON CHANCE" from the villagers, the men reluctantly followed their sergeant.
Once they were beyond the town and out of sight its residents, Saunders called a halt. "Alright, listen up. We're gonna circle back an' come in near the church. I don't want us to be seen, so watch yourselves an' be quiet."
"Sarge, why don't you want the people in the village to know we've come back?" Billy asked.
"Two reasons, Nelson. First, if nobody knows we're there, any collaborators can't point us out to the Krauts if they come back. And second, if the Krauts do come back, we don't want them taking retribution on the civilians for sheltering us."
Billy and the rest of the men nodded in understanding. With no more questions, the squad began their stealthy return to the town and its bell tower.
They had almost reached their destination without detection when Mme. Mourell stepped out the back door of her home. Having no interest in the celebration which continued in the park, she had returned to the combination bakery and family residence.
Saunders looked around to be sure nobody else was watching before he said, "Caje, tell her that she needs to keep quiet about us. Tell her she can't tell anyone! Make sure she understands."
"Right, Sarge." The Cajun moved to Mme. Mourell's side and spoke quietly to her. [Madame, it is important for your safety and that of the other villagers that nobody else knows we are here. You must keep our presence a secret! Will you do that?"]
She looked at the soldiers. Their young faces were tense and solemn, just as Paul's and the rest of the men who had left the village on that beautiful August day had been. She gave a sad smile. "Oui," she said. [The secret of your presence is safe with me.]
()()()()()()()()()()
At 0800 the next morning, Saunders once again reported to King Two that all was quiet.
When it was their turn to keep watch, the sergeant and the scout looked down on the village and could see the civilians go about their daily routine. Even if the mayor had told them, nobody, it seemed, had taken the NCO's advice and left. Otherwise, the two men continued to scan the fields and scattered woodlands surrounding the village for any sign of Krauts. A little before noon, the Cajun watched as Mme. Mourell entered the park.
"Sarge, it's almost noon. Do we stay here while de priest rings de bell?"
Saunders shook his head and he and Caje hastily left their perch and joined the rest of the men standing on the winding staircase just out of sight of the priest. When the last peal had died away, Kirby, Littlejohn and Billy returned to the floor of the bell tower and the sergeant and scout climbed back up the stairs.
Once again they looked for any sign of Kraut activity, but all remained quiet. Neither man could resist watching the park. They saw several children approach Mme. Mourell and give her small parcels.
'That,' Saunders thought, 'must be what the mayor meant by the village taking care of her. Those are probably little packages of food.'
Nothing changed until late in the afternoon when Billy suddenly came running down the steps. "Sarge! You better come take a look at this!"
Saunders, followed closely by Caje and Kirby, climbed the steps. Littlejohn handed the binoculars to the NCO.
"Look just at the tree line at about two o'clock," he said as he pointed.
The sergeant watched for several minutes as tanks, artillery pieces and soldiers slowly emerged. He handed the field glasses to Caje and switched on the radio.
"King Two, this is White Rook. Do you read me? Over."
"Yes, White Rook, loud and clear. Over."
"King Two, we have activity east of current position. Over."
"Are they approaching or moving to another location? Over."
"Unknown at this time. Over."
"White Rook, wait one. Over."
The men waited anxiously, knowing that Lt. Hanley was checking with Cpt. Jampel for orders. Finally, the radio crackled again.
"White Rook, hold your current position until you have determined direction and size of force. Do you Roger? Over."
"Roger, King Two. Will maintain current position. White Rook over and out." Saunders turned to his men. "You heard him. We wait. Make sure your gear is packed up; we might be leaving in a hurry. Caje an' I'll take over up here. If the Krauts send a patrol to secure this bell tower, the rest of you make sure nobody gets in."
"Right, Sarge," Littlejohn said firmly.
The soldiers were quiet as they made their way down the stairs. After putting on their knapsacks, the three men began moving some of the boxes and barrels that were stored on the ground floor into position to provide cover should they have to defend the bell tower. When they were satisfied, they settled in to watch the door and wait.
"Do you think they'll come?" Nelson whispered.
"I don't know, Billy," Littlejohn responded.
"How long do we have to hold them off?"
"Just long enough for the Sarge to get a message back to Hanley," Kirby said. He knew they would surprise the first Germans who tried to enter, but that all it would take to overcome them was a single grenade.
