Secrets

by Queen's Bishop

With Billy Nelson wounded and sent home, Saunders could use an experienced replacement. The new man should be an easy fit, but something isn't quite right. Perhaps he, too, has been wounded by the war.

No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author.

Thanks to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading.

Secrets

2021 © Reg. No. TXu 2-280-049

by: Queen's Bishop

[] Indicates French or German is being spoken, depending on the character.

()()()() Indicates time has passed or the focus of the story has shifted

to a different location or character.

Chapter 1 – The New Man

"Years from now, when I'm old an' gray, the thing I'm gonna remember most about this war is the food," Kirby said as he stirred the lumpy glob which had been ladled onto a dented tin plate. "Stew for breakfast, stew for lunch an' stew for supper. Stew with biscuits an' stew with crackers. Hot stew from the mess kitchen an' cold stew from a tin can. Yeah, this," he said as he lifted up a forkful, "is what I'm gonna remember most."

The new men in the squad, Atlee and Gomez, laughed at Kirby's speech. Littlejohn just rolled his eyes, having heard some variation of it before, while Caje and Doc pretended to examine the stew on their own plates. They shook their heads and tried their best to hide their grins.

Saunders was also familiar with the monologue, but that didn't explain the strange look that suddenly appeared on his face. He furrowed his brow and gazed off into the distance with a thousand-yard stare. Then, he suddenly stood up, the tin plate falling from his lap.

"SHUT UP, KIRBY!" He said it so loudly and his movement was so abrupt that all of the soldiers in the area stopped talking and stared at him.

Then, in the abrupt silence, everyone could hear the faint, but distinctive 'whine'of rocket-fired artillery. Unlike a regular 88 shell which had already passed over by the time you heard the whistle, screaming meemies were scary for even the most experienced soldiers since it was hard to judge where they would land. (1)

"HIT IT!" the sergeant yelled as men scrambled to take cover.

The Kraut barrage was short-lived, just enough to set everyone's nerves on edge and to inflict a few casualties. Doc and Swanson, the other medic assigned to Second Platoon, moved quickly from man to man. One of the cook's helpers, who only a few moments before had been serving up the stew in generous portions and trading quips with the infantrymen, was killed. The CP collapsed on Brockmeyer, but when he was pulled from the rubble, he had suffered only a few bumps and bruises. The most seriously wounded was Kirby, First Squad's BAR man, who received a deep laceration to his leg from a piece of shrapnel.

Doc skillfully applied a tourniquet, generously sprinkled sulfa powder on the wound, and wrapped a bandage around it. "You're lucky, Kirby," he said. "An inch higher or deeper and I'll bet it would have cut your femoral artery. You would've bled out pretty quick. As it is, you'll be back bringing up the rear of the squad in no time."

"Gee thanks, Doc. You're just fulla good news," Kirby said as he lay on the ground, looking up at his squad mates.

"Don't worry, Kirby, we'll keep the stew warm for ya," Atlee said with a laugh, which also drew a hoot and giggle from Gomez.

The other members of the squad had seen it before. The two young soldiers had only arrived yesterday and were trying desperately to make light of everything just to hide how scared they really were.

But within fifteen minutes, Kirby and the dead cook's helper had been loaded onto a jeep and were headed for the rear while the other men in the platoon were scrounging around the mess jeep looking for any remaining food. Aside from the destroyed CP, it was as if nothing had happened at all. It was just another day on the front line.

()()()()()()()()()()

The soldier pulled the tarp aside and walked into the large tent. It was 0630 and replacements were lined up to get their breakfast or already seated at one of the long tables. Everyone wanted to get something to eat before the convoy that would take them to the front moved out.

He was a bit older, a bit more grizzled and worn down than the other men. As he stood letting his eyes adjust to the interior of the tent, the loud voices and raucous laughter of the younger soldiers gradually quieted as one after another turned and saw him. By the time he started walking to the end of the line, the tent was strangely quiet. By the time he reached the end of the line, it had dissolved. He was able to walk right up to the row of cooks' helpers who stood behind the tables that held the large pots and vats containing the morning meal. Nobody said anything as he picked up a tin plate and then held it as toast, eggs and finally a few links of sausage were piled on. He grabbed a mug of steaming coffee then turned and scanned the tables for a place to sit. Spotting an empty chair, he headed for it. The men sitting nearby hastily finished eating and got up. The chow line reformed, but no-one sat near him as he slowly ate in silence.

He was used to it. It had been the same yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, ever since he had reached the redeployment depot. Other soldiers came and went, but somehow within minutes of a new bunch arriving he had been pointed out to them. He was a marked man, a pariah.

At 0800 the men assembled and finally his name was called. But, even on the packed deuce-and-a-half, nobody crowded him.

He knew that the longer they rode in the truck, the closer they were getting to the front lines. That realization came slowly to the kids riding with him. Their eyes avoided his as they darted from side to side in their pale, sweaty faces. They spoke in hushed voices to each other but nobody said a word to him and he was glad for that. After all, what could he tell them? "Don't worry, everything will be all right," when they were about to walk into hell on earth? He closed his eyes and once again saw another group of young men…his own personal hell.

When his name was called, he grabbed his duffel bag and jumped off the back of the truck. The sergeant who had been riding in the cab handed him his file and said, "Second Platoon King Company. Ask for Lt. Hanley."

As the sergeant walked back to the front of the deuce-and-a-half, he could hear the disembodied voices from inside the truck say, "I'm glad he's gone," and "I feel sorry for those guys in King Company's Second Platoon." In the next instant the truck pulled out and he was left standing by the side of a narrow dirt road.

At first, the only thing he could make out was that road, leading to and away from where he stood. But when he slowly spun around, the top of a chimney came into view. He started walking toward it. It disappeared from sight as he climbed a little swell, but then in the dip below, the farm, or what was left of it, appeared. Only the chimney remained of the house and the barn was nothing but scorched timbers crisscrossing piles of stones. As he got closer, he could make out a tarp tied between a couple of trees to provide a bit of shade or shelter from the rain.

He crossed paths with a few soldiers as he headed for the tarp and they gave him friendly nods. One said, "Lt. Hanley's over yonder if that's who yer lookin' fer." He replied, "Thanks," and continued walking.

A tall lieutenant stood beside the flimsy shelter. He held the radio receiver to his ear with one hand and was making marks on a map spread out over some crates with the other as he occasionally said, "Yes, Sir," and "No, Sir." The new man stood a few yards away and waited.

At the end of the one-way conversation, the lieutenant set the receiver down with a sigh and, probably not for the first time, muttered, "Sometimes I think this war is being run by jackasses." Then he yelled, "BROCKMEYER!" When a corporal appeared, the officer said, "Go find Saunders." Only then did he turn to the private who was patiently waiting. He quickly assessed the new man before saying, "I'm Lt. Hanley. And you are…"

"McCall, Sir, Pvt. McCall," he said as he handed over his paperwork.

"Any other replacements with you, McCall?"

"No, Sir, just me."

"Have you been on the line before?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, at least they sent someone with some experience this time."

McCall didn't know how or if he should respond to that comment so the two men stood in silence as the officer slowly read his file. A few minutes later the corporal returned with a sleepy sergeant. "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?" the sergeant said with a yawn as he took off his helmet and ran his fingers through an unruly mop of blonde hair.

"Yes; first, this is Pvt…" Hanley checked the name on the papers in his hand, "Pvt. McCall. McCall, you'll be in Sgt. Saunders' squad."

Saunders also did a quick assessment. This one wasn't a green kid who had never been in combat. "Glad to have you with us, McCall," he said.

The lieutenant gazed down at the file for a moment before adding, "Pvt. McCall is qualified on the BAR so he can fill in for Kirby until his leg is healed."

"Sir, I'd rather just carry a rifle," the private hastily said.

"Well, we can't always get what we want in this war," Hanley replied, settling the issue, at least in his mind. "Brockmeyer, show McCall where the rest of First Squad is dug in."

"Yes, Sir. C'mon, McCall, it's this way," the corporal said as he headed back the way he had just come.

Saunders watched the new man move across the field. Even though McCall was walking in 'friendly' territory, it was obvious he was tense. His head constantly turned from side to side as he swept his surroundings for danger. A sudden shiver ran down the sergeant's back.

'If it's not Germans, what else could have McCall so spooked?' he thought.

During that pause, the officer pondered how much, if any of the information he had just read about the new man should be passed on to the leader of First Squad.

The NCO broke the silence with a one-word question. "Well?"

In that instant Hanley decided to let Saunders form his own opinion. After all, the investigation had found nothing so no charges had been filed. It was all just damning innuendo. "He came ashore on D-Day and has seen plenty of action. It looks like we got lucky this time."

"Lucky? Then why's he coming up as a replacement an' not still with his old unit?"

"He got wounded."

The sergeant nodded. Although the question of why McCall hadn't returned to his old unit still hung in the air, there was a line neither he, the enlisted man, nor Hanley, the officer, would cross, despite their friendship. Since Hanley wasn't going to provide any more information, Saunders moved on to the next topic. "Did you want me for anything else, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Yes. Based on reports from the Maquis, S-2 thinks the Krauts are pulling back all along the line in this area. Maybe it's just to regroup. We've been putting a lot of pressure on them lately," Hanley said.

"Or maybe they're planning an offensive push," Saunders replied.

"Well, there's always that. Anyway, we're sending out patrols to try to find the answer." The lieutenant began pointing out locations on the map. "You'll cover from here, coordinates eight-five-seven-seven in Charlie sector over to here, nine-five-seven-seven in Dog. First, check their old OP line to make sure they really have pulled back. Also, check out this little village," he said as his finger tapped a circled 'X'. "If they haven't pulled back, radio in and head for home. If they have, push forward until you do make contact.

"And, Saunders," Hanley said, "Keep your radio handy. If one of the other patrols finds out what they're up to, you'll hear the message 'The cat's out of the bag.' That will be your signal to head for home. The brass might just decide to shell them before they hit us."

"Right, Lieutenant. When do you want us to leave?"

"As soon as the squad is ready. That should give you enough time to get to the village and check it out before dusk."

'And then be able to probe for their new position under cover of darkness,' Saunders thought.

There was nothing more to say. It was a routine reconnaissance mission with a squad made up of four veterans the NCO had total faith in and three soldiers who might have to prove their mettle in the hours that lay ahead. The sergeant picked up the map, folded it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. He grabbed one of the radios sitting on a nearby stack of crates by a strap and slung it over his shoulder. With a final nod to Hanley, he headed back to his waiting squad.

()()()()()()()()()()

McCall followed the corporal down a path across a field, leaving the lieutenant and the sergeant to discuss him or what would be his first patrol with his new squad, or probably both. At the tree line of the field, on the other side of the stone fence that encircled it, were six men. He did a quick appraisal of each of them.

One was sitting on the stone barricade with a crutch at his side. 'That must be Kirby, the squad's BAR man, the one the lieutenant said was wounded,' he thought.

Two young soldiers were sitting cross-legged next to a fire pit and talking as they grabbed bullets from a crate and filled ammo clips. They jerked their heads up, their hands suspended in mid-air, as he and the corporal approached.

'Just kids,' he thought. The two glanced at each other, licked their lips and turned their attention back to the clips. 'They were probably expecting their sergeant and are relieved it's only me.'

Two more, rifles at the ready but with the relaxed demeanor of experienced soldiers, were sitting a bit beyond the tree line behind some logs that had obviously been dragged and positioned to provide cover should it be required. They had noted his and the corporal's approach and, just as he sized them up, they quickly did the same of him before resuming their vigilance.

The final member of the squad, a medic from his helmet and brassard, was collecting fallen twigs and sticks, maybe to heat up a helmet of coffee.

"Fellas, this here's McCall. That's Kirby with the crutch. Over yonder on security are Littlejohn… don't let the name fool ya…an' Caje. Those two fillin' the clips are Atlee an' Gomez an' that's Doc," Brockmeyer said by way of introductions. Then he added, "Take what you'll need outa your duffel bag an' I'll stow it with the rest of the platoon's."

"McCall…What kinda name is that?" Kirby asked.

McCall slipped the knapsack from his shoulders and squatted down. He pulled a pair of socks from the duffle bag and stuffed them into his pack. He could feel their eyes watching his every movement. When he was finished, he handed the duffle bag to Brockmeyer before saying, "It's Scottish."

"So, your folks were from Scotland," Kirby stated matter-of-factly.

The medic dropped the kindling he had collected by the fire pit. "Let me take a look at your head. Ah thought you were only hit in the leg but maybe Ah missed something," he said as he took a few steps toward the BAR man.

That drew laughs from the two young soldiers. One looked up and said, "Hey, Kirby, my name is José Esteban Rosario-Gomez. Where do you think my family was from?"

