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.
This story is based…very loosely…on a true story that came out of the Pacific Theatre during WW2. I've taken great liberties with it to mold it into a journey for Saunders and his squad.
It will help if you've read my stories The Gift and Saving Grace, but as usual it isn't necessary. Although this is my 49th story that you'll be reading (assuming you've read them all so far. If not, then you've got a lot of stories to catch up on!), this is actually my 50th story written, and I finished it on my 2nd year anniversary of writing. Who could have guessed it would come this far? Certainly not me.
So, enjoy, and please consider a review in the end…in any language. I love to hear from you and the comments do help.
MERCY
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."
-Matthew 5:7
CHAPTER 1
Saunders couldn't believe that he was doing this again. He must be crazy, he thought in his exhaustion. But if he was going to do it…then he was going to do it.
Seeing the deuce and a half looming closer up ahead, the sergeant gave it everything he had and launched himself forward, crashing into the soldier's legs. The man stumbled and fell, with Saunders rolling on top of him.
"Mon Dieu!" Caje yelled in frustration. "I thought I had it that time!"
Saunders rolled off the Cajun and lay spread eagle in the dirt, gasping for breath. Every muscle seemed to be screaming.
"Why…" he took more breaths. "Why…are we doing this again?"
Still clinging to the football, Caje replied, "You said we needed a little workout before our patrol tomorrow. Remember?"
As the two lay in the shade of the deuce and a half, the other soldiers came running up.
"Man, you were so close, Caje," Newburg said, laughing.
"Yeah," Doc agreed. "Another foot and you'd have touched the truck." He banged his knuckles on the fender.
"Hey, Burg," Kirby smirked. "Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, ya know? Sarge got him."
"What about mortars, Kirby?" Jones asked with a grin. "Wouldn't want to be too close in a mortar barrage."
"Yeah," Billy agreed with a shudder. "And what about those 88's?"
Kirby interrupted with a huff. "You get my point, guys. Caje didn't make it. Show-no-mercy Saunders got him. It's our turn."
Caje set the football on his sergeant's chest. "Your turn."
Saunders grabbed the ball, rolled over with a groan and slowly stood up. Arching his back, he began to make his way to the scrimmage line.
"Our turn."
CHAPTER 2
After the last football game, they'd been sent on a patrol that could have ended with First squad spending the rest of the war as POW's. But the platoon's radio man Price had unexpectedly come to their rescue.
When they'd returned from the patrol with several prisoners and vital information about an enemy advance, Lieutenant Hanley had given them another two days free. A chance to get some nervous energy out.
And so once again Saunders found himself right behind Nelson who was about to hike him the ball. He had a strong team with Kirby, Littlejohn, Billy and even Jones. But they were pretty evenly matched with Caje's team of Doc, Brockmeyer, Newburg, and surprisingly…Price.
The young soldier shocked everyone when he asked if he could join them. And they were even more shocked when he held his own. He was slender, but quick on his feet and even a quicker thinker.
Steller had happily sat the game out to let Price play. Saunders saw the change as an advantage for his side, but it didn't take long for him to realize he'd underestimated the young private…once again.
You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now, he thought to himself as everyone lined up. Looking at his men on either side of him, the sergeant leaned forward as the men readied themselves.
Just before the snap, Brockmeyer called out, "Er wird es behalten!"
Saunders yelled "hut!", Nelson made the snap and the ball was in play.
Stepping back, the sergeant made a motion to throw, but suddenly bolted past Billy straight up the middle with a quarterback sneak.
Seeing daylight ahead of him, Saunders ran straight for the jeep that was their goal line. As he started to reach out to touch the fender, he heard boots behind him and someone suddenly crashed into him.
Both men landed hard, with Saunders face down in the dirt only inches away from the jeep's tire. Banging his fist in the dirt, the sergeant rolled over to see who'd robbed him of a score.
Price.
CHAPTER 3
Saunders couldn't believe it. Price had been nowhere near him when he'd gotten the ball.
"How'd you get me?" he asked between breaths.
The young soldier sat up. "Brock told me you were going to keep the ball and not throw it."
"So that's what he was saying in German?" the sergeant said.
The private nodded and grinned.
Saunders slipped the football under his head for a pillow. "Next game, speaking German will be verboten."
