Combat! is owned by ABC TV. This story is meant only for the enjoyment of Combat! fans, with no intention to infringe on any copyrights, and no monetary compensation has been received.
Although I like every one of my stories or I wouldn't publish them, sometimes a story comes along that holds a special place for me. This is one of them. It's simple yet multi-layered. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
SAVING GRACE
CHAPTER 1
The past weeks had been brutal. In the last week alone, Saunders had been on long patrols every single day, with far too much enemy contact. He'd lost a man, and Steller was wounded, although not seriously. He had rotated his men to give them some breaks…but no one was rotating Saunders.
He'd been eating nothing but K rats for almost two weeks, with their platoon moving in advance of King Company. Between the rigorous schedule and the lousy food, Saunders could tell that he'd lost weight. His uniform was looser than usual, and his belt tighter. His muscles had become stronger, but his morale was weaker…the lowest that he could remember in a long while.
The only saving grace…if he could even call it that…was that the Company had finally caught up to them. He was heading to his first halfway decent hot meal since forever, it seemed. The kitchen and cooks had just finished setting up mess, and lunch was ready.
The sergeant had only recently come off of their last patrol, and he hadn't showered or shaved yet. His uniform was filthy…and he didn't care. He just needed hot food and some sleep. Lots of both.
When he'd reported in, Lieutenant Hanley recognized his condition and had promised that both he and his squad would get a well deserved break now that the entire Company was there. Saunders intended to hold him to that promise.
Running on autopilot, the sergeant walked through other soldiers without recognizing or acknowledging anyone. As he queued up in the chow line, he yawned and ruffled his matted blond hair, trying to stay awake until he got his food. Hopefully, he thought, he wouldn't fall asleep in his meatloaf.
"You're a real mess, Sergeant," came a familiar stern voice from behind him. "Didn't the Army teach you a darn thing about personal hygiene, soldier?"
Saunders' eyes flew open in shock, and both food and sleep were instantly forgotten. Spinning around, the sergeant couldn't stop the broad smile that spread across his face. He started to reach out, but quickly turned the gesture into a cursory salute.
"Lieutenant Peters," he said to Bette, restraining himself from scooping her up and carrying her to someplace secluded.
"Sergeant," she replied, returning his salute with a faint smile, barely hiding her delight. "No need to salute out in the field. Thought you would know that."
"I didn't know you were here…uh, I mean your medical unit," Saunders said, looking around self-consciously.
"We're back with K Company, for now anyway," Bette answered, no longer able to hide her growing smile.
Saunders stood silently, getting lost in her dancing turquoise eyes.
"Hey, Sarge, can you move up?" came a frustrated voice from behind them. The sergeant realized that they were holding up the chow line.
As he moved forward. Bette asked, "Mind if I join you for lunch? We can talk about any…medical issues you might have."
With another broad smile, Saunders gestured for her to step in front of him. "Certainly, Lieutenant."
His day had just improved exponentially. Instantly he was no longer tired. This turn of events was indeed a saving grace.
Trying not to stare, Saunders couldn't help sneaking glances at her as they moved through the line. She looked wonderful, he thought. And suddenly he became keenly aware of his own appearance and probable odor of sweat and dirt.
As they went to sit down, he was having second thoughts.
"What?" she asked, sensing his hesitancy when she looked up at him.
The sergeant put his plate of food down but remained standing. "Maybe we should do this at dinner." He looked down at his disheveled, stained uniform and dirty hands.
"Don't know if you'll be able to keep your lunch down."
Bette laughed and his heart skipped a beat. "Saunders, you're a soldier in the middle of a world war. Besides, I've seen you in worse shape than this. At least there's no blood involved this time."
She patted the table next to her. "Sit, down, Sergeant."
He grinned and sat down. "Yes, ma'am."
CHAPTER 3
Lunch was just that…lunch. Conversation was brief as they concentrated on their meal since Bette only had a short break before she had to return to duty. When she'd first seen him standing in the chow line, she pulled rank and cut the line to stand behind him.
"You've lost weight," Bette noted. "Been rough lately?"
Saunders finished chewing as he nodded. "Two solid weeks. Lost a new recruit. Steller got shot."
Bette looked at him with concern, and he quickly added, "Wasn't bad. He'll be ok. He's out of the hospital already. That's probably why you didn't see him."
As Saunders scraped up the last of his food, Bette reminded him, "You know that you can get more, Sergeant."
He smiled and stood up with his plate. "Think I will."
Finishing lunch quickly, they agreed to have a more leisurely dinner together when she got off duty. After walking her to the medical tent, Saunders hurried back to First squad's bivouac. He immediately grabbed the last of his clean clothes and headed to the showers. If he moved fast enough, he thought, he might have time for a nap. It wouldn't be very impressive if he fell asleep in the middle of dinner.
He decided that later he'd try to requisition a clean uniform, or whatever pieces he could get from supply. If not, there was always the stream near the woods. He'd even heard rumors that there was the possibility that King Company might acquire one of the new mobile laundries. In the meantime, the stream was better than nothing.
With his hair still wet from the shower, Saunders began to scrape off the week's worth of growth on his face. As he shaved, he hummed softly.
"Good mood, huh?" Hanley said as he came up behind his sergeant. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain medical unit being back with the Company, would it?"
Looking in the mirror at the officer as he continued to shave, Saunders smiled. "Now what would make you think that, Lieutenant?"
"Just a lucky guess," Hanley replied, returning the smile.
"You wanted to see me?" the sergeant asked as he finished and began to towel off his face.
