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.
Love…and Other Sins
by: Queen's Bishop
2020 © Reg. No. TXu 2-235-903
[] Indicates French is being spoken.
()()()() Indicates time has passed or the focus of the story has shifted
to a different location or character.
This story runs parallel to "The Party" from the second season of Combat!
"…But Sir, my men have had three days of hard fighting with little rest. Isn't there…No, Sir, I understand, but…Yes, Sir, I'll take care of it…"
Hanley laid the receiver on top of the radio, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and sighed before yelling, "BROCK…"
The corporal, who was standing right behind him throwing now-useless reports into a pot-bellied stove, immediately said, "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Find Saunders and get him in here on the double."
"Yes, Sir."
Hanley closed his eyes and sighed again. He had said he'd take care of it, and now he was about to pass along someone else's mess to the First Squad sergeant.
'What a way to run a war,' he thought. 'But shit running downhill; isn't that the Army way?"
Brockmeyer didn't have to look very far. The sergeant, along with the rest of First Squad, was sprawled on the steps of an adjacent building awaiting the arrival of a deuce-and-a-half truck that would carry them forward to the newly established front line.
The corporal took two steps outside the doorway of the CP and said, "Hey, Sarge, the lieutenant wants to see ya right away."
Saunders pushed back his helmet, which had been tilted down to cover his eyes, and nodded. "Don't anybody wander off. We'll be leaving as soon as the truck gets here," he said as he got to his feet.
"Don't worry, Sarge. It ain't often we get to ride, so nobody's gonna wanna miss that," Kirby replied.
The sergeant was, for some reason, not in the least bit reassured. He turned and looked his men over, as if memorizing exactly where and how they were positioned, before he stepped into the CP.
"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant," Saunders asked as he moved from the bright sunlight into the dark interior of the make-shift office.
"Yes, Sergeant. I just had a call from Cpt. Jampel. Some shorts from last night's artillery barrage landed near a bunch of civilians hiding in the woods north of here. There were a couple of injuries but nothing serious, according to information S-2 received from the French underground."
"What do you want me to do, Lieutenant?" the NCO asked, stifling a yawn.
"Cpt. Jampel is sending a jeep and driver; they should arrive about the same time as the truck. Send Doc and one man to take a look. When Doc's finished, the driver can take them the rest of the way to where the platoon will be digging in."
"I'll go with Doc," the sergeant volunteered.
Hanley looked up from the map he was studying with surprise. "You! You and the boys just put in three days of hard fighting. You're beat. Send one of the other men."
"Lieutenant, this detail sounds as restful as a twenty-four-hour pass," Saunders replied with a yawn which this time he made no effort to conceal.
Hanley gave the NCO a bemused look before saying, "Well, I suppose it would be a breather." He scanned the map, picked out a position and drew a circle. "The civilians are supposed to be in this area. The driver has been briefed with a more exact location. Who are you leaving in charge, Caje?"
Saunders thought for a moment before replying with a grin, "No, they're only waiting for a truck. I think Kirby can handle this one. He told me just a moment ago how much he was looking forward to the ride."
"Alright; check with me before you leave. I'm expecting a call with the sector of the line King Company will be assigned."
"Right, Lieutenant."
Saunders was still grinning as he exited the CP. A ride in the country and few hours away from his squad would be a welcome relief. He stopped to light a cigarette as he looked over at his men. Nobody had moved. They were as tired as he was and they barely looked up as he approached.
"Alright, listen up, all of you. Doc, you're on me. Some civilians got wounded in last night's artillery barrage but S-2 thinks nothing too bad. Cpt. Jampel wants a medic to check them out. You got everything you'll need?"
Doc picked up his rucksack as he stood. "S-2 says nothing too bad, huh. Ah'll just get a few more supplies from the aid station."
The sergeant nodded then continued, "Kirby, you're in charge. Wait here for the truck. Make sure everyone is on board before you leave. If you have any problems, talk to Lt. Hanley. Dig in good when you reach the line. You got it?"
