17
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.
Nightmare
by: Queen's Bishop
2020 © Reg. No. TXu 2-235-903
[] Indicates French or German is being spoken, depending on the character.
- Indicates an imagined voice.
()()()() Indicates a shift in time or the focus of the story has changed
to a different location or character.
…Suddenly, I'm flyin' through the air. I have the strangest thought, 'They say ya never hear the one that gets ya.' Did I hear it?
I hit the ground, hard…
Kirby's eyes popped open. He was surrounded by blackness, not a single crack of light anywhere …and not a sound, not a single solitary sound.
'So, this is what it's like to be dead,' he thought.
He could feel the wood beneath him. There wasn't a lot of space but he could move his hands out a little and feel the wood at his sides. He lifted his hands and rubbed his knuckles across the wood just above him.
'I always thought it would be different.'
He closed his eyes again and just lay there…dead.
RUN!
My heart's poundin'. Between the shellin' an' the small arms fire, I can't hear nothin'. I can't think. All I can do is…RUN!
I wheel around an' fire a burst from the BAR.
'I'm gonna lie here for all eternity, relivin' that nightmare,' he thought. 'Those last few moments…'
I see Billy go down. Saunders is there an' pulls him up. He twists an' fires a burst. He looks at me an' his eyes are pleadin' for me to give 'em some cover fire.
'Over and over…those last few moments…'
I pull the trigger, but…NOTHIN'. I'm outa ammo! I fumble for another mag, but my hands are shakin' so bad, I can't get it loaded.
'I wonder if that's what they're doin' right now, relivin' those last few moments…'
Saunders looks at me again. He's half draggin', half carryin' Billy.
'…those last few moments when I let 'em down…when I got 'em killed.'
I CAN'T GET THE DAMN MAG LOADED! I hear Billy scream. I can't look…
RUN!
Suddenly, I'm flyin' through the air. I have the strangest thought, 'They say ya never hear the one that gets ya.' Did I hear it?
I hit the ground, hard…
Over and over, he relived the nightmare until, ever so slowly, the realization came to him that he wasn't dead. He had let his comrades down and he might wish he were…but he wasn't.
He felt the wood all around him again. No, he wasn't dead, but he was…IN A COFFIN!
Kirby screamed.
()()()()()()()()()()
He didn't know whether he had passed out or just fallen asleep; maybe a little of both. How long he lay there, he couldn't tell. Was it still the same day, or was it yesterday he let them down and it was tomorrow already?
After a while, he thought about his family, his mother, his brother, George, and his little sister, Ruthie. He would never see them again. He had always hoped that maybe he would.
'I wonder if Ma's been notified?' he thought.
He didn't have much room but he was able to move his hands onto his thighs and then to draw them up along his body to his neck. He found the chain with his dog tags and pulled it through his fingers. They were both still there, so he hadn't been put in the coffin by Graves Registration.
'The Krauts musta done it…put me in this coffin when I ain't even dead. That was pretty sloppy of 'em,' he thought.
"HEY, KRAUTS, YA SHOULDA CHECKED, 'CAUSE I AIN'T DEAD YET!" he yelled.
Silence.
Maybe he hadn't yelled loud enough. He tried again, but still, only silence. He thought of an old saying and changed it to fit the occasion.
"IF OL' WILLIAN G. KIRBY YELLS FROM A COFFIN AN' NOBODY HEARS HIM, IS HE STILL ALIVE?"
Silence.
That struck him as funny, so he started to laugh…and then…he started to cry.
()()()()()()()()()()
I see Billy go down. Saunders is there an' pulls him up. He twists an' fires a burst. He looks at me an' his eyes are pleadin' for me to give 'em some cover fire.
I pull the trigger, but…NOTHIN'. I'm outa ammo! I fumble for another mag, but my hands are shakin' so bad, I can't get it loaded.
Saunders looks at me again. He's half draggin', half carryin' Billy.
I CAN'T GET THE DAMN MAG LOADED! I hear Billy scream. I can't look…
Kirby thought he must have passed out again. He didn't know how long it had been. Was it only an hour…two…a day? But, in the meantime, nothing had changed. He was still laying there…in the dark …alive…with those final awful moments running over and over through his head.
'Better get used to it,' he thought, ''Cause this is the way it's gonna be 'til ya are dead.'
He began to think about how he would eventually die, in that coffin, already buried, no muss, no fuss. He didn't have any pain, other than a headache. He decided he hadn't been wounded, so he wasn't going to bleed to death or die of infection. Okay, he would starve to death or die of thirst. Either of those would probably take days, maybe even a week. Couldn't it be sooner? He knew he would go crazy if he had to wait around to die, lying in that box, for a whole week.
