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.
Always interesting testing Saunders' limits—physical, emotional, psychological, ethical and moral. And always with the question WWSD? What would Saunders do? As in the TV episodes, we've learned that there is just so far he can be pushed.
INSUBORDINATION
Part 2
CHAPTER 12
"I'm sorry, Sergeant, Captain Jampel isn't here," the aide told him. "He's been in meetings with some other brass about moving forward. Don't know when he'll be back."
The aide shuffled some papers and looked up when the sergeant didn't leave. "Is it important? Should I tell him you need to see him?"
That would get back to Newsom before I could even make it to my bedroll, Saunders thought.
"No," he shook his head. "Just had a question. Not important." Saunders had done enough special patrols for the Captain that he knew the officer would be willing to meet with him. But now Saunders was having second thoughts. Maybe jumping the chain of command was not the best idea. Maybe he needed to give it another try talking to Newsom.
He left and headed back to First squad's bivouac. As he walked he tried to work out how he could effectively approach the lieutenant one more time. He just needed to keep it all together for a couple more days until hopefully Hanley returned. Then this egomaniac would be someone else's problem.
Not the best solution, he thought, but the only one that he could see that didn't involve him ending up in the stockade.
Up ahead he could see Billy running toward him. "Hey Sarge," the young private called out as he drew near. "Lieutenant Newsom is looking for you, and he seems angry. Again. Is that guy ever not angry?"
Adjusting the rifle over his shoulder, Nelson started to button his open shirt. "He chewed me out for not having my rifle and helmet. I was just coming back from taking another shower after a little football game against Second squad. Now I'm expected to bring my rifle into the shower? And how the heck am I supposed to wash my hair with my helmet on?"
"Don't worry about it," the sergeant reassured him. "He in his tent?"
"Yeah," Billy replied. "Bring your whip and chair."
Saunders gave a slight wave and headed to the Lieutenant's quarters, steeling himself for the encounter.
CHAPTER 13
Standing outside the tent, Saunders noted that the flap was closed. The tent flap was always closed. Hanley's tent was always open except when he was sleeping or getting dressed. But this wasn't Hanley, he reminded himself.
He sighed and then decided to put their differences aside. This wasn't a debating club, as he always reminded his men. This was the U.S. Army and Newsom was his lieutenant…like it or not. Until Hanley returned, he'd just have to learn to live with it. He just hoped that he and his men made it that long.
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Straightening his shoulders, he called out, "Lieutenant Newsom?"
"Come," he heard Newsom call out in return.
Saunders closed his eyes for a second and then went in. Standing at attention, he gave a crisp salute. With a faint, smug smile Newsom returned it.
"Your men are pretty sloppy, Sergeant," he began.
Keep it together, the sergeant thought. A couple more days. "If you are referring to Private Nelson, Sir, the soldier was just returning from the showers. I don't believe regulations require showering with a rifle."
Newsom stared at the sergeant for a long moment and then turned to look at a map. Saunders couldn't help a faint smile.
"I want you to head up a patrol tonight," the lieutenant said without looking up.
The sergeant was taken aback. He blurted out, "We just came back from night patrol…Sir." Hold it together, Saunders, he thought. He clenched his teeth in silence.
"And you have another one…because I'm ordering you," the officer replied as he looked up and watched the sergeant closely. "Your men blew the last mission. I'm giving you another chance."
"You have a problem with that?" Newsom asked, openly daring the sergeant to object.
Saunders stared blankly over the lieutenant's shoulder. "No, Sir." Just a few more days.
"Good," Newsom said, turning back to the map on the table. "We need a prisoner. We need more information before we move forward."
Saunders stepped to the map and stared at it. No Man's Land again. Willing himself to remain quiet, he knew that he had to get out of there quickly…or insubordination would be the least of his problems.
"Questions?" the officer asked, watching him carefully.
With barely contained anger in his eyes, Saunders answered calmly, "No, Sir." Taking the map, he saluted smartly and turned to leave. Out. He had to get out.
"Sergeant," the lieutenant called out to him.