"I have a little job for you," the officer answered, steeling himself for the coming fireworks.
Saunders stopped wiping his face and turned around angrily. "A job? Lieutenant, you said we'd get some time off. We've been run into the ground."
Hanley held up his hand. "It's not a patrol. I just need you to go into the town. Easy. Shouldn't take long at all."
"Why me?" Saunders asked warily.
"Well, for one thing, you're the cleanest." Hanley smiled. "But mostly Captain Jampel wants an NCO to go, and he'd need an interpreter…and you just happen to have one."
"What do I need an interpreter for?" Saunders asked as he put on his shirt. "And what's Captain Jampel got to do with me running a little errand in town?"
Hanley hesitated. "Seems that Item Company came through here just ahead of us. The Germans were already holding the town, and they battled it out. Item won, but a local woman was shot by a GI. She stepped right out into the line of fire."
"She dead?" the sergeant asked with concern as he buttoned his sleeves.
The Lieutenant shook his head. "No, but she was seriously wounded. The medical unit pulled her through, but she'll have a long recovery."
"What's all this got to do with me?" Saunders wondered as he straightened his collar.
"The townspeople are understandably skittish now with more Americans coming in," Hanley explained. "They obviously have mixed feelings about us. We want to assure the Mayor that we won't be allowing any of our men into their town as long as it's not German occupied. The men will be restricted to the billet, unless the Mayor says otherwise. Captain Jampel wants a little positive PR."
"The Mayor is that concerned about us?" Saunders asked. "It's just one woman who foolishly stepped out into the street in the middle of a firefight. It's too bad that she was hurt, but it was an accident."
Hanley hesitated again. "It was the Mayor's wife."
With a look of comprehension, the sergeant simply replied, "Oh."
"Actually," the Lieutenant continued, "the Mayor understands it was an accident, and he was very grateful to have our doctors save her, and to have his town liberated. But it seems his people aren't so understanding."
"Captain Jampel figures if we send in an NCO with no fanfare, it would be the best PR. Just assure the Mayor that the town will be off limits. And that a doctor will be available to examine his wife and check on her progress. If he wants it."
"That's all I have to do?" Saunders asked doubtfully.
Hanley held up a hand and smiled. "That's it. A leisurely half hour stroll each way, and a quick friendly chat with the Mayor. You'll be back here in plenty of time for dinner, and you won't even get your hands or that nice clean uniform dirty. Probably have time to squeeze in a nap."
"How about a jeep?" the sergeant asked, hoping to speed up the time table.
"They're either occupied or in for repairs," Hanley replied. "I asked. Sorry. It has to be foot power."
As Saunders tucked in his shirt and grabbed his field jacket, he said, "I'll go get Caje."
CHAPTER 4
Entering the village, Saunders could see the people busily cleaning up the street and the buildings. It was a big job after the last battle. The villagers stopped their work to warily watch the two passing soldiers. Once they went by, the people continued with their cleaning.
When Saunders and Caje had first left their bivouac, the Cajun asked, "Sarge, you sure you want to do this?"
The sergeant had made the decision to go in with no helmet, Thompson or field jacket. "I want to be the least threatening as possible to the Mayor and the townspeople. The area has already been cleared of krauts."
Then he'd smiled. "Besides, I have an expert bodyguard. We'll go in, I'll deliver the message from Captain Jampel, and we'll leave."
Now as they walked the street, Saunders could feel the people's wariness…and confusion. One soldier unarmed, and one soldier battle ready.
The sergeant looked around and realized that there was no way that he could tell who the Mayor was.
"Caje, ask someone where we can find the Mayor."
The first two people that Caje asked merely stared at the two soldiers in silence. Finally, an older woman who was sweeping a doorway called out to them.
"She says that the Mayor has a little house just on the outskirts of town. Out that way," Caje translated as he pointed down the street. "First house we'll come to on the right." The Cajun smiled. "She said that we can't miss it. It's the only house out that way."
"The Mayor's a heavy set man. Big," he added.
"Merci," the sergeant called out to the old woman, putting on his best friendly smile as she stared back at him.
He led the way toward the other end of town. Walking down the street, Saunders seemed to create waves of inactivity and silence. He was glad that he'd decided to remove as much of the military as possible from his person.
The stripes on his shirt told them who was in charge. And the man in charge had come unarmed.
Passing through the last of the villagers' gauntlet on the outer edge of town, both soldiers visibly relaxed. They approached the first house that they came to on the right. Caje was right. Nothing lay beyond the little house except a well worn dirt road surrounded by trees.
It was a simple home with beds of flowers on either side of the porch. A small garden at the corner of the house was lush and green. Everything seemed untouched by the firefight that had raged through their town earlier.
As Saunders stepped onto the porch, a frantic voice came from around the back of the house.
"Aidez-mois! Je vous en prie, quelqu'un, aidez-mois!"
The sergeant instantly ran around to the back. He didn't need Caje's translation to know that someone was in trouble.
CHAPTER 5
About thirty yards behind the house, a large, heavy set man stood frantically waving his arms. Undoubtedly the Mayor, Saunders thought as he and Caje ran to the desperate man's assistance. The Mayor was yelling in rapid fire French and pointing to the ground.
Caje looked at the ground and put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. With a concerned look, the Cajun turned to his sergeant.
"This is Mayor Bonheur. He was watching his daughter playing in the back yard as he was changing his wife's bandages in the bedroom. His daughter suddenly disappeared. When he ran out here, he found this." Caje pointed to a hole in the ground, barely two feet across.