"Sure, Sarge. Just leave it to me," the BAR man replied with a yawn.
Under his breath Littlejohn said, "That's what we're all afraid of."
The sergeant turned his attention to Billy. "Nelson, toss Doc an' my knapsacks on the truck."
"Sure thing, Sarge," Billy responded. As Saunders turned away, Billy said, "Littlejohn, don't let me forget those knapsacks, 'cause if I do, the Sarge will kill me."
Littlejohn just smiled.
When Doc returned, he and Saunders went into the CP. The lieutenant was talking on the radio, but he motioned for the sergeant to come over and look at the map. Hanley drew a rough line and then put an 'X' at a crossroads. Saunders found the location on his own map and also added an 'X.'
Outside, a jeep appeared, moving cautiously down the street. When it reached First Squad, it stopped and the young driver shouted over to the men still sprawled on the steps, "I'M LOOKIN' FOR SECOND PLATOON, KING COMPANY. DO YA KNOW WHERE I CAN FIND 'EM?"
Kirby lazily lifted an arm and pointed.
Billy laughed as the driver got out of jeep and headed for the CP. "Don't let this being in charge go to your head, Kirby."
"I gotta conserve my strength, Billy Boy. Bein' in charge is an awesome responsibility, ya know."
A moment later the driver reappeared, followed by Saunders, Doc and the lieutenant.
As the sergeant climbed into the front passenger seat Hanley said, "I'll rejoin the platoon as soon as we finish getting the HQ moved."
"Right, Lieutenant," Saunders replied. "Doc, you ready?"
"Yeah, Sarge, Ah just got to get mah knees situated," the medic replied as he twisted in the tight rear seat trying to find a comfortable position.
"See you later this evening, Lieutenant," the NCO said. Hanley nodded and returned to the CP. Saunders looked over at his men. "Kirby, be sure you dig in good."
"Don't worry, Sarge. I got everything under control," the BAR man answered as other members of the squad rolled their eyes.
If he was having second thoughts, Saunders didn't show it. Besides, it was too late for him to make a change now. So instead, he turned his attention to the driver. "Soldier, what's your name?"
"Patterson," the young man replied.
"You know where you're goin', Patterson?"
"Sure, Sarge. I got a map."
"Let me see it." Saunders opened the map and traced the route to the marked location. Once satisfied, he said, "Alright, let's go." He slouched in the seat and tilted his helmet down to cover his eyes.
Doc turned around just in time to see the arrival of the truck that would take the rest of the squad to their new forward position. He, too, was happy to trade that boisterous, bickering ride for a quiet tour of the countryside, even if it was a bit cramped.
()()()()()()()()()()
The medic grabbed the back of the sergeant's seat as he bounced once again into the air. The jeep was traveling along a rutted track that passed for a road at a speed much too fast for conditions. "Don't you think you should slow down?" he asked as he was again briefly airborne.
"This is great!" the young soldier, thoroughly enjoying himself, replied.
"SLOW DOWN!" Saunders growled without even lifting his helmet.
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Patterson said as he immediately slammed on the brakes, momentarily lifting Doc once again into the air and banging him into the back of the driver's seat before he dropped back onto the rear bench.
"You okay, Doc?" the sergeant asked as he pushed his helmet back and turned around to look at the medic.
"Ah think Ah'm still all in one piece, if that's what you mean," the not very happy occupant of the back seat replied.
"Sorry," Patterson sheepishly said. "I guess I got a little carried away. I really like drivin' fast. My Pops never let me do it at home, so this war is great, isn't it!"
Doc shook his head and replied through gritted teeth, "Yeah, it's just peachy."
The journey continued, at a slower speed, although Saunders occasionally glared at Patterson causing the driver to ease up on the gas pedal, at least for a few minutes.
At last Saunders looked up from the map he had been studying and said, "It should be that grove of trees up ahead. Pull over here."
