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THE GIFT
Part 2
CHAPTER 13
Saunders didn't know what the heck was happening, but he certainly knew enough to stay down on the floor. He instinctively covered his head, but it was quickly over.
"Sarge? You ok?" came a welcome voice.
Saunders rolled over onto his back. His hand went to the side of his head and came away with blood.
"Yeah, Brock. Thanks. Help me up," Saunders replied.
Brockmeyer grabbed his arm and the sergeant slowly stood up. Steller was in the doorway, nervously guarding their backs as he looked up and down the hallway.
Saunders leaned against the wall to steady himself.
"I'm sorry, Sarge," Benson said apologetically as he held out the sergeant's Thompson, utility belt and helmet. "The kraut had me cold. He made me call you in. He was going to kill me. I didn't know what else to do."
Saunders stared at the blood on his hand for a moment, then wiped his palm on his pants, took the helmet and slipped it gingerly onto his head.
"Forget it, Benson. Just glad you're ok," he replied to the fearful young soldier as he took the Thompson, slung it over his shoulder and grabbed his belt.
Looking at the two dead soldiers, the sergeant put on his belt and said, "We'd better get out of here. If there's more of them, they would have heard the shots."
"We're ok, Sarge," Brockmeyer replied.
Saunders looked at him questioningly, and the soldier continued. "Steller and I had just gone into one of the buildings when I heard voices. There were two krauts talking and sneaking a smoke. They were a four man patrol, like us. And they were just as surprised as we were to find this little village."
He hesitated, then finished. "But they weren't out here just scouting the territory. They were looking for prisoners."
"Der Gefangene," Saunders replied, rubbing his aching back.
"Uh…yeah," Brockmeyer responded in amazement.
"Anyway," he went on, "they split up just like we did, to check the town. They were here trying to find out what the Americans are up to. We figured the other two krauts would be over your way. We didn't want to alert them with gunfire, so we took both of them out quietly."
Saunders pushed off from the wall. "Good work. But when these four don't come back, they may send others. We'd still better get moving. At least we don't have to worry about clearing the rest of the town, if you're sure about this."
Brockmeyer nodded. "I'm sure. It was just the four of them."
Steller called from the hall, "All clear out here, Sarge."
Saunders started to leave but stopped. "Wait," he said as he knelt down next to his captor's body. He picked up the map, compass, mags and cigarettes and stuffed it all into his pockets. Kicking the cheese aside, he rolled the soldier over and reached into the kraut's tunic pocket. Pulling out his lighter, he thought to himself…it only works for me, kraut.
"Let's move out."
CHAPTER 14
Saunders didn't have any time to relax after returning from their patrol. He went directly to Lieutenant Hanley with his report.
"So you don't think the krauts know about that village?" Hanley asked as they both looked at the sergeant's modified map.
"No, Sir. Not yet," Saunders replied as he drew in a correction on his earlier sketch. "Brockmeyer says the krauts were just as surprised as we were to see the little hamlet. There were only four of them, looking for prisoners to get information on what we're up to. Brockmeyer and Steller got all four."
"Any church?" Hanley asked hopefully, even though he could see that Saunders hadn't drawn any on the map.
Saunders shook his head. "Highest point is the café and inn, and it's only two stories. But it's in good shape, with a solid roof. Might be an attic though. We didn't get a chance to check it out. Figured it was best if we got out of there fast. First the lone sniper. Then a four man patrol. Didn't want to stick around to see what came next."
Hanley nodded and tapped the map. "Good work. I'll let the brass know. They've been chomping on the bit to move up. This will give them a couple extra miles and a good HQ."
Hanley turned to a young soldier sitting in the corner of the room with headphones draped around his neck and a radio on the small table in front of him.
"Get me HQ, Corporal," the lieutenant called out to the soldier.
"Yes, Sir," the corporal replied.
Folding the larger map, Hanley said, "Tell your men they did a good job, Sergeant."
Saunders put his helmet on and slung his Thompson. "I'll do that, Sir."
"Rest up," Hanley added. "We'll probably be bugging out of here tomorrow morning. More than likely the brass are going to want us to go into that village and set up a CP before they send the rest of the Company in."
With a slight wave, Saunders walked slowly back to his squad. As he entered their bivouac, the men all looked up at him, half expecting new orders for another patrol.