Saunders dropped to his knees and looked down the hole. "Looks like a sinkhole of some sort. He sure she's down there?"
Caje talked to the man, who nodded anxiously. "Yeah, Sarge. He heard her crying just before we got here."
"Hold my legs," Saunders said as he lay flat on the ground on his belly.
As Caje held both of his legs, the sergeant slid forward and stuck his head and shoulders into the hole. It was a tight fit, and Caje had to pull him back out when he was through.
Saunders stood up and brushed the dirt off of his chest, ran his hands through his hair, and wiped his hands together.
"Seems like a sinkhole, alright. But so far it looks dry. Looks to be fairly shallow. Maybe about seven or eight feet deep. It's too dark to see her, but I can hear her sniffling over in a corner somewhere. Probably just scared."
Saunders looked around the yard and then said, "Caje, I'm going down. Ask him if he has any rope."
Caje spoke to the Mayor and the man shook his head.
"No, Sarge," the Cajun replied. "They're all mostly town folk. He can't remember anyone who has rope, but he's sure someone probably has some."
The sergeant thought about the wary townspeople. "Then I want you to go back to the billet and get a rope. Twenty feet or so. Once I'm down there, I won't be able to get back out. Get a flashlight and bring someone to help you pull me and the girl up. Then let Lieutenant Hanley know the situation."
Saunders looked at the heavy set distraught Mayor hovering around them. "Better bring a few guys. I don't think her father will be much help. Maybe bring Doc or someone from the medical unit in case she's hurt. Make it both. They'll need to check on the Mayor's wife as well."
"Maybe I should go down there, Sarge," Caje volunteered.
"No," Saunders replied. "I need you up here to keep her father calm and get answers to any questions I might have. Tell him what we're planning to do. Maybe he'll feel a little better. Let him know I'm going to get her out."
Caje relayed the information, and the Mayor waved his arms excitedly.
"There's a problem?" the sergeant asked.
Caje nodded. "It seems that the girl is terrified of American soldiers. She saw the GI shoot her mother. He says she'll probably be very frightened when she sees you drop down on her. She's only five, but he says she's smart. She'll definitely know that you're an American soldier."
Saunders looked down at his shirt and began unbuttoning it. "I'll try to look as non-GI as I can." He took off his shirt and dropped it in the grass. Looking down he figured, what the heck, and took off his belt as well. He considered taking off his combat boots, but decided that he couldn't go down there bootless.
He untucked his pant legs from his boots and brought them down to cover as much of his boots as possible. Can't do much about me speaking English, he thought to himself. He reconsidered changing places with Caje, but decided to go with his initial instincts and go after her himself.
As he sat near the edge, dangling his feet into the hole, he could feel the dirt crumbling under him. He quickly slid backwards to more stable ground. This was going to be tricky, he thought. The earth was very unstable still.
"Tell her father not to come near the hole. Tell him that the ground is too unstable, and he might cause it to cave in."
When Caje relayed the information, the big man stepped back a few paces in alarm.
"He'll stay back," Caje said reassuringly.
Leaning forward, Saunders' dog tags clinked together, swinging against his chest. He began to take them off when he stopped abruptly. Holding them momentarily in his fist, the sergeant slid them over his shoulder to hang behind him against his back.
"I'm going to have to jump down real quickly. The ground is just too unstable for me to put my weight on it and lower myself down slowly," Saunders explained.
The sergeant rubbed his hands together as he thought. "Caje, once I'm down there and give you the ok, then you take off. Get me rope and some light. And hurry. This whole thing could collapse at any time."
As Saunders prepared to push off and jump down into the hole, he turned to the Cajun. "What's his daughter's name?"
Caje spoke briefly to the father and then replied, "Grace."
CHAPTER 6
"It's Grace, Sarge," Caje repeated. "But you pronounce it Grâce. Grahs. You sure you don't want me to go down? I can talk to her."
Saunders looked at his private with a slight smile. "I can talk to her," he replied. The sergeant pushed off and jumped into the hole.
As Saunders landed, he realized that the cavity was smaller than he thought. Once down, there was barely six feet of vertical space. The rest of it was a two foot thick ceiling of dirt above him.
He crouched down to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only light came from the narrow hole above him, and he couldn't see very far out to the surrounding walls.
"Grâce?" the sergeant called out softly into the dark, being sure to pronounce it correctly. "Grâce?"
He heard a soft crying in reply off to his left. He turned to face her and knelt down under the hole so that he would be in what little light was available. The dirt was now wet with a shallow layer of standing muddy water.
"Ok, Caje," Saunders called up to the hole. "I found her. You can take off now. It's starting to take on water, so hurry up."
He heard the faint reply, "Ok, Sarge."
The sergeant fished in his pants pocket and pulled out his lighter. Flipping it open, he lit lit and held it out. The soft flickering glow lit up the space, and he realized that it couldn't be more than six or seven feet from one side to the other. He was on one side, and the little girl was on the other, pressed up against the dirt wall.
She wore a simple yellow dress with a tiny pattern that Saunders couldn't quite make out in the dim light. He noticed that she was missing a shoe as she stood on the now muddy ground. Her brown hair was disheveled, but otherwise she appeared to be unhurt.
He could also clearly see that she was very frightened of her circumstances. And now this stranger had just dropped down. The sergeant put one hand down to balance himself and felt that more water was beginning to pool.
"Bonjour, Grâce," he said with a warm smile. Well, Saunders, he thought to himself, you've just blown through pretty much your entire French vocabulary.