"I can get a lot closer," Patterson said as the jeep continued to move forward.
"I said, pull over here!"
"Okay, okay."
"Doc, you wait here. You," the sergeant said pointing at their driver, "keep the motor running."
Patterson rolled his eyes as Saunders got out of the jeep and, crouching down, began to slowly make his way toward the grove of trees.
When he was out of earshot, the young driver said, "Jeez, what's his problem?"
Doc responded with a question of his own, "You haven't spent much time at the front, have you?"
"None, as a matter of fact. But this ain't the front. All the Krauts have high tailed it outa here."
"Well, for someone with no combat experience, you seem awful sure of that. You might live longer if you listened to men who have actually been doing the fighting."
"Yeah, sure…Pops."
()()()()()()()()()()
Saunders could hear voices. He wanted to get close enough to see who was talking so he crept forward another thirty feet. There, in small clusters among the trees, were about twenty civilians. Everyone's attention was focused on three people off to the side who were having an argument. He watched as the little drama played out.
A woman was shouting at a much younger woman.
Images of his sister, Louise, suddenly flashed through the sergeant's mind.
The French girl stomped her foot and shouted back angrily, like a child having a tantrum.
A man, who was standing at the older woman's side, stepped forward and slapped the girl hard across the face causing her to take a staggering step back.
Saunders fought the urge to go in and break it up. He knew he wasn't supposed to interfere in civilian affairs, but he didn't like what he was seeing.
The girl put her hand to the side of her face and said something in a low voice. She reached down, picked up a bundle, and walked away without looking back.
Another woman ran after her and spat at her, but the girl never broke her stride. Everyone stood as if in a trance, watching her until she disappeared from sight.
Only then did the man put his arm around the woman as she cried.
With the commotion over, Saunders scanned the rest of the civilians. All appeared in order so he withdrew and headed back toward the jeep, wondering what the argument had been about.
'Probably a boy,' he thought as once again images of Louise came to mind. However, he pushed them aside with a sense of relief because, after all, she was still just a kid.
When he could see the jeep, he waved them forward.
People surrounded the vehicle as it came to a halt beside the grove. Everyone started talking at once, but in French.
"ENGLISH! DOES ANYONE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH?" the NCO shouted.
When the only responses were stares and head shakes, Doc pointed to his helmet and his brassard and hollered "DOCTOR," several times before he got the attention of the crowd. Once they understood, the Americans were led to several people who were lying in the shade beneath the trees.
Doc quickly scanned them and then said, "Sarge, if you an' Patterson can take a look at those three over there, Ah'll see what Ah can do for that old man."
"Okay, Doc," Saunders said. Patterson took a step backward but the NCO caught his sleeve and yanked him forward.
Once he had removed the rags used for bandages from the three wounded civilians, Saunders could see that none of them was badly injured. He told Patterson to get some antiseptic and dressings from the medic. When the driver returned with those materials, the relatives of the injured took over. It wasn't that they couldn't have taken care of their family members; they just didn't have any supplies.
There were a couple of other people with bumps and bruises, but nothing that required even the basic first aid the sergeant had learned in the field. So, he went to see how the medic was doing.
Doc looked up as Saunders approached. "Sarge," he said, "Ah think we should take this one with us. After Patterson drops us off, he can take him back to battalion aid. He's got a pretty deep laceration on his side and his color isn't good. He's not a young man."
"Okay, Doc. You an' Patterson get him loaded in the jeep. Everyone else looks all right." Saunders turned to the civilians who were still gathered around. He pointed to the old man and said, "Hospital. Understand? Hospital."
After a moment, one woman said, "Ah, oui, oui…l'hôpital." Her pronouncement generated a discussion and then nods of approval from the crowd.
With that, Saunders climbed into the back of the jeep with the medic and Patterson maneuvered the vehicle back onto the rutted track.
The old man moaned as the jeep bumped along. Once again, Saunders' admonishments to the young driver only changed his behavior for a few minutes. Then, once again, his foot began to press down on the gas pedal.