Lifting his head, the sergeant asked, "Where is everyone?"
Out in the middle of the field there was a pig pile of arms and legs…and laughter.
The sergeant grinned and lay his head back on the football. "Short attention spans. Gotta be retrained after every play."
Price laughed and then said, "The Lieutenant wants to see you, Sergeant."
Saunders stared at the young soldier. "Don't tell me. You're a mind reader too?"
The soldier shook his head and pointed. Craning his neck, the sergeant twisted to look where Price was pointing. A grinning Lieutenant Hanley was leaning against the jeep's fender with his arm's crossed.
"Falling down on the job again, Saunders?"
CHAPTER 4
Saunders flipped the football into the young private's hands. "Good job, Price. Grab the others and hit the showers."
Standing up, the soldier said, "Ok, Sergeant Saunders."
Turning to the officer he added, "Do you need me, Sir?"
The Lieutenant shook his head and motioned with his thumb toward the showers. With a big grin, Price took off, tossing the football up in the air as he went.
Both Hanley and Saunders watched as he ran to the still laughing pile of soldiers.
"He sure has changed," the officer said.
Saunders sat up. "That patrol was just what he needed to help him fit in. Glad he was there or we all would've been permanent guests of the krauts by now."
Shaking his head, he added, "Still doesn't know one end of a rifle from the other though."
Standing up and dusting himself off, the sergeant asked, "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?"
With a quick jerk of his head, Hanley replied, "C'mon."
Together they walked toward the officers' quarters as Saunders continued to brush off the dust and dirt. Reaching the tents, the Lieutenant pulled back on one of the flaps and pointed wordlessly to the other one. Saunders grabbed the other flap, and together they rolled and tied them up as the sunshine streamed inside the tent.
Pointing to a map on his makeshift table, the officer said, "Something a little different this time."
"Like what?" Saunders asked, looking at the map.
"See this hill here?" Hanley said. When his sergeant nodded, he continued, "We think there might be some major kraut activity brewing on the other side of the hill. The Company'll be heading into that area soon. We'd like to know what to expect."
"Why not just send in a spotter plane?" the sergeant asked.
"Two reasons," the Lieutenant explained. "First…we don't want them to know that we know, if we can at all help it."
Hanley smiled faintly. "But most importantly…we don't have any planes available."
Saunders smiled in return. "So you want me to go check it out. But what makes this patrol so different? We check out kraut activity all the time."
"This is a two-man patrol," the officer answered.
"I only get to take two men?" Saunders asked worriedly. "I've done it before but it's pretty risky."
Hanley paused and then repeated, "Two-man patrol. You only get to take one man."
"Just two of us?" the sergeant asked incredulously. "Why just two?"
"Captain Jampel thinks you'll have a better chance of avoiding detection. It's not a guarantee, but the odds'll be better."
"Better for us or better for the krauts?" Saunders muttered.
He thought silently for a long moment. "Well, if I can only take one man, I'll take Kirby. If we do run into trouble, I'll need the firepower."
Folding the map, the officer handed it to his sergeant. "You can leave tonight."
CHAPTER 5
"Just two of us?" Kirby asked worriedly. "How come?"
"Change of plans," his sergeant replied as he slipped on his utility belt. "Captain Jampel thinks we'll have a better chance of getting in and out without being seen."
Standing up and grabbing his helmet, the BAR man answered, "I just wanna get back out in one piece."
Running a hand through his hair quickly and putting his helmet on, Saunders said, "You'll have a better chance getting back here in one piece if we don't get seen."
Taking out his map, he unfolded the paper, knelt down and spread it out on his bedroll. Kirby came over and knelt down next to him.
"So where we going?"
Saunders pointed. "We're checking out what's behind this hill. The brass seem to think there's some kraut activity back there."
"How come…?" Kirby began.
Saunders interrupted him. "There's no planes available to check it out. We're it."
When the BAR man sighed in resignation, the sergeant added, "We need to study this map carefully. If anything happens to one of us, the other has to know how to get back here."
With a nod of understanding, Kirby began to take a closer look at the map as the two soldiers went over their probable route.
CHAPTER 6
First squad watched silently as the two soldiers prepared for their patrol. Each man knew how dangerous their mission was.