Saunders stopped at the tent opening. The man's every word grated on his nerves. The sergeant turned and looked back. "Yes, Sir?"
"Next time wait to be dismissed. We'll make a good soldier out of you yet," Newsom replied with his faint, smug smile.
From every corner of his soul, Saunders burned to wipe that smile off of this lieutenant's face and grind him into the dirt. But he turned silently and left.
CHAPTER 14
"Don't think I have to ask anymore where you're getting these maps," Kirby said grimly as he helped his sergeant spread out the crumpled, torn map on the bedroll.
Nelson came over and wordlessly put a piece of tape on the ripped corner. Saunders stood and stared at the map like he was sizing up his worst adversary.
The five soldiers that he'd picked looked at each other silently. They could practically see the intense anger seeping out of their sergeant's pores. None of them could remember him so angry before. And they'd certainly seen his anger surface more than a few times. But always with good reason.
Saunders looked up from the map at the five anxious faces. His own features instantly softened. He didn't want to misplace his anger and take all of his frustrations out on his men. They had another dangerous mission again. They didn't need him on their backs making everything worse.
He knew that his fight was with Newsom. And one way or another he'd deal with it.
"We're heading out again tonight," he told them calmly. "The lieutenant wants a prisoner."
"How many other patrols?" Brockmeyer asked.
"None," his sergeant replied simply.
"Just us? No other patrols?" Caje asked in confusion.
"Seems that it's just us," Saunders answered trying to keep his rising anger in check.
The men fell silent again.
Finally Steller asked, "Same sector?" The men didn't really need any confirmation. They all knew that they were going back into No Man's Land.
With a quick nod, Saunders added, "You know the drill. Be ready at 1900 hours."
Looking at everyone, he asked, "Questions?"
"Helmets?" Kirby asked tentatively.
"Helmets," their sergeant replied. He could see many more questions in each soldier's eyes, but they all remained silent. He picked up the wrinkled map and stuffed it into his field jacket.
"Steller, pick up extra ammo for everyone. Caje, run over to get some K rats for everyone. It could be a long night."
From looking at their sergeant, they all knew that no matter what, they were going to be bringing back a prisoner.
As the men all broke up to get ready, Saunders pulled out the crumpled map and looked at the wrinkled paper. Back into No Man's Land with another useless map. He balled the map up in his fist and threw it into their coffee fire.
Useless.
CHAPTER 15
As they made their way through their own front lines dug in along the edge of No Man's Land, Saunders could feel the soldiers' eyes on them. His patrol had passed through the night before with barely a glance or a word. He'd seen their concern when they'd returned carrying a wounded soldier.
But now the concern had grown and become quite obvious.
"Going out again, Sarge?" one soldier asked as the patrol slowly made its way through.
"Yeah," was all Saunders replied.
The soldier shook his head. "Boy, the Company must be really short on men. Two night patrols in a row. Your squad is going to run outta men."
That's what Newsom's working on, Saunders thought as he walked into the woods without another word.
All six of them had done this before. It was nothing new. But it didn't make it any less dangerous. Usually multiple patrols went out when the brass wanted a prisoner for information. With them being the only ones going out, all the weight of the mission fell onto their shoulders. Onto his shoulders. Wouldn't be the first time, the sergeant thought.
Hopefully they would be able to separate a kraut soldier from his unit somehow, and take him without a fight. The other possibility was a firefight where they tried to eliminate a German patrol and leave one alive to surrender.
Saunders hoped for the former as they made their way into No Man's Land. One casualty was enough for the week. But they were a few hours into the patrol and again they had yet to encounter a single German.
The sergeant was determined to bring back a prisoner even if they had to go to Berlin to find one. Where were all those enemy patrols and platoons that they'd encountered the night before? he thought.
Suddenly Caje waved to him from up ahead. Krauts. Saunders motioned for everyone to get down, and then he moved up and knelt next to the Cajun. The private pointed forward. Hearing low voices, Saunders nodded.
Looking behind him, he saw Brockmeyer already there, watching him expectantly. The sergeant waved him forward, and Brockmeyer crawled quietly up beside him.