High above them, Caje and Saunders also waited and watched. Shadows lengthened as the sun continued its journey toward the horizon. At last there was some movement. Four tanks and a battery of artillery along with what the NCO estimated was a company of infantry started down the road toward the village. The rest of the Krauts continued moving east.
Saunders called in the information, then he and the Cajun once again waited for orders. This time, the delay seemed interminable; even the usually self-possessed scout began to fidget. When they finally received the message to 'fall back,' the Krauts were already entering the village.
The two men ran down the stairs. "Saddle up," Saunders said as soon as they were within sight of the bottom.
Kirby cautiously opened the door. The street looked empty. He slipped out, followed quickly by the others with Saunders pausing just long enough to make sure the door locked behind them. They approached the first intersection. Krauts were already there, probably the same soldiers who had previously occupied the village so they were familiar with the layout.
The men turned back and tried another route. It, too, was blocked. Once again they changed direction, this time heading not toward their own lines, but in the direction of the enemy's. They began to make their way down the alley they had used when they had initially snuck back into the village. Then, up ahead, they hear the sound of men approaching.
They turned to head back when, suddenly, a familiar figure appeared, standing in the frame of her back door.
[Paul, come in here,] Jeanette Mourell quietly said as she signaled the men to enter her home.
Caje looked at Saunders. He nodded. They had nowhere else to go.
She led them through the tiny family living space into the more expansive bakery. The doors of the massive ovens were closed and cold and the cooling racks were all bare. A second door led to the shop with its display cases which, at one time, would have been filled with bread, rolls and cakes. But now they, like the work area, were empty. Mme. Mourell closed the connecting door.
[You will be safe in here,] she told the scout.
"Caje, thank her," the sergeant said.
Jeanette nodded in response as she returned to the residence, closing the door behind her.
All was quiet as the men prepared to wait until the Krauts had settled in. Saunders and Caje took up positions by the doors while Kirby paced and Littlejohn and Billy sat in a corner talking quietly. The sergeant thought that once the Krauts finished securing the village he would be able to lead his men to safety.
But, the quiet didn't last. Even with no windows and two walls between them and the street, they could hear fists pounding on doors as the Germans went from building to building, rousting the village residents from their beds and checking each shop and home. It was only a matter of time, they all knew, before the Krauts would be at the bakery door.
()()()()()()()()()()
"BAM, BAM, BAM." The sound of a fist banging brought Mme. Mourell scurrying from the living quarters through the workroom. She didn't look at the men as she hurried to the door to the shop, opened it quickly and slipped through. Caje leaned against it, hoping to hear what was said but not daring to open it even a crack. Saunders stood at his side, while the other three men were at the opposite door, ready to flee the instant the NCO gave the signal.
Mme. Mourell opened the shop door. "Oui," she said, looking up at a Boche sergeant and the two soldiers who stood on either side of him.
[Frau, step aside. We need to search the premises,] the sergeant said as he and his men pushed past her.
They quickly scanned the empty shop. [Where does this door lead?] the sergeant asked as his hand reached for the doorknob.
[To the bakery workroom, but please don't open the door,] she politely responded in the German she had learned during the years of occupation. [I am heating the room so the dough will rise in case Col. von Metz brings me flour. He is very fond of my bread.]
The sergeant froze, his hand hanging in mid-air.
[If you want to search the rest of the house, you could go around to the back door,] she offered.
The sergeant slowly withdrew his hand. [That won't be necessary, Frau. I'm sure everything is in order. I will let Col. von Metz know you are expecting him when he arrives. Good night.]
[Good night,] she said as she closed and bolted the door behind them.
In the work area, the Americans breathed a collective sigh of relief as they heard the Krauts leave.
When Mme. Mourell entered she gave them a sly smile and said to the Cajun, [I must build a small fire in the oven, just in case Col. von Metz comes. He is very fond of my bread. However, he doesn't know that I spit in every loaf I make for him.]
When Caje translated what she had said, the men couldn't help but chuckle. They might have thought she was crazy to still be waiting for a long-dead boyfriend, but they also realized she was one feisty old lady.
Once the fire was lit, the soldiers added fuel through the night as they rotated the watch. With the Krauts still on the prowl, everyone realized they wouldn't be going anywhere.