Saunders held his hand up. "We've got the night off."
His men visibly relaxed and started joking with each other. The sergeant went to his bedroll and sat down. Fishing through his haversack, he pulled out a small can of lighter fluid. Finding his lighter in his pocket, he began to fill it. His mother had taken to sending him a refill can every month or so.
When he finished, he tugged his shirt tail out of his pants and used it to wipe a little fluid from the metal. Polishing it up, he looked at his lighter and drifted to thoughts of home.
CHAPTER 15
As Hanley had guessed, the brass sent Second Platoon in advance of the rest of K Company. There were no incidents as the platoon made its way to the hamlet. And the town was just as Saunders' patrol had left it…quiet and deserted.
"Keep the platoon together," Hanley reminded his sergeants as he went off to the inn to check the roof for a possible OP.
Two of the squads went to houses on the right side of the narrow street, but Saunders led his men to the house across the street on the left. He remembered that it had two bedrooms and would offer his men more room to spread out. And he was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed in his own room. He couldn't remember having done that since his last R&R. Before that, he had no recollection at all.
The men walked through the door and looked around the front room. It appeared that the entire hamlet had been abandoned hurriedly, probably in anticipation of the advancing Germans and Americans.
The room was neat and clean, as if the owner had just cleaned in preparation for company, and had then stepped out. The dishes were all stacked in the cupboard. Chopped wood was piled by the fireplace.
The only thing disturbing the idyllic scene was a vase of dead flowers on the table. When his men started dropping their gear around the room, Saunders called out to them.
"Remember that we're just borrowing this house. It's someone's home. Treat it like your own." It always bothered him to leave a farmhouse or village in ruins. All those civilians, stuck in the middle, having everything they've worked for destroyed.
The soldiers looked around amid murmurs of "Ok, Sarge."
Benson made his way through the men and came over to his sergeant hesitantly. "Sarge…"
"Benson," Saunders interrupted. "Forget it. No one would expect you to do any different. It all worked out. Now you'd better claim a place to bed down before you find yourself on the front porch."
The young private smiled and nodded, and went off to join the other men throwing down their bedrolls.
Kirby peered quickly into both bedrooms. "Where you gonna crash, Sarge?"
Remembering the layout from when they'd cleared the town, Saunders took off his helmet and headed straight to the farthest bedroom in the back. It was the smaller of the two bedrooms, but it was close to the kitchen…and the coffee. And it had a door. He was looking forward to a little down time before the Company moved up. Time to himself when he could close the door and shut out the world and the war for a brief period. He'd been on several patrols in a row, and he and his squad were due for a break.
Without looking back, Saunders called out, "Draw straws for the front bedroom. There're two beds in there."
The sergeant looked at his watch. He had a whole hour before the meeting with Hanley. He stepped into his very own bedroom and closed the door.
CHAPTER 16
Hanley's meeting with his NCO's was definitely to Saunders' liking. It was brief and it offered him a much needed rest.
"Second squad, get some sentries out on our perimeter. Third squad, I'm lining up some patrols. Your turn. Be ready. First squad," Hanley hesitated and looked at his sleepy eyed sergeant.
"Saunders, you and your men take it easy until I hear what the brass' next move will be. They have a meeting lined up for this afternoon, and then I'll hear."
"Fine with me, Lieutenant," the sergeant replied with a weary smile. "My men can use it."
Hanley looked at each of his NCO's. "Questions?" When no one replied, the Lieutenant added, "Ok, that's it. But stay alert, and get those sentries out there ASAP."
As Saunders walked back to first squad's bivouac, he could feel the weight of the war weighing down on his shoulders with each step. His back was still sore from the kraut's rifle butt. And he had a nagging headache centered around where the kraut had clipped the side of his head.
Entering the house, Saunders looked for his medic. "Doc? Got a minute?" he called out to the soldier as the man was unrolling his bedding in the front corner.
"Sure, Sarge," Doc replied, automatically grabbing his med kit. "What d'ya need?"
Saunders took off his helmet and set it on the table. Unslinging his Thompson and hooking it over the back of a chair, the sergeant sat down.
"Got some aspirin?"
"Headache?" the medic asked as he opened his kit on the table. Glancing up at the sergeant's head, a look of concern crossed his face as he reached up to touch the dried blood matted in the soldier's blond hair.