Minutes passed in silence as Brockmeyer listened. The private nodded and motioned for his sergeant to follow him as he crawled back to the other waiting soldiers.
"It's a platoon bivouacked for the night. Probably one of the ones we met up with last night. They're about to send out sentries again to walk the perimeter," Brockmeyer whispered loud enough for the other men to hear.
Saunders was hopeful. This could be it. He had no intention of being caught by surprise again by a sentry.
"Spread out and hunker down," he whispered. "If a sentry comes through here, whoever is closest to him takes him down. The rest of us will come in to help. Remember, we want him alive and hopefully in good enough condition to talk. And we need to do this without alerting the other krauts. With luck we'll get out of here without a platoon on our tails."
Each soldier nodded, found cover and melted silently into the darkness to wait.
CHAPTER 16
Minutes later, Kirby was the first to see the sentry as the German came slowly out of the gloom. Passing right by the GI, he never saw the BAR man as he stood up and wrapped his arm around him. Kirby grabbed him, covering his mouth and pulled him backwards off balance.
The other men rushed to help him before the kraut had a chance to alert the platoon. Before they could control him, the German swung his rifle back, slamming the butt into Kirby's ribs.
The BAR man stifled a cry of pain as he released the German and dropped to one knee. On the ground but momentarily free, the kraut instantly froze when the muzzle of Saunders' Thompson was pressed into his cheek.
"Mach Lärm und du stirbst," Brockmeyer whispered in the German's ear. Make noise and you die.
"Verstehen?"
"Ich verstehe," the sentry replied quietly, as he stared wide-eyed at the muzzle of the Thompson near his eye.
As Saunders continued to hold his weapon on the German, Brockmeyer tied the soldier's hands. Nelson stuffed a handkerchief in the German's mouth and secured it behind his head.
Without taking his eyes off of their prisoner, the sergeant whispered, "Kirby, you alright?"
Kirby was still bent over on one knee, while holding his side. "Yeah," he managed to get out in a strained voice. Steller helped him up slowly and a slight groan escaped as the BAR man straightened.
"Busted?" Saunders whispered.
Rubbing his side gingerly, Kirby replied, "No, don't think so."
"You ok to travel?" the sergeant asked anxiously.
Kirby closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. "I can make it. Just not too fast."
Saunders motioned for Caje to pull back. "Let's move out. No noise. No mistakes."
Steller and Nelson took over guarding their prisoner, pushing him forward. Everyone was anxious to get away from the kraut platoon that was bivouacked only fifty yards away. Caje moved ahead to take the point.
Kirby started to drop back to bring up the rear, but Saunders stopped him. He motioned to Brockmeyer to fall back, and the soldier nodded and waited for the others to pass.
The sergeant reached out and took the BAR from the struggling man, who was obviously in pain. Slipping the heavy weapon over his shoulder, he motioned for Kirby to go in front of him. The BAR man started to object, but knew that he'd probably never make it all the way back while carrying his weapon. He fell in line behind Nelson.
CHAPTER 17
The patrol returned tired but satisfied that they had completed their mission. Still covered in camo paint, they could only think of food. They had never had time to break out their K rats while on patrol and had eaten little before they left.
For the second day in a row they were returning from patrol and entering the billet just as the sun was barely starting to touch the tips of the trees in the east. The Company was beginning to stir.
Saunders moved up and grabbed the kraut by the collar. "I'll take him from here. Kirby, get over to the med tents. The rest of you, hit the showers and then get to mess. You all did a great job."
As the men left, wearily dragging themselves back to their bivouac, the sergeant pulled their prisoner over toward the officers' tents.
Nearing the tents, Saunders stopped a corporal heading to mess. "I need you to come with me, Corporal."
"Sure, Sarge," the soldier replied, turning to follow the sergeant. "Will I miss breakfast?"
"Nope," was all that the sergeant answered.
When they reached Newsom's tent, Saunders called out, "Lieutenant Newsom?"
At first there was no reply. Just as the sergeant was about to repeat himself, he heard, "Who is it?"
