Chapter 3:
The Germans were, for the moment, a small compliment sent to watch the winery for the enemy and hold the high ground if necessary.
As usual, the reasons for the need were not entirely clear to the men currently staying in the old building, but they were doing their job.
It had been a very mind-numbing and irritating assignment right up until there was movement near the barrels.
Their leader was excited to see some action after nearly a week of routine monotony, repetitive hourly radio checks and listening to his restless men.
They were calm at first when they saw the enemy soldier on the winery grounds. It was but one man and he was in a bad position that offered little defense.
The Germans even chatted as they kept the man pinned down. Their officer ground his teeth in annoyance at the sound. It was a bad habit that his men had formed over the tedious week and, in the officer's opinion, it was unprofessional. He would have to break them of the habit when he had the time.
"Wie geht es Ihrer Schwester?" asked Lugwig of his friend Wilhelm as they leaned against the wooden wall under their window.
Wilhelm knew what prompted the question from Lugwig about his sister, Hilda. Lugwig had been with him when he had last seen his little sister. The little sister that was now all grown up with demure eyes and soft curls that fell across her shoulders.
With a smile in his eyes, Wilhelm responded, "Wie man's nimmt."
It really would depend how Hilda was doing since the main factor would be if her brother could convince the, as she put it, 'the strong and handsome one,' to come to their next family reunion in a few months.
After a moment's thought, the meaning became clear to Lugwig and a slight blush formed across his high cheek bones.
To distract Wilhelm's knowing attention from his discomfort, Lugwig raised his head slightly to look at the trapped soldier on the ground.
And was surprised when a hard object bounced off his helmet and back out the window.
Wilhelm shouted something unintelligible and then pulled Lugwig low to the floor as an explosion erupted outside.
They were both back up and looked through the aftermath to see what had happened and were surprised by the specter of a very large man charging into the dust and debris with only a rifle in his hands.
Wilhelm muttered something about the man being crazy and then their leader was shouting for them all to shoot the idiot before he could use another grenade. There were curses mixed in with the orders as the big enemy soldier moved more quickly than expected.
The only evidence the Germans had of touching the man with their gunfire was when the big man stumbled as his foot was knocked sideways. He limped slightly, but continued to the pinned down man amongst the barrels.
Their leader cursed more, kicking the nearest man over to land on his butt with a rush of expelled air.
He cursed their aim, he cursed their manhood and he cursed their family names. At the same time, he was trying to get a good look at the rotten wooden barrels to see what could be done about the two men hiding there.
Lugwig's sweet blush was gone. Now his face was flushed with anger . . . at his leader.
Wilhelm, being older and wiser, put a hand on his young friend's arm. Hilda would not be pleased if Lugwig survived the war only to be taken away for discipline after attacking an officer.
"Glauben Kann ich ihm nicht," muttered Lugwig as he allowed his friend to pull him back. He really couldn't believe this man he was supposed to follow into battle.
The officer wanted his men to be almost perfect soldiers, but his leadership was lacking in many ways. And when his lacks made a mess, their officer's first response was to verbally abuse them. Sometimes it went farther than verbal abuse.
Wilhelm nodded sympathetically. Not all officers were like this one. Some understood that, in war, men needed to be able to depend on each other to survive. Leaders needed to depend on and trust his men and his men needed to be loyal and have confidence in their leader. It was a symbiotic relationship that held the most promise for the optimal chance for survival.
This officer had not yet learned the lesson and maybe he . . . maybe all of them . . . would pay for it one day.
There was more cursing as the gambit with the machine gun failed and they lost a man.
Alwin Mehler had been a good man and Wilhelm regretted his loss and tried not to look as his bloodied body was dragged back into the window and laid to rest on the floor.
Lugwig, who was not so guarded with his eyes, openly stared at Alwin with an expression between horror and anger.
Then their leader was yelling again and they reluctantly went back to doing their jobs to win this war.
The anger and the loss were momentarily pushed away as all eyes tried to find the enemy.
Combat! Saunders Doc Combat! Littlejohn Caje Combat! Kirby Hanley Combat!