"I'd say either Poland or Russia," his companion declared as both continued to laugh.

Kirby shook his head. "You two are real hilarious, regular Laural and Hardys. You should be on the radio."

"Don't pay any mind to them, McCall. Find yourself someplace to sit. Ah was just about to get a fire going and make some coffee," Doc said. Then he turned and addressed the young soldiers. "If you two don't have anything better to do, why don't you go up to the CP and see if the mess truck is gonna bring up a hot lunch."

"…and if it's already there, eat and then come back to relieve us," one of the men on security called out.

"…and take all of de canteens and fill dem while you're at it," the second man added.

"Okay, okay. We're done here anyways," Atlee said as he got to his feet. "I don't' know how we're supposed to carry all of 'em but I guess we'll manage."

He and Gomez gathered up the squad's canteens and piled them in the half-empty ammo crate. Then they set off across the field, stopping to pick up canteens as they fell off the pile and laughing as they went.

Doc shook his head. "Those two are like a couple of pups. You've got to keep them busy all the time or they'll get into mischief," he said with a chuckle.

Kirby, Doc, and McCall settled into an amiable silence. Occasional laughter drifted over from another squad stationed further down the tree line, but for the most part the only sound was the wind in the trees overhead.

But, after only a short time, Kirby couldn't stand the quiet any longer and he said, "When did ya come over?"

"D-Day," McCall tersely responded.

Kirby wasn't having much success getting any information from the new man but he kept up the chatter, hoping McCall would join in. "Us too, 'cept for Atlee an' Gomez 'course…an' Doc. You came over 'bout two weeks later, didn't ya, Doc?"

"Yes, ten days later. Y'all were still trying to get out of those hedge rows," the medic said.

The BAR man wanted to ask McCall some more questions, but Doc, who was facing the field, said, "Here comes the Sarge and it looks like he's got a radio. Ah'll bet we'll be moving out soon."

As they waited for the NCO, Doc opened his rucksack and did a quick inventory.

The first words out of Saunders' mouth were a growl. "Kirby, what are you still doing here? Get back to the aid station or go to the CP an' make yourself useful."

"Sure, Sarge," the BAR man said as he stood, balancing on one leg while he reached for the crutch. He winced when he had to put his toe down to keep from toppling over but quickly managed to get the crutch positioned under his arm. "I was just…" He stopped talking. The sergeant was glaring at him.

Fortunately for him, Saunders turned his attention to the new man. "McCall, check out the BAR. It's over there, leaning against the tree."

The new man stood and walked to the tree. Kirby was sure McCall hesitated before he leaned over and picked up the weapon. He held it gingerly with his right hand while he ran his left down the barrel, over the trigger guard and around the stock.

"Kirby, if you don't get a move on, you're gonna feel my boot on your backside!" Saunders snarled, causing Kirby to forget about McCall and begin his trek back to the CP.

"Littlejohn, take McCall's rifle and give it to Brockmeyer. Then pick up rations for two days. Where's Atlee an' Gomez?" the sergeant asked, having noticed their absence.

"They finished loading the clips so we sent them to check on chow and fill the canteens," the medic responded.

Saunders eyed the small pile of ammo and did a quick calculation in his head. "Alright. Doc, get what supplies you'll need for two days. Take my canteen an' help Gomez bring the rest of them back. Caje, grab Atlee an' get grenades all around an' mags for the BAR an' my Thompson…"

"Hey, Sarge, what about lunch?" Littlejohn asked.

"All of you, grab something to eat before you come back. McCall, you hungry?" the NCO asked.

"No, I'm okay," the new man replied.

The rest of the squad headed out, leaving Saunders and McCall, and, what was for the new man, another awkward silence. The sergeant pulled his blanket off some nearby branches and began rolling it up, leaving the private to ponder how much of his record the lieutenant had shared with him. He waited for the sergeant to start questioning him about what had happened on his last mission, but Saunders didn't say anything. After finishing with his bed roll, he checked his knapsack, although it was obvious that everything he wanted or needed was already there and anything that should be left behind had long since been removed.

"Alright," McCall finally said, "go ahead an' ask."

Saunders lifted his gaze, letting his blue eyes bore into the new man, but he didn't respond immediately. When he did finally speak, it wasn't what McCall had expected. "Look, McCall, if somethin's eating you, I'm not the chaplain. The only thing I care about is each man doing his job so we all have the chance to make it back home. Is there some reason I can't depend on you?"

And there it was, in a nutshell. It was exactly the question McCall had been asking himself, in one form or another, for the last few days. Had he let his old squad down? He didn't really know the answer. But, one thing was certain. That question would haunt him for the rest of his life if he didn't find out, and the only way to find out was to go on this mission.

So, although he was betting the lives of all of the men in the squad, he said, "No, Sarge, no reason." He put on the BAR harness and adjusted the straps.

When he was ready, Saunders said, "Alright, head back toward the CP. You'll spot the supply tent off to the right. Give Caje a hand. Make sure you get enough mags for yourself an' tell Caje four for me."

McCall nodded and slung the strap of the heavy BAR over his shoulder, its weight both comforting, like an old friend…and frightening.

()()()()()()()()()()

Littlejohn turned around. Previously it had been Billy ahead of him and Kirby bringing up the rear. But his pal was back home trying to rebuild his life, a life that now didn't include being able to see. Every time the big man thought about that day he cringed. The image of the burned-out holes where eyes used to be and the blood gushing from all of the cuts on Billy's young face, a face now forever scarred, was etched in his mind.

"Somethin' botherin' you?" McCall snapped, bringing Littlejohn back to the present.

"No…it's just that you're so quiet." Littlejohn couldn't help but chuckle as he explained, "I'm used to having Kirby behind me, moaning, groaning and complaining about everything. I'm just not used to having someone normal bringing up the rear."

Up ahead of them they could hear Doc's quiet laughter.

McCall grinned and relaxed for the first time in days. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bite your head off. I'm just a little on edge…this bein' my first patrol with the squad." He turned around and checked that all was clear behind them.

The big man waited until McCall spun back around before saying, "By the way, I'm Littlejohn. I was on security when you arrived."

McCall grinned again and said, "Now I see what the corporal meant when he said not to let your name fool me."

Before Littlejohn could respond, Gomez was at his elbow. He quickly delivered the message, "Hey, the Sarge said for you guys to shut up. The Krauts can hear ya all the way to Berlin." Then he left, jogging back past Doc and Atlee to reclaim his position in the line behind Saunders.

As the big man gave McCall a sheepish grin and a shrug, he could once again hear Doc's quiet laughter. He was about to say something to the medic, but thought better of it. Instead, he heaved a sigh and turned his attention back to looking for hidden danger.

Chapter 2 - Unexpected Ally

The first part of the mission was uneventful. Each Kraut OP the squad carefully approached was deserted with little indication of what had happened to the Germans who had been manning the position. After the third empty location, it was hard to believe they would not find the same thing at each of the remaining ones. Although Atlee and Gomez would have blithely charged ahead, Saunders continued to exercise caution. He spread his men out and they slowly worked their way in until one of them, usually, the sergeant or the scout, had a clear view of the abandoned OP. They would then continue on until once again, Caje raised a fist in the air and the squad stopped.

But eventually when Saunders signaled the men to take cover before he crouched and moved forward to join the scout, things were different.

"Dere's de village, Sergeant. It looks quiet enough," the Cajun said as he indicated the cluster of buildings straddling a crossroads.

In a field further away, they could see a large flock of sheep grazing. Two dogs were visible, chasing after any sheep that wandered too far from its brethren.

The NCO waved the rest of the squad forward and Atlee and Gomez quickly took in the scene. Atlee announced the verdict, "Looks like the Krauts pulled outa here, too."

Gomez nodded in agreement, adding, "Sarge, Atlee an' me can check it out real quick."

"I'll bet you can!" McCall said under his breath.

Littlejohn smiled with delight; the new man was Kirbyish without being Kirby. It reinforced the notion he had that you needed a certain 'attitude' to be a BAR man.

Saunders did want the tiny village searched quickly, but also carefully. He figured McCall had the necessary experience, so he ignored the offer and began issuing orders. "Caje an' McCall, you're on me. The rest of you stay here an' watch for Krauts, but don't move up unless you hear gunfire." He glared at the young soldiers and added, "Littlejohn's in charge!"

The big man squared his shoulders and stood to his full height. "Okay, Sarge," he said. Then turning to Gomez and Atlee he dropped his voice another octave and ordered, "Watch the back trail."

The sergeant nodded. Littlejohn understood exactly what he wanted, or in this case didn't want. He didn't want those two green men letting the Krauts know they were in the village. He signaled the scout and the BAR man to begin their cautious approach.

They had just reached to first building when Doc, who had been watching the dogs work the flock suddenly said, "Littlejohn, look at the sheep!"

The big man turned his attention from the three men to gaze over at the far pasture. The dogs had moved the flock onto the road and they were now headed for the village. "It will be dusk soon. Maybe that's their routine," he suggested before returning his focus to the sergeant, Caje and McCall.

"Maybe. I don't see a shepherd, do you?"

"Doc, do you mind? I'm trying to concentrate."

The medic was quiet for a moment, but then shook his head and said, "Something isn't right!"

()()()()()()()()()()

Saunders signaled Caje to move over to the other side of the street. McCall took up a position several buildings up so he could keep an eye on the rest of the road while the other two quickly flushed out the buildings with cursory inspections. When the two finished with the structures on each side of the road and prepared to enter the next ones, the BAR man also moved one building up the street.

As the three men continued their advance, they could hear the faint, but increasingly louder baaing of the sheep. Caje glanced over at Saunders as he exited another building, but the sergeant only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. McCall stood for a moment and wrinkled his nose. He could not only hear them; he could smell them. The flock would soon enter the village at the opposite end of the road. Then, for the first time, came the sound of the dogs barking, urging the sheep to move forward ever more quickly.

The BAR man advanced to the corner and took a cautious look down the crossroad. To his utter amazement, Krauts were already half-way up the street. He hastily withdrew and sucked in a deep breath as he scanned the small village, looking for a place to hide until the danger had passed.

However, even if he wanted to forget about his new squad mates and save his own hide, there were no good options. So, he hurried back to where he had last seen Saunders and Caje. Although the yipping of the dogs and the baaing of the sheep was making a racket as they filled the road from one side to the other, McCall didn't dare call out to his comrades. After what seemed like a long minute, first one man and then the other appeared. He mouthed the word, "Krauts!" and gestured to indicate the corner.

Saunders quickly signaled Caje to join them. The scout jogged across the road, now filled with dust and the rapidly approaching flock of terrified sheep. Once the Cajun arrived, the men pressed their backs into a recessed doorway.

McCall said, "There's Krauts makin' their way up to the cross street. It looks like a whole platoon of 'em."

The leaders of the flock had reached the crossroads. The yipping dogs continued to drive the sheep forward. The frightened beasts suddenly started to run, most continuing up the road but others veering to the left and right down the cross street.

Saunders didn't want to confront a platoon of Krauts; the three of them wouldn't stand a chance and the ensuing gunfire would draw in the rest of the squad, like lambs to the slaughter. That thought gave him an idea. "Get ready," he said to Caje and McCall.

The squad had walked through flocks of sheep before when they had been peacefully grazing with plenty of space for them to move away from the men. But here, in the confined area, the NCO counted on the already terrified animals not doing anything but continuing to follow their leaders. And, most of all, that they wouldn't move aside if the Krauts tried to shove their way past. If so, for a few precious moments the Germans would be blocked from turning the corner.

When the leaders of the flock had almost reached the doorway where the three men were huddled, Saunders yelled, "NOW!" and he stepped out, with Caje and McCall on his heels. A few seconds later and their way would have been blocked by the flock. Instead, they were able to run out of the village just ahead of the sheep.

()()()()()()()()()()

Atlee and Gomez were still laughing when their squad mates collapsed beside them after having sprinted across the field.

"You shoulda seen yourselves!" Gomez managed to say as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"You was runnin' an' the sheep was chasin' after ya…" Atlee said.

Gomez finished the summary of the scene, "…an' it was, honest to God, the funniest thing I ever seen; you city fellas scared of a bunch of sheep!"

"It wasn't de sheep we were running from, you idiots! It was de Krauts," the Cajun, who was clearly annoyed at the untested soldiers questioning his courage, snapped back.

That immediately sobered up Doc and Littlejohn. They glanced at each other, ashamed that they had for even for a moment doubted their squad mates.

"Krauts!? Sarge, Doc and I were watching the whole time. We didn't see any Krauts enter the village," Littlejohn said.