"Here's your extra ammo, Sarge," Nelson said as he came into their bivouac with mags for both Kirby and Saunders.
"Thanks, Billy," Kirby replied as he stuffed them into his field jacket pockets.
"And here's the grenades," Nelson added, holding out two for each of them. "Two enough?"
"Better be," Kirby muttered.
"Good enough," the sergeant answered, taking the grenades and ignoring his BAR man's comment.
As the two soldiers finished blackening their hands and faces, Saunders adjusted his jeep cap. "Ready, Kirby?"
Taking a deep breath, the soldier replied, "Ready as I'll ever be."
Slinging the BAR over his shoulder, Kirby gave a quick wave to the squad.
Littlejohn called out, "Good luck."
Kirby gave a quick laugh. "Thanks. Be sure to leave the porch light on."
The two soldiers headed out toward their front lines. The moon was crisp and clear, almost full. Saunders could see the row of soldiers on either side of him as they passed the men dug in to defend their lines.
He looked up at the stark white moon. Not the ideal evening for a night patrol. But he had no choice. Fifteen yards apart, the two soldiers slipped into the darkness.
CHAPTER 7
With his only interest being to take a look at what was behind the hill, Saunders moved in as straight a line as possible. He had decided to come in around the left side of the hill rather than going up and over it. If he discovered more than he bargained for, it would be a lot easier to move fast on level ground.
And the sooner they got in there, the sooner they could get out. The sergeant was not comfortable with this at all.
The moon cast deceptive shadows that seemed to shift and dance around them as they walked. Saunders had the unshakeable feeling that there was a kraut lurking behind every tree, bush and rock…just watching them.
His gut had been twisted into a knot ever since they'd passed through their own front lines. Glancing over at Kirby, Saunders could see that the BAR man probably felt the same way. Maintaining the fifteen to twenty yards between them, the two soldiers moved silently and slowly forward.
Saunders felt a tinge of relief when the silhouette of the hill loomed up out of the darkness. But he quickly tensed again when he heard a noise up ahead. The rustling was soon followed by voices.
German voices.
They were soft. Barely above a whisper, but loud enough in the still night that Saunders could make out that they were German. He waved to Kirby, but the soldier had already stepped back behind a tree. The sergeant knelt quietly next to a bush, and the two men waited for the patrol to pass.
One by one ghostly figures seemed to almost float by, spread out and moving slowly through the brush on either side of the two hidden soldiers. By Saunders' rough count there were at least nine or ten of them.
He counted as they passed. Four to his left. Three to Kirby's right. One…no, two came between him and Kirby. They were surrounded by a full squad of nine.
Just when the sergeant thought that they would pass by without discovering them, one soldier to Kirby's right shifted and looked directly at the BAR man.
"Amerikaner!"
CHAPTER 8
The soldier passed so closely that he couldn't help but see the BAR man, even though he was as still as a statue.
But as soon as the German shouted the alarm, the 'statue' came to life, quickly flipping up his weapon and firing, taking out not only the soldier who'd shouted but the other two men as well.
Saunders was trapped between the krauts, but he quickly concentrated on those between him and Kirby. The BAR man's back was to them momentarily, leaving him vulnerable. Firing a short burst, the sergeant aimed high to avoid hitting his own man.
He didn't hit either of the two Germans, but he'd succeeded in driving them for cover. Leaving those two for Kirby, Saunders spun to concentrate on the four behind him. They had quickly located him in the darkness by his muzzle flash and began to fire.
The four soldiers were spread out and under cover, at least thirty yards away. Saunders knew that it would be almost impossible for him to get all four now that he'd lost the element of surprise.
Hearing Kirby working on the other two, Saunders reached into his field jacket and pulled out a grenade. It was his only hope of getting all four. At the very least it would improve his odds. He had to do something quick before more Germans heard it and came to join the fight. He just couldn't take the chance that these were the only krauts in the area.
Hurriedly noting a spot that would be the most effective, Saunders pulled the pin and threw the grenade.
CHAPTER 9
The explosion lit up the night and filled the air with acrid smoke. With his head buried in the leaves and dirt, Saunders could hear the angry buzz of shrapnel and rocks overhead.