Then it hit him. He would suffocate. He would use up all the air and wouldn't be able to breathe, except…it wasn't hard to breathe at all. In fact, it felt like there was cool air coming in around his head. He moved his hands up to his face. Yes, he could feel the air. He moved his hands to the sides of the coffin at his head. He couldn't rotate them all the way or move them very far, but he could definitely feel holes in the wood with the back of his knuckles and the tips of his fingers.
'Whoever heard of a coffin with air holes? The Krauts must be tryin' to torture me 'cause nobody could be that sloppy.' He bit his lower lip. 'They're doin' a damn good job of it,' he thought.
Then he felt something else…a pillow. His head was lying on a pillow. And, it smelled like…What? Those little bags his ma put in her bureau with her undergarments. He remembered the smell from when he used to slip a few dollars into her secret stash so he wouldn't have to explain to her where the money had come from.
Okay, if he wasn't going to suffocate, he resigned himself to having to wait a week or so before hunger or thirst did him in. He decided to pass the time until he died by trying to remember how he had ended up in a coffin with a pillow that smelled like, well, like his ma's drawers, because having the pillow sort of ruled out the Krauts.
He didn't need to remember the part where he let Saunders and Nelson down; he already knew that piece too well. But he thought if he began before that, he might be able to remember what had happened afterward, how he had ended up in the coffin. In his mind, he traveled back to the morning when they started the mission. Everything about that morning was crystal clear.
()()()()()()()()()()
"Hey, Kirby, are ya gonna eat that can of minced ham?" the big moose asked.
I grinned and said, "What'll ya give me for it?"
"Littlejohn, I've got a minced ham ya can have," Billy offered.
"Thanks, Billy." the big moose scowled at me before gettin' up to sit by Nelson.
'Wait a minute,' Kirby thought. 'If you're gonna do this, at least be honest about it. Ya gotta go back further than that mornin'. Ya gotta go back to the night before.' He closed his eyes and sighed. 'Alright, the night before…'
At midnight, me an' Caje slipped into the two foxholes, twenty yards apart, that Nelson an' Littlejohn had just crawled outa. We was on guard duty for the next three hours.
There wasn't any moon an' the darkness seemed to push in on me, makin' it hard for me to breathe. It wasn't that I was scared of the dark, not me, not ol' William G. Kirby, but still, I didn't like bein' all alone, surrounded by it.
'Kinda like I am now,' he thought.
Luckily, I had a little somethin' that would take away that uneasiness an' keep me alert as I stared into the blackness. I pulled out the bottle of cognac I'd found three days earlier when we was checkin' out a village. I'd kept it hidden from the Sarge for just such an occasion. Over the next two an' a half hours, I slowly emptied that bottle.
Me an' Caje walked back to our billet in silence after Saunders an' Thorn relieved us. If Caje knew I'd nursed that bottle of cognac through our watch, he kept it to himself. But I didn't think he realized 'cause ol' Caje had told me before (1) that it ain't right for a soldier to take a nip or two when he was on duty, even if it was only to help him steady his nerves or for medicinal purposes.
It was early mornin' when Brockmeyer came an' roused the squad. Saunders was just back from guard duty an' he told us to grab our gear an' meet in front of the CP as soon as we was ready to go an' that we should eat some K-rations while we waited. Then he grabbed his pack an' left the billet to find the lieutenant.
The Sarge's knapsack was still sittin' beside a tree where he'd dropped it more than forty minutes earlier. Saunders, Hanley an' Hanley's jeep was nowhere to be seen. Nobody said it, but we all knew that it wasn't good news that the lieutenant an' the Sarge had not only left, but been gone for so long.
"Hey, Kirby, are ya gonna eat that can of minced ham or just stare at it?" Littlejohn asked.
I growled, "What's it to ya?" My head was poundin' an' I was in no mood to talk to that big moose.
"Littlejohn, I've got a minced ham ya can have," Billy offered.
"Thanks, Billy." Littlejohn gave me a questioning look before movin' to sit by Nelson.
When he finally got back, Saunders sat on a log an' opened a can of rations. The squad, even me, waited, givin' him the chance to eat somethin' before he delivered the bad news, 'cause, we all knew it was gonna be bad news.
But, before he took a mouthful he said, "Littlejohn an' Thorn, double basic loada ammo; Nelson, radio; Kirby, grenades; Whitney, rations for a day; Doc, get whatever ya need. Everybody, fill your canteens."
As we scattered to pick up the supplies, I looked back. Saunders had set the can down on the log an' pulled out his map. Caje was squatted beside him, an' they was both hunched over, discussin' it.