Saunders turned around and studied the countryside. Although there were open fields on the opposite side of the village, there were also woods beyond them, the same set-up as where the squad was now huddled. However, to the west the buildings blocked the view of the fields for a small section. It had been a good place to keep watch, but not perfect.

"But somebody was watchin' an' seen us an' then the Krauts go in," McCall said.

His comment was greeted by questioning stares.

"Well, those dogs didn't suddenly decide on their own to move the flock!" he said, stating the obvious.

That turned everyone's attention back to the village. As they watched, a shepherd and another dog emerged, escorted by a couple of Germans who towered over their prisoners. The quartet stopped at the end of the road and the Germans waited while the two other figures slowly moved across the field. Meanwhile, the dogs working the flock were furiously trying to gather all of the sheep back together.

The sergeant debated whether to report in or wait until he had a chance to talk to the shepherd. When his mind was made up, he said, "Alright, saddle up. Caje, take the point. Let's go thank that shepherd in person an' see if he knows what the Krauts are doing in the village." He signaled the men to move out.

Caje led the squad around the edge of the woodlands to try to cross paths with the shepherd. After skirting several fields, the scout finally spotted him. Even though he was sitting on a stone wall, with his wide-brimmed slouch hat and dirty brown clothes, he easily blended into the surroundings. The man seemed to be waiting for them for he stood as they approached and gave a sly grin.

[It was extra work for my dogs, but worth it to see the Bosch penned in by the sheep. We might do it again just for the fun of it, right Jeannine!] the shepherd, who on closer examination turned out to be a shepherdess, exclaimed. The old woman bent over and gave the dog at her side an affectionate scratch behind her ears.

"Merci, grand-mère," the Cajun responded. [We didn't know the Bosch were there when we entered the village. You and your sheep saved us.]

The old woman scowled. [Call me Violette. I have no desire to be anyone's grandmother. As for the Bosch, they have come every day just at dusk for the last few weeks. Before, they didn't bother us. They would only occasionally drive through the village, leaving behind just a cloud of dust.]

Caje translated what the shepherdess had said and Saunders replied, "See if she knows what they're doing."

When the scout posed the question, the old woman shook her head before gruffly responding, [Don't know and don't care. It's not my business. All I know is they made everyone who lived in the village leave and until today, nobody has gone back in, except me. I come and go as I please because,] she paused and gave the old dog another scratch, [they can't stop Jeannine's children. She taught them well.] The old dog suddenly began to whimper. The other two dogs had gathered the sheep and brought the flock into the center of the field. [You're right, Jeannine!] she said and then gave a long whistle followed by two short ones. The dogs working the flock laid down as the sheep began to peacefully graze.

The shepherdess returned her attention to the squad of Americans. She carefully inspected each of them before finally saying, [Follow me.] She began to slowly move through the trees. [I've got a place not far from here. It's not much but it's a roof over your heads.]

After Caje explained the old woman's offer to the sergeant, Saunders nodded his acceptance and the men followed behind her and her dog. She led them around to the other side of the field to a shack with an attached three-sided lean-to that stood a bit deeper in the woods than the tree line. From there, she could keep an eye on her grazing flock but remain hidden from the people of the village and the Krauts who now inhabited it.

As they approached the hut, Saunders said, "Littlejohn and McCall, security."

The two men back-tracked and settled in behind a portion of the stone wall that still remained. The shepherdess shook her head and said, [There's no need to watch. One of the dogs or even Jeannine will let us know if someone approaches.]

Caje chuckled and said, [The sergeant is a careful man.]

[Suit yourself. Come in and we'll eat.] She led them inside and lit a lantern, bathing the shack in a gentle glow. She walked over to the fire pit and lit the kindling, then added a few larger sticks until she had a small fire.

Saunders didn't say anything. He figured the Krauts were aware that the old woman was living there and if having the fire was her routine, they would be more suspicious if they didn't see the light from the door and the one window.

The men weren't expecting much, just a roof over their heads for the night, so they were surprised to find the back wall of the shed lined with shelves full of bottles of wine, home canned preserves, and tins of food. In one corner several smoked hams and sausages hung.

[Grand-mère, I mean Violette, where did you get all of this food!?] the Cajun asked as he and the other men gaped in amazement.

Violette momentarily seemed like a small child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. But she quickly recovered and stuck out her chin in a defiant manner. [Well, when the Bosch chased all the villagers away, I couldn't let all their food go to waste...and it wasn't right that the Bosch got it.] She laughed and then continued speaking. [Once I learned that most of them left at dawn and didn't return until dusk, I have helped myself to some of their food, too!] Then she quietly added, [But not so much that they would miss it.]

[So, you sneak into the village whenever you want to?] the Cajun asked, since the sergeant would want a clarification of what Violette had just said.

[I told you before, I come and go as I please.]

The scout relayed the information to Saunders who was definitely intrigued. "Caje, ask her if a full platoon always comes every evening and how many men remain during the day."

While the sergeant and scout talked, the old woman carved off three large chunks of meat from one of the hams. Doc, Atlee and Gomez's mouths were watering as she handed one of the hunks to Jeannine. The dog lay down by the open door with the meat between her paws and happily gnawed away. When she was finished, she left and a few minutes later one of the other dogs appeared and the process was repeated. After the third dog had been fed, Jeannine returned and settled in a corner.

Once Violette was finished feeding her dogs, the shepherdess began slicing off pieces of ham and putting them on a fancy cut glass plate, which definitely seemed out of place with the rest of the shack's furnishings. When the plate was piled high, she set it in the center of the small, rickety table. Next, she pulled several loaves of dark brown bread as well as two small rounds of cheese from the shelves. She inspected the spread she had laid out for her drooling guests. Something was missing!? She smiled and took a few short steps to her wine collection and selected two bottles.

She must have stolen the bread from the Krauts; it was certainly not something a Frenchman would make or accept from a bakery. However, combined with the ham and cheese and washed down with wine, the humble meal beat the cold rations the squad of Americans would otherwise have eaten and they all attacked it hungrily.

Only after they finished and were wiping their mouths on the sleeves of their field jackets did the old woman return to her conversation with the scout.

[You asked how many Bosch come in the evening.] She shrugged her shoulders. [I don't know, I don't count them, but many. The dogs and I are usually heading home when they arrive. But, in the morning, they leave four behind. Two are walking up and down the roads all the time and the other two,] she shrugged again. [I only watch to see which house they have entered, then I enter a different one. Most of their food is in M. Fauvelle's house, but I think they are also doing something in the church. The first day trucks stopped in front of it and soldiers carried crates inside.]

Once more, anticipating what Saunders would want to know, the Cajun asked, [Have you been inside the church to look around?]

Their hostess snorted. [Didn't go in before, so why would I go in now. Besides, a few sausages…a loaf of bread the Krauts might forgive, but not if I was caught in there.] She made a cutting gesture across her throat and Caje nodded his understanding.

Saunders listened attentively to what Caje had learned. Then he picked up the radio and went outside. He needed to call in and report what they had discovered, but he wasn't exactly sure what that discovery was. He thought a little fresh air might help him make sense of it.

()()()()()()()()()()

After everyone had disappeared into the shed, McCall caustically said, "So, Saunders stuck you with keeping an eye on me."

"I don't know what you mean," Littlejohn replied. "The Sarge almost always pairs us off, usually one of us who've been with the squad with a new-comer. He'll probably send Caje and Atlee out to relieve us and then he and Gomez will take the last watch. Anyway, I like having someone to talk to. It helps me keep awake and makes the time go faster."

McCall waited for the big man to start questioning him, but Littlejohn didn't. He talked sporadically about how quiet it was, just like back home on the farm and about the dogs working the sheep. McCall listened to the easy flow of words, feeling no need to join in and make it a conversation.

Suddenly, the big man wheeled around, rifle at the ready.

"It's me, Saunders," a voice in the night said. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, Sarge. We were just talking about how smart those dogs are," Littlejohn said as he lowered his rifle and turned back to face the dark field.

"The old woman said they'd warn us if anyone was coming, but keep a good watch anyway. I'll send Caje an' Atlee out to relieve you in an hour or so. There'll be something to eat when you go in."

"Okay, Sarge."

There was only the sound of a twig snapping and the slight rustle of a bush as he moved off and then all was still once again.

"See, Caje and Atlee, just like I said," Littlejohn whispered with a bit of satisfaction.

Several minutes went by before McCall quietly broke the silence as he hesitantly asked, "He's okay? The sergeant, I mean."

"Yeah, Saunders is a good NCO. He's fair and never tells us to do something he wouldn't do himself. You're lucky you ended up in this squad even if we do draw our share of tough missions."

"Like this one?" McCall responded with a chuckle, thinking it was a powder-puff patrol.

"It will depend," the big man answered slowly and cautiously.

"Depend on what?"

"On what Lt. Hanley says when the Sarge reports in."

Chapter 3 –The Church

Before he contacted King Two, Saunders wanted to think about what the old woman had told Caje. The Krauts had chased everyone away even though whatever they were up to, they were only doing it at night. So, they wanted to keep it quiet. That was probably why they had also chosen such a small village. They had set up in the church, but this particular one didn't have a tall bell tower so the fact that they were using a church might be of no consequence. Maybe It just had the largest open space available.

He thought of a few possibilities but quickly eliminated them. A communications center would operate all the time and it wouldn't require what she had said were 'a lot of soldiers.' If it was an artillery OP, it would be a daytime operation. Finally, he was left with only one idea. Maybe it was a radar station tracking nighttime Allied bombing runs. He had only seen one (2) before and hadn't had time to inspect the equipment so he wasn't sure he would recognize any of it. But a radar station seemed to fit what Caje had learned from the old woman about the set-up in the village.

Although he reached that conclusion, he would keep his conjecture to himself. He would only pass along facts he and the squad had verified as well as the information the shepherdess had given them. S-2 had other sources and they might have a completely different theory.

However, one thing he did know, even before he switched the radio on…what the squad's new orders would be. Get inside the church and describe what they found. And, he was right. There was a delay while Hanley relayed the information up the chain of command and the orders came back down, but tomorrow morning, Saunders would be leading his men back into the village and into the church.

When he returned to the hut, he had Caje talk to the shepherdess about approaching and moving around the village so they wouldn't be seen by the Kraut sentries. She, however, was obstinate and wouldn't divulge her secrets. Later, as he stood watch during the early morning hours, he thought a lot about how they could get into and out of the village and the church without the Germans knowing they had been there. In the end he could come up with nothing better than trying to convince the old woman to lead them.

()()()()()()()()()()

At sunrise, Littlejohn and McCall arrived to relieve Saunders and Gomez. They were each juggling a mug of coffee and a chunk of bread wrapped around a warm sausage as well as their rifles. From the smile on his face, the sergeant guessed that the big man had already eaten at least one of the Kraut sausages. McCall also seemed to be more relaxed. Perhaps all he had needed was a little sleep and something hot in his belly.

After the sergeant and Gomez had eaten, Caje once again asked Violette to tell them how she managed to move around the village and avoid the Krauts, but again she balked. Saunders acknowledged he was beaten and asked her to lead them. She gave him her sly toothy grin and eagerly nodded.

"Doc, go get Littlejohn and McCall," the sergeant said.

While they waited for the soldiers on security to arrive, the old lady reached for a canvas bag which was hanging from a nail on the wall. She took it down and quickly filled it with a bit of food and a bottle of wine. When all of the men had crowded into the shack, the old woman picked up the sack Jeannine had been laying on, shook it out, folded it carefully and stuffed it in with the food. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder and said, [You saw where the sheep were grazing yesterday. We'll meet in the woods by that field. Give me half an hour then follow along the tree line on the far side of the village.] She moved to the open door with the dog at her side. At the door she turned, shook her finger at the men and added, [Be careful crossing the road!]

As Caje translated that admonition, Doc raised his hand to cover his smile. He glanced at Littlejohn. The big man was working hard not to grin. They both were aware of how quickly their sergeant could lose his patience. They were expecting a response laced with a few choice words which Caje might not want to translate into French. So, both men were surprised when Saunders sheepishly nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am." Thirty minutes later he growled, "You heard the lady. Get moving."

The medic fell in behind Gomez. He turned around to look at the big man. Littlejohn shook his head and shrugged. Their sergeant never ceased to surprise them. But, as the squad moved through the woods, Doc remembered something Saunders had once said, that his grandmother had taught him to play poker (3).

'I'll bet she was a real pistol!' he thought and he burst out laughing. That garnered him an icy glare when the sergeant turned around.

()()()()()()()()()()

This time, Caje had no trouble spotting Violette as she leaned against a tree just behind the stone wall. From her vantage point she had a clear view across the fields not only of the tree line where the squad had first approached the village but also right down one of the village's two streets and of the road that led into the village and briefly became the other cross street. She could see all of the Kraut comings and goings without drawing any attention to herself. It was from that vantage point she had witnessed the pending clash on the previous day.