They had just started down a steep grade when a loud bang startled everyone. Saunders tightened his grip on the Thompson as the quickly deflating tire pulled the jeep to the left. Patterson yanked the steering wheel, overcompensating. As the vehicle fish-tailed, Doc was ejected. The young driver again yanked the steering wheel and the jeep fish-tailed in the opposite direction. This time, the sergeant was thrown out just as the jeep headed over the bank. It continued its head-long descent until it slammed into a tree.
Sanders had the wind knocked out of him and he lay where he had landed for a good minute before finally rolling over and pushing himself up to his knees. His right hand immediately went up to his left shoulder and he massaged the aching joint. He grimaced as he opened and closed his hand and then shook it, trying to get rid of the pins and needles running up and down his arm.
He spotted the Thompson and staggered over to where it lay. He didn't know if the tire had just blown or if it had been shot out by a sniper. Either way, if any Krauts were in the area, they would have heard the crash. With his left arm still feeling 'funny,' he took cover and worked clumsily but as quickly as he could to reseat the Tommy gun's magazine. But, when he pulled the trigger to fire a short burst, nothing! He cleared the chamber and tried again. Still nothing.
The NCO continued working on the weapon, but as the seconds ticked away with no enemy rifle fire, he decided the accident had been caused by a blown tire and an inexperienced driver. He was just about to put in a new mag when he heard a moan. As he walked toward the sound, he finished loading the mag and testing the weapon; it still wouldn't fire. With a silent curse, Saunders slipped his head and right arm through the strap so the useless Thompson lay across his back.
He found Doc sitting by the side of the track holding his head. "Doc, how you doin'?" the NCO asked as he knelt beside the medic.
Doc felt around the back of his head, his fingers gingerly touching the goose egg that was developing. "Well, Ah've felt better, but Ah guess Ah'll live." He spotted the way Saunders was holding his arm. "How about you? What's wrong with your arm?"
The sergeant again opened and closed his fist. "It's nothing, just pins an' needles. I landed on my shoulder," Saunders replied as he helped the medic to his feet.
Once both men were standing, Doc checked the NCO's collar bone and arm for broken bones. "Nothing's broken," he said. "Ah'll bet you pinched a nerve when you landed. It should wear off."
Saunders again shook his hand. "Yeah, it's getting better already," he said although not very convincingly.
"We better go check the others," Doc said as he headed for the opposite side of the rutted track.
Both men found and picked up their helmets as they made their way down the embankment. Saunders went around to the passenger side. The old man was half out of the jeep, his eyes forever frozen in a look of terror. The sergeant pulled him out and laid his body by the side of the jeep before going around to see how Doc was making out with Patterson.
The young soldier was just regaining consciousness. "What happened?" he asked.
"A tire blew an' you lost control," Saunders replied without any trace of sympathy in his voice.
"Oooh," Patterson moaned. "I musta hit the steerin' wheel. My chest really hurts. Am I gonna die?"
Doc, continuing to feel along Patterson's rib cage, said, "No, you're not gonna die, but you're gonna be sore for a while. Ah think you've got some cracked ribs and a broken arm." He glanced at the NCO and said, "Sarge, could you find a couple of sticks so Ah can splint this arm and get me mah rucksack? It must be up on the road somewhere."
"Is dis what you need?" a female voice asked?
Saunders wheeled around, automatically groping for the Thompson. Then he recognized the speaker. It was the girl who had fled the civilians' camp. Only now, up close, he could see that she wasn't a woman as he had originally thought, but still a girl, probably only sixteen or seventeen.
"I hear de crash. M. Perot, he is dead?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm sorry," the sergeant replied.
She didn't say anything more. She just stood there holding the rucksack and staring at the three Americans.
"I'm Sgt. Saunders an' this is Doc an' Patterson. What's your name?"
"I am Nina Allete," she said as she handed the bag to the medic. She looked up at the sky. "Soon rain. I know where to go. It not far."
