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.
When I had Priceless rolling around in my head, this story came to mind as well, kind of a variation on a theme. Just more of my thoughts on WWSD. What would our beleaguered, ever resourceful sergeant do? And I can never resist the opportunity to put the heads of Saunders and Kirby together. Let me know your thoughts.
TOOTH AND NAIL
CHAPTER 1
Saunders was limping badly. Struggling to keep up with his men, he fought through the pain and kept moving. He didn't want them to ease off until they were closer to the Allied lines. But he was flagging fast and he knew that he'd have to stop soon or he'd quickly become a major liability.
/
Their patrol had started as a routine recon. See how far King Company could advance without resistance, Hanley had said. No engagement, the Lieutenant had assured him. But the krauts hadn't heard those assurances.
Saunders had pretty much taken his entire squad. The more eyes the better, and the sooner they'd finish up. For most of the patrol he'd had Caje on point and Kirby covering the rear. With Brockmeyer on the radio, the sergeant had rounded out his patrol with Nelson, Littlejohn, Steller and Doc.
He'd taken his men out a good five miles so far with no signs of the enemy. Not a single stray kraut patrol. Not even a crumpled, empty cigarette pack. Nothing. But the farther out they went, the more cautious their sergeant became. When his instincts finally warned him that they were definitely pushing the outer limits, Saunders stopped his men.
"Take five," he said quietly as he pulled out his map and looked around.
With a quick look from their sergeant, Kirby and Caje automatically took up watch. Going over the map carefully, Saunders decided that the bend up ahead in the dirt road they were following would be as far as the patrol would go.
They didn't have to tangle with krauts to complete the mission. Once he took a quick look around that bend in the road, he knew from the map that he'd be able to see over a quarter mile straight down into a shallow valley. Maybe even more, depending on how open the terrain really was.
If there still were no signs of any German activity, he'd mark the map clear all the way out to that point and they could head back. With luck they'd be back to the Company in time for dinner. The men were all looking forward to hot chow for a change now that the Company had finally caught up to their platoon. Even heated up, a steady diet of C-rats was wearing thin on his squad.
"Everyone stay down and keep your eyes open," Saunders said as he tucked the map back into his field jacket. He pointed to where the road took the sharp bend about sixty yards ahead of them.
"I'm going to take one last look out there and then we'll head back."
The soldiers all stepped off of the road and into the trees on either side as their sergeant made his way toward the bend. The closer Saunders got to the blind curve, the more cautious his movements became. They were almost done.
He tightened his grip on the Thompson and eased himself around the last of the bushes on his right that were obscuring his view of the valley.
CHAPTER 2
As prepared as he was, coming face to face with a German soldier was not at all what the sergeant had expected. He reflexively fired off a short burst and dropped the soldier before the man could barely register Saunders' existence.
In one precious second he took in the view of the valley. Almost a half mile away at the other end, krauts were billeted. Lots of them. A couple of platoons or possibly an entire company were spread out on both sides of the road in the pastures. He wasn't about to take the time to do a headcount.
Only thirty yards away a patrol of six or seven fanned out soldiers was coming up the road toward him. Either they were securing their outer perimeter or on recon just like the Americans. The soldier that he'd just killed must have been their point man. Too many and too spread out to get them all. He fired…nothing. The Thompson was jammed.
All of it was happening and being registered in the sergeant's head in the blink of an eye. Saunders turned and ran.
Hearing their sergeant's Thompson, yet still not seeing any Germans, the squad readied themselves to cover him as he made his way back.
"Go! Go!" Saunders yelled as he ran toward his men.
Under different circumstances, he and his men could try to out maneuver or even out gun the krauts. But with almost an entire company backing them up, the kraut patrol held the definite advantage.
If he and his men stopped to stand their ground and fight, they could easily get trapped there, pinned down in a firefight. They would quickly be overrun by scores more krauts from the valley. The best possibility was to retreat and try to outrun them. The most he could hope for was that the kraut patrol would lose them or give up the chase. Kirby's BAR would certainly help to discourage them from pursuit.
With Kirby lagging behind to cover their sergeant, the rest of the men took off at a full run, following Caje. They had no idea what was happening, but they knew enough not to question their leader at a time like this. They ran.