It sounded like he'd just been awakened. With a faint smile, Saunders answered, "Sergeant Saunders reporting."
Newsom opened the tent flap and stepped out while tucking in his shirt.
"We just got back with your prisoner, Sir," Saunders said.
Newsom finished tucking in his shirt while looking over the German. He didn't even comment on the fact that the sergeant had not saluted.
"You brought back a private? That's the best you could come up with?" the officer asked with barely hidden contempt.
Saunders glared at the lieutenant in stony silence. He hunched his shoulders and jammed his thumbs into his utility belt. He couldn't guarantee what would happen if his hands were free. The sergeant looked at the officer out of the corner of his eye.
"Your orders were to bring in a prisoner. You didn't specify size, shape, color or rank…Sir," the sergeant said through gritted teeth. "It's not like a five and ten cent store. You can't pick and choose what you want."
With every passing moment he felt that his future was going to include a long, long time in the stockade. He was beginning to think that it would be worth it.
"Just thought you'd show some initiative, Sergeant," Newsom said dismissively. "But I guess he'll have to do. Take him to the CP."
With that, the lieutenant turned and went back into his tent and closed it. Both the sergeant and the corporal stared at the closed tent until Saunders finally gave a sarcastic salute to the closed tent flap.
"You heard the Lieutenant, Corporal. Take my prisoner over to the CP."
"You're not coming, Sarge?" the soldier asked as he grabbed the prisoner's arm.
Saunders shook his head. "I'm going to sleep."
As the soldiers parted, Saunders heard the Corporal say, "Man, I'm sure glad he's not my lieutenant!"
CHAPTER 18
"The Lieutenant wants to see you," Brockmeyer said hesitantly.
Saunders could feel his blood pressure instantly rising as his jaw clenched. They had all had a good rest, and Newsom hadn't bothered them all day. The sergeant was hoping that his men would get a little well-earned time off. And maybe Newsom was growing weary of trying to grind the sergeant down.
He closed his book with his finger holding his place. Sometimes he felt like the war would be over before he ever had a chance to finish his book.
"He in his quarters?" Saunders asked, looking up from his bedroll.
"Where else? I don't think that guy moves three feet from his tent," Brockmeyer replied. "Do you think he's ever actually seen any combat?"
The sergeant slipped his sister's letter into the book and dropped it next to him as he stood up. Without replying he picked up his helmet and Thompson, and headed toward the officers' tents. Sliding the Thompson over his shoulder as he walked, he put on his helmet. Another day or two of this nightmare and Hanley would be back. Keep it together, Saunders, he thought as he walked.
Lieutenant Newsom was just coming out of his tent when the sergeant approached him.
"About time, Saunders. What took you so long?" the Lieutenant asked curtly.
Without bothering to answer, Saunders asked, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"
Newsom glared at the sergeant, obviously waiting for a salute and trying to decide if he wanted to pursue his question any further.
After a silent exchange of stares, the officer finally said, "Pick five men. We have a recon mission tomorrow morning."
Saunders hesitated. "We?"
"Yes, I've decided to go along to be sure your squad doesn't screw up again," the Lieutenant answered smugly.
"Beg your pardon, Sir, but have you ever been in combat before?" the sergeant asked calmly, ignoring the insult thrown at his men.
"What's that got to do with anything, Sergeant?" Newsom demanded angrily.
Saunders looked the Lieutenant square in the eye. Might as well lay all the cards on the table, he thought. "I'd like to know what kind of danger my men will be facing if we have an inexperienced officer in command. I'm responsible for their safety."
Newsom's face began to redden. "Are you implying something, Saunders?"
"No, Sir," the sergeant replied with an even but firm voice. "Just gathering vital information to ensure the success of my mission. Sir."
Newsom was quiet for a moment, and then replied, "My combat experience is no concern of yours, Sergeant. Come inside and I'll explain our mission."
As the officer turned quickly and went into the tent, Saunders stared at his back. Just as I figured, the sergeant thought as he followed the Lieutenant into the tent. He's as green as grass.