()()()()()()()()()()
When Mme. Mourell reappeared at sunrise, Saunders told Caje to ask her if she had an upstairs or an attic with a window.
Jeanette nodded in response to the question and signaled the sergeant to follow her.
"Wait here," the NCO told his men. He didn't need to tell them to be quiet.
She led Saunders and Caje to the ladder to the loft, her bedroom prior to the death of her parents. In the ceiling of the loft was a rope attached to a trap door. When the men pulled the door down, another narrow ladder unfolded. Caje led the way, climbing up into what was little more than a crawl space beneath the roof. But, from two small dormer windows that faced the center of the village, the soldiers had a front row seat to everyone's comings and goings.
No more Krauts arrived, and the force that was assembled didn't seem large enough to mount any serious offensive attack. Therefore, the sergeant wasn't surprised when he reported in at 0800 and was told to continue watching and report if anything changed.
Hanley called back at 1100. The squad was to remain in the village and report any movement or change in German strength until no later than 0230. Then, they were to get out. The brass had learned where the Krauts were massing for their attack. It was thought that the troops at Armolé would be mounting a small diversionary action. Regardless of its purpose, unless the Germans moved out beforehand, the village would be shelled at 0300 just before an attack was launched against the main body of the enemy's forces.
Saunders looked out the dormer window and watched the people of the village once again trying to go about their daily lives in the midst of the occupying army. He signaled Kirby, who had taken over for Caje at the second window, to follow him down the ladder to the loft and then to the bakery. The NCO told the rest of the men the orders Hanley had just given him.
"Sarge, the village is still filled with people. We can't shell it," Littlejohn said in dismay.
Saunders had warned the mayor and now his worst fears would be realized. Old men, women and children, along with the Krauts, would be killed in their sleep. There was no way to get to Versal and have the village evacuated without arousing the suspicion of the Germans.
"Sarge, what are we gonna do? We've gotta warn them," Billy said, his eyes filled with both concern and horror as he contemplated what was going to happen.
The men had all seen villages destroyed by both German and American shelling and they had also seen the dead civilians who had been caught in the onslaught. But, it had been always been after the fact, not people they had danced and drank with only two days previously. This was yet another cruel aspect of war they were being forced to face.
"Sarge?" Littlejohn pleaded, as if Saunders had the power to stop the shells from falling on the unsuspecting villagers.
But, the sergeant knew he didn't have that power. The only way to stop the impending shelling was to report that the Germans had moved out of the village, and that was not something he would do.
'But maybe there's still a way to evacuate the village,' he thought.
"Caje, ask Mme. Mourell if she'll be going to the park at noon?"
()()()()()()()()()()
At the sound of the bell, Mme. Jeanette Mourell looked up, her eyes searching the paths for the return of her beloved. But today, she saw only Boche soldiers, not the colorful uniforms of the French army, the uniform her Paul had worn with such pride.
After the echo of the last bell had died away, she thought, 'Tomorrow; I am sure Paul will return tomorrow.'
A small boy approached her with a package. She smiled at him and whispered as he lay the gift in the basket in her lap, [Petit, tell your mother the village will be shelled at three o'clock in the morning. Before then, you must quietly slip away. Tell her to warn the others. Can you remember that?]
The child looked at her, wide-eyed. But, the war had made him older than his tender years. "Oui, Mme. Mourell," he said. [Three in the morning; I will tell her.] The little boy ran away, skirting the Boche soldiers who wandered around the park.
Two of those soldiers approached her. They remembered her from when they had previously been stationed in the village and had brought her a link of sausage from their rations. She reminded them of their mothers back home in Germany, the same age, the same proper decorum. No words were exchanged as they lay the offering in her basket. She only nodded in acknowledgement.
Once they had left, two more children approached, each carrying a small parcel and each leaving with a message for their mother or grandparent. When her time in the park was over, Mme. Mourell stood and walked slowly back to the bakery. Everyone she passed knew that the next day she would return to continue her vigil.
Saunders had watched the entire scene unfold from a dormer window.
"Dat's all we can do, Sarge," Caje said.
The NCO nodded. He hoped it was enough. At 0200 he made his last report. Nothing had changed; he knew that at 0300 the village of Armolé would at last feel the full brunt of the war.