Racing up the dirt road, Saunders knew that he was extremely vulnerable. He was half way back to Kirby's position when the first krauts rounded the blind curve. Trying to fire their weapons while running, their first shots were wide. But as the rest of the Germans caught sight of the Americans, their shots drew closer, kicking up clods of dirt around Saunders' boots and buzzing past his head.
Kirby stepped out from behind the trees, trying to get a clearer shot to avoid hitting his sergeant. A bullet clipped Saunders' boot and he shouted and stumbled to his hands and knees. The BAR man instantly took advantage and, aiming high, fired off a short burst. Two krauts fell as Saunders desperately tried to scramble back up onto his feet.
Before he could get up, the sergeant yelled again as a searing pain tore across his back. But he kept moving. Launching himself forward, he stumbled once more and then continued to run.
Seeing Kirby looking for a clean shot, Saunders jogged wide to the right, out of the soldier's line of fire. He zig zagged his way forward, working to unjam his weapon. With a rush of relief, finally he could feel it clear.
Now with a wide-open straight shot, Kirby let off a long burst, emptying his mag at the remainder of the enemy patrol. Two more krauts fell as the others dived for cover. Saunders turned and fired as his BAR man tossed the empty magazine in the dirt and quickly reloaded.
"Go! Go!" Saunders yelled, pushing Kirby ahead of him. Both soldiers began to run.
CHAPTER 3
The squad was moving steadily toward Allied lines. It didn't seem that the remaining few krauts were following them anymore, or that reinforcements had taken up the chase. But Saunders figured that the Germans wouldn't be giving up that easily. They would be sending out one or more patrols to look for them.
On the one hand, the Germans had to realize that stopping the American patrol would keep vital information from reaching the Allies. And any surviving prisoners could mean a wealth of information for the Germans.
But on the other hand, it would also take time for the krauts to realize what had happened, and have soldiers organize to take up pursuit from almost a half mile away. His men had a good lead, and a good chance of getting away as long as they kept moving. The krauts just might give up.
No, Saunders thought. The krauts wouldn't be giving up that easily. But he was about to. He was limping badly and just couldn't bear the pain in his foot for a moment longer. When Caje crossed a river over a wooden foot bridge, the others followed with their sergeant lagging behind.
Saunders stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning heavily on the railing. Bowing his head against his forearm, he attempted to catch his breath and wait for the pain to subside. Saunders held his foot up off of the ground as he tried to take the pressure off. Dragging his forehead over his arm, he cleared the sweat from his eyes.
"Sarge?" came Kirby's worried voice from up ahead. The BAR man had stopped.
"Hey, Caje. Hold up. Doc? Sarge is hurt."
Saunders winced, stood up straight and limped the rest of the way off of the bridge. Sitting down on a large rock near the end of the bridge by the water, he faced his men.
"I've just gotta rest," Saunders replied, leaning forward. "Then we'll keep going."
"What's wrong?" Doc asked as he went over to their sergeant. "What happened?"
"It's his leg or something," Kirby offered before Saunders could reply. "He can't hardly walk no more."
"My foot," Saunders finally admitted. He knew that he wouldn't be going any farther without having Doc look at it. He lay the Thompson down at his feet beside the rock.
Leaning forward, he began to unbuckle his boot. Turning his foot, he could see that a chunk had been taken out of the inside of his right boot.
"Caje," the sergeant called out to get the soldier's attention, even though all eyes were already on their sergeant. Wordlessly he motioned down the path.
With a nod the Cajun moved out of their small clearing, down the path and off into the trees to keep watch.
Untying the boot lace with a grimace, the sergeant added, "Kirby, watch our backs. Krauts aren't about to let us go this easy."
"Got it," the BAR man replied and ran back across the bridge to disappear around the bend on the narrow path.
As Doc helped to pull the sergeant's boot off, a bloody foot emerged. "Looks like one of those krauts got you."
Saunders nodded with another grimace as he gingerly peeled off the shredded, blood-soaked sock. Dropping the sock at the water's edge, he leaned closer to try to get a better look at his wound.
"I can't exactly see how bad the wound is, Sarge," the medic said as he examined the soldier's foot himself. "Hard to tell what's flesh, sock, boot or clots of blood."
"Do I at least still have all my toes?" Saunders asked hopefully. "Can you see that much?"
The medic looked closer, studying the wound. "Took a pretty big part of the nail off your toe, that's for sure, but it seems like you still got 'em all."