"When did you get that?" Doc asked, looking closer. "There's blood in your hair."
Saunders reached up to his head. "One of the krauts clipped me the other day when we ran across them here in town."
Doc parted the sergeant's hair to get a better look. "And I'm just hearing about it now?"
"It's ok, Doc. Not even bleeding any more. I just need some aspirin," the sergeant replied.
"Tell you what. I'll give you some aspirin if you let me clean that up," the medic countered.
Saunders began to protest, but stopped. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. Arguing with his medic wouldn't get him into that bed any sooner. He nodded and turned his head so that the medic could get a better look.
Doc cleaned it up fairly quickly, since the gash was already scabbing over. As he got the last of the blood out of his sergeant's hair, he said, "Looks ok. If it starts to itch, try not to scratch it. You'll have it bleeding again, and it might get infected."
"Sounds good," Saunders replied. "Aspirin?" He held his hand out.
Doc sighed, pulled out a bottle, and tapped two pills into his sergeant's waiting palm. "Try to rest. If you still need it later, I'll give you some more."
Saunders popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. With a quick thanks, he stood up, grabbing his helmet and Thompson. Entering his bedroom, he tossed his helmet on a side chair, and leaned his Thompson against the nightstand by the bed.
He reached over the nightstand and opened the small window, just a crack to let in some fresh air.
"You gonna conk out, Sarge?" Kirby asked as he stood in the doorway of his sergeant's bedroom.
"Yeah," Saunders replied as he sat on the bed. "Need anything?"
"Nah," the BAR man shook his head, leaning on the door frame. "I'll tell the guys to be a little quiet for you. Brock and I won at straws, so we'll be in the other bedroom in case you're looking for either of us. The rest of the guys are bedding down in the front room. If the Lieutenant needs you, we'll come get you."
"Thanks, Kirby," Saunders responded, stifling a yawn as he removed his utility belt.
"You want us to wake you for dinner?" the private asked.
Saunders shook his head and put his feet up. "Not very hungry. Think I'll just call it a night."
"K…Night, Sarge," Kirby answered as he left and gently closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 17
One second Saunders was in a deep sleep, and the next moment his eyes flew open and his adrenalin surged. "88's!" he screamed. "Hit it!"
Before he could roll off of the bed, his world crumbled around him. The back wall of the bedroom exploded, and the force of the concussion blew the bed up and over with him on it. The bed flipped and Saunders rode it down, hitting the floor hard. As the back wall caved in, part of the ceiling collapsed.
Debris rained down in what seemed like an endless cascade of wood, plaster and stone. Between the billows of dust and the weight on his back, the sergeant could hardly breathe. He could barely get out a cough. He laid face down under the debris, helpless as the German barrage continued. The krauts had found them and the little hamlet.
Although he was trapped, his main concern was for his men. Were they all ok? Would they know to get ready for a kraut attempt to advance and take the town? As soon as the barrage ended, the krauts most certainly would be making a move.
The sergeant tried calling out to his squad, but he could barely get out a whisper, never mind a shout. The heavy weight on his back left him with little room to even breathe. And the barrage drowned out what little noise he was able to make. He pushed up with all of his strength, but it was no use. The bed and debris didn't budge.
Saunders laid still in frustration until the shelling finally ceased.
CHAPTER 18
When the silence came, the sergeant listened for any sounds…any movement. He had no idea what time it was or how long he'd been asleep after he first lay down. He only knew that it was dark.
Looking up, he was surprised to see that the little window near the night stand was almost still intact. It appeared to have suffered only a crack in the lower corner. It was probably still in one piece because he'd opened it, he thought absent mindedly.
Continuing to look around in his limited range of vision, he saw his Thompson lying next to the toppled night stand. When he tried to reach out for it, he realized that his left arm was trapped under the bed. He could only move his fingers. He knew that something was very wrong. His left shoulder felt like it was on fire.
His right arm was free, but it was lying alongside his leg, palm up. He slowly struggled to slide it upward and turn it palm down. It didn't help that his back injury from the kraut was even more painful now…but nothing compared to the fire in his shoulder.
As the arm finally shifted upward, sweat broke out on his forehead. Saunders closed his eyes for a moment to rest. Then he reached out for his Thompson. He needed protection…and he needed to make some noise or no one would ever find him.
