Combat! is owned by ABC TV. This story is meant only for the enjoyment of Combat! fans, with no intention to infringe on any copyrights, and no monetary compensation has been received.
This is my New Year's offering for the squad. Even though this story will undoubtedly be read throughout the year, I still wish my readers the happiest and healthiest of new years. Thank you for staying with Saunders and First squad.
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
~John Donne, 1624
CHAPTER 1
It was deathly quiet in the little town, and the winter chill in the air had little to do with it. The town had only recently fallen under the control of the Allied forces, and the villagers were still nervous about the possible return of the Germans.
Saunders didn't blame them. The lines had been extremely fluid lately with a lot of back and forth movement as one day just seemed to slide into another. For now, however, it appeared that the Allied lines were holding. And for now the town was quiet once again.
Since the town was mostly still occupied by the local French villagers, First squad had bivouacked on the edge of town alongside one of the last buildings. Their Lieutenant had been generously offered space for a small quarters and office by one of the shopkeepers.
When Lieutenant Hanley sent word that he needed to see First squad's sergeant, Saunders knew what was coming. He grabbed his helmet, slung his Thompson over his shoulder and headed up the cobblestone street.
Approaching the door of the little corner shop, the sergeant hesitated. Looking up at the blackness above, he noted for the first time that it was even night. Sometimes he thought that if it wasn't for the sun coming and going, he'd never know what day or time it was. The days seemed as fluid to him as the Allied lines lately.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. "Lieutenant?"
"Come," drifted through the thick wood.
Saunders opened the door and stepped into a warm, small front room of the shop. Taking off his helmet, he asked, "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?"
Lieutenant Hanley stood leaning over a counter, looking at a map that was spread out in front of him. Glancing up, he waved a hand toward the map.
"Take a look, Saunders."
His sergeant stood next to the officer and examined the map. It was obvious that it was centered around their current position. Hanley pointed to a spot farther east from the town.
"The next town over is only about a mile or so down the road. I need you to check it out. Find out if the krauts are holed up there or if they've pulled back even farther."
Saunders stared at the map as he thought. "Even if they've pulled back beyond that town, there may be some stragglers along the way."
Hanley nodded. "Good possibility, so you'd better be extra careful." He never expected any less from his sergeant, but he felt it was worth saying.
"Any other patrols going out?" Saunders asked. He didn't relish the idea of meeting up with other GI's in the dark unexpectedly.
"You're it," the officer replied. "There's no one out there right now, and you're the only ones going out. You see someone in a uniform out there in the dark, you have my permission to shoot him."
Hanley looked at his sergeant. "I take that back. Try not to shoot anyone. If the Germans are in that town, we don't want them to know that we know. Try to get in and out unseen."
"So, don't shoot anyone," Saunders tried to confirm.
"Well," the officer replied with a slight smile, "Try not to." He began to fold the map to give it to his sergeant.
Saunders held up his hand. "Don't think I'll be needing a map for this one, Lieutenant. It's a straight shot down the road."
Hanley stared at the map for a moment and then added. "Maybe you should take the whole squad. Just in case."
"I intend to," Saunders replied as he put his helmet on. "We'll leave as soon as we can get ready."
CHAPTER 2
"Another patrol?" Kirby grumbled. "We just took this town. Can't they give a guy a break?"
Caje was already preparing himself. "You heard the Sarge. It's only a mile or so down the road to the next town. We check it out and leave. Probably be back in an hour or so. Two tops."
"That'll give us plenty of sack time," Billy added.
"Yeah, well it ain't the town I'm worried about," Kirby replied. "It's that mile or so in between. Lots can happen in a mile or so in the dark."
The BAR man grabbed his helmet. "Just saying. We spent all that time chasing the krauts out of here. The least they can do is let us look around and see what's here for a few hours. Thought I saw a little café up the street."
"That café's just gonna have to wait, Kirby," Saunders called out as he came from around the corner.
Watching while his men checked their weapons and took extra ammo that Littlejohn had brought them, Saunders took extra magazines for his Thompson.
"Everyone ready?" he asked as he shoved the magazines into his field jacket.
"Just about," Doc replied while slipping his med kit over his shoulder.