Saunders ate a couplea mouthfuls of food while he waited for the rest of the squad to return. When we was all back, he tossed the can away.
"Alright, listen up."
We gathered 'round.
"First Platoon's Third Squad, code named Red Knight, didn't come back from their reconnaissance patrol yesterday. No radio transmission, nothin'. We're gonna go look for 'em. Lt. Coates will lead First Platoon's First Squad. Their code name is Blue Knight. That squad will travel the last half of the route Red Knight should've followed. We'll do the first half an' meet 'em at a spot called King's Castle, unless one of us runs into Red Knight first. Any questions?"
"Sarge, was Red Knight lookin' for anything in particular?" Littlejohn asked.
"Yeah, the Kraut OP line, so keep your eyes open," Saunders replied.
"Looks like they found it," I said under my breath, 'cause all I wanted was to go back to the billet and get a couple more hours of sleep.
The BAR man halted his recollection to justify his condition to himself. "Okay, so maybe I was a little hung over when we left…"
-Maybe!?- Saunders suddenly asked sarcastically.
'How'd he get into my head?' Kirby thought. "Well, it ain't like it made a difference," he responded.
-We'll see,- the sergeant said. -Continue tellin' the story.-
Kirby took a deep breath and continued.
Hanley come outa the CP an' Saunders walked over to talk to him. I always wondered what the lieutenant said to him when the squad was goin' out on a mission 'cause when they finished talkin', it seemed like the Sarge always nodded an' smiled.
Then Saunders said, "Alright, saddle up. Caje, take the point, Kirby, the rear." He signaled Caje an' we moved out.
Kirby stopped thinking about what had happened. He was thirsty and before that could become his cause of death, he suddenly wondered if he still had his canteen. He had felt his web belt as he brought his hands up to his neck. Now he moved them back down his chest to the belt. He unhooked it and began to slowly pull it around until finally the canteen was sitting almost on the front of his left hip. He couldn't take it any further around as there wasn't enough clearance with the top of the coffin. But, he was able to open the pouch and wiggle the canteen until it was finally in his hand.
He unscrewed the cap. As he started to maneuver it to get a drink, it dawned on him that there also wasn't enough clearance for him to lift his head to take a swallow or to move the canteen to his face and tilt it so some of the water would run into his open mouth. He lay there holding the open container at his side as the dryness of his throat and lips rapidly became unbearable.
The BAR man sighed and closed his eyes. 'Havin' the canteen an' not bein' able to get to the water is worse than not havin' it at all,' he thought.
He was about to put the cap back on when he got an idea. He held the container tightly in his left hand so it didn't tip over and spill the precious liquid while he felt the pockets of his field jacket for his handkerchief with his right. He found it. The cloth could have been cleaner, but it would have to do.
His fingers found one corner of the wad of material and he held onto it as he shook the kerchief open. He moved it to the waiting canteen and stuffed the corner and about three inches of fabric into the opening. He couldn't remember how much water he had drunk during the mission, but still he was surprised when only about an inch of material was wet when he carefully withdrew it. He pushed the end of the handkerchief back into the canteen, adding another inch or so of material.
This time when he withdrew the fabric, he moved it to his mouth as quickly as he could. He closed his eyes and sucked on the wet corner of the handkerchief for a long time as he returned to his memory of the mission.
We'd walked for about two hours, most of it in silence, when suddenly the radio crackled. Saunders signaled a halt an' waved Billy forward.
Blue Knight reported they'd reached their first objective, code named Nan. The Sarge said we was approachin' How, our first checkpoint. Neither squad had seen any sign of Red Knight.
We took a ten-minute break when we reached How while Saunders an' Caje went over the map. When they was ready to go, the Sarge spread the squad out, with me an' Thorn movin' off on the left flank an' Nelson an' Littlejohn on the right. Whitney an' Doc stayed in the center with him an' Caje was still on point. He told us to keep our eyes open as we headed for checkpoint Item.
At Item, Saunders reported in that there was still no sign of Red Knight or of any Krauts. On the other side of the route, Blue Knight was also drawin' a blank.
We was halfway done an' we all started gettin' nervous.
"I remember that," Kirby said. "We was all real jumpy."
The Sarge rotated our positions, puttin' Caje an' Whitney off to the right. He moved over to the left flank with Billy an' Littlejohn was on point. I was in the middle with Thorn an' Doc.
The BAR man gave a small nod. "Yeah, that's how it was as we headed for Jig, the last checkpoint before King's Castle."
Kirby stopped. He had been remembering what had happened for what seemed like hours, and all that thinking hadn't helped his headache. He decided to take a break because, after all, he had the rest of his life to finish, and he knew what was coming.