CHAPTER 19
"Listen up, everyone," Saunders called out as he entered their bivouac. All faces looked up as their sergeant took out his map and went over to his bedroll to spread it out.
"Hey, the map isn't too crumpled up," Kirby remarked as he helped smooth out the corners. "And not a single tear. Must be an easy mission."
Putting his book on one corner, the sergeant gave Kirby that look. The BAR man held up a hand and said defensively, "Just saying."
Without replying, Saunders looked at his men. "Brockmeyer, Littlejohn, Nelson, Caje…stick around. Kirby, how's the ribs?"
Kirby rubbed his side. "They're ok. Only hurts when I laugh."
"Seriously," Saunders added. "You doing alright?"
"Yeah, Sarge. They wrapped me up good and tight. Just a slightly cracked rib. Hardly bothers me at all. I'll go with you. You'll probably need me."
The sergeant looked at him for a moment and replied, "I'd feel better about this if you were there. Good."
Saunders looked at the rest of his men. "Steller, Davids, Perez…you can sit this one out. Doc, I think I'd like you to come."
The medic nodded in reply.
"There's some gun emplacements that we need to locate. Planes haven't been able to get in there without taking a lot of flak."
The sergeant pointed to the map. "Somewhere in here. We're only there to get the coordinates and call them in. Artillery will do the rest. The six of us should be enough firepower to get us in and back out. Hopefully no engagement at all."
As the other three soldiers left the group around the map, Saunders added, "Lieutenant Newsom will be in command."
It was like dropping a grenade in their midst.
"The Lieutenant is coming?" Caje asked incredulously.
"How come?" Billy asked.
"Not our business," Saunders replied. "All we need to know is that he's coming. And he's in charge. Got it?"
The soldiers looked at each other silently.
" 'K, Sarge," Kirby replied glumly.
"We leave at 0800 hours tomorrow. Lots of extra ammo. Be ready and on time," Saunders added.
As the men dispersed, he folded the map and tucked it into his field jacket. The mission seemed straightforward enough, but he couldn't shake the ominous feeling gnawing at his gut. Newsom was going to be in charge.
CHAPTER 20
The men were ready to go and waiting when Lieutenant Newsom showed up at exactly 0800 hours. He looked the men over and turned to Saunders.
"What's he doing here?" Newsom asked, pointing to Doc. "I said five men, Sergeant."
Doc looked from the Lieutenant to the Sergeant, unsure of what he should do.
"He's our medic," Saunders replied. "It's SOP to bring your medic on patrol if you have one. That's what we have him for."
"I told you five soldiers," Newsom shot back.
Controlling his rising anger, the sergeant answered slowly, "He's a noncombatant."
Newsom and Saunders glared at each other until the Lieutenant finally said, "Fine. I won't argue."
This time, Saunders thought. Everything was an argument, and it was draining on the sergeant's patience.
The officer looked over the other men and went straight to Brockmeyer who was adjusting the radio on his back. "You can leave that here, Private."
Brockmeyer stopped and looked over at his sergeant. The Lieutenant caught his look and said sternly, "Sergeant Saunders is not in command of this patrol, Private. I am."
He waited for objections and then repeated, "Leave it."
Saunders stepped closer. "We need the radio, Lieutenant. Our orders are to locate the positions of those gun emplacements and call it in."
"I'm well aware of what our mission is, Sergeant," the officer replied stone faced. "I gave you those orders."
"If our radio message gets intercepted," Newsom added, "the Germans will move their guns. We'll use a runner."
"A runner?" Saunders could feel his blood pressure rising. "It could take hours for a runner to get back to HQ. If he makes it at all through kraut territory alone. If we call in exact coordinates, the artillery can come in pretty quickly. The krauts won't have time to move those guns, even if they intercept our transmission."
The sergeant took a slow breath to try to stay calm. He could see he was getting nowhere with his argument. "Why not take the radio? If you change your mind, at least we'll have it."
Newsom glared at the sergeant for a long, uncomfortable moment. Saunders held his gaze without wavering. The men stared at the two soldiers in stunned silence.
"I won't change my mind," the Lieutenant finally said. "Leave it."