His hand slid forward on the gritty floor, pushing debris aside as it moved. His fingers made tiny trails through the dirt, touched the smooth wooden stock…and stopped. Saunders' finger tips fumbled on the stock, barely touching it. Fingernails dug into the wood, trying to pull it closer.
The sergeant closed his eyes and tried to will his arm to be longer. But try as he might, his fingers just couldn't grasp the weapon. Saunders squeezed his eyes shut tightly and gritted his teeth in frustration and pain.
It was as if his own weapon that had saved him so many times was now taunting him…daring him to try to come closer.
Wondering how soon it would be until daylight, Saunders automatically went to look at his watch…which was on his left wrist, trapped under the bed. His left shoulder, so painful at first, seemed to be quickly growing numb. Saunders tried moving his left hand fingers again, but he wasn't even sure if he was successful.
This is what I get, he thought angrily, for expecting a little creature comfort and rest in the middle of a war. But then he reminded himself that if he hadn't taken the back bedroom, one or two of his men would have been lying under the bed and debris instead of him. Better that it was him.
CHAPTER 19
As Saunders waited for something to happen that might change his situation, he thought of how many difficult situations he'd found himself in since he'd been in the Army…and he'd always managed to get out of them one way or another. He had to have faith that his luck would hold.
The sergeant lay quietly and waited. All he had now was time.
He figured that a good half hour had passed in silence before he heard indistinguishable voices. Then a familiar voice became clearer.
"It's here. This is where the back bedroom was," Kirby said in a soft voice. "Brock, keep an eye out for krauts while me and Billy take a look."
"How ya gonna see anything, Kirby? I can hardly even see you," Brockmeyer replied.
"I don't know, but I'm gonna try. Just keep your eye out there. The Lieutenant wants us to pull back, but you know we ain't going without the Sarge. The krauts already cleared the town, so there shouldn't be too many wandering around. We came back for the Sarge and we're gonna find him. So just keep your eye peeled."
Kirby climbed over the rubble toward the wall. "Hey, there's a window here. Maybe I can see in. Where're the others?"
"They're around front, trying to see if they can get in through the bedroom door," Brockmeyer called from the corner of the building across the alley way. The soldier nervously looked up and down the street into the darkness.
Kirby climbed over to the window and called out, "Sarge?"
With relief, Saunders tried to answer, but barely a whisper came out. He saw Kirby's silhouette as the soldier pressed his nose against the window pane and cupped his hands around his eyes to peer into the darkness. "Sarge?"
Saunders began to panic. His heart rate jumped, and his body desperately needed more oxygen. But his lungs couldn't cooperate with all of the weight on his back. Feeling like he was about to pass out, he tried to take small, shallow breaths.
"I'm gonna try to go in," Kirby said as he felt around on the window.
"Kirby!" Brockmeyer suddenly hissed. "Krauts!"
Kirby quickly ducked down, tucking himself into a ball and keeping perfectly still. Nelson flattened himself against the wall across the alley way, melting into the darkness.
Everyone waited in tense silence as two German soldiers slowly passed the entrance to the alley. They quickly glanced down the dark alley but kept going.
After what seemed like an eternity, Brockmeyer looked out and said, "They're gone. But we gotta get outta here. Where there's two krauts, there's gonna be more."
Saunders heard their conversation and his eyes widened in fear. They were going to leave! Think, Saunders, think! he screamed to himself.
Slowly he dragged his arm down to his side again and struggled to get his fingers into his pants pocket. Please, he thought…please.
Wrapping his fingers around his lighter, he pulled it free. Saunders fought to keep from passing out as he tried in vain to control his breathing. In spite of his efforts, his breathing became even more rapid.
He painstakingly slid his arm back upward once again. Turning the lighter upright on the floor, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Using his thumb, the sergeant flipped the lighter open and struck the flint. As the flame flickered to life, Saunders closed his eyes and faded into the blackness.
CHAPTER 20
"Kirby, we gotta go!" Brockmeyer whispered again. "The Lieutenant's gonna go crazy as it is. Probably court martial all of us! If the krauts don't get us first."
"We're here!" the BAR man whispered in frustration. "I'm going in and look for the Sarge!"
"Maybe we can come back tomorrow," Brockmeyer suggested.
"If the krauts take the town," Billy replied, "we'll probably flatten this place. But if we stay now, some of us might not make it back."