He twisted the cap off the canteen and dipped the handkerchief in again. Once he had the wet end in his mouth, he closed his eyes while the cool drops of water trickled down his dry throat.
()()()()()()()()()()
RUN!
My heart's poundin'. Between the shellin' an' the small arms fire, I can't hear nothin'. I can't think. All I can do is…RUN!
I wheel around an' fire a burst from the BAR.
I see Billy go down. Saunders is there an' pulls him up. He twists an' fires a burst. He looks at me an' his eyes are pleadin' for me to give 'em some cover fire.
I pull the trigger, but…NOTHIN'. I'm outa ammo! I fumble for another mag, but my hands are shakin' so bad, I can't get it loaded.
Saunders looks at me again. He's half draggin', half carryin' Billy.
I CAN'T GET THE DAMN MAG LOADED! I hear Billy scream. I can't look…
RUN!
Suddenly, I'm flyin' through the air. I have the strangest thought, 'They say ya never hear the one that gets ya.' Did I hear it?
I hit the ground, hard…
Kirby jerked up and banged his forehead on the top of the coffin.
'I musta dozed off,' he thought, 'an' the nightmare was waitin' for me as soon as I closed my eyes.'
He lay there in the dark for a long time before giving a big sigh. 'Alright, I might as well face it,' he thought.
-Hold on a minute. I thought this was gonna be a true story,- Saunders mockingly said.
"It is. I'm tellin' it like it happened…" Kirby suddenly stopped talking and, after another sigh and a shake of his head, he said, "Okay, I guess you're right. I wasn't bein' totally honest 'bout what happened."
-No, not totally,-the sergeant replied, emphasizing the word.
Kirby backed up a bit in his recollection.
Saunders called a halt an' walked over to me. "Kirby, what's the problem? You an' Thorn ain't keepin' up," he quietly growled.
I was about to blame the kid, but with them blue eyes starin' right into me, I said, "I don't know, Sarge. I guess my mind's on other things."
"Well, GET with it! You an' Thorn, move to the center. Caje, you an' Whitney take the right flank. Nelson, you're on me. Littlejohn, take the point." Saunders gave me one more hard look before addin', "Let's go."
Caje looked at me an' shook his head in disgust.
Kirby squeezed his eyes shut and pondered the scout's reaction. "What, Caje? Were ya thinkin' I ain't a good soldier 'cause I took a drink last night when we was on guard duty? Listen, what happened next got nothin' to do with that."
-Are you sure, mon ami?- the Cajun asked.
"YEAH, I'M SURE. NOTHIN', YA HEAR ME, NOTHIN'!" he shouted.
Silence.
There was no-one to hear his denial.
We continued on toward Jig.
Suddenly, Saunders yelled, "HIT IT!"
Maybe Billy seen what the Sarge seen, or knew why he had suddenly yelled out the warnin', but the rest of us didn't. But, we didn't have to. Me, Caje, Littlejohn, Doc an' Billy immediately threw ourselves to the ground. Caje pulled Whitney down with him. Doc tried to grab Thorn, but the kid was more than an arm's length away. A Kraut machine gun got him before he even realized what was happenin'.
It was all we could do to hold 'em off in those first moments. Saunders musta figured that it was just a mattera time before we was overrun.
"FALL BACK…FALL BACK!" he yelled. "BILLY, RADIO….
"KING SIX, THIS IS WHITE ROOK. COME IN KING SIX…
"KING SIX, THIS IS WHITE ROOK. WE'RE UNDER ATTACK AT JIG. REPEAT, WE'RE UNDER ATTACK AT JIG. REQUEST IMMEDIATE ARTILLERY THIS POSITION…"
King Six musta said he was gonna have the artillery open up, 'cause the Sarge kept yellin', "FALL BACK…FALL BACK!"
Caje an' Whitney gave cover fire as Littlejohn pulled back. Then the three of 'em began to leap-frog as they retreated.
"DOC, KEEP DOWN!" I yelled as I fired the BAR almost continuously.
We was crawlin', zigzaggin', lookin' for cover, turnin' and firin' as we tried to put some distance between us an' that dug-in Kraut position. We was desperate.
RUN…TURN…FIRE…Whitney stumbled but Littlejohn pulled him up…RUN…TURN…FIRE…my heart was poundin'…sweat was stingin' my eyes…my lungs was pumpin' like bellows…RUN…TURN…FIRE…Billy got hit…RUN…TURN…FIRE… Saunders stopped an' pulled him up…
Finally, the artillery opened up…
"THAT AIN'T ALL…THAT AIN'T ALL…" Kirby yelled as he slams his fists over and over again against the bottom of the coffin. "SAY WHAT YA DONE…SAY IT!...Just say it…" Then, with a sob caught in his throat he softly said, "Ya gotta say it."