He actually knew more German words than French. But even if she spoke German, he didn't think that words like 'hands up', 'prisoner', 'don't shoot' or 'I surrender' would be of much use in this particular situation.
Saunders held his hand out to her, but she cringed against the wall. Worth a try, he thought. He closed his lighter. Not knowing how long it would take Caje to return with the light, he decided to conserve his lighter fluid and wick just in case.
This time his eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. He could just make out the little girl against the wall. Saunders decided that talking to her in any language was better than both of them sitting in silence in the dark hole.
"How are you, Grâce? I know you must be scared, but don't worry. I'll get you out of here real soon," he said in as soothing a voice as he could come up with. Being in tight dark spaces wasn't exactly his favorite thing either.
He lit the lighter again, smiled and said, "My name is Saunders," pointing to his chest. He pointed to the little girl. "Grâce." Then he pointed to his chest again. "Saunders."
He repeated the process. "Grâce…Saunders." He closed his lighter again.
Well, he thought, she wasn't exactly thrilled to see him, but at least she'd stopped crying. He'd take that as a good sign. Just keep talking, Saunders.
"Having the ground fall out from under you must have been really scary. I know I've felt like the ground dropped from under me a few times, but you actually had it happen. You know, if you want you can come over here and sit by me. Maybe you wouldn't be so scared. I know it'd make me feel better. What do you think, Grâce?"
He held out his hand to her again.
Nothing.
CHAPTER 7
Good try, Saunders, he thought. But you can't sweet talk her into understanding English. He decided to keep talking anyway to keep her attention and take her mind off of her situation. He sat down in the mud, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"You know, when I was your age a long, long time ago, I was playing with my best friend Tommy. My parents had just bought a brand new icebox. My mom and dad were so excited, and so was I. You see, it was delivered in this big cardboard carton, and I thought that carton was just about the greatest thing I'd ever seen."
"My imagination made it into all sorts of things. Tommy and I got to play with it, and I got to sit in it first since it was our icebox."
Saunders could picture the day clearly. "As soon as I climbed into that box I was in my spaceship heading to the moon. I was going to get me a big chunk of that green cheese. The moon's made of green cheese, you know."
He smiled and leaned his head back against the dirt wall, ignoring the water and mud that was now soaked into his pants. Grace was quiet. Although he always made sure to call her Grâce, she was still Grace in his mind. With a short laugh, he realized that he was trying to save 'grace'. He intended to do just that.
The sergeant took the little girl's continued silence as a good sign, and continued, "Well, I was halfway to the moon in my spaceship when Tommy closed the top of the box and suddenly it was pitch black in there. Like being stuck out in space for real, except there weren't even any stars."
Saunders could feel his heart rate rising as he vividly remembered the feelings of panic in that pitch black box.
"I jumped right up and practically ripped the cover off that box. Tommy thought that was real funny…but I sure didn't."
He looked over at the tiny still figure standing in the darkness. "So I guess I kind of know what you've been feeling down here, Grâce. Except you can't rip the cover off, can you? I'm here though. You're not alone. And don't worry…everything will be ok, Grâce."
They both sat in silence for awhile and Saunders closed his eyes to wait. Then a tiny soft voice called out in the darkness, "Saunders?"
CHAPTER 8
The sergeant's heart skipped a beat. What an amazing effect that tiny voice had on him, he thought with a smile. He so desperately wanted to hold her…comfort her…get her to understand that everything would be ok. He'd protect her and get her out of that dark hole that they were both in.
"Allume la lumière," she said anxiously.
He didn't understand. She was finally reaching out to him and wanted something…and he didn't understand.
"La flamme, Saunders," she said a little louder. "La flamme."
La flamme…he thought for a moment. La flamme…flame. He grinned and opened his lighter. When the flame flickered to life, he watched a smile spread across her face.
Saunders held out his hand to her again, and after a moment's hesitation, she slowly inched closer and reached out her tiny hand and placed it in his. Gradually he guided her closer.
He noticed that she was now ankle deep in muddy water. When she was close, he put his arm around her tiny waist and lifted her into his lap to try to keep her dry. She snuggled against his chest and curled her thin arm around his large bare arm as he held her.
"It's going to be fine, Grâce," Saunders reassured her. "Caje will be here soon with rope, and the guys will pull us both out."
He closed the lighter again and tucked it back into his pocket. Now both of them were sitting under the hole with the light filtering down on them softly.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then Grace looked up. She pointed upwards. "Le ciel."
Saunders looked up in confusion. The hole?
Then she said, "Bleu…Le ciel est bleu."
Bleu, he thought. Blue. Ciel…ceiling. He looked up again and laughed. The sky is blue. She's teaching me French, he thought. I'm being taught French by a five year old girl while sitting in muddy water in a dark hole.
He tried to repeat it back to her, "La seal ay blue."
She sat up straighter. "Non. Le ciel est bleu," she said again slowly with a serious face. She pronounced each word carefully.
Saunders looked down at her upturned face, paying close attention to each word.
"Le ciel est bleu," he repeated, slowly mimicking the little girl's words.
Grace giggled and clapped her tiny hands. "Très bien!"
Then she said, "Dis-le en anglais, Saunders."
Anglais…English. She wants me to say it in English, he thought.
"The sky is blue," he said slowly.
Grace watched as he spoke, and then repeated just as slowly, while pointing upward. "The…sky…is…blue."
Saunders laughed and nodded. Grace laughed and clapped her hands again. "The sky is blue," she repeated more quickly.
She paused, looking curiously at his neck, and then reached out her tiny hand to pull on the chain holding his dog tags behind his back. The sergeant tensed.