Kirby was wavering, worrying about the rest of the squad.
"Hey, Kirby!" Billy said softly but urgently. "Look!"
Kirby whispered, "Billy, it's dark, remember? I can't see where you're pointing."
"Behind you!" Nelson exclaimed. "Look behind you!"
The BAR man turned and stared…a low flickering light glowing eerily in the window. He scrambled back to the glass excitedly. Pressing his nose against the window again, he could see a small flickering flame on the floor. Well, it certainly wasn't there the last time he looked, he thought excitedly.
Putting his hands on the sill, he could feel that the window was open a crack. Forcing his fingers into the narrow opening, he began to pull up on the window sash.
"Keep watching, Brock," Kirby called out softly over his shoulder. "I'm going in."
When he had the small window open as wide as it could go, Kirby stuck his head in and whispered, "Sarge?"
He became worried when he received no reply. Was he too late? But someone had created that flame. Who else would have been in the room when everything came down? He pulled his head back and stuck a leg in, searching cautiously for solid ground. Concerned about making noise in the darkness, the BAR man moved in slow motion as he pulled himself into the room and stood against the wall.
Kneeling down, he could make out a hand wrapped around the flame. It was a lighter, and glinting in the flickering light was an ID bracelet around the wrist.
"Sarge!" Kirby whispered again. He was reaching out to take the lighter when the hand tightened around the metal. He's alive, Kirby thought excitedly.
Standing up, Kirby leaned out the window. "He's here, and he's alive! But I need help. Billy, go around and get the others. We gotta hurry. I can't see how bad he's hurt."
Without a word, Nelson disappeared quickly in the night.
"Any more krauts, Brock?" Kirby whispered.
"Not yet. But you can bet they're coming," Brockmeyer replied, anxiously looking up and down the street.
Kirby pulled his head back in and knelt down again. He reached out for the lighter and tried to pry it from his sergeant's unyielding fist.
"I need to borrow this, Sarge. I'll give it back. I promise."
Even though Saunders seemed to be unconscious, his fingers slowly relaxed and Kirby took the lighter. Using it to assess his sergeant's predicament, he then closed the lighter to conserve the wick and fluid. Setting it on the floor, he stood up and looked out the window nervously.
As he waited for the others, Kirby began to carefully remove loose debris from the pile on the overturned bed.
"Don't worry, Sarge," the BAR man said reassuringly, as he grabbed a chunk of stone. "We got you."
CHAPTER 21
After getting Doc into the room, Caje helped Littlejohn squeeze through the small window. Steller stayed outside to guard the other entrance to the alley way, opposite Brockmeyer. Billy knelt on the rubble just outside the window.
"Hurry up, guys," Billy warned them. "It's starting to get light out. I can see Brock a little now."
"What took you guys so long?" Kirby asked.
"Krauts," Caje replied. "Had to wait for some krauts to go by before we could leave the building."
"Looks like there are more krauts out 'wandering around' than you thought, Kirby," Billy whispered through the window.
"Ah," Kirby began to reply when his boot kicked against something that skidded across the grit. He knew that sound. Reaching down and feeling the floor in the darkness, he picked up the sergeant's Thompson. Wiping it off quickly with his hand, he leaned out the window.
"Here, Billy. Hang onto this," he whispered as Nelson took the weapon. He realized that it was getting light. He could make Billy out easily. But inside, it was still dark.
"He's alive alright," Doc called softly from the floor kneeling next to their sergeant. "But his breathing's really shallow. Probably why he's out cold. Looks like the only thing that kept him from being crushed is that metal headboard. We gotta get all this stuff off him."
"That's just what we're gonna do, Doc," Littlejohn replied.
Positioning himself in the middle of the bed, he added, "Caje…Kirby, get on either side of me. On three, pull it up. Doc, you drag him out of there."
Without answering, Caje and Kirby took their positions on either side of the big man, grabbing hold of the bed frame.
Kirby noted that he could now see the others clearly. "It's getting light fast."
"Then we gotta move fast," Littlejohn replied. "One…two…three!"
As the three soldiers strained to lift the bed and piles of debris, Doc grabbed his sergeant's arm and slowly pulled Saunders out between Littlejohn and Kirby's legs.
"Hurry up, Doc!" Littlejohn whispered.