Again, his outburst was greeted by silence.
Finally, in a low, quiet voice, he admitted to himself what had happened.
"I seen Billy go down. Saunders was there an' pulled him up. The Sarge twisted around an' fired a burst. He looked right at me, an' his eyes was pleadin' for me to give 'em some cover fire.
"I pulled the trigger…honest I did, Sarge. I tried, but nothin' happened. I was outa ammo. I tried to load another mag, but my hands was shakin' so bad, I just couldn't get it loaded…I guess I was too scared.
"ALRIGHT, MAYBE I WAS HUNG OVER AN' THAT'S WHY MY HANDS WAS SHAKIN'! There, I said it...I SAID IT!"
Kirby paused for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to erase the vivid scene from his mind.
"I looked up an' them blue eyes was lookin' right at me. He knew…he knew I'd let 'em down…He knew they weren't gonna make it…Still, he was tryin'…half draggin', half carryin' Billy…tryin' to get the kid to safety.
"I couldn't get that damn mag loaded. I heard Billy scream. I couldn't look…I killed 'em…I KILLED 'EM!…I'M SORRY!…I'M SORRY!…I'M SORRY!
His admission was greeted by silence.
Kirby wept until he passed out.
()()()()()()()()()()
When he had called for the shelling, Saunders knew the squad was too close to Jig. But, it was a risk he had to take if any of them was going to survive. They managed to retreat about two hundred yards before the artillery finally opened up. Most of the shells hit near or beyond the enemy position. A few didn't. One exploded close enough to Kirby to send the BAR man flying through the air.
The remains of the squad continued to fall back, chased by the Krauts who had escaped the artillery barrage. When they reached a position he thought they could defend, Saunders had his remaining men drop behind cover where, ultimately, they were able to beat back the enemy.
()()()()()()()()()()
Kirby hit the ground hard. He was dazed and disoriented. He thought the fighting was over, it was suddenly so quiet. The small battlefield was covered with a smoky haze that seemed to absorb all noise. He struggled to stand. His helmet was gone and the BAR hung uselessly from its strap. As he staggered away, he lifted the weapon over his head and let it fall to the ground.
How he ended up at the farmhouse, Kirby didn't know. He leaned against the doorjamb and pounded weakly with his fist. When the door opened, he fell in, landing on his belly. He lifted his head enough to see two pairs of women's shoes sticking out from beneath long skirts. He lay his head back down on his forearm and closed his eyes.
[American, you must get up. Amélie, help me.]
[I'm trying, Sister, but he's so heavy. Perhaps we should throw some water on him to wake him up.]
Kirby heard the sound of voices and roused himself enough to first roll over and then, with the help of the women, get up off the floor before collapsing into a chair. He looked at them. They were old. Not old like his grandma, but old like his ma. He smiled the innocent, little boy smile that had always gotten him out of trouble with her. Then he closed his eyes again and hoped they would let him stay in their chair and sleep.
()()()()()()()()()()
It wasn't that First Squad had beaten off the remaining Krauts as much as that they had given up the fight. There were only four of them left and the remaining NCO, Cpl. Kurt Vetter, saw no reason to continue pressing the attack and getting themselves killed. So, he had signaled to the other three to withdraw. The shelling was over and they headed back to what was left of their position.
When they retreated, the anger in Vetter and the other soldiers grew as they passed the bodies of their comrades. It had been fine yesterday when they had fallen upon the hapless American squad, killing those soldiers before they even had the chance to raise their weapons in self-defense. But, as the Germans surveyed today's carnage, they decided someone was going to pay. If not the Americans they had just fought, then someone else. It didn't matter who.
The radio was smashed leaving the corporal with no means of communicating with his superiors. He decided they should abandon the destroyed OP and make their way back to their base camp. He signaled the three others to follow him.
()()()()()()()()()()
During the long years of German occupation, this wasn't the first time the two sisters had sheltered someone…Amélie's son, a wounded British pilot, several members of the Resistance, even a young Jewish woman…so they knew exactly what to do.
Lydie went outside and carefully inspected the door, doorjamb and wall to be sure there was no telltale sign that would indicate the presence of the soldier. While she did that, her sister, Amélie, cleaned the floor where the American had laid.
When they were both finished, they went to the bedroom and lifted their bed, tilting it up on its side and leaning it against the wall. Amélie untied a piece of silk cloth that was fastened to the edge of a trundle bed while Lydie moved a small rag rug out of the way. Then they pulled the trundle bed out. It was the bed each of them had slept on when they were little girls, the bed where Lydie's own children had laid before they had either outgrown it or died.