Brockmeyer stole a quick glance at his sergeant, took the radio off and left it in their bivouac.
The Lieutenant looked around and pointed to Nelson. "You, soldier. Take the point."
Nelson headed out, with Newsom, Caje, Kirby, Brockmeyer, Littlejohn and Doc following. Saunders stepped in to bring up the rear…as far from Newsom as he could get.
Sergeant Saunders was not happy.
CHAPTER 21
The rest of the men quickly realized that the Lieutenant was obviously inexperienced in the field. He held his rifle too casually as he walked, totally unprepared for any surprises from the krauts. He continually ran up Nelson's heels as he looked around. The young private had to constantly jog forward to keep out of the officer's way, and as a result the patrol's progress was jerky and awkward.
But even more importantly, the Lieutenant made far too much noise, not taking care where he walked. And he talked. Too loudly.
"How much farther, Sergeant?" Newsom called back to Saunders.
Hurriedly passing the other men, Saunders came forward. "We're almost there," he whispered. "We need to keep all noise to a minimum, Lieutenant. No talking."
Newsom glared at the sergeant, but he was silent. Saunders moved up and tapped Billy on the shoulder. When the private turned, his sergeant motioned for him to pull back. As Billy dropped back, Saunders took the lead on point.
All of the men tensed, watching for the Lieutenant's reaction to Saunders taking the point, and in doing so, assuming command. They could all see Newsom's anger flaring up, but he still remained silent.
Saunders had decided not to reason or argue with the officer while they were moving through kraut territory. He automatically took command. This point in their mission was too critical.
Let Newsom get him for insubordination when they got back, he thought. He just wanted to be sure that all of his men did get back. And the mission was completed without incident. He'd gladly take time in the stockade to ensure that.
They were on the edge of the main road that passed directly through the sector. Somewhere up ahead on one or more of those hills the krauts had some kind of gun emplacements.
As he looked around, Saunders realized that those hills would give the krauts an ideal location for the best tactical advantage. They would be able to view most of the valley, and any Allied advance would be seen easily. Until the guns were taken out, it would be impossible for the Allies to advance successfully. Not without high casualties.
The sergeant pulled the men off the road, paralleling it through the trees. His men followed, instinctively spreading out their line. Kirby had dropped back to bring up the rear, with the Lieutenant begrudgingly moving directly in front of the BAR man. The officer was fuming. He was being ignored as each soldier tensed and concentrated on their surroundings…and their sergeant.
The patrol worked its way slowly and cautiously along the side of the road, out of sight of the hills. Saunders' senses were fine tuned to any movement and every sound. He stopped the patrol frequently to check something out, which only seemed to irritate the Lieutenant even further.
Suddenly the sergeant froze and quickly motioned for everyone to get down and stay quiet. Kirby tugged Newsom's sleeve to pull him down. Not having seen combat, the officer was unfamiliar with the silent signals in the field. He turned and almost said something to the BAR man, but Kirby's glare warned him to stay silent. Lieutenant or no lieutenant, the soldier had to stay quiet.
All eyes were concentrated on their sergeant.
CHAPTER 22
Saunders remained frozen. Something had triggered alarm bells in his head. He just couldn't see or hear what it was yet. He waited. Minutes went by and still he waited. Newsom was growing impatient, and Kirby watched him carefully. But Saunders' men would have waited for hours if necessary until their sergeant gave them the ok.
A brief flash of light caught Saunders' eye, and he quickly swiveled his head to focus on that spot. Without moving his head from that point, he motioned behind him. Disregarding the Lieutenant, Caje moved up past the others.
Newsom watched in confusion as the Cajun handed the sergeant a pair of binoculars over the man's shoulder. The officer looked back at Kirby again, and the BAR man gave him another glare. He didn't care if he was General Eisenhower, there was no talking. None.
Saunders focused on the last location of the flash. After several minutes he was rewarded with another flash. There on a hill about a hundred and fifty yards down the road was someone with binoculars as well. But that person was facing into the sun, and his binoculars were reflecting the light.