His dog tags slowly slid over his bare shoulder, and Grace's eyes widened in alarm as she let go of the chain, and the tags fell against his chest. He could feel her stiffen with fear. He didn't want to lose her trust now. They were almost there.
He smiled softly and repeated all that he could think of, "Le ciel est bleu, Grâce."
Then he pointed to his chest. "Saunders. Oui?"
The little girl stared at him, and then looked down at the dog tags once again. Saunders held his breath as she took the tags in her tiny hands while staring at the words stamped into the metal.
"Le ciel est bleu, Grâce," the sergeant repeated softly.
The two seemed frozen in time until finally the little girl looked back up into the sergeant's eyes and whispered, "The sky is blue, Saunders."
Saunders relaxed in relief, closed his eyes, and gave her a gentle hug.
Just then a small cascade of dirt spilled down onto his shoulder. He looked up nervously as a familiar voice came down, "Sarge, you still ok? I got the rope. You want the flashlight?"
CHAPTER 9
Relieved, Saunders called up, "No light, Caje. We're ok. But we need to get out of here now. The sinkhole won't hold together too much longer. More water's been seeping in. Throw down the rope."
"Coming down," Caje replied, and the end of the rope fell through the opening and splashed into the water next to the sergeant's leg.
As Saunders tied an adjustable loop on the end of the rope, he said loudly, "You bring help?"
"I have the guys," Caje answered. "Bette's here too. Couldn't find the Lieutenant anywhere. I think everyone was in a meeting somewhere. Didn't want to waste any time looking for him, so I left Brockmeyer to see if he could find him."
"Good enough," the sergeant said as he worked around the little girl awkwardly.
She watched his every move with great interest. Her natural curiosity had pushed aside her fears. When Saunders glanced down at her upturned face, the look on her face told him that she was trusting that he would get her out. As more dirt trickled down on his arms he wished he was as confident as she was.
A voice came down, helping to give him some of that confidence as he worked.
"Saunders, are you both ok?" Bette asked worriedly.
"Yeah, Bette. Grace…Grâce…is ok. We've been having a nice chat while we were waiting." He looked down at the little girl and smiled into her wide brown eyes.
He slipped the rope over his head and arms and tightened it in front of his chest.
"Caje, when you pull me up, I'm gonna hold Grâce over my head, so she'll be coming out first. Someone grab her as soon as you can. The hole isn't big enough for both of us to come out at the same time."
"Ok, Sarge," Caje replied.
When Saunders was satisfied with the rope, he started to stand Grace off to one side so he could get up. Grace's eyes widened with fear and she clung tightly to his bare arm, with tiny fingers digging into his flesh.
The sergeant smiled down at her and pointed to her and then to his own chest. Then pointing upwards, he said, "Le ciel est bleu."
She looked up, following his pointing hand, and then looked back into his eyes. She slowly loosened her grip on his arm and waited patiently as he stood up in the center of the hole. The surface above was still a good two and a half feet higher than his head.
As Saunders reached down to pick Grace up, the world began to crumble around them.
CHAPTER 10
He felt it a split second before the walls began to collapse. Instinctively, he lifted Grace and jumped, shoving her up through the hole as the sides caved in.
"Caje!" he shouted just before he was buried in piles of loose dirt.
Everyone above reflexively stepped back as the ground began to crumble. When the little girl shot up through the hole and they heard the sergeant shout, Caje reached out to snatch her from the air.
At the same time, the Cajun screamed, "Pull! Pull him up!" He swung the crying Grace away from the open hands still reaching up from the ground, even as it sunk farther.
Chaos momentarily consumed everyone as Littlejohn, Billy and Kirby all struggled with the taught rope. Caje dropped Grace into Doc's waiting arms, and then he joined Bette who was on her knees in the large depression, frantically digging at the loose dirt around Saunders' now limp hands.
"Saunders!" she screamed as she scooped piles of dirt and threw it behind her.
While Caje and Bette dug away at the dirt, the three soldiers tugged on the rope. When it slowly began to move, Caje grabbed one of his sergeant's wrists and pulled.
"Keep pulling! He's moving!" the Cajun yelled as Bette grabbed the other wrist, standing to pull upwards with the strength of the desperate.
Gradually the earth gave up the unconscious soldier. When his dirt covered blond head appeared, Kirby grabbed Saunders' arm from Bette, and he and Caje pulled the limp body the rest of the way free.
Bette immediately rolled him onto his side and screamed, "Doc!" But the medic had already handed Grace off to her anxious father and rushed to Bette's side.
"Keep hitting him on the back, Doc!" she said as she cleared dirt from the sergeant's nose. His partially opened mouth was filled with dirt, and she reached in to clean it out and clear an airway.
"Come on, Saunders. Breathe!" she said as she worked. Each time Doc pounded on his sergeant's back, small clumps of dirt were dislodged and Bette would clear it out.
When she felt that she had a fairly clear airway, she said, "Let's get him on his back."
Doc rolled him flat onto his back, and Bette opened Saunders' mouth, pinched his nose closed, and blew in a breath.
"Breathe, Saunders! C'mon."
She repeated her breaths several times as all the men around them held their own breaths in anxious stillness. Even Grace had stopped crying as she stared at her new friend lying lifeless on the ground.
Bette continued breathing life into the soldier. "Don't you die on me, Saunders!" she said as her tears fell on his dirt flecked face. "Breathe, dammit!"
As she blew once more, Saunders jerked, coughed out dirt and gasped for air.