Saunders took a slow deep breath in relief.
Pointing to the river behind his sergeant, Doc added, "Why don't you try to clean it off in the water? The cold'll probably slow the bleeding and numb it some too. Once you clean it off I can get a better look at it."
"There's no time, Doc," Saunders insisted. "Those krauts know we're here somewhere. Sooner or later some of them are gonna find us if we don't keep moving. If there's krauts still following us, we're giving them all the time they need to catch up with us right now."
He looked down at his bloody foot. "Just bandage it."
"Bandage where?" the medic asked incredulously. "The whole foot? Then you'll never get that boot back on. You gonna limp back to our lines in one boot? Maybe we can carry you."
When he was met with a stony silence, the medic continued. "If you wash it off I can get a good look at it and maybe do something to make you more comfortable, and get that boot back on."
The sergeant stared at his determined medic for a moment and then sighed in resignation. The man was right. He'd never make it back the way his foot was now. And he knew that his men would never leave him behind even if he ordered them to do it. He could probably make it if Doc or Steller helped him.
Saunders looked over his shoulder. It didn't appear that anyone was following them. Yet. And if they were, he knew that Kirby would give them ample warning to get moving again. The sergeant glanced around their small clearing. They had already reached an area that they'd checked carefully on the way in and had found no signs of krauts. It was as safe a place as any to stop.
Slowly turning around on the rock, Saunders slid his foot down and dipped it into the icy water. When the initial shock wore off from the cold, he realized that Doc was right again. His foot was already going numb and the pain had receded. But as good as it felt, he knew that he couldn't sit there all day.
He started to pull his foot out of the water when Doc said with concern, "Better get your jacket off too, Sarge."
Trying to swivel back to look at his medic, Saunders saw the startled looks on his other men's faces.
CHAPTER 4
"Gee whiz," Billy said softly.
"Oh man," Steller added.
"How come you didn't say something, Sarge?" Littlejohn asked worriedly.
The entire right side of the back of Saunders' field jacket was soaked red. Realizing what his men were so concerned about, the sergeant turned around. His foot had hurt so badly while they were running that he'd completely forgotten about his back.
"It'll be ok. It's just a graze. I need to get back on my feet again, Doc, so we can keep moving. You or Steller can help me."
Ignoring his sergeant's protests, the medic replied, "You could bleed to death before we get you back to the billet to have a doctor look at it. Let me take a look."
When he got no response, Doc added, "If it was Billy or Littlejohn, you'd have me look at it."
Staring at his medic for a long moment, Saunders unbuckled his utility belt in silence and dropped it next to his Thompson. Dropping his field jacket next to it, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Grimacing as he peeled the shirt off his back, Saunders thought back to the burning across his back that he felt when he was running from the kraut patrol.
"Someone must have creased me." He dropped his helmet on the growing pile by the rock next to his Thompson.
The sergeant winced as Doc helped him peel away the last of his shirt to reveal a long furrow up his back and across his shoulder blade.
"That's more than just a crease," Doc responded with concern. "And it's still bleeding quite a bit."
Without further comment, the medic ripped apart the torn bloody undershirt and Saunders pulled the remnants off of his arms, tossing it by the water's edge next to his sock. The movement caused a sharp pain to travel like lightning down along the raw wound. With a quick intake of breath, the sergeant arched his back and tried to stifle a groan.
Doc inspected the wound carefully. "If the bullet had been a half inch deeper it would have caused some major damage. You're lucky you're alive."
"But it didn't cause major damage and I'm not dead yet. It's just a crease," Saunders countered hoarsely as both fists tightened against the pain. "Patch it up."
Exposed to the cool air, his back felt like it was on fire. Leaning forward and staring into the river, he noted that the cold water had numbed his foot at least. He wished he could numb his back too.
He looked up and around again nervously. As safe as this area seemed, he was still growing anxious. This was all taking too long. He wouldn't relax until they were back to the Allied lines.
"Throw some sulfa on it, Doc, and bandage the foot. Hurry up. I'll make it."
Reluctantly pulling his foot from the cold river, he called over his shoulder, "Brockmeyer, fire up the radio. I want to call in the position of all those krauts back there."
If anything happened, at least he'd know that the information had made it back to the Company. As the sergeant began to turn around, he heard a shout.