"We need a radio?" Brockmeyer asked.
Saunders shook his head. "Don't think we'll need it. Hopefully this is just in and out."
Putting on his utility belt, the sergeant hesitated. "On second thought, Brock, go get one."
Their sergeant had been having a nagging feeling about this patrol. Having radio contact with Hanley would make him feel better.
As Brockmeyer took off, Saunders said, "As soon as Brock gets back we'll head out."
It wasn't long before the soldier came running back with the radio on his shoulder.
"Turn it on in about a half hour," the sergeant told him. "It'll take a good ten minutes to warm up, but I don't want the battery to die on us." Saunders wanted to be prepared…just in case.
Looking over his waiting men, he unslung his Thompson and said, "Let's move out."
CHAPTER 3
Already bivouacked on the edge of town, it didn't take long for First squad to make it out onto the road heading for the next village. Leaving the outskirts, they heard the church bells ringing.
"Man, I hate that," Kirby complained as they walked.
"It's just the church bells chiming the hour, Kirby," Doc explained.
"I know. But I still hate it," the BAR man replied. "The sound's just so grim sometimes, you know? Reminds me of funerals or something. Except there's lots of them."
"Bells or funerals?" Littlejohn asked from behind the line.
"We're in a war, Littlejohn," Kirby grimaced. "It's both."
"The bells ring every hour," Nelson reminded him. "After awhile, you don't even hear 'em anymore."
"I do," Kirby grumbled. "I do."
As the men fell silent once again, the last bell tolled. Continuing down the road in silence, each man was lost in his own thoughts. It was a crisp, clear December night, but the soldiers barely noticed. Saunders finally stopped them and looked around.
"From here on in we're going to stay off the road," their sergeant explained in a low voice. "We need to stay out of plain sight, and we need to check the woods for stragglers. Keep your eyes and ears open."
Saunders looked at his men. "Kirby, Caje, Brock…take that side of the road. Littlejohn, Billy, Doc…you're on me on this side. Ten yards apart. Don't lose sight of the next man. Remember…we're not on an evening country stroll. Slow and easy. And be thorough."
He knew that he was being overly cautious. His men were experienced and competent. But he couldn't help offering them the reminders.
Looking at each man to be sure that they understood, Saunders finally said, "Move out."
Fanning out, the squad split up with half of the men crossing the road to the other side. Saunders motioned for Doc to move closer as the line of men slowly moved forward through the trees. Kirby and Saunders were both closest to the road, occasionally looking over at each other.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, each soldier listened intently for stray noises. Any rustlings in the woods that didn't seem to belong there brought the line to a halt while someone investigated. As a result, progress was very slow as they made their way toward the next town.
Saunders glanced over once again at his men on the opposite side of the road. In the dark, however, he could only see Kirby. Looking up and down the road, his eyes swung back to a spot twenty yards in front of the BAR man.
A rustling movement in the darkness. Movement that didn't belong there.
CHAPTER 4
Swinging his Thompson up, Saunders screamed, "Hit it!"
He fired on full auto as he stepped out onto the road. At the same time, a shot was fired and the sergeant could see the muzzle flash in the trees. The tree where he'd been aiming rustled violently and a German soldier fell in a heap on the forest floor with his rifle clattering next to him.
Saunders was filled with relief that he'd not only seen him in time, but that he'd not just shot some wild forest animal. Because if the Germans were indeed dug into the next town, they now knew that Americans were coming. He'd just given away their position. But at least it had been for the right reason.
Running diagonally across the road, Saunders checked to be sure that the kraut was dead. Kneeling beside the body, he found a radio and looked up and down the road once again. It appeared clear, with no further signs of movement.
"It's clear out here," the sergeant called out loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Kirby's been hit!" Caje yelled as he knelt next to the BAR man who was sitting up on the side of the road.
"Stay where you are!" Saunders shouted to the others. "Keep your eyes open!"
He ran to the injured soldier, but Doc had already reached him and was inspecting the wound.
"How is he, Doc?" Saunders asked, kneeling next to the others. He'd thought that he'd got the kraut in time, and he was angry with himself for not seeing him or shooting sooner.