"Well, I say we go back!" argued Kirby, his forehead set in a frown and his top lip pulled back from his teeth.
Caje had settled on an outwardly calm façade that belied the increasing anxiety for his missing friends. "Sarge told us to be here when he comes. If he shows up and we're not here—"
"He ain't commin'! The only way him and Littlejohn are getting' out of there is if we go in and get 'em."
Caje rolled his eyes over to look at Doc. The medic had his usual anxious look on his face with his medical bag clutched in almost a death grip. His body was strung so tight that any sound would send Doc back out of the trees and back to the winery.
"We have to let the Lieutenant know—"
Kirby snarled. "With what? Littlejohn has the radio!"
Caje knew Kirby had a point. They didn't have the radio and Hanley needed to know about the machine gun.
The dark-haired man turned to Molrey, the quiet one. Molrey only raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't been with this group long enough to feel like he was completely one of them yet.
"Molrey, get on back to the Lieutenant. Let him know what we found."
Kirby huffed and flopped around at his position in exasperation. "Now, don't that make a lot of sense? It took us from morning to mid-day to get here. It'll be dark before he gets back there."
Caje turned to Kirby. Kirby bitched – a lot. That was just Kirby when he was anxious, worried, or upset. However, Caje couldn't let it distract him from the job. "Molrey's going back because, like you say, we don't have a radio."
He turned back to Molrey with a nod. "Maybe you will run into some friendlies with a radio or a car. Just get back to Hanley as quick as you can."
"Yessir," replied Molrey as he climbed up from his prone position and looked through the trees for the best and fasted way to get out.
"Come on, Caje! The kid'll get himself killed out there by himself. Let me go."
Now, there was Kirby – a bitcher, but still a team player.
"Kirby, Sarge and Littlejohn are still down there with help probably a day away without a radio. You want to leave them now?"
The smaller man simmered over the question and then erupted. "No! 'Course I don't want to leave Sarge and Littlejohn."
Doc made a noise of agreement and they all three turned to watch Molrey slide through the trees and out of view.
Back to Hanley.
Combat! Saunders Doc Combat! Littlejohn Caje Combat! Kirby Hanley Combat!
Sarge was a shorter man, but that didn't mean he was light.
Littlejohn finally came to a staggering stop in the middle of one of the paths between the vines and lowered the still unconscious man to the ground.
He was breathing heavily as he tried to spot the trees and found that they were still a good distance away. Too far to wait for Doc to have a look at Sarge.
Littlejohn looked back down at his Sarge with a concerned look.
Blood was still everywhere on Sarge. During the carry over his bulky shoulder, the blood on the NCO's face and neck had streaked to make weird patterns on his skin.
The big man dug out Sarge's personal med kit and did the best he could with the neck wounds.
There were small punctures dotting Sarge's neck and left side. His body had been protected somewhat by his uniform and jacket, but his neck had taken the brunt. Littlejohn muttered to himself as he tried to clean the hard to clean punctures.
Punctures were always hard to treat. They went under the skin, left only a small hole and trapped dirt deep inside. With wounds like that, tetanus was always a concern, so Littlejohn tried his best with them.
The wound of the Sarge's temple was a partial bruise and a laceration. It didn't look deep, but it was still oozing blood.
Littlejohn got out his own med kit and took care of the head injury. The bruise made him suspicious that his stupid grenade had forced the man's head against the wood, even with his helmet for protection. It would partially explain why his usually dynamic leader was still out of it.
All the other small tears and lacerations on the Sarge would just have to wait until they got to help. Hopefully, Caje and the others were still around.
When he was finished with Sarge, Littlejohn sat back with a groan and looked himself over. The bullet burn wasn't bad and only stung when he made sudden moves.
His poor boot, on the other hand, would need a new heel to be usable in the future.
The big man ran his brawny fingers over the lost chunk in the heel and snorted to himself.
Maybe he could talk his way into a new pair when they got back. He smiled for a moment only for it to fade when he looked at his motionless Sarge.
Littlejohn probably wouldn't have time to request new boots with all the digging he was gonna be doing in the near future.