"Let me get a splint on this arm. It won't take long," Doc replied.
Saunders brought the requested sticks and then watched as Nina helped Doc set Patterson's arm and wrap his ribs. Finally, they put his arm in a sling and bound it to his chest.
Doc and Nina helped Patterson to stand. The young soldier, although in pain, totally ignored the medic and instead focused on the young woman. He smiled warmly and said, "Thank you, Miss."
She didn't acknowledge him, but said, "Now we hurry before rain. Follow me."
She started walking, not back to the rutted track but into the trees. Suddenly she stopped, then turned and walked back to the jeep. She stood looking at the body of M. Perot for a moment before bowing her head and speaking softly and rapidly in French. After another moment of silence, she crossed herself.
When she returned to the watching men she explained, "He a mean…" She hesitated, as if searching for the words she wanted before reverting to French. "…[judgmental, self-righteous] old man, but still should die in his bed, non?"
Without waiting for them to comment and without another word she led them through the trees and several fields until she came to a path. As drops of rain started to fall, they continued down the path until a small barn came into view.
"Wait here," Saunders said as he drew his side-arm and began a cautious approach.
Nina ignored him and hurried down the path. She flung the door open and quickly entered.
Doc and Patterson waited while the sergeant made his way to the side of the barn and cautiously looked inside. Once he signaled them, they, too, hurried to reach the shelter, making it inside moments before the downpour started.
"Farmers only use dis barn in autumn and spring," Nina said as the men stood looking around. "In autumn dey…" She didn't know the English word she was looking for so she grabbed a pitchfork that leaned against the wall and made a stabbing and lifting motion.
"Pitch! The farmers pitch hay…" Patterson exclaimed, quite pleased with himself.
"Oui," Nina said, as if humoring a child, "Dey peach de hay into loft and in spring, if wet and cold, dey peach de hay down and bring de…" She again fumbled for the words and settled for, "de moder sheeps here to have deir babies. You understand?" She paused then added, "No oder person know or use dis barn." It was the most she had said since her unexpected appearance.
Saunders asked," How do you know about it?"
She looked at him as if weighing whether and what to respond. Finally, she said, "I come to dis place to dink."
The sergeant didn't believe that was the whole truth, but let it go for the moment.
Doc helped Patterson sit so he could lean against a wall and the Americans settled in to wait out the storm. Nina stood by the doorway, looking out at the falling rain and descending gloom.
After a while, the NCO stood and walked over to stand by her side. "Are you waiting for someone?" he asked.
She quickly responded, "Non!"
"Is that what you were arguing with your parents about?"
She didn't ask how he knew of the argument but instead gave vent to her anger. "My moder…my fader…dey dink everyding will be same, dat I marry some…some farmer from de next village," she said with disgust. Nina shook her head. "Dat not my life…before, now…ever!"
"What do you want?"
She turned and looked at him with dark unblinking eyes. "To go to Paris…or Lyon…or Marseilles…to live." She turned away and continued to stare out the door at nothing.
After a few moments, Saunders said, "There's a kerosene lantern hanging on the center post. If we close the door, we could use it and have some light in here."
She continued to stare out the door. He didn't know if she was having trouble understanding what he had said or was only displaying a bit of childish defiance. Either way, after a minute, she reluctantly closed the door.
With it shut, the sergeant lit the lantern and its glow seemed to warm the barn. Saunders spread his handkerchief out on the floor and proceeded to take the Tommy gun apart, trying to find the reason for its jamming. Nina watched him from across the barn while both Patterson and the medic quickly nodded off.
()()()()()()()()()()
When the door burst open and slammed against the wall of the barn, everyone was startled, staring at the intruder as he gaped at them. Saunders reached for his sidearm, scattering the remaining pieces of the Thompson as the Kraut in the doorway fumbled to unsling his rifle.