Taking out his map, Saunders unfolded it carefully. He handed the binoculars to Caje, who took over watching for the flashes, and scanning the surrounding area. The sergeant pulled out his compass and began comparing the terrain with the map. Knowing approximately where they were at that moment, it didn't take him long to pinpoint the location of the German up ahead.
But he had to be sure. For all he knew, it could be someone from the Maquis, and they still hadn't discovered the gun emplacement yet. He waited and watched as Caje continued to scan the hills.
Finally Caje nodded and looked at the map. He pointed at the hill on the map, making a minor adjustment to his sergeant's calculation. Saunders nodded and looked at his compass and the terrain again.
The Cajun flipped the map over, held out his hand for his sergeant's pencil, and he began to draw four circles. Then he wrote 'twenty yards' between each circle. Putting an 'M' in the two middle circles, he made a gesture like an explosion. Saunders nodded. Mortars.
Putting 'MG' in the outer two circles, Caje didn't even have to gesture. Saunders nodded again. Machine guns. And then Caje drew a circle at the top, and turned over the paper to point at the top of one hill on the map. When his sergeant nodded again, the Cajun flipped the map back over and filled in the top blank circle. '88'.
And there it was…the big gun. The Germans had a strong position right at the bend in the road. If they hit the Allies when they were half way around the curve, they would be able to do considerable damage in both directions with the mortars and machine guns. And once the Allies started to pull back, the 88 could work on them for several miles.
Saunders took back the map and made a few notations. Then he took back the binoculars to look again and confirm Caje's information. He agreed, but he still had to be sure. Any wrong information could spell disaster for the Allies.
Satisfied that he had the exact coordinates of the artillery to get back to HQ, he handed Caje the binoculars and motioned to pull back.
He had the coordinates, and with luck they'd get out of there with no casualties. He considered that a highly successful mission.
CHAPTER 23
As the two soldiers withdrew to join the rest of the patrol, Newsom stood up and started to angrily call to the sergeant. Saunders held out his arm with his palm facing the lieutenant. Stop. Flustered, the officer closed his mouth as the sergeant walked right past him and kept going. Saunders finally turned and gestured for Newsom to follow him.
Growing angrier by the second, the lieutenant stalked after him. Saunders continued walking for a good fifty yards until he turned around to face the lieutenant.
Newsom stormed up to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing taking over my command?"
"This mission is more important than your ego, Lieutenant. And keep your voice down," the sergeant replied in a low angry voice.
"This insubordination will not go unpunished, Sergeant," Newsom sputtered.
"Once the runner gets the information back to the Company, and the kraut gun emplacements are destroyed, I'll take whatever you throw at me. But those guns could cost hundreds of GI lives if we don't complete our mission."
Saunders paused and took a quick breath. "So if you're done, Sir, I need to give these coordinates to one of my men so he can get them back as quickly as possible."
Enraged, the Lieutenant replied angrily, "There won't be a runner, Sergeant."
CHAPTER 24
"What?" Saunders asked incredulously. He had a hard time understanding what he'd just heard.
"How are we getting this information back? Are we all going?" the sergeant asked, trying to understand. "My men are all in top shape, Lieutenant. But an entire patrol running together is only as fast as its slowest man. I can send Caje or Kirby. They're my fastest men for long distance. We can follow at a normal pace."
"I'm not sending a runner, Sergeant because we are going to take out those guns ourselves," Newsom replied confidently, taking command of the situation again.
Saunders stared at the Lieutenant in stunned silence. His mind was reeling. This totally green officer was going to lead his men into a massacre. And even worse, without a runner to bring the info back to the Company, hundreds more could die. At the very least, the krauts would know that their position had been discovered and they would move it.
He had to handle the situation very carefully. Newsom was still his commanding officer. Somehow he needed to convince the man that his idea was impossible and doomed to fail.
"With all due respect, Sir," Saunders said, holding his anger in check. Keep it together, Saunders, he thought. "This is just a recon patrol. Your own orders were to locate those kraut gun emplacements out there and report back so our artillery can take them out. We're not here to take on half the German army all by ourselves."