The floor where the trundle bed had been located looked the same as the rest of the floor in the house, unless you examined it closely. There was a bit more space between two of the boards and then again between another two less than a meter away. At the ends, where one plank should butt against the next one, the fittings were not quite as tight as they could be. Of course, it might just be the work of a carpenter who had been in a hurry, except for the long silk scarf that disappeared between two of the boards and came out between another two, almost a meter away.
Amélie and Lydie each grabbed hold of an end of the scarf and lifted up the boards that formed the lid of a box. They grabbed hold of the cover and tilted it until it rested against the upturned legs of the bed.
Amélie's son, Robert, who was their first guest, had built the box. In the cellar, where it extended down below the floor, he had connected it to the back of the wine rack and the shelving that held the preserves his mother and aunt put up each year. In the gloomy basement, full of cobwebs, dust, and piled up crates and old furniture, it didn't stand out.
The women only used the scarf to open the lid when they weren't hiding someone. With one end tied to the trundle bed, if the Boche came when there was no guest, they would yank the scarf from under the lid when they pulled the trundle bed from its storage position beneath the bed.
When they had a guest, they had only to move their bed and the trundle bed and knock on the lid so the person in hiding would know it was safe to push the lid up. Even the wounded British pilot and the young Jewish woman had been able to push the cover up enough so Lydie and Amélie could open it.
The house had been searched numerous times over the years, both when there was someone lying beneath the trundle bed and when there was no guest. The box had never been discovered. If they had a guest, everything was kept ready during the day so the visitor could quickly go into hiding. And, it was where he slept, just in case the Boche arrived in the dead of night.
The sisters tried to explain all this to the American, but the few words of English they had learned from the British pilot were insufficient, and the soldier kept nodding off.
()()()()()()()()()()
The young Germans had just come from a battle. They had heard men scream in agony and seen their friends fall down dead. And, they had been scared, more scared than they had ever been in their entire lives. Now they moved like a pack of angry, wounded animals on the prowl and nothing would satisfy them until they inflected what they had just endured on others…blood, screaming, fear and death.
Although the soldiers knew the location of all of the small farms in the area, they didn't head for any intentionally as they began making their way back to their camp. It was just happenstance that they ended up staring at the tidy little house.
Lydie was watching at the window. The two sisters had half-expected the Boche to be following the American, so they were not surprised. They quickly helped the soldier to stand and led him to the box. He willingly lay down, his head resting on the small pillow filled with lavender.
Kirby smiled up at them again and said, "Thank you, ma'ams or mamozells." He was so tired he was glad to be able to finally lie down and get some sleep.
The two women quickly replaced the cover to the box and set their bed back in place. They pushed the trundle bed under it and replaced the small rag rug. Then they went to the kitchen and, while they waited for the Boche, they busied themselves with the soup they had been making when the American soldier arrived.
The wait wasn't long. There was no polite knock; the door burst open. Amélie got up from the table where she had been sitting as she chopped vegetables and moved to her sister's side.
[What do you want?] she bravely asked, although there was a slight quiver in her voice.
[SHUT UP!] Vetter commanded. [Search the place,] he told the other soldiers.
Two men went down the steps into the basement but quickly returned, each carrying a bottle of wine. The third pulled the trundle bed out until it got caught on the small rag rug. But, not seeing anyone hiding beneath the bed, he didn't bother to look any further.
Amélie and Lydie watched the search in silence. As long as the American kept quiet, the Boche would soon leave, as they always had before.
The two bottles of wine were opened and the soldiers passed them around, quickly emptying them. One of the Boche went back down the cellar steps and returned with two more bottles.
The men looked at the women. One grabbed Lydie's arm and started to pull her away from her sister. Amélie hung onto her, pulling her back. Vetter drew his bayonet and plunged it into Amélie. Lydie looked at her sister in wide-eyed astonishment. Then, she began to scream. The rest of the men pulled out their bayonets and set upon the two women in a frenzy of bloodlust.
It was over before they even thought about what they were doing. The soldiers stood looking down at the two crumpled bodies lying together on the floor in the intermingled pool of blood. None of them said a word. They left the tidy little house as quickly as they had entered it.
()()()()()()()()()()
Lt. Coates heard the frantic call from White Rook and he immediately led his squad toward Jig. But, by the time they approached their objective, the fighting was long over. Suddenly, one of White Rook's men stepped out from behind cover. He didn't say anything as he led them about a quarter mile to the rest of the squad.
The medic was just tying off a bandage on one soldier's shoulder. Several other bloody dressings lay nearby. Another soldier sat with his back against a tree, a far-away look on his young face. The sergeant was squatted down, talking to that soldier, but not getting much of a response.