CHAPTER 11
Bette and Doc quickly rolled him onto his side as he threw up mud and dirt, coughing violently.
The men all exhaled a collective sigh of relief and murmured, "Alright," "That a way, Sarge," and "Good job, Bette."
Finally Kirby asked anxiously, "Is he gonna be ok, Bette?"
"I don't know, Kirby," she replied. "I need to check him over. One of you go get a doctor."
Billy called out, "I'll go!" even as he was already running toward the road.
Bette anxiously watched the sergeant's erratic breathing as she held his wrist to check his pulse.
Caje spoke to Grace's father and then said, "Mayor Bonheur says we can bring Sarge inside the house to Grâce's room."
"Good," Bette answered. "Tell him thanks." She looked up at the men around her. "Can you get him inside?"
The soldiers all reached down to gently pick up their sergeant as Mayor Bonheur, still carrying Grace, led them into the house.
"Caje," Bette said while wiping away dirt from Saunders' chest as they walked, "ask him if he has something to throw on the bed." She pointed to the unconscious soldier's pants, which were soaked in mud.
After a brief conversation with the Mayor, Caje replied, "He said not to worry. Just make sure he's ok."
Once the Mayor directed them to his daughter's room, he took her and went to check on his wife. The men eased their sergeant down onto the bed, and Kirby began to unbuckle Saunders' boots.
"Caje, could you ask the Mayor for towels and water? I need to clean up his face, nose and mouth. Got to make it easier for him to breathe."
As she spoke, Saunders was racked with spasms of coughs and gasps for air.
With a worried look and a quick wave, the Cajun disappeared into the next room. While she waited, Bette brushed the dirt from Saunders' chest. She lightly touched the raw rope burns near each shoulder from his men pulling him from beneath the ground.
The soldier's body suddenly convulsed with deep coughs as he struggled for more air. Bette pulled her hand back quickly, afraid that she'd hurt him. When the coughing had subsided, she gently took his wrist to check his pulse again. It was rapid, but steady.
She leaned over him and whispered, "Hang in there, Saunders. Take it easy and just breathe. The doctor's on his way."
Both Mr. Bonheur and Caje rushed into the room, with the Mayor carrying an armful of white towels, and Caje carrying a large basin of water.
"The Mayor wants to know how the Sarge is doing. He says that Grâce is very worried. I guess Sarge made friends with her down there somehow, even though he doesn't speak French, and she's only heard a few English words according to her father."
Taking the towels as Caje set the basin down on the nightstand, Bette replied, "Tell him that he's breathing on his own and hopefully he'll be ok. We'll know better when the doctor gets here to check him over. Be sure to thank him for his concern, and ask him if Grace is ok."
Caje answered. "She's fine. He told me he owes the Sarge a great debt for saving Grâce. He says he's very grateful, and he'll pray for Sarge's good health."
Bette smiled at the Mayor and said, "Merci." Mr. Bonheur nodded and left the room.
Dipping a towel into the basin, Bette began to clean the dirt from Saunders' eyes and nose. Taking a small hand towel, she wet it, opened his mouth and tried to clear out the remaining grit. Once he was awake, she thought, he could rinse his mouth himself…Once he was awake.
"Open your eyes, Saunders," she whispered as she wiped his eyes again. But the soldier remained still and silent.
"He's still out, Lieutenant?" came a familiar voice from behind her.
CHAPTER 12
"Dr. Barrett, that was fast. Yes, he hasn't regained consciousness yet," Bette responded as she looked up to see the head physician already setting his bag down next to Saunders' leg.
"I commandeered a jeep," the doctor answered as he opened his bag and pulled out his stethoscope. He smiled. "Rank has its privileges." He leaned over and listened to the soldier's heart and lungs.
Bette waited anxiously as the doctor continued to examine his patient. When he pulled out a flashlight, she was puzzled. Seeing her confusion, he smiled again. "Something I've been reading up on." He opened one of Saunders' eyes and shined the flashlight on his face. After a few seconds he did the same with the other eye.
"Checking his pupillary response." He shined the light in one eye again. "See how his pupils dilate and constrict when the light comes and goes?"
Bette looked over the man's shoulder. "That's good?"
The doctor stood up straight and turned the flashlight off. "That's good," he replied with a slight smile.
"How long was he buried?" the doctor asked, listening to the sergeant's lungs again.
"Just a couple of minutes," Bette replied hopefully. "We dug him out pretty quickly."
The doctor opened Saunders' mouth and shined the light down his throat. "His throat is pretty raw. Been coughing a lot, I imagine."
Bette nodded. "It looks clear though," Dr Barrett continued. "You did a pretty good job of cleaning out all the dirt, but he's going to be grinding grit for awhile once he wakes up."
"How's his health in general?" he asked, knowing Bette's relationship to his patient.
"Usually excellent," she responded. "But he's been on nonstop patrols for quite awhile. He's lost some weight. Not eating very good. And he's been running on very little sleep."
"So his body's pretty worn down right now. That and his lack of sleep probably explains why he's still out right now. Seems like the only saving grace of those numerous patrols is that they've probably strengthened his stamina and lung capacity."
"So do you think he'll be ok?" Bette asked hopefully.
"He's holding his own," the doctor replied cautiously. He took out a syringe and a vial. "I'm going to give him some penicillin just as a precaution against infection with maybe some dirt in his lungs. But his breathing seems more even now."
He reached into his bag for a second vial. "Between the dirt and all the coughing, it'll probably hurt for awhile just to breathe. I'll give him a little something for that too."