As the men approached, she took a few steps back into the woods to join them. [You can see the church from here,] she said, not bothering to point out the building with the slightly elevated cross. [The big house next to it belongs to M. Fauvelle.] She chuckled and added, [He thought that being close to the church put him closer to God, the old fool.] She paused to look down the street for a moment before continuing. [You can see one of the Bosch patrolling all of the time. The other one, only when he reaches the intersection. Watch!]

The Americans did as she directed and sure enough about two minutes later the Kraut walking up and down the cross street appeared. Saunders checked his watch and timed his route. From when he passed the intersection, he figured they would have about a minute and a half before the guard turned around and headed back.

[There are two out walking all day long, except when the rest of the Bosch arrive for the evening. Then, everyone briefly congregates in front of the church.] She paused to look at the sergeant. [That was when you arrived. You were lucky. I was watching the whole thing from right here.]

Caje translated and Saunders nodded his understanding.

Atlee quietly said, "The old goat. She probably enjoyed it, too."

Before any of the other men could say or do anything, McCall swatted the side of the young soldier's helmet. "Show a little respect," he snarled.

Saunders didn't say anything although his opinion of the new BAR man had just gone up a notch.

Littlejohn and Doc also liked what they had just seen. After all, if Kirby had been there, he probably would have been the one to make the derogatory comment, or at least laugh at it.

[There are two Bosch not walking around. One I haven't seen, but the other one is in M. Fauvelle's house. Since that is how we get into all of the other buildings, we wait. They change every two hours.] She walked over to the tree she had originally been leaning against and sat down. [I'm going to take a nap. One of you can keep watch.] Jeannine curled up beside her and rested her chin on the shepherdess' thigh. With a few minutes, both of them were softly snoring.

()()()()()()()()()()

As Violette had predicted, every two hours the four Krauts met at the center of the village and the two who had been off-duty began patrolling. Saunders' men carefully tracked where the other two went. Unfortunately, M. Fauvelle's house proved to be a favorite destination.

When the shepherdess got up from her nap, she yawned and stretched before beginning a slow stroll around the flock with Jeannine at her side. As they approached the first dog, she gave a whistle and waved her hand. The dogs, who had been crouched down keeping an eye on the flock, got up, stretched, and began moving the sheep toward a gap in the stone wall. Within a matter of minutes all had disappeared into the woods. Just as mysteriously, about forty minutes later, the flock began slowly filtering through the gap and were soon back to grazing in the field. Violette reappeared, with Jeannine at her side, nodded her head in satisfaction, and headed back to where the Americans waited.

The men had watched all of this in amazement, but with Billy Nelson no longer in the squad, the task of asking questions fell to Doc and he posed the one that was on everyone's lips. "Caje, ask her where they went?"

When the Cajun asked the question, Violette rolled her eyes as if it was the dumbest thing she had ever heard. Finally, after she had had a good laugh, she said, [To the stream to get a drink of water.]

When the sun was high in the sky, she opened her shoulder bag and pulled out her lunch, which she shared with Jeannine, and a bottle of wine, which she kept for herself. The men opened their rations and washed them down with tepid water from their canteens.

Finally, when the sentries were relieved at about two in the afternoon, they walked down the street together and disappeared from sight.

[They've probably gone to the café to drink the bottle of wine they stashed previously,] Violette announced with a cackle. She signaled Jeannine to stay, removed the sack the dog had slept on from her bag and then, looking at Saunders, said, [Follow me.]

"Same as before. Caje and McCall, you're on me. The rest of you wait here. Littlejohn, I don't expect any trouble we can't handle, but if something happens, radio in. The brass might decide to target this place so make sure you get the old lady to safety," the sergeant said.

Littlejohn nodded, but short of picking her up and carrying her, he didn't think he would be able to get her to move without taking the dogs and the sheep with them.

Violette was scurrying back in the direction of the road and the three men had to rush to catch up to her. Suddenly, she stopped and crouching down. Then she cautiously crept forward, all the time watching the Kraut who was patrolling the street that stretched out before them. The Americans followed her, weapons at the ready; this would be a dangerous crossing if they wanted to enter and move about the village without alerting the Germans to their presence.

The sentry turned and the old woman began quietly counting his steps…"un…deux…trois…" When she reached twelve, she darted, not directly across the road but diagonally to a little shed that stood behind M. Fauvelle's house. She slipped inside and waited for the Americans to join her. There was barely room for her and the three men, but she edged toward a corner and began picking up crates and tools and handing them one by one to the men until the corner was clear. Then, she disappeared.

Saunders stepped toward the corner and was suddenly gazing into a dark hole with only the first few rungs of a ladder visible. He set his crates down where she had been standing and with a shrug, he followed Violette into the darkness. Caje and McCall exchanged glances, then the scout disappeared, and finally the BAR man.

When he reached the bottom of the ladder, Saunders crouched down and ran his hands around the walls of the pit until he found the beginning of a tunnel. He crept forward on hands and knees. He could hear someone behind him, but not Violette in front. He figured she wasn't waiting for them and must be quite far ahead. At last, a weak shaft of light appeared from above and the sergeant cautiously stood. He could see a pair of legs. It was Violette standing about six feet away holding a candle.

The men hoisted themselves out of the tunnel which had ended under a shelf. On both sides of the hole were a few empty crates and barrels and covering the rest of the walls were more empty shelves.

When all were assembled, Violette carefully placed one of the crates over the hole. [Always leave the tunnel entrance covered!] she ordered, giving each of the men a stern look. Then she explained to the Cajun, [My family has worked for the Fauvelle's for generations tending their sheep. The shed is where we store our supplies like the scissors for shearing. My great-grandfather began digging the tunnel, hauling out the dirt at night.]

As Caje translated, Saunders and McCall took in the storage space.

"This looks like a root cellar," the sergeant whispered.

"Yeah, I'll bet her family helped to dig it an' they've been helpin' themselves to the Fauvelle's food ever since," McCall quietly responded.

Saunders quickly added, "Caje, don't accuse her of stealing. She might take offense."

But the sergeant needn't have worried. Holding her head up high and jutting out her chin, Violette continued with her explanation. [You might think my family robbed from the Fauvelles, but we only took what was our due. If the Spring was cold and damp and a lamb died or if the winter snows came early and a sheep was stranded, it was charged to us. A shepherd cannot control the weather! Yes, we took, but only what was due.] She glared at the Cajun and added, [Make sure you tell them that.] But then she changed her mind and said, [Never mind. I don't need to explain myself to anyone!]

But Caje did tell his comrades.

Violette crossed to some stone steps, blew out the candle and climbed to a door. She carefully opened it a crack and peeked into the room before entering. The Americans followed her into a pantry. She set the candle on a shelf by the door and opened the dirty sack. Then, remembering that the soldiers were with her, she turned to them as said, [Go down the hall. At the end is a door that leads to the side yard. You'll see the church. Watch for the guard when you cross. Use the back window to get in. When I'm finished, I'll return to my flock, but I'll leave the candle here for you. Be sure to bring it with you and remember to pull the crate back into position when you return.]

Once the men had left, Violette did a careful inventory of the Bosch stores. She was never greedy, taking only what she thought they wouldn't miss, like just one of the multiple links of sausages hanging from a hook in the corner. She pulled out her knife and carefully cut the last one off and stuffed it into her sack. When the Bosch came that evening, they would bring fresh bread, so she took one of the remaining day-old loaves. Then she turned to the boxes of rations and counted how many there were; seventeen. That was probably one for each soldier so she didn't take any of them. But there was a round of cheese that had already been cut into, so she sliced a small wedge and wrapped it in a rag she carried and added it to her stash.

'That is plenty,' she thought. 'The Americans will be leaving so I don't have to worry about having to feed them again.'

She was about to leave the pantry when several small jars caught her eye. They hadn't been there when she had previously visited. She picked one up and examined it. There were no labels, but she recognized the contents. It was a little jar of jam. It had been a long time since she had had any jam. She closed her eyes and could almost taste the sweetness melting on her tongue.

Two questions quickly formed in her mind followed by the probable answers as she weighed the risk. 'How many jars were there? Only five; they probably belonged to the officers. Would they miss one? Yes!'

With a sigh of regret, she put the jam down and returned to the root cellar door. She turned and glanced back at the little jars, then opened the door and within minutes she was through the tunnel and ready to climb the ladder to return to the shed.

But she couldn't get those little jars out of her head. Then the solution to the problem came to her. 'Yes, the officers would definitely miss one, but they would accuse the soldiers of stealing it!' she thought. 'I will take one this trip, but never again.'

With a satisfied smile she left her sack at the bottom of the ladder, turned around and returned to the pantry. She slipped one of the little jars into the pocket of her tunic and made her way back to the root cellar. Before she entered the tunnel, she reached down and felt it. Once again, she could almost taste the sweetness melting on her tongue.

Within minutes she was through the tunnel and back in the shed.

()()()()()()()()()()

The scout relayed her instructions and then led the way. They paused at the door to wait for the sentry to pass. Saunders gazed up at the cross attached to the top of the roof of the church. He spotted what he thought was an antenna. Although it was partially blocked by the cross, what he could see appeared to be the same sort of antenna they had seen in St. Albert.

'Maybe my hunch that the Krauts have set up a radar station in the village is right,' he thought.

Caje nudged him when the sentry came into view. As Violette had done, Saunders slowly counted to twelve and then the three men sprinted to the backside of the church. The sergeant had to smile at what he found. The old woman might not have been totally truthful about not entering the building for the window was half open.

From the back of the church there was a clear view of the road leading into town, the road the Krauts would be coming down in a few hours, and from the corner of the building the street in front of the Fauvelle house could be seen.

"McCall, stay here an' keep an eye on the road an' that sentry," Saunders quietly said and the BAR man nodded his understanding of the order.

The sergeant handed his weapon to the scout and hoisted himself up to the window ledge. He pushed the window the rest of the way open and Caje handed him the Tommy gun before he dropped to the floor. The Cajun passed up his rifle and then followed Saunders through the window.

The two men briefly scanned the small room they had entered. There were two padded chairs, worn but sturdy and a small end table. Nothing seemed to go together or to belong there; they could have been carried over from the big house next door. Other than that, the room was empty. The Americans moved quietly to the door leading to the nave of the church. Saunders paused for a moment to listen. There were no footsteps, voices or other noises to betray the presence of any Krauts so he slowly opened the door. The pews had been moved to the sides to make enough space for all of the equipment.

After a cursory inspection, Saunders said, "Caje, keep watch at the front door."

As the Cajun opened the door a crack, the sergeant pulled out the stub of a pencil and the notepad he carried in his shirt breast pocket and began making rough sketches of the equipment.

()()()()()()()()()()

McCall didn't bother to settle in. He figured Saunders wouldn't be too long, just a quick in and out. There wasn't much for him to see besides the road, just the empty fields beyond this side of the village and the back of the Fauvelle house. He couldn't see the woods where the rest of the squad waited or even the peacefully grazing sheep.

It would have been easy to let his mind wander and lose focus, but McCall wasn't that kind of a soldier. He was trying to decide exactly what kind he was when something caught his attention. There was a cloud of dust on the horizon. He didn't have to see anything else. The dust meant only one thing. At least one motorized vehicle was headed their way and that meant Krauts.

'There's still time to make it back to the Fauvelle house and safety,' he thought. 'That's what happened before, wasn't it? I was at the end of the platoon, watching the back trail as we moved along. Something caught my attention and I realized we had walked into an ambush. I bolted and saved my own hide. That's what happened…wasn't it?'

The dust cloud was getting closer. He couldn't see anything yet but he could hear approaching vehicles in his imagination. There was still time. He hesitated, then unfastened the BAR and leaned it against the side of the church before he hoisted himself up to the window sill and dropped down inside. He moved quickly to the door to the nave and threw it open. "Krauts!" he hissed.

"Sarge, dose sentries are headed dis way," the Cajun said as he turned to face Saunders and McCall.

Saunders scanned the church, making sure nothing had been disturbed before he said, "Quick, out the back."

Caje and the sergeant hurried to the door where McCall stood. Saunders took one last look around before he closed the nave door as the other two climbed out the window. When it was his turn, he balanced on the ledge and pulled the window down before dropping to the ground. The three men could now plainly see the vehicles approaching the village. They started for the Fauvelle house but only made it a few steps. All four of the Kraut guards were now standing on the road between the house and the church awaiting the arrival of a small convoy.