Coates watched the scene for a few moments before addressing the NCO. "Sergeant, how many men did you lose?"
Saunders stood and turned to face the officer, "Two killed, one wounded, Sir."
The lieutenant nodded. "What happened?"
"We found Red Knight," was all he said. Then he turned to the silent guard who had led Blue Knight to the squad, "Caje, get Littlejohn. Doc, you about finished?"
"Yeah, Sarge, but we're gonna need a litter. Billy's lost a lot of blood."
Coates said, "We'll help you get him back. Lopez, Crandall, put together a litter. Start back with the medic."
"Littlejohn…" Saunders said as the big man approached.
"Yeah, Sarge?"
"You go with them."
"Okay, Sarge." The big man walked over to where Nelson lay and squatted to talk quietly to his young friend.
Saunders looked at Whitney who was still staring off into space. "Whitney," he growled, "on your feet. We're moving out."
The young soldier gave the NCO a blank look then slowly stood.
The sergeant led the First Platoon squad, as well as Caje and Whitney, back toward Jig. As he neared the area where the fighting had erupted he slowed down before finally stopping.
"Are you sure this is the spot, Sergeant?" Coates asked as he looked around.
To his right, Saunders saw Thorn's body. "Yes, Sir."
"I don't see any of the men from Red Knight."
"The Krauts probably moved the bodies, but they're around here somewhere, Sir."
"How can you be so certain, Sergeant?"
Saunders walked forward about ten yards and bent down to pick up a canteen. It was what he had spotted that had caused him to tell his men to hit the ground.
The lieutenant nodded. He made the same assumption Saunders had made in that split second before the Krauts opened fire. The Germans had hidden the bodies of the Americans, as well as their gear, but had overlooked the canteen that one of the Red Knight soldiers had been holding when he died.
"Alright, spread out. When we find them, they'll probably be altogether," he said.
While Coates and his men looked for the remains of the ill-fated Red Knight squad, Saunders joined Caje and Whitney at Thorn's body. They had removed one of his dog tags and pushed his bayoneted rifle into the ground. His helmet rested on the butt of the rifle.
Then the three men began looking for Kirby's body. The sergeant pointed out where he and Nelson had been, and approximately where the BAR man was when the artillery shell exploded. From there they slowly expanded their search until Caje found Kirby's helmet.
"Maybe…maybe the shell hit him an' his helmet flew off an' that's all that's left," Whitney quietly said as he walked back to the crater and gazed into it.
Both the NCO and the scout had seen that happen, but they hated the thought that that was Kirby's fate. They continued to search and their persistence was finally rewarded when Saunders found the BAR some distance from the crater. He and Caje exchanged glances. Although it was hard to imagine Kirby every leaving his weapon behind, the BAR hadn't traveled to the spot where it was found by itself. Either Kirby had voluntarily dropped it or the Krauts had taken it from him. The Cajun examined the weapon. Its mag was missing but otherwise it appeared undamaged. He slipped his head and arm through the strap so that it hung across his back.
Saunders went to talk with Lt. Coates. When the lieutenant called in to HQ, Cpt. Jampel said they could hunt for the missing soldier for two hours, no more. If he wasn't found, they'd assume he was taken prisoner.
From previous air reconnaissance flights, S-2 was able to provide the lieutenant with the location of a couple of small farms in the area. It wasn't much to go on, but it was all they had. Caje took the point, moving briskly but cautiously in the direction of the closest farm. When they reached it, the house and barn were nothing but burned-out shells. After looking around, they headed for the next one. If Kirby wasn't there, they would be out of time and would have to head back.
They approached the tidy little house carefully. It was strange to see a farm left intact, unscathed by the fighting. The only thing out of place was the open front door. Saunders eased his way along the outside wall and cautiously peeked inside. There he saw the terrible truth; nothing in the war was left undamaged. While the rest of the soldiers fanned out and searched the barn and around the buildings looking for Kirby, the sergeant and the scout quietly entered the house and checked the bedroom and the cellar. There was no sign of life. They went back outside and waited for the rest of the men to finish.
"Do we have time to bury dem," Caje asked.
Saunders shrugged his shoulders in a sign of tired defeat. "I don't know. I'll ask the lieutenant."
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RUN!
My heart's poundin'. Between the shellin' an' the small arms fire, I can't hear nothin'. I can't think. All I can do is…RUN!
I wheel around an' fire a burst from the BAR.
I see Billy go down. Saunders is there an' pulls him up. He twists an' fires a burst. He looks at me an' his eyes are pleadin' for me to give 'em some cover fire.
I pull the trigger, but…NOTHIN'. I'm outa ammo! I fumble for another mag, but my hands are shakin' so bad, I can't get it loaded.