"I'm hurrying," the medic replied. "Almost out." With one last pull, Doc crawled over his sergeant to drag the man's left leg and arm free from under the bed.
"Ok, he's out."
Suddenly a sharp gasp came from Saunders, and Doc bent over him worriedly.
"He ok, Doc?" Kirby asked as the three soldiers quietly lowered the bed.
With a hand on Saunders' heaving chest, the medic replied. "I think so. Looks like he's just finally getting some air. But he's still out."
At that moment, Brockmeyer hissed, "Krauts!" and Billy in turn whispered through the window, "Krauts!"
The entire squad froze in the gray of the coming dawn. Each could clearly see the other, which meant that Brockmeyer, Steller and Billy would all be visible to the krauts as well.
CHAPTER 22
Brockmeyer pressed himself against the cold stone wall and, barely breathing, he waited. He could hear two men approaching. He motioned for Steller to come closer, and the soldier quietly made his way to stand next to Brockmeyer.
Just as the Germans came into view, Brockmeyer grabbed the closest one and yanked him into the alley toward Steller. Steller pulled him in farther, with bayonet ready, and the soldier's cry was cut short. Knowing that Steller would do his job, Brockmeyer never looked back. His eyes were trained on the second German as he quickly brought his rifle butt up before the soldier could react. The man dropped to the ground and Brockmeyer dragged him into the alley.
Knowing that both Germans were at least unconscious, Brockmeyer only quickly checked to see if they were dead. The squad just needed time to get out of there with their sergeant.
Brockmeyer looked out again onto the street. Motioning to Steller to go back to his position at the other end of the alley, he waved to Billy.
Nelson in turn looked in the window. "All clear. But you gotta hurry. It's getting pretty hot out here."
The men inside went back to work. As they started to lift their sergeant, the soldier gave a loud groan and flinched. Caje pulled his hand back.
"Look at his arm, Doc," Caje said as he carefully touched Saunders' shoulder. "Looks like something's broken. He's really hurting."
They lifted him upright, with his right arm draped over Kirby's shoulder. But he was hanging limp, and his left arm was definitely at an odd angle.
"Look at that bump at the top. It's his shoulder. Something's either broken or he's dislocated it," the medic replied as he carefully felt Saunders' shoulder.
"Can't fix it now," Kirby replied. "We're in enough trouble with having to get out of town carrying him in broad daylight. And he's getting heavier by the minute."
He shifted the sergeant's weight. "Littlejohn, get through the window and pull him through."
The big man went through the small window backwards. Just as he began to pull his head through, he stopped and pointed into the corner of the room by the doorway…a chair with the cammo helmet still resting on it.
"Hey, Doc," he whispered.
The medic looked to where he was pointing and nodded. Without replying, he went to the chair and scooped up the helmet.
Kirby pulled his sergeant closer to the window. Caje was unsure how to help without touching Saunders' injured arm and shoulder.
"Legs," Caje finally whispered, and picked up the soldier's legs.
With Kirby and Caje inside, and Littlejohn and Billy outside, the squad gently maneuvered their sergeant through the window.
"I've got him," Littlejohn said softly as he pulled Saunders up over his shoulder. "Help me down, Billy."
Nelson guided the big man down off of the rubble as Kirby, Caje and Doc all scrambled out the window. Steller joined them as they gathered near Brockmeyer by the entrance to the alley.
Brockmeyer looked out for a long moment and said, "Let's go!" but Kirby suddenly whispered, "Wait!" and ran back to the window. He climbed in and disappeared.
Leaning down in the dim light, Kirby felt the floor where he'd left the lighter. It was gone.
He began to frantically sweep his hands over the gritty floor, desperately searching. As he began to panic, his hand finally hit the cold metal, sliding it into the toppled nightstand. Someone must have kicked it while they were taking the Sarge out the window, he thought in relief.
The BAR man grabbed it, held it for a moment and stuffed it deep into his pocket.
"Kirby!" Brockmeyer hissed in through the window.
A few seconds later, Kirby's head popped out and he climbed back through the opening. As he joined the others, he held out the lighter. "Sarge would've killed me."
"You went back for a lighter?" Steller asked in exasperation.
"We need to get out of here now, Kirby," Caje added, looking around nervously.
"Ok, ok. But have you ever seen Sarge with this lighter?" he poked the lighter toward the Cajun. "He doesn't make a big deal of it, but I can tell it means a lot to him."