All became silent for a long tense moment as the sergeant waited. Even the three soldiers fighting behind him had paused to see the outcome.
When the BAR opened up again on the two krauts, Saunders crawled forward to check on his four. The first two he came to had been closest to the blast, and were obviously dead.
Looking around, he couldn't find the other two. Trying to listen for stray sounds over the staccato noise of the firefight behind him, the sergeant stopped when he thought he heard something in the dark.
A moan.
Cautiously standing up tucked behind a tree, Saunders checked behind him to be sure he was out of Kirby's line of fire. And then he took a deep breath and quickly pushed through the brush with the Thompson ready. Swinging the muzzle downward toward the sound, he held his fire.
A young German soldier was lying on the ground bleeding from a wounded shoulder. His sergeant was kneeling next to him, just about to place a bandage on the wound.
Both sergeants froze…staring at each other. Saunders could see the desperate mixture of emotions in the sergeant's eyes. Fear, resignation, sadness…and determination. He very slowly went back to tending to his man.
Saunders looked around. There were no others. And he could see no sign of a weapon anywhere nearby. All he could see was a scared young soldier bleeding badly, and his sergeant trying to help him.
When the wide-eyed young soldier tried to sit up, his sergeant gently pushed him back down.
"Still liegen, Hans. Es wird Dir gut gehen," he said softly as he pressed the bandage tightly against the soldier's shoulder.
The young man relaxed a bit, nodded and closed his eyes. The German sergeant looked up into Saunders' eyes again, wiped at a bleeding gash on his own forehead, and went back to working on his man.
CHAPTER 10
Saunders had a problem.
The two soldiers were unarmed, and one was wounded. He could hear Kirby still fighting behind him, but he couldn't just leave them there to go help him. Even if Kirby managed to win, they couldn't take the two prisoner. How could they? They could take the sergeant since it appeared that he could walk. But what about the wounded man? There was no way that he would just leave him there to die.
Saunders looked the sergeant over, noting a ring on the man's right hand. He remembered that Germans wore their wedding bands on their right hands.
Don't do this, Saunders! he thought frantically. But it was too late. He had a flash of the man playing in the yard with a young child while his wife looked on with a newborn in her arms.
Saunders frowned, angry with himself. This was a lousy, brutal…and complicated war, he thought.
"Sarge?" Kirby called out, breaking into his thoughts. Saunders realized that the firefight behind him had stopped.
"Sarge?" Kirby repeated anxiously into the silent night. "You ok? I got 'em."
"I'm ok," the sergeant simply replied.
Saunders could make out a sadness and pain cross the German sergeant's face as he momentarily stopped working. Wiping his forehead of blood again, he went back to pressing the bandage against the soldier's shoulder.
With an ache in his own heart, Saunders reached into his utility belt and pulled out his sulfa and bandage packets. When he tossed them down by the sergeant's knee, the soldier looked up and their eyes met again.
As the German sergeant picked up the sulfa and bandage, the American sergeant slowly backed away.
CHAPTER 11
"I'm ok," Saunders called out again as he continued to back away. Making his way to his BAR man, he gave a quick glance over his shoulder.
"That was close," Kirby declared, looking around anxiously. "Should we keep going?"
Saunders weighed the pros and cons. He would prefer to keep going and try to finish the mission. Running into a random patrol didn't tell him what was on the other side of that hill. They weren't very far from it now.
But between the firefight and the grenade, they'd just made one heck of a lot of noise. If there were a lot of krauts on the other side of that hill, they'd be coming soon. He doubted that it would go unnoticed.
And then the decision was taken out of his hands. Both soldiers froze when voices came floating toward them from the distance. German voices.
"They must have heard the fight," Saunders whispered, even though the voices were still aways out.
Looking in the direction of the approaching soldiers, the sergeant added, "Let's move!"
Going forward was no longer an option for them. They had to retreat. Saunders began to run a steady pace as quickly as he could through the trees in the pale moonlight. Kirby was close on his heels, occasionally looking back over his shoulder.
Pulling steadily away as the voices faded, Saunders and Kirby ran.
CHAPTER 12
"There was no way we could get near that hill, never mind over or around it, Lieutenant," Saunders said as he sat down, propped his Thompson next to him, and fished out his cigarettes and lighter.