Nina jumped up and put her arms around the German, "Non, non, non, Putzi! Is fine, is fine. Dey mean for us no harm!" She turned to face the Americans; her arms flung back to protect him. "Do not shoot. Dis is Putzi, my…my…" She hesitated to say the word to describe him and their relationship, before finally boldly uttering, "love."
The men remained frozen in their antagonistic poses as Nina's eyes pleaded first with the Kraut and then with the sergeant. When the Kraut, Putzi, at last relaxed and lowered his weapon, Nina smiled at him and stood on her toes to give him a kiss. Then, talking low so only he could hear, she convinced him to lean his rifle against the barn wall. All of her attention was focused on the German, as if trusting that Saunders was likewise putting his weapon away.
Nina helped Putzi remove his knapsack, utility belt and bulky grey raincoat. Only then did she move away from him, giving Saunders a clear shot, to close the door. However, the sergeant had already returned his sidearm to its holster, although he didn't snap it shut.
Neither Doc nor Patterson, who had been rudely awakened and who had followed the stand-off in wide-eyed amazement, made a move.
The medic concentrated on sizing up the couple. The German was probably a year or two older than Nina. They had obviously been using the barn as a meeting place for some time. He wondered how serious the relationship was for either of them. For Nina, he decided, it was her first serious romance. For the Kraut, perhaps it was only a fling to ward off feelings of homesickness or to satisfy a young man's lust.
Doc glanced over at Saunders and could see that the sergeant might have put his weapon away, but he hadn't relaxed.
The young couple sat against the wall by the door with the Americans opposite them. The barn now seemed much smaller than previously. For a long time, the only sound was the continuing splatter of raindrops against the walls and roof of the barn.
Nina was cuddled against Putzi as they finally began talking to each other. Although they spoke quietly, it wasn't difficult for the Americans to hear, especially since they spoke in broken English, their only common language.
"Why they here?"
"I bring dem."
"Why?"
"De young one hurt. It rain. Dey go in de morning, like us."
Putzi didn't respond.
"Look," she smiled as she reached for her bundle and opened it. "I bring clothes for you, shirt, trousers, even shoes and a beret."
He ran his fingers over the items. "How I look?"
"Good, like any oder Frenchman."
He seemed to recoil at that image, but Nina didn't appear to notice. She continued talking, going over their plan once again.
"We go west, like oder refugees, first to Avranches…"
"Everyone know I am German!"
"Non, we say you refugee from Belgium, remember. Dey not know."
Nina might have dreamed for years of making her escape from the small village where she lived, but the gravity of what they were going to do seemed to suddenly hit Putzi.
"I run from army and now I run from Germany," he said bitterly.
She pulled away from him. "I leave my family."
"But not your country, your language."
She frowned as she quietly gazed at him, then smiling she softly said, "You teach to me German and we go to Berlin or Frankfurt to live," as she gently ran her fingers along his chin line. To her, it was a simple solution to a simple problem.
But Putzi suddenly decided he had been a fool. It had all been a child's dream. "YOU THINK I EVER CAN GO BACK?" he cried out in dismay.
Saunders glanced at Doc and Patterson, signaling them to remain still with his left hand while his right moved from the kneecap of his bent right leg where it had been resting to the top of the holster.
Nina reached up and stroked Putzi's hair, trying desperately to keep the dream alive. "All is fine. Tomorrow you see. We begin new life…no war…no France…no Germany…just us…just you and me. Tomorrow you see."
The crisis appeared to have passed. Nina settled back into his arms. Putzi rested his chin on the top of her head and seemed to relax as the Americans breathed sighs of relief. Saunders moved his hand back to his knee.
The Kraut, however, wasn't completely resigned to the life Nina had outlined. Perhaps he could go back. There was still time to return to his unit. He was sure it would be alright…especially if he brought back prisoners.
'I'll tell my sergeant I heard something and went to investigate…that I got turned around and lost…that I captured those Americans. He'll believe it; I'll make him believe it,' he thought. 'I just need to get the jump on them. It will be alright.'