Kirby stuffed the lighter back into his pocket. "I promised him when I took it that I'd give it back, and I aim to do just that…I'd like to keep breathing!"
Brockmeyer interrupted. "Everyone good?"
"Let's go," Littlejohn answered. "The Sarge ain't getting any lighter."
With one last look down the street, Brockmeyer slipped around the corner with six nervous soldiers following closely behind him.
CHAPTER 23
Pulling back out of the little hamlet was not easy for the squad. Once they made it out of town, dodging from alley to alley, they realized that they couldn't leave the same way that they'd gone in. Going that way meant going back up the long hill to the west…which would be suicide. It was all open, with not even a single tree or bush until they reached the crest of the hill.
Their only alternative was to head south to the woods and good cover, then circle around. The short run from the edge of town to the edge of the woods was tense, but thankfully uneventful. Once in the woods, the men began to breathe easier. The krauts were concentrating their attention to the west. And it appeared that most of the krauts they'd seen so far were coming into town from the north.
"You ok, Littlejohn?" Caje asked when they finally stopped in the woods.
Shifting his sergeant's dead weight slightly, Littlejohn nodded, "I should be ok until we get back."
Just then the 'dead' weight shifted again, and Saunders groaned loudly.
Doc rushed over to check him. "He's coming around. Put him down, Littlejohn."
Kirby and Caje helped the big man lower their sergeant to the forest floor. Saunders stirred and opened his eyes as the men shifted him. When his shoulder touched the ground, he arched his back, eyes wide, and gasped.
The men looked from their sergeant to their medic in alarm.
"Hey, Sarge," Doc said soothingly. "Let me look at that shoulder." He touched the injured shoulder carefully.
"Where are we?" Saunders asked in a strained voice, looking around with confusion. "What happened?"
Kirby leaned over Doc's shoulder. "Kraut barrage. Your room took the very first hit. Half the house came down on you. We're pulling back until the Company can catch up to us." He didn't bother to mention that the rest of the platoon had long since pulled back, but the squad had stayed to find their missing sergeant.
"The krauts'll be moving in. We've got to move," Saunders replied, trying to get up. He cried out in pain and closed his eyes.
Kirby put a hand on his sergeant's good shoulder. "We're in the woods south of town, Sarge. We should be ok for now."
Saunders looked at Caje and held out his good arm. The Cajun grabbed hold and helped him up. Standing unsteadily, the sergeant gritted his teeth and suppressed another groan. His left arm was definitely hanging at an odd angle. A large knot was visible on the top of his shoulder. Sweat slid down his temple to his jaw.
"Is it broken?" Saunders asked Doc in barely a whisper.
"I don't think so," the medic replied. "Looks like it's dislocated. I can try to put it back in."
Although it was excruciatingly painful, Saunders couldn't take the chance that he wouldn't scream. They were still too dangerously close to the town and the krauts. He shook his head, no.
"I'll wait," he replied softly.
Doc looked at his shoulder worriedly. "The longer we wait, the worse it's gonna get. It'll swell up pretty bad. It'll be a lot tougher putting it back in, I don't have any morphine. Sorry. I won't get more until the Company catches up to us."
Saunders took a deep breath, waiting for a wave of pain to pass.
"I'll wait."
CHAPTER 24
The remainder of the way back was slow and tedious with frequent stops for their sergeant to rest. The pain and stress were evident on his face, but he refused to be carried any farther.
Finally regrouping with the rest of their platoon, the men endured the brief chewing out by Lieutenant Hanley as Doc and Billy helped their sergeant. Finding a place to bivouac, Billy cleared a spot for Saunders to lie down.
"Sorry, Sarge," Nelson apologized. "We lost everything in the barrage. Until the Company gets here, this is the best we can do."
"Thanks, Billy," Saunders replied in a strained and weary voice. "I've had worse. Beats throwing me into a foxhole."
As they lowered him to the ground, his shoulder touched the dirt and another loud groan escaped through gritted teeth.
"Doc," he whispered, "Let's get it over with."
The medic nodded and knelt down next to him. When the other men began to gather around, Doc gestured to Caje and Kirby for help. Kneeling down, Caje pressed down on his sergeant's good shoulder, and Kirby took a firm grip, holding down Saunders' legs.