()()()()()()()()()()

After the shepherdess, Saunders, Caje and McCall disappeared from sight, Littlejohn told Atlee and Gomez to move through the woods around the field, keeping out of sight, until they had a clear view of the other street in the village, and of him.

"Don't move from that spot unless you see me signal you to move in," he told them.

Then the big man leaned his tall frame against a sturdy tree and kept an eye on the slow, steady pacing of the Kraut sentry who was visible from their current position.

Doc and Jeannine watched the two other dogs. They maintained a crouched position, ready to spring at any sheep that wandered too far from the flock. But, after several minutes of inaction, the medic sat down against a tree and tilted his helmet down over his eyes, copying a position he had often seen the sergeant assume. He was just beginning to doze off when Jeannine gave a low growl. He reached up and pushed his helmet back, having not quite mastered Saunders' ability to accomplish the movement without using his hands.

"Oh oh, we've got trouble," the medic said.

"What?" Littlejohn asked. He didn't dare take his eyes off the guard who had suddenly picked up his pace.

"There's a couple of vehicles coming," Doc replied as he stood and quickly took a few steps forward to try to get a clearer view of what was unfolding. Then he clarified his statement. "Two trucks and a command car and it looks like they're slowing down."

This time Littlejohn did turn to look. "Violette said they came at dusk. Maybe they're just passing through," he said hopefully.

The medic didn't reply, but Jeannine's growl became more ominous.

Chapter 4 - Trapped

The NCO crouched at the back corner of the church to provide cover. He signaled Caje to head in the opposite direction. When the scout reached the far corner, he carefully peeked around it. No Krauts were visible on the road, so he sprinted to the back of the next building, a small nondescript house. Saunders pointed to McCall and the BAR man moved to the far corner. The road was still empty and Caje waved for him to cross over.

The convoy had reached the little village. A staff car slowed down and rolled to a stop, right in front of the open space the sergeant still had to cross. In the next instant two deuce-and-a-half trucks also ground to a halt behind it and soldiers started jumping out of them. The street from the front of the church to the Fauvelle house was suddenly alive with Kraut activity.

Saunders moved to the opposite corner, but Caje waved him off. Two German officers were engaged in a conversation not thirty yards away, and an NCO stood looking right down the space between the two buildings, awaiting orders. When the two officers began strolling toward the Americans, Saunders signaled Caje to take off. He quickly scanned the area behind him. There was nothing but open space. That left only one possible place to hide.

The sergeant balanced the Thompson on the window ledge and hoisted himself up. The door to the nave was still closed, so he leaned in enough to steady himself before pushing up the window and climbing in. He quickly retrieved his Tommy gun, pulled the window back down to its previous position and crouched beneath it. Outside, voices were getting closer. Once those voices had receded, he cautiously peeked over the window sill. The two officers had stopped their wandering for the moment and were standing between the church and the Fauvelle house. But the Kraut NCO, loosely cradling his Schmeisser, was just a few yards from the back of the church. At least for the time being, Saunders wasn't going anywhere. He crept to the wall behind the closed door to wait.

()()()()()()()()()()

McCall waited until the sergeant was out of sight before he said, "What do ya say we get outa here?"

The scout hesitated for a moment. But since there was nothing the two of them could do for Saunders, he began moving along the back side of the building, away from the church, with McCall on his heels.

They made it to the back of a shop at the intersection. By then, the Krauts had begun their cursory search of the village so it was only a matter of time before they would be discovered if they remained where they were. Fanning out before them were the open fields which offered little cover. And today, there would be no flock of sheep to distract the German troops.

"We've got to get inside a building and hide. I don't dink dey check very carefully," the Cajun whispered.

"Okay, I'll cover while you find an open door or window," the BAR man responded.

Violette said she had taken food from many of the vacated houses so Caje didn't think it would be too difficult to find one he could get into. But every window and door he tried was tightly closed and locked. The old woman must have known about hidden keys or secret entrances, like the tunnel at the Fauvelle house.

Although McCall had his back to him as he waited for Krauts to suddenly appear at the corner of each building, he could sense the scout's mounting frustration as the seconds ticked away.

()()()()()()()()()()

Littlejohn bit his lower lip as a staff car and trucks stopped in front of the church. There was nothing he could do, and yet he wanted to take some action that would allow his comrades to escape. He thought about having the sheep run through the village again, but had no idea of how to command the dogs. And even if he could, using the same ploy two days in a row was bound to arouse the Krauts' suspicion. So, he could only watch and wait for an opportunity.

"Maybe we could…" the medic started to say, but stopped when Littlejohn shook his head.

"Saunders said to radio in if there was any trouble," the big man said.

"Yeah, Ah know. But, Littlejohn, if you do, Capt. Jample might just order an artillery barrage to destroy the village with the Sarge, Caje and McCall still trapped there," the medic replied. The comment served to reinforce the deduction the big man had made.

Littlejohn remained silent as the Krauts begin to flush out the village. Finally, he quietly said, "The Sarge didn't say I had to call in right away."

"That's true, Littlejohn, but if you don't call in for orders, what are you going to do?"

Doc's question was answered by silence. As that silence between them lengthened, both men became aware once again of Jeannine. She was continuing to growl but remained rooted in the spot where Violette had told her to wait. She, like them, was helpless.

Finally, Littlejohn said, "Doc, do you think you can make it through the woods over to Atlee and Gomez?"

"Yes," the medic cautiously replied.

"Okay. Go get them and bring them back here. And Doc, tell them not to do anything stupid."

()()()()()()()()()()

At last, at what must have been the shabbiest house in the little village, a door was slightly ajar. Caje carefully pushed it open enough to look inside. The interior reflected the exterior. The owners had been poor, even by the standards of this crossroads of a town. The Cajun softly said, "McCall," to let his companion know he had at last been successful.

The two men slipped inside and Caje pulled the door shut. McCall moved quickly to the one window that overlooked the street while Caje sought someplace to hide before the Krauts, who were calling to each other as they moved from building to building, reached their location. But there was no ladder to a sleeping loft or attic and only a few sticks of furniture. Neither man, let alone both of them, would be able to hide behind the ratty armchair or under the straw mat tucked in the corner.

He was about to tell McCall they had to leave when he spotted a sack on the floor next to the wood box. It was the same kind that Jeannine, Violette's dog, had slept on and that the shepherdess had carried on her foraging expedition. He walked over to the sack and kicked it aside with the toe of his boot, thinking that perhaps it covered the entrance to a root cellar. It didn't, but oddly the wood box hadn't moved when the toe of his boot struck it. He knelt down and grasp it, but was unable to budge it from its position, until he tried to lift it. The box, along with the slightly smaller pieces of the floor board that it sat on, came up, revealing a ladder. Once again, the Cajun quietly said, "McCall."

"They're outside an' will be here any second," the BAR man said as he turned around. He spied the opening and with no hesitation, he disappeared into the hole beside the Cajun.

Caje pulled the wood box back into place as he, too, climbed down the ladder.

The two men stood in darkness, one hanging onto each side of the ladder. They tilted their heads and gazed up when the Krauts pushed the front door open. One of the intruders said something and his comrade laughed. A moment later and the sound of their heavy footsteps moved back to the front door and the soldiers were gone.

"That was close," McCall said with a sigh of relief.

"Yes, too close. Let's wait here for a while. You have a match? Maybe dere's a lantern down here."

McCall fumbled in the blackness to pull out the book of matches he carried in the breast pocket of his shirt. He finally was able to strike one and spark a flame. He scanned the dimly illuminated underground space and exclaimed, "Holy shit!"

()()()()()()()()()()

Violette didn't need to look. The sound of Bosch vehicles was all too familiar. And, they were slowing down. She waited, hoping they would talk to the sentries and then drive away. After all, it was too early for them to be arriving for the night. But she couldn't wait in the shed for long. If it was the evening Bosch, the first thing they would do would be to go through all of the buildings and they would find her. And she couldn't wait in the tunnel. She had to get back to her flock. Without her to give commands, the dogs would hold the sheep in position and after a while, even the Bosch would get suspicious.

Quickly, she dropped back down into the tunnel and crawled through to the root cellar. She slipped out and ran to the pantry door. She waited for a moment, listening to be sure the Bosch weren't already in the building before she pushed the door open, grabbed the candle and dropped it into her sack. After a last look around to be sure nothing was out of place, she quietly closed the door behind her. Then, down on her hands and knees, she pulled the crate into position as she backed into the tunnel. She always hated the last part of her foraging raids, creeping backward until she reached the shaft to the surface. But today, with her heart pounding in her ears, the meters seemed endless. Finally, she smelled fresh air; she was almost through. When her feet hit the shaft wall, she began to uncurl and finally to stand upright.

Once out of the tunnel she paused for a moment, then reluctantly dropped her sack back down the shaft. 'I can always return for it in a day or two,' she thought as she piled up the crates to conceal the entrance.

She cautiously opened the shed door a sliver, then a bit more. There were no German soldiers in sight, so with a sigh of relief, she slipped out of the shed and quickly moved back into the woods. She had only to make it across the road and she would be safe.

A few Bosch soldiers were gathered around the trucks while the rest were busy conducting the routine search of the village. None seemed to be looking up the road. She took a deep breath and began to scurry across.

[HALT!]

The call came not from the village, but from behind her. She froze. A hand clamped around her upper arm and she was dragged toward the Bosch soldiers who had all turned at the sound of the shout and were now staring at her.

()()()()()()()()()()

There wasn't any crack for Saunders to peek through so he could only guess where the Krauts were in the church from their footsteps and voices. He was sure one was standing right next to the door, ready to fling it open.

He slipped his finger into the trigger housing and willed his breathing to become slow and steady as he flattened his back against the wall behind the door.

The knob turned and the door opened, not flung open nor opened slowly and cautiously, but instead with a steady normal movement until it stopped about an inch from the toe of his boot. He held his breath. He couldn't see anything but the few footsteps told him a Kraut had walked over to the window. An instant later, came the sound of the pane being pushed up all the way. Then, the German was gone, leaving the door open with the American sergeant standing behind it and a slight breeze blowing through the open window and into the nave.

()()()()()()()()()()

"Oh, mon Dieu, blow out dat match!" Caje said as quickly as his brain registered what his eyes were seeing.

The two men were thrown back into darkness. They stood still, clutching the ladder. The only sound was their suddenly heavy breathing.

"Did you see!?" a stunned McCall asked.

"Yes! How could she have all of dose explosives!? Let me dink. Dere was a sack by the opening like de one de dog slept on so I dought dis was her house, but how could she have all of dose explosives!?" the Cajun asked for a second time.

They hadn't been able to see much of the underground space they occupied, but what they could make out were boxes labeled 'Dynamite' and 'Composition-C' in English in one direction and equally menacing looking boxes labeled in German in another.

"Maybe…Maybe…" McCall said haltingly, but he couldn't come up with any explanation for why the shepherdess would have enough explosives to blow the entire village and all of its surrounding fields off the map. He settled for, "I think the Krauts have left. Let's get outa here!"

Caje took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The initial shock was over and he could think more rationally. "Not yet," he said. "Look, McCall, dis stuff isn't going to blow up on its own. We'll wait until dey finish flushing out de village and it's dark. Den we can make it back to the woods and Violette's place."

"Yeah, okay…But who knows what she's got hidden under the floorboards there," McCall said. He tried to sound casual but his words suddenly seemed too loud. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself, then he whispered, more to himself than to the Cajun, "If I was gonna run out on 'em..." His voice tapered off and the scout had to strain to hear the rest of the statement, "…I'd wait until dark an' slip out the back door."

Caje didn't say anything, at least not then. He could only stare into the darkness and mull over what he had just heard. 'Why was McCall contemplating running out on him and the rest of the squad?'

Yes, he needed to think about it, but in the end, he would have no choice but to confront the new man. The only thing he needed to know about any soldier in the squad was whether he could count on him (5) and McCall had just planted the seeds of doubt in his mind.

()()()()()()()()()()

The tall Bosch officer towered over Violette. She cast her eyes down at his highly polished boots and waited for him to speak. He wasn't the same officer who had confronted her about running her sheep through the village. That one had almost laughed, seeing it as a prank. But this time, that officer stood off to the side. She didn't know how the one who stood in front of her was going to react to her being in the village when it was forbidden until she heard the first words out of his mouth.

[WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?] he demanded. The words sounded harsh, even for German.

[Please, Sir, I don't understand…I am only a poor shepherdess,] she responded in French, trying to sound frightened and ignorant.

The officer switched to French, although that didn't change the snarl in his voice. [So, you are a poor, stupid shepherdess. What are you doing in the village, shepherdess? Why aren't you with your sheep?]

[I…I needed clippers to trim one of the ram's horns. The sheep belong to M. Fauvelle and that shed is where the tools are kept,] she said as she pointed to the hut behind the big house.