()()()()()()()()()()
Caje and Mme. Mourell had been quietly arguing for the past hour. She refused to go with the soldiers when they made their escape. Nothing the Cajun said convinced her to leave. She was determined to stay, to sit out the barrage that would surely destroy the village. The men had talked among themselves about gagging her and carrying her with them when they left, but without Doc along to give her a shot of morphine, the possibility of her making noise and alerting the Krauts to their presence was too great.
None of them could understand why she refused to leave. They couldn't understand that she had made a promise to be waiting in the park at noon for the return of her beloved Paul. She couldn't understand that after the shelling there probably wouldn't be a park or a bakery.
Caje tried again as Saunders looked at his watch. [Please, Madame, please come with us. The village will be destroyed by the shelling.]
"Non," she said with a sad smile, [I will be here waiting when Paul returns today at noon.]
"Caje, tell her Paul ain't comin', that he's long dead and that's how she's gonna be if she don't come with us," Kirby said.
The Cajun pleaded with her, but still she refused.
Saunders looked at the scout. "You tried. It's time to go."
The men slipped out the back door. She closed it behind them and whispered, "Bon chance!" for them and for herself.
The sergeant led them down the alley to the corner. He paused and listened; all was quiet. The village was very dark. There wasn't even a sliver of a moon to light their way and all of the buildings were as black as the night. They quietly made their way to the end of the next block. Only one more to go and they would reach the end of the village and then the safety of the fields.
The guard patrolling the village perimeter was almost upon them before they heard his footsteps. He must have also paused to listen for a moment. The squad members pushed their backs against the doorways of the last block, trying to sink even deeper into the shadows.
Caje slipped his bayonet from its scabbard and held it loosely in his hand. He still couldn't see the sentry; his only guide was the man's footsteps as they drew closer. All of the Americans held their breath. The Kraut passed by and continued down the road. He had escaped death, at least for the moment.
They made it past the last building and over a stone wall on the other side of the narrow dirt road. Once they reached the open field, they changed direction and headed toward their own lines at a run.
Shortly after 0300 the American artillery opened up on the village of Armolé. After the shelling had ceased, the soldiers could hear the rumble of another barrage aimed at another target miles away.
()()()()()()()()()()
Two days of heavy fighting passed before First Squad was again sent out as part of a mopping up operation. From a distance, Saunders looked through the binoculars and surveyed the village that lay ahead. Sometimes, from afar, it was hard to tell if a village had been damaged. But, even without looking, he knew Armolé had been. He signaled his men to spread out as they carefully approached.
It looked like all of the other shelled villages they had passed through and four members of the detail the sergeant was leading wouldn't have given it a second thought if they hadn't seen this particular town before.
However, instead of finding a village in mourning for all of the citizens that had been killed in the barrage, they were once again greeted with shouts of joy, for this was the true liberation.
The mayor, M. Versal, was adjusting his sash of office as he once more came out to greet them. He told them that all of the residents had safely evacuated except for the family of a collaborator who had not been warned ahead of time.
"And Mme. Mourell?" Saunders asked. He, like the other members of First Squad whose lives she had saved, was eager but also dreading to hear what had happened to her.
M. Versal smiled. "It is almost noon. She wait in the park for her Paul."
"Ya think he's gonna show up?" Kirby cynically asked.
The mayor looked around at his destroyed village. "If not today, perhaps tomorrow. Sometimes, Monsieur, hope is all we have."
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Historical Note: On February 21, 1916 German forces began a major assault against the French in front of Verdun with the goal of inflicting so many casualties that France would be forced out of the war. The offensive opened with a bombardment lasting seven hours. The German infantry attacked in the late afternoon with specially trained troops using grenades and flamethrowers to clear French soldiers from their dugouts and bunkers. By February 23th, French battalions in the forward defenses had been reduced to a half or third of their initial strength and were running out of ammunition and food. The Germans pressed forward through the outer trench zone toward the forts around Verdun. On February 25th, Fort Douaumont, the largest of the forts, was taken by the 24th Brandenburg Regiment. It was retaken by the French on October 24th. It is estimated that 162,440 French and 143,000 German soldiers were killed in the battle for Verdun which lasted until December 1916. Source: World War I: From Sarajevo to Versailles, Editorial Consultant: Richard Overy.