"It's pretty swollen," Doc warned as he gently felt the shoulder. "It may take me a couple of tries."
Saunders stared at him for a moment, and then asked, "Got a bandage?"
Doc gave him a confused look at first, but then nodded and pulled out a bandage from his med kit. Unwrapping it, he held it out. Saunders opened his mouth, and the medic put it in.
Clamping the bandage tightly in his teeth, the sergeant gave a nod and closed his eyes in anticipation.
The medic's first try was only successful at eliciting a muffled scream from their sergeant.
"I'm sorry, Sarge," Doc said apologetically. "Hold on. I'm gonna try again."
Saunders squeezed his eyes shut tightly as tears of pain slid down to his ears. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth tightly on the bandage.
Doc pulled quickly with a jerk, and his second try was rewarded with a loud pop, along with an even louder scream through the bandage.
Saunders lay in a sweat, with his eyes closed and the bandage still in his mouth. Doc gently pulled the bandage free and used it to wipe the sweat from his sergeant's forehead.
"Thanks, Doc," Saunders managed to whisper.
"Rest up," Doc replied. "It's still gonna be painful for awhile until the swelling goes down. Best thing is ice, but we're kind of in short supply of that right now."
He smiled slightly and added, "I'll get you some aspirin, and then I'll go tell the Lieutenant that you're ok."
Before the medic could stand up, Saunders was asleep.
CHAPTER 25
Saunders woke to a bustling camp. The men had built a fire and were heating their rations. Kirby was busy making coffee. It all smelled good to the thirsty and hungry sergeant.
Kirby looked up from the coffee pot to see his sergeant watching him. "Hey, Sarge. How're you feeling?"
He put the pot down and went to sit next to Saunders.
"Better," Saunders answered softly. "I thought we lost everything in the barrage," he added, looking around.
"We did. Everything," Kirby replied. "The rest of the platoon chipped in some stuff until the Company gets here. Pretty soon."
Suddenly Saunders froze in alarm. Lost everything. His hand flew to his pants pocket.
Seeing the panic in his sergeant's eyes, Kirby quickly reached into his own pocket and pulled out the lighter.
"I made sure I brought this out. I know how important it is to you, Sarge."
Saunders took it and ran his thumb over the engraving. "Thanks, Kirby."
Kirby laughed. "You aughta be thanking that there lighter, not me. If we hadn't seen that flame, we'da left you for sure. That's some lucky lighter you got there."
"Sure is," Saunders answered softly.
Saunders tried to sit up and grunted. Looking at his injured shoulder, he realized that his arm was in a sling.
As Kirby helped him to sit up, he said, "Doc figured to give you something for that bum wing. Said it's gonna be real sore for awhile. You was asleep and didn't even move when he put it on you."
The BAR man pointed to the fire. "Want some coffee? Got some extra food too."
"Sounds good," Saunders replied as he tucked his lighter into his pants pocket.
CHAPTER 26
With pretty much nothing to do until the Company moved up, the soldiers of Second Platoon took advantage of the time to rest, knowing that another fight to take back the town was on the horizon.
Saunders was sitting up, leaning against a tree, watching his men playing cards and joking. His shoulder was still painfully sore, but it was nothing compared to how bad it had been. And the aspirin and sling were helping.
Pen in hand, he was awkwardly trying to write a letter one-handed. He began, 'Dear Mom, Thanks for the lighter fluid. It's been a real life saver…'
He stopped writing. How could he possibly tell his mother the whole truth? Maybe… 'Dear Mom, Thank goodness you sent me that lighter fluid and gave me that lighter as a birthday gift. If I hadn't had that lighter, I'd be lying in the forest with a kraut bullet in my head.'
Or, he thought, how about… 'without that lighter I'd have died a slow and lonely death under a soft bed and a hard pile of rubble.'
Wouldn't all of that just give her some comfort? She worried enough about him without hearing the brutal details of the truth. He would never do that to her.
No, it would be an upbeat letter of thanks and hope. He knew that simply receiving regular letters from him meant that she knew he was still alive.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. Putting it in his left hand, he thought of home.
Looking down at the little lighter as he ran his thumb over the engraving for what seemed the thousandth time, he thought of what he wished that he could tell her right now.
She had given him the greatest gift a person could ever receive. She'd given him a gift of hope.
She'd given her son the gift of life.
THE END