Saunders looks at me again. He's half draggin', half carryin' Billy.
I CAN'T GET THE DAMN MAG LOADED! I hear Billy scream. I can't look…
RUN!
Suddenly, I'm flyin' through the air. I have the strangest thought, 'They say ya never hear the one that gets ya.' Did I hear it?
I hit the ground, hard…
Kirby again awoke from the nightmare, but he didn't bother to open his eyes. He knew it wouldn't make any difference. He had remembered everything…his squad mates being killed because of him, the artillery shell sending him flying, waking up and staggering away from the site of the battle until he found the house, the two old ladies and the coffin he had voluntarily laid down in. It had all come back to him. He decided he must have passed out for a while after that because, try as he might, he couldn't remember anything more until he had woken up to find himself in silence and in darkness.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry...I'm sorry…WHAT MORE DO YA WANT?" he yelled.
Caje and Saunders looked at each other and then re-entered the house, yelling, "KIRBY!… KIRBY!…KIRBY!"
The BAR man heard the muffled sound of his name, but he kept quiet. The grim reaper was finally coming for him. He was ready to die, but scared. He waited, knowing Death would eventually find him.
The sergeant and the scout tore the bed apart but found nothing. They moved it aside and were sure he was somehow hidden in the trundle bed, but again, nothing. All the time, they called for him, but got no answer.
When they reached the bare floor, they were at first stymied, but Caje noticed the space between two of the boards. He pushed the tip of his bayonet in and tried to pry the board up.
Saunders went to the kitchen. A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped around the bodies of the two women who had been stabbed to death. He picked up a large knife that lay on the table next to some vegetables and returned to the bedroom.
Together, they were able to pry the top up enough to get their fingers beneath the boards and lift the lid.
The sudden glare of light hurt Kirby's eyes. He could just make out Saunders leaning over him. The sergeant seemed to be surrounded by a halo of light just like an angel. The BAR man smiled because an angel wasn't what he had expected.
"I'm glad it's you an' Billy that come for me, Sarge. I'm sorry I got ya killed," he said.
"Mon ami, what are you talking about?" the Cajun asked as he shook his friend's shoulder. "Billy's going to be fine."
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Kirby sat quietly in the chair, trying to make sense of all that had happened. He had seen the old women, dead on the floor, before the lieutenant had the bodies removed for burial. He slowly sipped water from his canteen, and occasionally stared at Saunders.
"Sarge, I been layin' in that coffin for days, thinkin' 'bout what I done." He knew he had to say it, if for no other reason than to clear his conscious.
"I had a bottle of cognac while I was on guard duty the other night an' that's why I was draggin' when we was makin' our way to Jig an' that's why my hands was shakin' so bad that I couldn't load another mag to give you an' Billy cover fire even though ya looked at me, beggin' me to. When I heard Billy scream I was sure I got ya both killed, but I guess ya was able to save him."
Saunders knew it wasn't the first time Kirby had gone out on a mission hung over, although this might be the last one. He looked over at the box and shook his head. He figured the BAR man had suffered enough because of the drinking. "Listen, Kirby, Billy was hit in the shoulder an' that was the arm I grabbed when I yanked him up. He screamed from the yank an' that was what you heard. I looked over at you to see if you were okay. Your hands might've been shaking, but you never had time to reload the BAR before that artillery shell exploded."
"Are ya sure, Sarge?"
The NCO nodded then added, "An' Kirby, it's only been a couple of hours…not days."
The BAR man stared at him in utter amazement, not believing he had only been in the coffin for such a short time. It had seemed like an eternity to him.
"The old women…" he finally said. "They was killed 'cause they wouldn't give me up."
"I think they would've been killed either way. They went to a lot of trouble to build that box, so they've probably been hiding people for a long time. They knew the risk they were taking."
"That don't make me feel any better."
"They were soldiers, just like you an' me."
"I suppose so, but it ain't right."
Saunders quietly asked, "What about this war is right?"
Caje had been listening to the conversation as he wrote the note Lt. Coates had requested. When one of the neighbors came to the house looking for the two women, the note would explain what had happened to them. When he was finished, he walked over to his friend, offered his hand and pulled him up.
He looked hard at the BAR man. He was glad they had found him alive, but he hadn't liked everything he had heard.
Kirby hung his head and said in a low, quiet voice, "Ya don't gotta say it, Caje."
The Cajun didn't respond for a moment, then said, "Let's go home," as he steered Kirby toward the door.
The BAR man took one last look at the box. He shook his head as he said in disbelief, "Only hours? It sure seemed like an eternity."
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1. Reference to "Night Patrol" from season 1 of Combat!