"Hände hoch!"
With only a split second to react, Saunders dived head first into the icy river.
CHAPTER 5
Trying to look everywhere at once, Kirby was growing more tense and nervous with every passing moment. Knowing that the Sarge was hurt wasn't helping. He couldn't imagine what was taking so long. He knew that they were probably pushing their luck, but what choice did they have? Sarge needed Doc's help.
They certainly wouldn't leave their sergeant behind…even if he ordered them to do it. Maybe he'd consider letting them make a litter for him. They'd certainly move a lot faster that way. The more he thought about it, the more the BAR man liked it. He finally decided to run it by the Sarge.
Studying the area behind them carefully, he knew that he had a couple of minutes to safely run back to the patrol. He could see for a good distance, and everything was quiet. Taking off at a fast trot, he headed back to the others and quickly came to the last bend before the bridge.
Stopping suddenly, he jerked back under cover. Krauts had just stepped into the clearing by the water, taking the others by surprise. Almost instantly he saw their sergeant dive head first into the river.
Two Germans ran toward the river's edge, firing into the swirling dark water. Kirby raised his BAR but hesitated. The two krauts were standing right next to Doc, and three more were clustered around the rest of the squad.
He didn't have a clean shot at any of the krauts. He just couldn't risk firing without the possibility of hitting one of his own men. And even if he could get an opening, there were just too many of them for him to take out all at once. Guaranteed that someone from his squad would go down too.
As Kirby rapidly weighed his options, another German came from the woods pushing an obviously injured Caje. The Cajun was stumbling along holding his head as the kraut shoved him repeatedly. But at least he was conscious and moving. The two were quickly followed by two more Germans. One seemed to also be hurt…more seriously than the Cajun. He was practically being carried by the other soldier.
Watching helplessly as the two krauts by the river continued to fire blindly into the water, the BAR man could only see one viable option at that moment.
He stayed quietly under cover…waiting and watching.
CHAPTER 6
The shock of the cold water threatened to steal Saunders' breath. But he needed every bit of air that he'd managed to take in before he hit the water. There had been no time to even think about if the water was deep enough or not. The sergeant had simply taken a literal leap of faith.
Thankfully finding it fairly deep, he pushed himself down to the riverbed below. With powerful quick strokes he made his way slowly upstream to his left, away from the krauts, fighting the strong current as he swam.
Saunders figured that if the krauts were firing blindly, then they couldn't see him under the dark swirling water. He was hoping that they would automatically assume that he'd go with the flow of the river.
When he first went under, Saunders tried to ignore the muffled ominous thumps of the bullets striking the water around him. He knew that if he could only get deep enough that he could literally out swim them as they rapidly slowed with the water's resistance and current.
With the krauts continuing to fire downstream, the sergeant pushed himself upstream until he thought that he couldn't hold his breath for another second. Turning toward shore, he quietly broke the surface.
Prepared to take in a hasty breath and go under again in case he was spotted, Saunders grabbed an overhanging tree limb, pulled himself into the surrounding branches of the thick brush and waited. No one had seen him.
He watched downstream as the two krauts continued to move, following the current and searching for any signs of the American. Saunders took several welcome deep breaths and looked around. Maneuvering in the water so he could see through the branches, Saunders evaluated their situation.
Littlejohn, Nelson and Steller were all seated on the ground with their hands on their heads. Doc was kneeling next to a prone Caje, looking at his head. A German had just spun Brockmeyer around and was roughly stripping him of their radio. The sergeant was angry with himself that he hadn't thought to call in to the Company earlier.
Saunders noted that as the Germans spoke to each other, Brockmeyer was doing a good job of pretending not to understand. The soldier's fluency in German had served the squad well in the past, and hopefully it would come in handy now.
But the sergeant's adrenaline spiked when he realized that one of his squad was missing…Kirby. The BAR man had probably discovered their situation and was wisely tucked away somewhere, hiding and waiting for an opportunity. And hopefully Kirby noted that their sergeant was among the missing as well.
Now the two of them had to somehow find each other and get together to work out a plan of action. Saunders turned to look behind him across the river to where he'd last seen his BAR man disappearing down the path.
Scanning the area closely for several long minutes, he almost gave up when he finally caught a slight movement in the branches on the far side of the path. He watched patiently, and soon he could distinguish the unmistakable barrel of a BAR. Kirby. The sergeant couldn't help the smile of relief that crossed his face.