"I put on clothes," he said as he stood, his eyes fastened on his rifle.
"Oui," Nina happily agreed. She grabbed the shirt and stood, shaking it out before dangling it for him to take.
However, he reached past it and grabbed the rifle instead. He wheeled and pointed the weapon at Saunders. "DO NOT MOVE, ANYONE! I MAKE YOU MY PRISONERS!"
"NON, NON, PUTZI!" she cried as she tried to again get between him and the Americans.
"GET BACK!" he screamed at her and then backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.
Patterson pushed himself up and started toward the Kraut saying, "Hey, leave her alone…"
Putzi turned the rifle on him and pulled the trigger. Patterson's momentum propelled him forward for one more step before he collapsed.
Nina dragged herself back to the wall behind the German.
The Kraut quickly turned the rifle to once again point at Saunders. "DO NOT TRY FOR YOUR WEAPON, SERGEANT. YOU…" He got a strange look on his face as he lowered the rifle. Then, slowly, he turned around to face Nina. The pitchfork was still hanging grotesquely where she had driven it deep into his back.
She didn't raise her voice, but her words were filled with bitter resentment. "You give up nothing for me!?" He held out a hand to her before falling to the floor. "Putzi, I give up everything for you! That is love!"
Doc quickly went to Patterson, but there was nothing he could do except collect his dog tag. Saunders checked the Kraut. He, too, was dead. The NCO removed the pitchfork and dragged the body away from Nina who was now sitting by the door, her knees drawn up to her chest as she slowly rocked back and forth.
The medic knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Nina, are you all right?" he quietly asked.
She continued to rock.
Doc looked at Saunders, but he didn't know what to say or do either. After he had picked up the Kraut's rifle and taken the extra ammo clips from his utility belt, the two men returned to where they had been sitting. Both understood that Nina's action had nothing to do with them or even with Patterson's impulsive attempt to protect her. She lashed out because Putzi had destroyed her dream.
The lantern eventually ran out of kerosene, leaving the barn in darkness.
()()()()()()()()()()
Saunders awoke with the sun. He quietly put on his helmet and picked up the Kraut rifle, then slipped out the barn door. After the confines of the sheep shelter, the outdoors looked bright and smelled fresh, as it often does after a cleansing rain. He checked around the perimeter before lighting a cigarette and pulling out his map. By the time the Lucky had burnt down, he had a good idea of where they were and a plan for getting back to the American lines.
He went back inside and nudged the medic with the toe of his boot. "C'mon, Doc. It's time we headed for home."
Then he walked over to where Nina sat. She had fallen asleep still holding her knees to her chest. Saunders carefully positioned himself between the young woman and two bodies, trying to block them from her view, before kneeling down and gently touching her shoulder. She opened her eyes and stared at him.
"Nina, come with us. We're gonna head for the American lines. When we get there, I'll have a jeep take you back to your family."
She didn't respond. When Doc walked over to join them, she softly asked, "To…to… [sacrifice] …that is love, non?"
Neither man said anything.
She said nothing more. She stood and walked the few steps to Putzi's equipment where she pulled the blanket off his backpack, the food from his mess sack and the water skin from his utility belt, adding those items to her bundle. When she was ready, she walked out the barn door and, not looking back, headed west.
The medic called after her, "NINA!..."
"Let her go, Doc. We can't force her to come with us," the sergeant said. "We'll follow the path back until it intersects with the track, then follow that east to our lines. If we're lucky, Hanley is wondering where we are an' we'll run into a jeep he sent out to look for us." He started walking down the path, the useless Tommy gun across his back and the Kraut rifle slung over his shoulder. He had already decided that when they got back he was going to write Louise a long brotherly letter because maybe she wasn't such a kid anymore.
Doc stood watching the young woman until she disappeared from sight. Then he looked inside the barn at the bodies of the American, Patterson, and the German, Putzi. "Isn't war grand," he softly said before hurrying down the path to catch up with Saunders.
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