Combat! Saunders Doc Combat! Littlejohn Caje Combat! Kirby Hanley Combat!
For the rest of the day, it was almost like a standoff.
The Germans were eager to go looking for the killers of Alwin, but were held back by the now overcautious man in charge. Somehow, he had concluded that there were more than two of the enemy outside of the winery and that they were waiting in ambush after using the two men as bait.
Why else would the large one charge into gunfire like a crazy man?
There had to be more out there.
Wilhelm rolled his eyes in frustration and tried to keep a handle on Lugwig's temper.
The younger man was ready to go, ready to come face to face with the enemy.
Wilhelm was sure this eagerness would wear off if Lugwig managed to live a few more months.
So, the German soldiers sat by the windows as their leader screamed into their OP radio about overwhelming enemy numbers.
"Zwei," muttered Lugwig causing Wilhelm to choke on a laugh.
Yes, they had only seen two men, but who knew the ways of officers and strategy?
It wasn't for Wilhelm to be a leader of other men. Men who would probably die in horrible ways someday.
No, he was glad it wasn't him in there yelling on the radio to officials that were no where near the small little war that was going on here at the winery.
Combat! Saunders Doc Combat! Littlejohn Caje Combat! Kirby Hanley Combat!
Littlejohn spent his time dragging Sarge down the rows and keeping an eye out for friends and foes.
He was hoping to run into the friends first, but luck wasn't on his side right now.
Littlejohn stopped for a moment when Sarge's usually intent eyes opened to look blankly at the sky.
"Sarge?"
The shorter man just rolled his head from side to side to look at the grapevines with a furrow between his eyes. Like he was confused as to why he was there.
"Sarge, we're gonna find Doc and he's gonna take care of you."
The confused eyes rolled up to take in the big man leaning over him and Sarge just stared with an empty look that chilled Littlejohn to the bone.
Littlejohn was almost relieved when the lost looking eyes closed again and stayed shut.
Combat! Saunders Doc Combat! Littlejohn Caje Combat! Kirby Hanley Combat!
Doc was getting so frustrated that he was organizing his medical bag again. He wanted to be sure, to be ready when the time came for them to find Sarge and Littlejohn. The Southern man muttered a few choice words as he raked his hands over his supplies and regretted that he didn't have twice as much. With men like these, the more supplies, the better.
Kirby was still behind his tree with his BAR and his heavy ammunition laid out in readiness. Every once in a while he would run a caressing finger over the big gun with a fond expression in his eyes.
He still snarled silently whenever Caje looked his way. Kirby was not happy to be sitting around waiting when there was trouble coming.
Caje managed to ignore both men as he scanned the darkening fields.
He wasn't happy to be sitting still either and was finally admitting to himself that the Sarge and Littlejohn were not likely to make it back on their own.
Caje looked at the time and hoped that Molrey had found someone with a radio or transport and was talking to Hanley right now.
He sighed when he realized, that with their luck, Molrey was now a prisoner of some Kraut or laying somewhere dead.
"It will be dark soon."
Kirby perked up at that comment from the Cajun. The hand that had been absently scratching his left armpit stopped.
The Cajun was sneaky on a good day but downright deadly in the dark.
"Won't be much of a moon tonight," responded Kirby with an eager tone. He was trying not to push now that Caje seemed to be coming around to his way of thinking. It was almost too hard for him not to push.
This waiting was for the birds.
Caje sighed. "You win, Kirby."
Kirby let out a quiet whoop of glee. "You hear that, Doc? I win! It's a red letter day for ol' Kirby. I gotta remember to tell Sarge when we catch up with him. Maybe write a few letters home."
"Kirby. Kirby!" called Caje when Kirby didn't seem to be winding down in his crowing. "We'll go back to where me and Doc last saw Littlejohn and have a look around. See if we can find him, the Sarge or the radio."
The Cajun let his dark eyes bore into Kirby's. "We will not engage if we see any Krauts. We go in, we find out what happened to Sarge and Littlejohn and we keep quiet. Got it?"
Kirby was so happy, he just nodded and started packing his ammunition for the move.