Careful to stay hidden from the krauts, Saunders gave a slight wave to try to catch Kirby's attention. He could see the soldier leaning out slightly to look down river, obviously searching for their missing sergeant. But just like the krauts…he was looking in the wrong direction.
CHAPTER 7
Saunders' gaze swept from Kirby to the krauts repeatedly to be sure that neither he nor the BAR man could be seen. Even though the sergeant was weaponless, having two of them running free was a definite advantage that gave him hope.
He gave another slight wave to try to catch Kirby's eye. Waving several more times, he saw the soldier's head suddenly swivel back toward him. Kirby had seen him. The BAR man gave a slight anxious wave in return. With a look of obvious relief, Kirby kept his eyes glued to his sergeant, waiting for the next move.
Now came the hard part, Saunders thought. He needed to somehow get Kirby on this side of the river. And he had to work out a plan to free his squad from the Germans without any of his men getting injured or killed.
And he really needed to get out of that ice cold water. His entire body was quickly going numb, and pretty soon uncontrollable shivering would take him over if he didn't act fast.
Saunders waved again, pointing toward his left farther upstream. Kirby nodded his understanding and, making sure that no krauts were looking his way, he slipped back along the path away from the bridge and out of sight.
Taking another quick look at his men, Saunders saw that the two krauts had finally abandoned their search for him in the water, and they were now focusing all of their attention on their remaining prisoners.
With one last long look at the large rock that he'd sat on earlier, the sergeant thought of his clothes…and his Thompson. Giving a slight, silent sigh, Saunders began to slowly and quietly make his way farther upstream.
CHAPTER 8
Staying in a low crouch as he ran parallel to the river, Kirby tried to keep an eye on his sergeant's movements in the water while looking for a way to cross over.
When he lost sight of him in the brush and trees, the BAR man grew anxious and looked around for anywhere that he could safely cross. His hopes rose when he saw a dead tree lying across a narrow bend in the river. Pushing his way through the brush, Kirby made his way silently to the water's edge.
It wasn't ideal. He knew that he'd be taking a chance crossing there. The water was moving faster where it flowed through the narrow bend. Occasional waves lapped over the trunk and limbs. The wood was probably slippery, he thought. And that would make the crossing even more treacherous.
But it looked like he had no other choice…except maybe to just swim it. Even though he was a strong swimmer, Kirby didn't think that he'd make it loaded down with his boots, gear, extra ammo and the BAR.
And if he didn't make it, the rest of the squad…including the Sarge…wouldn't stand a chance. He had the only weapon. And the Sarge was depending on him.
Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Kirby took a deep breath and gingerly stepped out onto the biggest limb that he could reach comfortably. Testing it carefully with his weight, he decided that it would hold him, and he began to inch forward slowly.
Balancing on a crooked, slippery tight rope wasn't easy, and he waved his arms frantically for balance. Trying to stay focused on his feet, the BAR man had to fight the urge to look down river for either his sergeant or the krauts.
The middle of the river was the most treacherous, but he was half way there already. No turning back. He continued to inch forward. Sliding his boot closer to the river's edge, he was growing more confident. Within a foot of the river bank his boot slipped, and his leg slid into the icy swirling water.
Swallowing a strangled shout, the BAR man hopped onto dry land and stumbled to his knees. The BAR slid over his shoulder and the stock struck a large stone with a loud thud. He looked around in a panic, worried that it might have been loud enough for the krauts down river to hear and come to investigate.
Holding his breath as he waited, he didn't hear any sounds of alarm. No pounding of boots along the river bank. Everything remained quiet.
With a deep sigh of relief, Kirby stood up and melted into the brush in search of his sergeant.
CHAPTER 9
Saunders swam slowly, making as little noise as possible, but knowing that he had to get out of the river very soon. He was beginning to tire between the cold and fighting the current. Seeing an opening in the brush ahead, he swam toward it.
When the sergeant began to pull himself out of the water he almost screamed with the pain in his foot. He sat down quickly on the river bank and looked at his foot. What was left of the nail on his big toe was almost completely hanging off, and there was a small chunk missing from the side of the toe. The loose nail had caught on a twig and torn partially away.