"We ran into a full squad. Glad I had Kirby's firepower. Managed to take them out, but it was close. And then we heard lots more coming. We weren't about to stick around to see how many."
Taking off his jeep cap and dropping it on the table, Saunders pulled out a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Running his thumb briefly over the engraving on the lighter, he tucked it back into his field jacket pocket.
"Kirby ok?" the Lieutenant asked.
Saunders nodded. "We both made it out ok. Barely."
"Well," Hanley said, "at least we now know there's kraut activity around the hill area. Still don't know about the other side of the hill yet."
Inhaling deeply on his cigarette, the sergeant let it out slowly. Squinting through the smoke, he asked, "Just what's so important about what's on the other side of that hill, Lieutenant? Why can't it wait until there's a spotter plane available?"
Hanley sat in silence for a moment and then leaned forward. "Because Captain Jampel is sending Second platoon over that hill tomorrow or the next day. Would've been nice to know what we're gonna be up against."
Saunders sat back, thinking quietly. We should have tried for that hill, he thought angrily to himself. We were so close. We could have tried to evade those krauts in the dark. And now the lack of information could cost the platoon a lot of lives.
"I know what you're thinking," the officer said, as if reading his sergeant's mind.
Saunders looked up at his Lieutenant.
"You were right to back off when you did," Hanley continued. "You'd already taken on a full squad. You couldn't expect your luck to hold out with who knows how many more. You and Kirby would have ended up prisoners…or dead."
The sergeant remained in stony silence for a long moment, and then he finally nodded. "You're right. I could tell by the voices there were a lot of them coming. But it doesn't make it any easier."
With a slight sigh, he finally let it go and moved on. "The whole platoon going?"
The officer nodded. "Everyone."
"When do you think?" Saunders asked.
"My guess from the way the Captain is talking…tomorrow afternoon," Hanley replied. "Probably just before sunset."
Saunders nodded and took a last long drag on his cigarette. Flipping the butt out of the tent onto the damp grass, he stood up.
"Need me for anything else, Lieutenant?" he asked.
When the officer shook his head, the sergeant picked up his jeep cap and shoved it into a jacket pocket. Slipping the Thompson over his shoulder, he said, "Been a long night. Think I'll turn in."
CHAPTER 13
Dawn broke cool and clear. Saunders rolled out and immediately went to mess for breakfast. If Hanley was right, the platoon would be advancing on that hill late in the afternoon. Which meant that pretty soon there'd be meetings and preparations to move out.
Leaving mess, the sergeant swung by munitions, and then headed straight for the officers' quarters. There under a makeshift tent, Price was leaning over several crates piled on top of each other. It appeared that he was tinkering on a radio. With parts and tools strewn around his feet, the young private hummed an unrecognizable tune as he worked.
When Saunders approached, the soldier looked up. "Hello, Sergeant Saunders. The Lieutenant isn't here."
"Saw him at breakfast," the sergeant replied. "Came for you, Price."
Without waiting for a response, Saunders gave a slight wave, turned and started to walk away again.
"Get your weapon and follow me, Private."
Instantly the young man stood up and looked around for his rifle. Seeing it lying in the grass next to the crates, he quickly picked it up and headed after the sergeant.
He looked back anxiously. "My helmet."
Without stopping, Saunders gestured over his shoulder. "Don't need it. C'mon."
Price and Sergeant Saunders had made their peace with each other, and the young soldier was no longer afraid of him. But the sergeant's rank, experience and strong personality were still intimidating.
Price followed without question.
CHAPTER 14
With Price in tow, Saunders continued to walk, passing the edge of their billet. When he was a good distance away, he headed toward the trees. Approaching an outer sentry, the sergeant flagged him down.
"Hey, Sarge," the soldier called out. "What ya doing way out here? Need something?"
Nodding, Saunders answered, "Lots of space. Brushing up on our weaponry skills. Already told Lieutenant Hanley we'd be out here."
Pointing toward the woods, the sergeant asked, "Anyone out that way?"
"Not that I know of," the sentry replied. With a grin he added, "If they are, they sure won't be for very long."
"Try to keep it that way for us," Saunders requested.
"Will do," the soldier said with a wave as he continued on.