As he spoke, he cleaned a spot on Saunders' arm and gave him both shots.
Dr. Barrett put everything back in his bag. "Don't worry, Bette. I'm sure he'll be ok. This is all just precautions. He needs a lot of rest. That was a pretty traumatic experience for him, I'm sure. Just watch him. I'll want to see him again when he's back at the billet. And if he seems to be getting worse or not waking up, don't hesitate to send someone for me."
He picked up his bag and placed a reassuring hand on his nurse's shoulder. "Stay as long as you need to. We'll be fine back at the field hospital. Now I think I'll go check on the little girl and the Mayor's wife."
With a smile, he was gone, and Bette was alone with the unconscious soldier. She stood silently holding his hand.
CHAPTER 13
Saunders felt a tug on his little finger, and he immediately incorporated it into his dream. He was lying on the bank of the Rock River with a fishing pole stuck into the ground next to him. He'd tied a string to the pole, and attached it to his little finger so that he could take a nap. Relaxing in the shade of a large oak tree, he felt a gentle tug on his finger. The fish were biting.
The sergeant slowly opened his eyes and the momentary disorientation had him confused. His eyes were really gritty and stinging. Blinking rapidly, he realized that he wasn't looking up at the leaves and branches on a sunny day.
He was staring at a ceiling…he was in a room. Slowly looking around and blinking to clear his vision, he noticed something on his chest. Picking it up, he smiled…a teddy bear. A worn, brown teddy bear with one button eye missing.
"Bonjour, Saunders," came a soft voice from his side. "The sky is blue."
The sergeant looked down to see a smiling Grace with her tiny hand wrapped around his little finger. He tried to speak but nothing came out. His throat was sore, it hurt to breathe, and his teeth felt like he'd been chewing on sandpaper.
Then the memories came tumbling back...the desperate concern for Grace, the sheer terror when he could no longer breathe. His heart began to race as his thoughts and emotions crashed against each other.
But the sight of the little girl beside him instantly began to calm him. Her smiling face told him that she was alright. He'd gotten her out ok.
He tried speaking again. With a faint smile, he managed to whisper hoarsely, "Bonjour, Grâce. Le ciel est bleu."
She laughed, let go of his finger and clapped her tiny hands. A smiling Bette appeared over Grace's head. "Why, hello there. About time. Grace has been really worried. She even gave you Monsieur Chanceaux to watch over you. And she doesn't let just anyone hold that little guy."
He held up the worn bear. "Merci, Grâce."
A frown crossed her little round face. "Monsieur Chanceaux manque son oeil."
Saunders stared at her blankly.
Patiently she pointed at the bear. "Monsieur Chanceaux."
The sergeant nodded…the bear.
"Manque…son…oeil," she repeated slowly, pointing to one of her eyes as she closed it.
Ah, he thought. His eye is missing. Grace frowned again.
Saunders held up the bear and looked at Bette. "Bette?"
The nurse smiled, recognizing the situation. "I'll see what I can come up with." She held out a white lace handkerchief. "In the meantime, you can use this if you want. You must feel like you have half of Coney Island Beach up your nose."
Taking the handkerchief with a slight smile and wave, he slowly closed his eyes. As he drifted off again, the little girl took his finger in her small hand and continued to watch over her new friend.
CHAPTER 14
When Saunders opened his eyes again, Grace was gone. A flash of worry crossed his face as looked around.
"She's ok," Bette said, reading his concern as she sat next to his bed. "Her father's just getting her ready for bed. Since you're occupying her bed right now, she'll be sleeping with her mother and father tonight."
The sergeant tried to sit up once he looked around and realized that he was indeed in a little girl's room. His feet hung off the end of the smaller bed. Bette gently pushed him back down on the pillow. It didn't take much…he still seemed very tired.
"Mr. Bonheur said not to worry. Grace is thrilled to be sleeping with her parents tonight. Her mother is doing much better."
She pulled the blanket higher on his chest, careful not to touch the rope burns. Seeing Saunders reach up to rub his gritty eyes, she stood and took hold of his wrist. "Don't do that. You'll scratch your eyes."
Reaching for a clean cloth, she dipped it in the basin of fresh water and began to gently wipe more grit from his eyes.
The sergeant lay back and closed his eyes. "I'm still really tired. What's wrong?"
"The doctor gave you something for the pain. Said it would make you sleepy. It's ok. You can really use it."
Saunders opened his eyes and stared up at her for a moment, and then slowly closed his eyes again.
When he opened them, the sun was streaming through the window across the room.
"Bonjour, Saunders," came the soft musical voice.
Saunders sat up on one elbow, feeling much more alert. He smiled at the little girl. "Bonjour, Grâce," he answered hoarsely.
Grace held out the white lace handkerchief. "Le mouchoir pour ton nez," she said, pointing a tiny finger at her button nose.
The sergeant smiled, took the handkerchief and held it up. "Le mouchoir?" he repeated. You're getting good at this, Saunders, he thought.
The little girl laughed and nodded. "Oui, très bien, Saunders."
Saunders unfolded it and blew his nose in it as politely as he could. The white cloth turned black. He folded it over and blew his nose again. More dirt stained the cloth. He gave up, knowing that he'd definitely run out of clean spots on the handkerchief long before he ran out of dirt. He tucked the soiled cloth next to his side.
Glancing at the nightstand, he saw a glass of water and realized how thirsty he was…and how very gritty his mouth was. As he reached toward it, the little girl carefully picked up the glass with both hands and slowly held it out to him.
He smiled and took the glass. "Merci."
"Anglaise?"