[LIAR!] the officer screamed. [YOU WERE NOT GOING TOWARD THE SHED BUT AWAY FROM IT.]

[Yes, yes, away…I saw you coming and I got scared…so I was running away.]

It was obvious to the captain that he was wasting his time questioning the old woman. He was about to turn her loose when he noticed that she was gripping the fabric of the pocket of her tunic. [WHAT IS IN YOUR POCKET?] he demanded.

For the first time, Violette was afraid. [Nothing,] she said. But knowing he would have her searched and find the jam, she slowly slipped her hand into the pocket and withdrew the little jar. She held it out, her hand shaking, as she hesitantly said, [I found it…before you came…It was by the side of the road.]

Without any warning the officer's fist slammed into the side of her head sending her crashing to the ground. The little jar slipped from her grasp and rolled away. She thought she would pass out as bright stars exploded all around her, but she could hear him screaming and see a soldier run toward M. Fauvelle's house. She lay very still, waiting for all of the stars to disappear and for the moments to tic away until the soldier returned.

[GET UP, YOU OLD HAG!]

Violette slowly got to her feet, swaying a bit as she stood.

[Where did you get the jam?] He spoke the words with a low, menacing voice.

[I..I found it…It was just lying there…when I crossed the road to go to the shed.]

She could barely hear the Bosch officer when he said, [No, you stole it from the pantry of that house,] as he pointed to M. Fauvelle's home.

[No, Sir…No!…There is a side door…across from the church...M. Fauvelle's office is to the left of that door…That is the only room in the house that I've ever been in…Please, Sir, you must believe me!…I found that little jar by the side of the road…That is what happened…Please Sir…You must believe me.]

The Bosch officer pulled out his luger and aimed it at her head. With his low, menacing voice he said, [Tell me, old woman, are you afraid now?]

Violette closed her eyes and her lips moved as she silently said a prayer.

For the first time, the second officer spoke. It was in German but he sounded calm. [Helmann, what are you doing? Let her go. We have work to do.]

Helmann didn't respond; he sneered at Violette. The soldier had reported that four jars of jam were in the pantry. Although it seemed unlikely that this dirty old woman could have evaded the sentries to sneak into the house and then, once inside, to have only stolen one jar. Still…he pulled the trigger.

()()()()()()()()()()

At the sound of the single shot, Doc, on his way back from retrieving Atlee and Gomez, stopped and stared at the village. One of his squad mates had been caught. The two young replacements, their mouths open in astonishment, glanced at each other and then at him, wanting him to tell them that everything was all right. But he couldn't do that. He wouldn't lie.

"C'mon, we've got to get back," was all he managed to say.

When they reached the spot where Littlejohn was waiting, Doc could tell by the look on the big man's face that he was thinking the same thing.

"What are we gonna do?" Atlee asked in a whisper.

It was the same question Littlejohn had so often asked Saunders. But now, it was his turn to come up with the ideas. It had always seemed so easy and made so much sense when the sergeant laid out a plan. Littlejohn had always believed that Saunders would come up with the right answers, even on those occasions when he had expressed doubt. But now, the big man had no confidence in the words he was about to speak or in the scheme he had worked out while he was waiting for Doc to return. Even so, he spoke with authority. After all, Saunders had left him in charge so that was what the sergeant would want him to do.

"We're gonna go back to Violette's shack and wait there until it's dark. That's where the other fellas will head," he said. He was gratefully when the medic nodded his agreement.

"But what if they've all been captured? You heard the shot. One of them is dead and the others will tell where we'd rendezvous," Gomez said, the lips on his thin face quivering as he spoke.

"We don't know anything of the sort. And even if they were captured, they wouldn't tell the Krauts about us meeting up at Violette's place," Doc replied, although he only believed half of what he said.

"We'll go the long way around so we don't have to cross the road. Now let's go," Littlejohn said as he started walking away.

"Wait! What about the sheep?" Atlee asked.

Everyone glanced with pity at Jeannine. The old dog was still waiting for Violette's return, having hardly moved from the spot where the shepherdess had left her.

Littlejohn shook his head. "I don't know how to give them commands. Do any of you?" Gomez and Atlee shook their heads. "Then there's nothing we can do but hope Violette comes back. Now, let's go!"

()()()()()()()()()()

Neither man spoke. The sound of the shot seemed to reverberate for a long time. When it finally died away, McCall quietly said, "I guess they found Saunders."

Caje didn't reply. It was one thing to die in battle. He expected that to happen to his comrades, to himself. That was a consequence of being a soldier on the front lines. But to be executed, for that is what the single shot meant to him, was something he would not just accept and walk away from. The Cajun hardened his heart and began to plot his revenge. Even in the dark he could see the boxes of explosives.

()()()()()()()()()()

'A single shot…a warning to Caje and McCall to surrender…or something worse?' Saunders went through all of the possibilities in his mind.

He strained to listen for any sound of his men being interrogated, but the only things he could hear were a few soldiers walking around, voices engaged in normal conversation, and above all, the steady soft drone of machines running. Whatever was going on with Caje and McCall, it wasn't taking place inside the church. He was sure of that.

He reached down and massaged his aching left thigh. He'd been standing in one place for too long and was getting a cramp. He tried to flex his leg muscles but that only seemed to make it worse. He needed to be able to walk it off but at the moment that wasn't possible. If the Charley horse didn't work itself out, quietly making his way to the window and climbing out when it got dark would be difficult.

()()()()()()()()()()

[If I see you again, old woman, I will kill you where you stand. Do you understand!] the officer barked.

Violette, the sound of the shot still ringing in her ears, didn't say anything. She nodded her head.

[NOW, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!] the officer screamed at her.

The shepherdess scurried down the road as laughter and shouts of derision chased after her.

The Bosch officer hadn't killed her as she was sure he would. 'That was a mistake you will regret, you arrogant swine!' she thought. 'You don't know who you are dealing with! Tomorrow the American soldiers will be gone and I will seek out Andre…Yes, my grandson and his compatriots in the Maquis will be happy to blow up these Bosch!'

But now, she had to see to her flock and to poor Jeannine, who would still be patiently waiting for her.

()()()()()()()()()()

Littlejohn raised his hand when the shack was in sight. He signaled Atlee to go to the left and Gomez to the right, then he began a cautious approach. All seemed quiet and undisturbed, but he wasn't taking any chances. He reached the back wall and began to slowly move along it, stopping to listen for any sound that might come from inside. There was one side window and he eased up to it. Again, he listened before daring to lean forward and take a quick peek inside. There weren't any places to hide so if someone was in there, he was sure he would have spotted them. When he was satisfied that it was empty, he moved to the front door and waited for Atlee and Gomez to finish their sweeps of the area before opening the door and signaling Doc to come ahead.

"Alright, Gomez, you take the first watch. Go up along the stone wall to where we were last night," the big man said when everyone was assembled.

"Why, Littlejohn? It's gonna be dark soon an' I won't be able to see anything," the frightened young soldier whined.

"Maybe you can't see, but you'll be able to hear if anyone approaches. Now go! Atlee, you go back about fifty yards into the woods, the way we came, and keep a sharp lookout." And before Atlee could open his mouth to say anything, Littlejohn added, "No arguments, just do like I say. I'll be out to take over in an hour or so."

The two privates grumbled as they went out the door, but split up and moved to their assigned positions.

The medic gave Littlejohn a questioning look and then asked, "Why are you gonna take over for Atlee in an hour?"

"Well, Doc, I figure that in an hour or so it will start to get dark. If the Sarge or Caje or McCall are coming, they'll most likely wait until then and they'll come through the woods. I don't want Atlee shooting them by mistake."

Doc smiled and said, "I think you're getting the hang of this."

Littlejohn vehemently shook his head. "No, I'm not getting used to this at all and the sooner they get back, the better I'll like it."

Just then, there was static on the radio followed by, "White Rook, this is King Two. Do you read? Over?"

The big man turned the radio on and picked up the receiver. "This is White Rook. Over," he said.

"White Rook, have you completed your mission? The cat is out of the bag and Ramrod has the coordinates of the village."

Littlejohn's eyes widened as he mouthed, 'Artillery barrage,' to Doc. The medic rapidly shook his head 'NO.'

Littlejohn sucked in his lower lip while Lt. Hanley waited for a response. After a pause that seemed to last much longer than the six seconds it actually did, he said, "Lieutenant…I mean King Two. This is Littlejohn." His eyes appealed to Doc as he didn't know what to say next. The medic waved his hands as if to say 'keep going' so Littlejohn continued with, "The…the big bad wolf arrived early and…and…and the chickens can't come home to roost until sometime after dark. Over."

This time, the pause was on Hanley's end. Finally, the lieutenant replied. "Understood. Call in when the chickens are home. Over and out."

Littlejohn gave a sigh of relief. "I guess that bought us a little time," he said as he set the receiver down on the table. "I didn't know they were gonna shell the village. Violette's not going to be too happy about that after all the help she's given us. Where is she anyway?"

"Ah don't know. Maybe she got scared and ran away when the Krauts came."

"Yeah, that's probably what happened. I'm going out to wait for the rest of the fellas," he said, although in his heart he knew that at least one of them wouldn't be returning.

()()()()()()()()()()

"Do you think it's dark outside yet?" McCall asked after they had been standing by the ladder for quite a while.

Caje couldn't help but smile. 'At least I'm not here with Kirby. He would have asked me twenty times and been bouncing off the walls by now,' he thought.

"Maybe," he said. Then he asked, "Do you remember if dere was a lantern anywhere?"

"Yeah, on the table. Why?"

"Push de wood box up and take a look. If it's dark, hand de lantern down to me."

"Why? You're not gonna light it down here, are ya?" McCall nervously asked.

"Just hand it down and see if de street is clear."

Once again, the idea formed in McCall's mind that if it was dark and quiet, he could slip out the back door before Caje blew them both up. He pushed the box up a crack. No sliver of light cut through the darkness so he opened the box all the way and climbed out. The single room was dark although not as black as the secret cellar had been so he could make out the table, shoved against one of the walls and the lantern that sat in the center of it. He grabbed it and handed it down to the scout.

Caje took it and placed it on the floor. "Alright, put de box back down," he said when he was ready.

"Okay but try not to blow us both up," McCall quietly said as he lowered the wood box back into place. Then he took a long look at the back door. Although it was beckoning to him, he shrugged off the thought and moved to the front window to keep watch. While he stood there, he went over the opportunities he had had to cut and run during this mission. He hadn't taken any of them.

'If I haven't run out on this squad, guys I don't even know, why would I have run out before, on my buddies?' he thought. And, for the first time, he started to question the guilt he had been carrying around. 'But, if I didn't run, what happened? Why are they all dead and I'm alive?' He had no answers to those questions.

Outside, he could make out just one Kraut walking slowly up the middle of the street. As soon as Caje finished doing whatever it was he was doing, it would be safe to leave.

Meanwhile, the scout carefully lit the lantern. The bright light blinded him until his eyes adjusted. Then, holding the lantern aloft, he slowly turned around and surveyed the underground room. Once again, the question of how Violette could have gotten her hands on all of the explosives that were piled up before him caused him to pause for a moment. But he quickly put the question aside and began the first step of his revenge plan.

He started to open a crate that was marked 'COMPOSITION-C,' but stopped and shook his head. The sergeant could work with that stuff, but he had never used it himself and Saunders wasn't going to be around to stand over his shoulder the first time he did. So instead, he turned to the crates labeled 'DYNAMITE.'

'Littlejohn will know what to do with this (4),' he thought. As he began stuffing sticks into his field jacket, he quietly said, "I wish I had my knapsack."

He suddenly remembered the sack on the floor next to the wood box. He carefully moved the reflector on the lantern to block the light before setting it on the floor and climbing the ladder.

When he pushed the box up, McCall softly said, "It's quiet outside. You ready to go?"

"Not yet," Caje replied as he reached for the sack and then closed the box again.

The scout soon had the sack full of sticks of TNT. Then he added a coil of fuse and two rolls of tape. Finally, he opened the small crate off to the side that was labeled 'BLASTING CAPS.' Littlejohn would need them, so he carefully slipped one of the little boxes into the breast pocket of his shirt. Only then did he blow out the lantern and climb the ladder out of the cellar.

Once again, he had to wait for his eyes to adjust, this time to the gloom of night. But, after setting the lantern back on the table and making sure the wood box was securely in place, the two men slipped out the rear door. They quickly made their way along the back side of the remaining buildings before crouching down to cross a field and then to disappear into the safety of the woods.