At least he still had his toe, Saunders thought gratefully. As he sat looking at his toe trying to decide what to do, he heard someone whisper and his pulse spiked. He instinctively grabbed a nearby rock and tensed until he heard, "Sarge?"
Kirby.
The BAR man knelt next to him, laid his weapon on the grass and unhooked his utility belt.
"How'd you get over here?" Saunders asked softly.
Taking his field jacket off, Kirby replied, "Found a narrower spot farther upstream. Dead tree and a bunch of rocks."
He pointed to one leg that was soaking wet. "Almost made it, but slipped on the last rock."
When the BAR man tried to hand his shivering sergeant his field jacket, Saunders shook his head.
With a look of confusion, Kirby responded, "You're wet and shivering, Sarge. And you ain't got no shirt. Here. Take it." He held out the jacket again.
"You got extra mags, grenade and things in those pockets, right?" his sergeant asked, wrapping his arms across his bare chest to try to stop the shivering.
As the BAR man nodded, Saunders added, "You keep the jacket. You need it more than me. Give me your shirt instead."
Without hesitating, Kirby gave his sergeant the shirt off his back.
"So, whadda we gonna do, Sarge?" he asked, trying not to look at the raw furrow up his sergeant's back as the soldier looked around them.
Saunders gingerly slipped into the shirt and replied softly, "I'm working on it."
Pointing to Kirby's utility belt, the sergeant asked, "Still got sulfa and bandage?"
When the soldier nodded, Saunders said, "Let me have 'em. How about a bayonet?"
The BAR man shook his head guiltily as he pulled out his medical supplies. "You want my boots too?"
Taking the two packets, Saunders shook his head. "You've got our only weapon. Got to be able to maneuver fast. You need your boots more than I do."
Saunders stuck the bandage packet tightly between his teeth, and before he could think about changing his mind, he quickly yanked the rest of the toenail off.
CHAPTER 10
A muffled yell escaped Saunders as his teeth bit down on the bandage. Kirby grimaced and looked away as he put his field jacket back on. He gripped the BAR tightly as he watched and listened for signs that the krauts might have heard. Nothing.
The sergeant's foot was bleeding again, and he slipped it back into the cold river. When Kirby began to put his utility belt back on, Saunders took the crumpled bandage packet from his mouth.
Still working on solving their dilemma, the sergeant said, "We need to get Brockmeyer's attention somehow. He's the only one who probably knows what the heck's going on. We came through here earlier and there wasn't a single kraut to be found. And yet suddenly we're overrun by krauts. These guys came from between us and the Allied lines. They weren't chasing us."
"How we gonna talk to Brock?" Kirby asked. "It's not like we can just walk up to him."
"We can't talk to him," Saunders replied as he pulled his numb foot out of the cold water. "But if he sees we're here, he'll let us know somehow what the krauts are up to. With Caje there we should be able to think of something to do."
"Caje is hurt," Kirby replied worriedly.
Saunders looked at him in alarm. "How bad? I saw Doc looking at him."
All of his men were good experienced soldiers. But without Caje's experience and natural skills, getting them all out of this safely would be a much more difficult task. And if they had to make a run for it, another injured man would definitely complicate things. With his own injured foot, he'd pretty much already written himself off in that scenario.
"I don't think it was too bad though," the BAR man reassured him. "He was walking when he came out of the woods, and they did let Doc look at him. I saw him sit up."
With a nod of relief, Saunders looked at his foot again. Using his shirt tail, he dried his foot and then tore open the sulfa packet with his teeth.
Carefully pouring as much of the powder on his toe as possible, he said, "We've got to circle around and somehow get into either Brock's or Caje's field of vision. They're pretty sure that you're still on the loose, but they're not sure that I made it through ok. Gotta let them see me."
He tore open the crumpled bandage and began tightly wrapping his foot to keep his toes together. Kirby kept an eye on their surroundings as his sergeant began to unbuckle his one boot.
"There's a whole heck of a lot of krauts back there in that valley that the Allies don't know about. Something's up, and I want to know what it is."
Saunders took off his boot and sock, and slid the sock over his wounded foot. Putting his boot back on his bare foot, he stood up and tested his weight on his injury.
"It's gonna have to do," the sergeant commented almost to himself as he shivered slightly, finished buttoning his shirt and limped into the woods with his BAR man following close behind.
TO BE CONTINUED