"Ok, Price," Saunders said, turning to the private. "Let's see what you know."
Taking the weapon from the young man's hands, he held it out. "What's this?"
"A gun," came Price's quick, nervous answer.
Seeing the sergeant's steely look, the private hastily corrected himself. "A rifle."
"What kind?" Saunders continued.
"It's an M1 Garand," Price replied. Now he was comfortable on familiar ground. Information was his strength.
"Designed by John Garand in 1928. Roughly nine and a half pounds with a twenty-four-inch barrel. Semi-automatic, gas-operated, closed rotating bolt rifle."
Saunders was impressed, but he knew that Price was extremely smart. He decided to see how smart.
"Rate of fire?"
"Forty to fifty rounds per minute."
"Feed system?"
"Eight round clips."
Saunders stared at the soldier. "Muzzle velocity?"
Price didn't hesitate. "2800 feet per second."
The sergeant shook his head in amazement. "And yet you still can't remember to call it a rifle?"
Price stood in awkward silence until he finally replied softly, "I get nervous."
Saunders looked down at the weapon in his hands. "How many times have you actually shot one of these?"
Staring at his feet, the soldier shoved his hands into his pockets. "Not too many. I was in the hospital when they were working on weaponry."
Holding out the Garand, Saunders said, "Well, today you're gonna get some practice."
Looking out at the edge of the forest, the sergeant added, "Let's pick a tree."
CHAPTER 15
When Saunders had stopped by munitions for so much ammo, the clerk asked, "What kind of patrol you going on, Sarge? Don't you still use the Thompson?"
"Got a new soldier who needs lots of practice," the sergeant answered. "Lots of practice," he repeated, thinking of the young private.
"Well be sure to bring back the empty clips then," the clerk said. "Clips don't grow on trees, you know. You guys never bring them back from patrols."
"We're usually a little busy out there on patrols," Saunders replied. "I'll make sure we get these back to you."
Saunders worked on Price's stance and aim for hours until his large supply of clips that were stuffed in his pockets finally dwindled down to one.
Rolling his shoulders, Price said, "Have a little mercy, Sergeant Saunders. Nine and a half pounds feels like fifty about now. My trigger finger's numb and my eyes keep crossing."
The sergeant held up a clip. "Last one…barrel's getting hot anyway. Try not to jerk it when you pull the trigger. Let the rifle do the work."
With a heavy sigh, Price took it and loaded the Garand one more time. Carefully aiming, he pulled the trigger slowly and steadily until the empty clip popped out with a familiar ping.
Saunders watched carefully as the soldier fired. "Not bad. Six out of eight."
Price lowered his rifle. "Certainly better than what little I did in basic. Barely knew which end the bullets came out."
As they both stared at the tree, the young soldier said, "I know that the whole platoon is going out to that hill later this afternoon. So that probably means I'm going too."
"Probably," Saunders said simply.
Price turned to face the sergeant. "Thanks, Sergeant Saunders."
The sergeant took out his cigarettes and lighter. "The Army throws you out here expecting you to fight. Least we can do is teach you how to do it."
Lighting his cigarette, Saunders added, "It's ok to call me Sarge."
Giving a faint smile, the young soldier replied, "I'll…think about it."
Saunders gave a short laugh and snapped his lighter shut. "Be sure to pick up every one of those empty clips and get them back to munitions. Make sure you hand them to the clerk and tell him I sent you. Clips don't grow on trees, you know."
As Price bent down to gather all of the spent clips, Saunders added, "When you're done, go grab some lunch. We'll probably be getting ready right after our meeting."
When the soldier nodded his understanding, the sergeant headed back to First squad's bivouac.
CHAPTER 16
All of the sergeants gathered around Lieutenant Hanley's makeshift table. A map was spread out, with steaming cups of coffee holding down the four corners.
"You all know where we're heading. With the information that Saunders brought back last night, we definitely know that there's some kraut activity in that general area. We just don't know how much."
Pointing to a spot not far from the base of the hill, the officer continued. "But we also have information from some people from that area that there's a tiny hamlet…only about six or seven houses…right about here. Seems some Germans entered the village thinking there were Maquis there. Most of the townspeople have either scattered or were away in the fields at the time."