()()()()()()()()()()

Jeannine was happy to see the shepherdess, dancing with delight and wiggling from head to tail like a young pup, and Violette had never been so happy to see her as at that moment. She had been so afraid that it brought tears to her eyes. She didn't know why, exactly. She was, after all, an old woman and she had more than a passing familiarity with death. Still, nobody, especially not her, should be treated as she had been. She again vowed revenge.

But, before she could take care of the Bosch, she had to tend to her dogs and the flock. She whistled a command and the dogs began moving the sheep toward the stream. Once everyone had drunk his fill, they began to slowly move through the fields giving the village a wide berth as they made their way back to her shack.

()()()()()()()()()()

It was dark enough. Saunders reached down and again massaged his thigh muscle. His whole leg was numb. He would have to drag it to the window. But first, he had to get out from behind the door without moving it. He needed to slide down the wall, just a step or two. However, his damn left leg, the one that had to move first, wouldn't budge. It was too much to hope that if he pushed the door back just a few inches none of the Krauts working on the other side of it would notice the movement. He cursed under his breath and continued working the cramped muscle.

()()()()()()()()()()

Littlejohn heard the snap of a dry branch and strained in the darkness to see who was approaching. The low sound of the Cajun saying, "First Squad," made him heave a sigh of relief and he quietly responded, "Over here," as he stood up.

Caje and McCall stepped out of the shadows and, with only a last glance over their shoulders, approached the big man.

When he was at Littlejohn's side, the Cajun whispered, "Have you seen de sergeant yet?"

Littlejohn sadly shook his head. Now they all knew the truth. That single shot meant that Saunders wouldn't be returning.

The three men headed for Violette's shack. As soon as they were inside and he spotted Atlee and Doc, Caje brusquely asked, "Where is Gomez?"

Littlejohn gave him a funny look but replied, "He's keeping watch by the stone wall."

"Atlee, you go keep watch wid him!" the Cajun ordered.

The young soldier was startled by the tone and didn't offer any argument. Once he was gone, Caje set the sack he was carrying down by the door and turned to face McCall.

Littlejohn and Doc exchanged glances; something serious must have occurred between the scout and the BAR man.

Caje spit out the words. "De only ding I care about is wheder I can depend on de man I'm fighting beside. So, McCall, you tell me, what did you mean when you said, 'If I was going to run out on dem…'? What happened wid your old unit?"

McCall appeared to be momentarily stunned and then he seemed strangely relieved. He could finally unburden himself of the terrible secret he had been carrying since joining the squad. The three men waited for an explanation as he tried to decide where to begin.

After a long pause, he said, "Lt. Maguire was leading the platoon an' I was bringin' up the rear. We were gonna set up a new forward position for Fox Company. The Krauts had fallen back so there wasn't supposed to be any trouble." He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. The men of his former platoon passed before him and he shuttered. When he continued, his voice low and shaking. "There was a noise …I stopped and turned around…" Again, he hesitated.

"And…" Littlejohn said.

McCall shook his head. "An' nothin'. The next thing I remember is sittin' against a tree an' a sergeant I didn't know askin' me what happened. I didn't find out until later that everyone else in the platoon was dead. We had walked right into an ambush."

Caje angrily blurted out, "So dat's it. You ran away before de shooting even started!"

"I don't know. I guess I must 've," McCall responded in a monotone.

"Were you court martialed?" Littlejohn asked.

"No. They investigated but said that just 'cause I survived didn't prove I deserted under fire."

Caje took a step forward. "But you did, didn't you!" he said, pressing him.

"I don't know. I guess I must 've. I just don't remember...Don't ya think I've tried to remember!?" The way McCall said it, it was almost a plea.

But both Caje and Littlejohn eyed him skeptically. 'How could a man not know whether he had deserted under fire or not?' they both thought.

Doc, who hadn't said anything during this exchange, finally spoke up. "You said there was a noise and you turned around."

"Yeah, that's the last thing I clearly remember."

"Why? What are you thinking, Doc?" Littlejohn asked.

"Well, he's the last man, right. Suppose the Krauts jumped him before they started firing and knocked him out."

"But why wouldn't de Krauts have finished him off?" the Cajun asked suspiciously.

"Ah don't know. Maybe they thought he was dead or maybe the one who was supposed to finish him off was killed in the fighting. But it explains why he doesn't know what happened."

Littlejohn and Caje shook their heads. Neither was ready to accept the medic's explanation.

McCall wanted to believe that was what happened, but he couldn't. "No, a doctor examined me an' didn't find a scratch anywhere," he said.

The medic turned to his comrades. "If Ah recall, y'all have had your bells rung on more than one occasion with nothing to show for it except maybe a headache."

There was silence in the shack for a few moments. Then Littlejohn slowly responded, "That's true…a headache and no memory of what happened."

The Cajun took a bit longer to consider what the medic had just said before he carefully asked, "You told Kirby dat you came over on D-Day. You never ran before, did you, McCall?"

"No, never did."

Caje nodded. "And, you didn't run today even when you had de chance."

Once again, the men stood in silence before the scout finally said aloud the conclusion he had reached. "I don't dink a man runs out on his buddies one time but not anoder. It was probably like Doc said, de Krauts knocked you out and left you for dead."

McCall searched each of the three faces for any hint of doubt and found none. A great feeling of relief washed over him, relief that he hadn't willingly let his buddies down and relief that he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life believing he was a coward.

But, before he could say anything, Gomez burst into the shack. "The old lady's back!" he announced.

He had barely gotten the words out when Violette, followed by Jeannine, entered the hut. The old woman seemed tired as she shook her head. [I hoped you would be gone,] she said with a sigh as she plopped down into the ratty easy chair. Jeannine laid her head in Violette's lap and the old woman closed her eyes as she scratched behind the dog's ears.

[Madam, we have some unfinished business,] the Cajunannounced as he moved the sack to the kitchen table.

Violette opened her eyes. Caje watched her as she gave a small gasp, then coughed as she tried to hide her recognition of the bag.

McCall took no notice of her reaction and began explaining to Doc and Littlejohn. "Caje an' me hid in a run-down old house an' he found a concealed entrance to a cellar an' look what was down there." He reached into the sack and pulled out several sticks of TNT.

"Dynamite!" the big man exclaimed.

"Littlejohn, you know how to use dis, right? I dink we owe de Krauts at de church anoder visit for what dey did to de sergeant," Caje said.

Littlejohn took two of the sticks from McCall and closed his eyes. For a brief moment he was back home helping his father and younger brother blow tree stumps. However, he shook off the pleasant memory and focused on the fate of Saunders. "Yeah, for the Sarge," he said. Then he added, "I need to call in to Lt. Hanley."

While the big man was talking to the lieutenant, Caje questioned Violette about the explosives but she denied all knowledge of them and claimed that the house didn't even belong to her. However, when the Cajun told her that they were going to use the dynamite to blow up the church, she gave him the sly smile he had seen before.

She chuckled and leaned over to whisper in Jeannine's ear, [I said I would make that arrogant swine pay.] Then she turned her attention to the Americans and said, [I can help you.]

After Littlejohn finished the call, the Cajun told him of Violette's offer. The big man thought for a moment before responding. "Well, all we need to do is tuck the sticks into the church's foundation and I think we can get there by ourselves."

When Caje told Violette what the plan was and that they didn't need her help, she sank further into the chair and glowered at the men. But suddenly she sat up, a demonic grin on her face. Then she innocently asked, [Wouldn't putting the dynamite under the church be better?]

When Caje translated the question, Littlejohn's heart skipped a beat. He slowly said, "Well sure, being able to plant the charges directly under the church would be best, but crawling underneath would be pretty risky."

McCall laughed and said, "Maybe she's got another tunnel into the church."

All eyes were on Violette when Caje asked her how they could manage to get under the building.

Chapter 5 - Explosion

As the shadows of the night deepened, Saunders twice tried to make it to the window and slip out of the church. However, both times he had to abandon the attempt when there was unexpected talking outside the window and the smell of cigarette smoke drifted in. The back of the church seemed to be a favorite spot for the technicians working in the nave to take their breaks. Now, however, it had been a half hour since the last group had left and he was ready to try again.

He gave his thigh muscle a last rub and attempted to slide his leg to the side so he could move down the wall without having to partially close the door. Then suddenly, once again, footsteps were approaching the door. He pressed his back tightly against the wall and waited.

Two men entered the small room and turned on a light, momentarily blinding him. They stood for a moment talking, then there were a few more steps and the creaking of a chair as one of them sat down. Saunders held his breath. The doorknob turned slightly when a hand grabbed hold of it from the other side. As the door swung closed, the sergeant lowered his Thompson. The man in the chair, a captain, gaped at him in astonishment.

The other man, also a captain, was facing his comrade. He laughed and said, [What's the matter, Buelow? You look like you've just seen a ghost.]

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They left Doc behind with Atlee, Gomez and Jeannine. Caje told the medic to radio Lt. Hanley in an hour and tell him to go ahead with the artillery barrage if he didn't hear the explosion and see the glow of a fire on the horizon when the church blew up.

Violette led the way, moving more quickly through the dark woods than the men thought a tired old woman could travel. In no time they were within sight of the village. [Are you sure the big one knows what he is doing?] Violette once again asked as they watched the single sentry patrolling up and down the street.

She had asked the question in the shack as Littlejohn taped the sticks of dynamite together to make a half-dozen bundles of explosives and later as he attached the blasting caps to the fuses. Each time Caje had answered in the affirmative, but she didn't seem reassured. Although she didn't tell the soldiers, she needed to be certain the officer who had threatened to shoot her didn't walk away from this attack. If he did, as the only civilian still in the area, she had no doubt that he would come after her and make good on his threat.

Back in her shack, Violette had explained that originally there was only a small chapel but as the Fauvelles became wealthier, they had hired more people and the little village sprang up. The current church had been built on some of the same foundation as the chapel, only shifted ninety degrees so old M. Fauvelle's father could look down on the stained-glass windows from his balcony. With that shift, it was now possible to enter the crypt from the outside, if you knew where to dig to locate its original entrance.

When they were within sight of the side of the church that faced M. Fauvelle's house, she told the men to wait. Once the sentry had passed, she counted to twelve then hunched over and quickly ran to the church. She made her way along the side until she was beneath the middle window. After saying a quick silent prayer, she began walking, heel-to-toe, toward the Fauvelle house. At nine paces she stopped and signaled the men.

The Cajun told McCall to stay where he was and provide cover. Then he and Littlejohn hurried over to Violette's side. She pointed to the spot and the two men dropped to their knees and began to dig with their trenching shovels while she nervously waited, her attention divided between watching them, watching the road for the sentry and watching for the Bosch officer to come around the side of the church to shoot her.

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Saunders pressed the barrel of the Tommy gun into the Kraut officer's back. The cords in the man's neck tighten and then relax.

"You are not going to shoot. If you did, this room would immediately be filled with my soldiers," the captain casually said.

"Probably, but you wouldn't be around to see how it ended," Saunders responded. "Now raise your hands over your head. You, in the chair, do you speak English?"

The officer in the chair closed his mouth and straightened his shoulders. "Yes, I speak English," he said. "I am Cpt. Buelow and I am in charge of the technicians. That is Cpt. Helmann. He is responsible for security."

'S-2 would love to get their hands on Buelow,' the sergeant thought.

"Alright, you, Buelow, stand up nice and easy. Use one hand an' take off your cartridge belt…Good, now let it drop to the chair nice an' easy...Okay. Now, still with one hand, take off Helmann's cartridge belt an' put it on the chair next to yours."

"I don't…" Buelow started to raise an objection, but Helmann sighed and said, "Just do as he says, Buelow. I promise you, I will make him regret this later."

The sergeant had no doubt that if he made even a minor slip-up, Helmann would make good on that promise. His mind was racing as he tried to think three steps ahead. All the time, his leg was screaming in protest as he shifted his position to keep an eye on his prisoners.

When Buelow finished, Saunders instructed him to get Helmann's belt and handkerchief, again using only one hand.

Helmann chuckled and said, "I don't have a handkerchief." Then he changed his tone to address Saunders, "Listen, Private…"

"He's a sergeant," Buelow said.

"Of course. Sergeant, I know you are only trying to impress your superiors by capturing two German officers, but I ask you, Sergeant, is it worth your life?"

Saunders didn't respond. He held the Thompson steady against Helmann's back with his right hand while with his left he fumbled to open his first aid pouch and pull out the bandage. He tossed it to Buelow saying, "Open it. Stuff the bandage into Helmann's mouth and tie it tight to gag him."

"Really, Sergeant. I must insist…" were the last clear words Helmann said as Buelow did as he was instructed.

"Alright, Helmann, lie down on your belly. Buelow, use his belt and yours to tie his hands behind his back and his feet together."