"Thank you…merci…thank you," he replied slowly.
She smiled. "Thank…you."
Saunders took a mouthful of water and swished it around. He still felt like he'd swallowed half the Sahara. Realizing that he had no place to spit it out, he swallowed. Well, he thought, mom always said that you had to eat a peck of dirt in your lifetime. He'd had enough already for two lifetimes. He decided to wait to drink any more.
As he went to set the glass down, he saw his lighter standing near the water pitcher. Smiling, he also noticed scissors, thread and a single tiny needle next to it. No button.
When he gave a slight frown, he heard "Mr. Bonheur doesn't have any buttons. Sorry." Bette could tell exactly what he was thinking as she stood in the doorway. "He said maybe later he could go to a neighbor for one if you'd like."
The sergeant looked up at her. "Morning. Where's my shirt?"
She went to a little white vanity and held up his shirt. "Want your belt and pants too?"
Saunders shook his head. "Just the shirt," he replied as he reached out for it. Stopping mid-reach, he looked down, lifting the blanket. He was only in his skivvies. When he looked back up, he glanced at Grace and then at Bette. The nurse smiled.
"Kirby got you undressed for me," she said reading his thoughts. "Mr. Bonheur was kind enough to let me wash your uniform. It was pretty bad. Grace helped me."
The little girl smiled brightly when she heard her name. Bette held up the shirt and pretended to rub it together, mimicking the wash. Grace laughed and looked at Saunders with a huge smile of satisfaction.
"Merci," he said to her, with a nod and a smile.
As he took the shirt, he asked, "Where is everyone?"
"They've been hanging around, hovering over you. I finally sent them back to the billet. You've been out for quite awhile, and I didn't want them to get in trouble with Lieutenant Hanley."
"They finally found the Lieutenant," she continued. "Evidently we're preparing to push forward again, so he's been in one meeting after another. When Brockmeyer got here, he said that Hanley said to tell you to get better fast because he doesn't want to hold up the entire war waiting for you to get back."
She smiled. "I assume he was joking. I'm sure the war would still go on without you." And then she laughed.
Saunders' heart skipped a beat listening to the sound. It never ceased to affect him.
He sat up straighter, leaning against the headboard. Picking up the bear still lying on his bed, he said to the girl, "Monsieur…?"
"Monsieur Chanceaux," Grace replied as she took the bear and hugged it.
Saunders leaned over and picked up the scissors. Finding the bottom button on his shirt, he carefully snipped it off.
Recognizing what he was doing, Bette offered, "Would you like me to do that?"
The sergeant shook his head as he pulled the loose threads from the button. "Mom taught all of her children how to take care of themselves."
He held the button between his lips as he threaded the needle, carefully poking the thread through the eye. Tying off the end, he reached out his hand to Grace. She hugged the bear tightly.
Saunders pointed a finger at his own eye, and then took the button from his mouth and held it out to show her. He held the button up to his eye and then, slipping it back into his mouth he held out his hand to her again.
Blinking a few times, Grace finally held out her treasured bear. Saunders sat the bear in his lap, took the button from his mouth, and set to work. With each pull of the thread, Grace's soft brown eyes seemed to grow larger. Her mouth opened in a tiny 'O' as she watched him work.
When he'd finished, Saunders trimmed the thread and held the bear out for inspection. Satisfied, he presented it to the little girl.
"Monsieur Chanceaux," the sergeant said smiling.
"Il a deux yeux!" she said excitedly, giving the bear a big hug.
"Merci, Saunders!" she said smiling and then paused, thinking. "Thank…you." She sat back in her chair, swinging her legs happily as she rocked Monsieur Chanceaux.
CHAPTER 15
As Saunders began to get dressed, he looked at the bottom of his shirt tail where the button was missing. He tucked his shirt into his pants, deciding that he'd never miss it.
The button was now serving a much higher purpose giving delight to a little girl who was stuck in the middle of a stinking war that she had no control over.
Putting his belt on, he realized that Grace was standing in the doorway to her bedroom watching him as she cuddled her bear. They smiled at each other as he finished buckling his belt.
Caje appeared behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. "Bonjour, Caje."
He smiled down at her. "Bonjour, Princesse."
Looking up, he said, "Ready, Sarge? The Lieutenant sent me to get you and Bette. I have a jeep outside."
Saunders ran his hands through his hair quickly. "Ready."
Making their way out to the front porch where the Mayor and Bette were waiting, the sergeant said, "Caje, tell Mayor Bonheur that I'm sorry for putting him out…taking over Grace's room and everything."
Caje spoke to the Mayor briefly. "Monsieur Bonheur says that you weren't any trouble at all. He was honored to be able to help you. He wants to thank you again for saving Grâce."
Caje paused and smiled, looking from his sergeant to Bette. "He also said that he wishes you a long life and many children."
Bette blushed and said, "I'll just wait in the jeep."
Caje added, "I think I'll join her."
Saunders reached out to the Mayor and shook the big man's hand. "Merci, Monsieur Bonheur."
The Mayor gave him a warm smile. "Merci, Sergent…Merci."
Kneeling down in front of Grace, Saunders put a hand on her tiny shoulder and smiled. Hugging her bear tightly, the little girl hesitated and then reached out to touch the stripes on his shirtsleeve. He held his breath waiting for her reaction.
Looking up into his eyes, she finally smiled and said softly, "The sky is blue, Saunders…Thank you."
A big grin of relief spread across Saunders' face as he pulled her in to hug her tightly.
"Le ciel est bleu, Grâce…Merci."
THE END