Looking up from the map, the Lieutenant said, "So there's a change in plans. Saunders, I want you and your men to check out that hamlet. Clear it and the surrounding area if possible. Didn't sound like there were a lot of krauts out that way. The rest of the platoon will check out the other side of the hill."
After laying out the details of their two-fold mission, Hanley looked at his men. "Questions?"
Sergeant Nowry called out, "So we have no idea what's behind that hill?"
"None," the officer replied.
"What if there's a whole Company billeted there?" Nowry added.
With a grim smile, the Lieutenant answered, "Then we probably won't be sticking around."
When there were no other questions, the officer said, "We'll move out at 1630 hours. Krauts probably won't be expecting anything then, and we'll still have some daylight."
As the men broke up, Hanley said, "Saunders, hold up a minute."
The sergeant stopped and waited for the others to leave.
"How'd it go with Price earlier?" the officer asked.
Saunders smiled. "Well, he won't be recruited as a sniper anytime soon. But at least he can hit his target…sometimes."
Hanley tried to hide his smile. "Guess that's the best we can hope for."
Pulling out a neatly folded paper, the Lieutenant handed it to his sergeant. "I had Price make you a copy of the map since you have a different mission than the rest of us."
Hesitating, he added, "I want you to take Price with you."
"I'm not gonna babysit him, Lieutenant," Saunders reminded the officer. "He's gonna fight like the rest of the men."
"That's what I'd expect," Hanley agreed.
With a nod, the sergeant said, "Just send Price over when he's ready. I'll go talk to my men."
CHAPTER 17
First squad was preparing for their mission in silence. Each man was lost in his own thoughts as he got ready. Saunders was checking his Thompson one last time. He felt in his field jacket pockets for the extra mags.
"Sergeant Saunders? Here's your map."
The sergeant looked up. "The Lieutenant already gave me a map, Price."
Holding out the paper, the private answered, "I know, but it wasn't as detailed as I would have liked, so I made you another. Based on the information I got from the Frenchman, I put in the location and layout of the hamlet."
Taking the map, Saunders opened it up and looked it over. Neat and detailed…just what he'd expected.
"Thanks, Price," the sergeant replied, slipping the map into his jacket. "You all set?"
The young soldier nodded. "Lieutenant Hanley said we won't need a radio. He's taking it with the rest of the platoon. The only other working radio is…uh…not working."
Not surprisingly, Saunders knew exactly what he was talking about. On their last patrol Price had completely rebuilt their radio to receive German transmissions. It had been decided to leave it that way, thinking that it just might come in handy at some point.
"We'll be ok," the sergeant reassured him. "The Platoon's gonna need it more."
Looking around at his men, Saunders glanced at his watch. 1630 hours. "Everyone ready?"
When he received nods all around, he added, "Let's move out."
CHAPTER 18
First squad reached their own front lines just ahead of the rest of Second platoon. Branching off to the left, Saunders caught sight of Hanley as the rest of the platoon headed toward the right. The sergeant and lieutenant both gave a slight wave of acknowledgement before they were lost to each other in the trees and brush.
Saunders had no trouble finding his way. It was familiar territory, being the same direction that he and Kirby had taken initially on their previous patrol. Bringing up the rear, Kirby noted the familiarity as well.
The squad walked quietly, fanned out twenty yards apart. Knowing that there was definitely kraut activity in the sector where they were headed, the sergeant was taking no chances.
When the first sight of the hill came into view, Saunders stopped, holding up his hand. He knew exactly where they were. Signs of their earlier firefight were evident. Chewed up vegetation…dried blood.
But no bodies.
Kirby made his way forward to his sergeant. Looking around in recognition, he whispered, "They took 'em."
With a nod, Saunders replied, "Looks like it. Probably means there's more than just a stray patrol out here somewhere, unless they pulled back. Keep your eyes open."
"Don't worry about that," the BAR man answered, nervously looking around as he dropped to the back of the patrol once again.
With a brief wave, Saunders moved forward, glancing quickly down where the German sergeant had been tending to his wounded man. Both were gone, of course. Only dried blood across matted grass and brush remained. Saunders thought back to the moment when he'd walked away from the two soldiers.
The sergeant hoped that he didn't live to regret the decision that he'd made back then.
TO BE CONTINUED