As Buelow carried out the orders, Saunders gingerly made his way over to the window by leaning heavily against the wall and half-dragging his numb leg. He gazed out into the darkness, lit only by moonlight. The drop from the window to the ground was about four feet but he had doubts that his leg would support him when he landed. If it didn't, Buelow would easily be able to overpower him. He probably should leave him behind with Helmann, but he was too big of a prize for S-2. The gamble was worth the risk.

Buelow was almost finished tying Helmann up. Saunders unfastened his belt, pulled it off his trousers and tossed it to the officer. "Loop that around the belts at his ankles and wrists."

Helmann craned his neck and scowled at Saunders, his dark eyes smoldering with hatred. He was hog-tied and would have to wait for one of Buelow's technicians to find and free him. He tried to speak but could only manage a few muffled sounds. Saunders didn't have to use much imagination to guess their meaning.

The sergeant lifted the muzzle of the Thompson to point at Buelow's head. "Now listen carefully to me if you want to live. Turn out the light and move over here to the window."

Buelow stepped over Helmann to reach the light switch. He thought about lunging at the American, something he was sure Helmann would have done. But he was never very good at 'Handgreiflichkeiten,' the kind of brawling all of his schoolmates had enjoyed. And now, as a grown man, he was not a soldier sent to fight with a gun and his fists for the Fatherland but to fight with his brain. Helmann, he was sure, would soon be discovered and he would hunt down the sergeant, especially since he seemed to have an injured leg. But perhaps an opportunity would present itself and he could overpower the American. If so, he would win the respect of Helmann and the men in his command.

In the sudden darkness, Saunders made a final check to be sure all was clear. He thought he had heard some sort of digging sound, but it was faint and off to the side and it didn't last long. It was probably an animal rooting around in the night.

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It didn't take long to reach and uncover the metal plate that covered the old crypt access. In less than a minute Caje and Littlejohn had it pried up.

[Violette, go back and wait with McCall. We'll set the dynamite and light the fuse. It will only take us a couple of minutes,] the Cajun whispered as he followed Littlejohn down the stone steps.

The shepherdess nodded, but her attention was focused on the back of the church. A light had been on when they arrived. She had seen its glow spilling out of the window onto the lawn below. Now, suddenly, that glow was gone. It could mean nothing, only that whoever had been in the room had returned to the nave of the church, but she wanted to be sure. She picked up one of the trenching tools the men had been using, crept to the side of the church and then slowly toward the back. She gripped the tool tightly as she stuck her head carefully around the corner.

She was just in time to see a man jump out of the window. He landed noiselessly, but didn't run immediately toward the field and the woods. Instead, he turned to face the window, took a few steps back and raised his hands above his head. Then, a second man appeared in the window and jumped down. That one landed with a small cry, somewhere between pain and surprise as his feet hit the ground and one of his legs gave out.

In the moonlight, Violette thought one of the men was an American, perhaps the missing sergeant, and the other a Bosch. She probably would have worked out which was which, but there was no time. As the second man collapsed, the first sprang at him and she quickly lost track of who had exited the church first as they grappled on the grass for control of the weapon the second man had held. She moved in closer and raised the trenching tool to strike when suddenly it was pulled from her hand, an arm was wrapped around her waist and she was lifted off the ground. She didn't bother to scream or squirm or fight; it was the German officer, Helmann, who had snuck up behind her. She closed her eyes and waited for him to throw her to the ground and shoot her.

But instead, she was gently set down back by the side of the church. Her assailant quickly returned to the two men still wrestling on the ground. He raised his weapon and drove its butt into the back of one of them, then grabbed his collar and pulled him off the other.

"You okay, Sarge?" the man hissed.

Saunders sat up, caught his breath and then quietly said, "Yeah. Thanks, McCall."

"We all thought you was a goner," the BAR man whispered. The sergeant was puzzled by the comment, but before he could say anything, McCall continued, "We gotta get outa here. Caje an' Littlejohn are gonna blow up the church any second now."

While the two men talked, Violette walked over to the Bosch officer and bent down to get a good look at his face. She straightened up and, pointing to the prone man, whispered, "Dis is de good officer. Where is de oder, Helmann?"

McCall gawked at her in amazement and sputtered, "I didn't know you spoke English!"

Violette merely shook her head. "Vite. Vite, I must know. Is Helmann in de church?"

Saunders struggled to get to his feet; his leg was being stabbed by a thousand pins and needles. But after he managed to stand, he said, "Yeah, he's tied up in the back room."

The sly smile appeared on Violette's lips. "Tied up! Good. You, McCall, lift me. I must look in de window. Vite. Vite."

The BAR man glanced at Saunders and the sergeant shrugged. So, McCall gently picked Violette up once again and lifted her so she could look in the window.

Helmann was still lying on the floor, struggling to move over to the door. He turned his head at the sound of a noise at the window. Suddenly, the old woman appeared, floating before his eyes. [Tell me, Bosch, are you afraid now?] she asked in perfect German. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Fortunately for her, Helmann's rage couldn't do anything to free him from his bonds.

Littlejohn and Caje came running around the corner of the church.

"C'mon, she's gonna blow! We already lit the fuse!" Littlejohn whispered earnestly. Then he spotted Saunders and said, much too loudly, "Sarge, you're alive!"

The sergeant again seemed puzzled by his squad's reaction but quickly brushed that thought aside. "Get the Kraut. Let's go!"

"Dis way, follow me," Violette commanded as she took off running in the direction of M. Fauvelle's house with the Americans and their prisoner right behind her. She led them in a wide arc toward the back of the building. They only made it about two-thirds of the way to the house when there was first one and immediately after it several more explosions that in the end sounded like just one gigantic blast.

The concussive force threw the perpetrators of the explosion to the ground as pieces of board and stone were hurled into the air and then fell back to earth to surround a newly created hole. Soldiers assigned to the security detail came streaming out of the Fauvelle house and rushed toward the spot where the church had stood just moments ago. It was obvious that no-one who had been inside the building had survived.

While the Americans lay quietly and waited, the German soldiers milled around, briefly leaderless. Then a sergeant began shouting orders and a squad quickly assembled. Within minutes they had retrieved their gear from the Fauvelle house, thrown it into one of the deuce-and-a-half trucks, and retreated from the village.

Violette chuckled. "Dey dink it is de work of de Maquis. Come!"

Chapter 6 – The Last Secret

She led the men the rest of the way to the back entrance of the house. Once there, she turned away from the Americans and reached down inside her tunic to extract an old key which she slipped into the lock. Then, with that same sly smile on her face, she boldly walked inside, down a hallway toward the front of the building and right up the middle of the broad, sweeping staircase. At the top of the stairs, she led the men down another hallway and into what must have once been a handsome room.

Although much of the furniture had been removed or smashed, the marble mantle over a large fireplace and above it the portrait of a beautiful young woman in a flowing red dress remained. The side wall of the room was glass windows, many of them now broken, with a door that opened onto a balcony. Violette opened the door and stepped outside, along with the Americans and the Bosch captain. In the dark she imagined she was looking at a sweeping panoramic view of the countryside. In the foreground, the burning remains of the church were clearly visible.

Reverting to French, she softly said, [This is where old M. Fauvelle stood in the early evening, sipping his sherry, as he surveyed his holdings. Everything spread out before him was his, the land, the buildings, even the people who lived here.] Then, as an afterthought she added, [Old M. Fauvelle was a hard master.]

While Caje was busy translating, she abruptly turned on her heel and reentered the room. She went to the side of the fireplace and pressed on one of the lower boards of the paneling. The boards folded downward to reveal a well-equipped bar. She reached for an unopened bottle and removed the wrapping and the cap. Then she poured a generous portion of golden liquid into a crystal glass.

Once again displaying her sly grin and with the wave of her hand, she said, [Help yourselves.]

That needed no translation and with a nod from their sergeant, Caje, Littlejohn and McCall wasted no time in filling their glasses. When they were finished, Violette again picked up a glass and poured cognac into it. She walked over to the Bosch captain and offered it to him saying, [For your kindness to me,] in German.

Cpt. Buelow clicked his heels together, gave a small bow and accepted the glass.

With drinks in hand, the three Americans and their German prisoner returned to the balcony to watch the fire burn down.

Saunders remained behind. His leg still ached from having stood so long in a cramped position, but at least now he could feel it. So, with the rest of the men momentarily gone, he took the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. He gazed at the shepherdess and asked, "Who are you? And don't pretend that you don't understand me. You spoke English outside the church."

The old woman straightened her spine and her shoulders and suddenly she had an almost regal bearing. She didn't respond, but glanced fleetingly at the portrait above the mantel.

The sergeant studied first the dirty old woman and then the beautiful young one frozen in time in the painting. The years and current circumstances had taken their toll, but there was no hiding the mischievous sparkling eyes, the aquiline nose or the almost haughty curve of the lips. Or the dog sitting at the young woman's side, her hand resting on its head, which looked eerily like Jeannine.

"I am Violette du Troupeau, a shepherd, as was my father before me and his father before him," she replied. "As I said, old M. Fauvelle was a hard master." Then her appearance softened and she added, "but his grandson, Henri…" She stopped talking as her eyes filled with tears.

Saunders said nothing. He took a few steps toward her and handed her his handkerchief before joining his men on the balcony, leaving her with her memories.

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Once they were back at the shack, Saunders called in to report that the church had been destroyed along with the equipment for whatever the Krauts had been up to, that the remaining enemy soldiers had withdrawn from the village and that they were bringing back a prisoner S-2 might be interested in talking with. Hanley didn't waste any time with congratulations. He tersely delivered his message, "Alright, head home at first light. The cat's out of the bag!" and signed off.

Although Violette was in a hurry to round up her scattered flock, she and Jeannine were there to see the squad off the next morning. She had reverted to speaking only French so Caje said their brief good-byes.

Saunders barked out a string of orders, "Alright, saddle up. Caje, take the point; Gomez, the prisoner; Atlee, the radio; McCall, the rear," before he signaled them to move out. He lingered behind, watching the old woman and her dog walk out to the field and wondering which life she would choose once the war was over. Then, with a shake of his head, he picked up his step to catch up with his men.

McCall wheeled around with the BAR at the ready when he heard someone approach, even though he was sure it would be Saunders. With his assumption confirmed, he nodded to the sergeant and turned back around. Within a few moments, the NCO was at his side.

At first, neither man spoke, each seemingly lost in his own thoughts. From his more relaxed demeanor, the sergeant could tell that McCall had settled down. Gone was the tension and the almost defensive posture that were present when the squad began the mission. Kirby would be back soon and since McCall didn't want the BAR, there wouldn't be any disagreements. Instead, the squad would gain an experienced rifleman. Given the continuing conflict, he would be a welcome addition.

McCall turned around to check the back trail. Off in the distance he could just make out tiny figures moving in a field, Violette and her dogs hard at work. When he spun back around, he said, "She's a strange old girl."

"Well, we all have our secrets," Saunders mused.

The BAR man took that as his opening. "Sarge, I want to tell you what happened with my old outfit…"

"Look, McCall, like I told you before, I'm not the chaplain. The only thing I care about is each man doing his job an' you held up your end just fine on this mission. So, let's just leave it at that."

Not having to lay the whole episode out again was fine with McCall. All during his watch the previous night he had thought about Doc's explanation of what had happened and although he might never have total peace with having survived, he now accepted that he wasn't to blame for the deaths of his comrades. And, he had a good feeling about this new squad.

He glanced over at Saunders. The sergeant nodded, then picked up his pace, checking on the rest of his men as he moved up the line.

'Yeah,' McCall thought, 'this is gonna work out just fine.'

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[Jeannine, I think we should move to the west fields today. What do you think?] Violette asked.

The old dog gazed up at her, watching her hands and listening for a whistle.

[Good, the west fields it is. Once the flock has settled in to graze, we will walk to the village. I need to retrieve my sack. Yesterday, I had to leave it in the shed.]

Violette whistled and waved her arm. The two dogs who had been gathering the flock together lifted their heads, then began yipping and nipping at the heels of the sheep to urge them forward. Jeannine also gave a few yips and took some tentative steps away from the shepherdess' side.

[No, Jeannine, stay here with me. You have earned your rest. Once I have my sack, we shall go to the Fauvelle house and enter by the front door. Those Americans ate up much of our food so we shall see what the Bosch have left for us.]

Suddenly, she smiled. She had just remembered the little jars of jam.

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From Monty's Men by John Buckley

Reference to 'Counterplay' from season 4 of Combat!

Reference to 'Trials and Tribulations Part 2 – The Clock Cleaner,' previously posted by the author.

Reference to 'Bridge at Chalons' from season 2 of Combat!

Reference to 'The Short Day of Pvt. Putnam' from season 2 of Combat!