The Lieutenant glared at him with outright hatred. "Your job, Sergeant, is to follow my orders. And I'm ordering you to take those guns!"
"With all…" the sergeant stopped. He was finished showing this madman any respect. "No. I will not. I only have five men."
"Six!" the Lieutenant interrupted.
"One of them's a noncombatant. You expect him to throw bandages? He doesn't even have a rifle. I have five men. Five good soldiers who I won't send up there to get slaughtered for no reason. We have the krauts' position. Our artillery is waiting for the coordinates to do their job. Let them do it."
Still trying to keep his voice low, Saunders could feel that he was beginning to lose it. But his men and the completion of their mission were all that was important to him at that point.
The sergeant looked back at his men, positioned among the trees fifty yards away. He looked around nervously. Maybe they were a safe distance away from the kraut guns to be able to talk, but they were still in kraut territory. Being stuck there arguing with a madman made him even more anxious and angry.
"If you'd taken the damn radio, Lieutenant, we'd have already called it in by now. The kraut guns would have been destroyed and we'd be out of here with no casualties. Not one shot fired."
"How dare you speak to me like that?" Newsom fumed. "I am your commanding officer."
Saunders stood firm. "Someone has to. No one needs to die here today except the krauts. There's no reason. This is insanity."
Newsom glared at him. "The reason is that I ordered you. I gave you a direct order, Sergeant Saunders. If you refuse, we'll be discussing this at your court martial."
Saunders had been preparing himself for that. "If I don't refuse, they'll be discussing the madness of our actions at all of our funerals."
The sergeant stopped suddenly and stared at the Lieutenant. "You never had any intentions of getting the coordinates to our artillery at all, did you Newsom? This has been your plan all along. Grab the glory and to hell with your men."
Newsom ignored the sergeant's accusation and the fact that Saunders had dropped using his rank.
"What kind of a sergeant are you? Refusing to obey a direct order." His breathing was quickly becoming more rapid and ragged.
It's all or nothing now, Saunders thought. There's no turning back. "What kind of officer are you? Knowingly exposing your men to totally unnecessary risks? You have no concern for their safety or for the success of this mission. You are not fit to command."
Newsom was growing redder. With an intense stare, he replied slowly, "Until a superior officer tells me otherwise, I am in command, Saunders."
The two soldiers glared at each other in deadly silence until Newsom finally said, "I've known men like you all my life, Saunders. Think you know everything. Always taking over. I knew what you would be like as soon as I heard all those glowing reports about you. Think you can just push me aside and take command. And you did just that, didn't you?"
"I don't want your command, Newsom," the sergeant replied angrily. "And I don't care what's happened to you in the past. I care about this mission, those men over there and the Company that will be coming through here soon. You can have your command. But do your job. Send this information back with a runner and let's get out of here."
"I will have command, Sergeant," the lieutenant answered as he squared his shoulders defiantly. "And no NCO is going to dictate terms to me."
"Are you going to take those men and attack those guns?" Newsom demanded slowly.
"No, I will not," the sergeant replied firmly, realizing that his life and his future would probably be changing drastically soon.
"Then you are relieved of duty, Sergeant," Newsom answered. "And I'll go back there and order those men myself."
Saunders didn't waver. His squad had been in dangerous firefights innumerable times before. But there was always a reasonable mission. A possibility of success, even though sometimes it was only a slight possibility.
To send his men to take on those kraut guns would be senseless suicide. The only way to get at them was a frontal attack up the hill with no cover. Nothing but rifles, his Thompson and a BAR. Tossing grenades up a long steep hill was totally out of the question.
No matter what happened to him, he was not going to send his men up there.
"No. You will not take my men anywhere," Saunders replied, tensing for the officer's response. He half expected him to take a swing at him.
Newsom stared at him, wide-eyed in stunned disbelief. The sergeant was daring to challenge his authority.
"What did you say?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I…said…no. You are not going to send my men on a senseless suicide mission," Saunders answered slowly and carefully as he clenched his fists and set his feet.
"I'm relieving you of command, Newsom."
TO BE CONTINUED