"Ah, it ain't nothing," Kirby replied before the medic could respond. "Just a scratch."
Not taking the BAR man's word for it, their sergeant asked, "Doc?"
Doc nodded. "He's right, Sarge. Barely broke the skin. I'm not even gonna bother bandaging it."
With obvious relief, Saunders nodded and said, "Let's keep moving."
As the sergeant stood up, he added, "The kraut had a radio. There might be more, so stay alert."
He offered Kirby a hand and as he helped the soldier up, he said, "Everyone back into your positions. Remember, if they're out there they know that we're here now."
With a last look at his BAR man, Saunders asked, "You sure you're ok, Kirby?"
Looking at the tear in the sleeve of his field jacket sleeve, Kirby replied, "Don't hardly feel it. Wouldn't get me no sympathy at the aid station, that's for sure."
With a faint smile, Saunders began to walk backwards for a few steps, watching his men to be sure that they were all back in good positions. And then he crossed the road again, back to his own spot on the edge of the tree line.
Saunders could almost feel the tension emanating from his men as they walked. They all knew that where there was one kraut, there might well be more.
Time seemed to drag as they moved slowly toward the town. Finally their sergeant waved his arm and Kirby duplicated the gesture. The line of soldiers stopped.
Saunders strained to see in the darkness. About thirty yards up ahead he could just make out a manmade structure. A bridge.
CHAPTER 5
As the men made their way out of the woods and back out onto the road, Saunders stood staring at the bridge. His soldier's instincts were screaming once again.
"Kirby, check the bridge. Slow and easy," the sergeant said.
"Slow and easy," he repeated.
"Caje, check under the bridge. This side first," Saunders pointed down the embankment to the narrow river flowing under the bridge.
The Cajun replied, "I know, Sarge…slow and easy."
Just then the church bells began to ring in the distance. Kirby visibly shivered. "It's like someone walking on your grave."
"Send not to know for whom the bell tolls," Doc quoted. "It tolls for thee."
When Kirby stared at him incredulously, the medic explained, "It's an old poem."
The BAR man shivered again and ran a hand across his mouth. "Gee, thanks Doc. That really cheered me up."
Both Caje and Kirby headed toward the bridge while the rest of the squad backed away. As Kirby stepped cautiously onto the stone bridge, the Cajun slid down the embankment and waded into the shallow but extremely cold water. Flicking open his lighter, he began to inspect the underside of the small stone bridge.
The night became silent as the last church bell rang with a faint echo. The two soldiers moved agonizingly slowly over and around the bridge.
After several tense minutes, Caje called out, "Found it. It's rigged to blow down here. Well hidden. Almost missed it in the brush. Wouldn't have seen it except there's a wire."
"And I found a trip wire up here, Sarge," Kirby called out from the crest of the bridge.
"What do you want to do, Caje?" Saunders asked. "You want Kirby to do anything?"
"I'll disarm it from here," came the reply. "Kirby? Can you come down and hold the lighter?"
The BAR man came off the bridge and quickly slid down the embankment into the icy water. Saunders watched and waited tensely. He didn't like both of his men down there together. If something happened…but there was no other option. Caje had to have help.
They were both seasoned soldiers. He had to have faith that they'd do their job. Minutes dragged by and the sergeant's shoulders began to ache from the tension. His stomach twisted into a knot as he watched and waited. He was hardly breathing.
"All clear, Sarge!" came the Cajun's welcome words.
Saunders' shoulders relaxed and he could feel the nerve-wracking tension melt from the entire squad. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, inhaled and let it out slowly.
CHAPTER 6
The squad moved in as the two soldiers came out from under the bridge. Kirby handed Caje back his lighter and stomped his feet to work out some of the excess water.
"I got me some frozen feet, Sarge," the BAR man said, wiping the sweat from his face. "And a few gray hairs. But Caje did a great job. We can rip out that trip wire now."
Pointing to the top of the bridge, he added, "It's right up there."
Looking at the direction Kirby was pointing to, Saunders swung his gaze to the Cajun with a questioning look.
"It's alright, Sarge," Caje said, reading his sergeant's thoughts. "Kirby's right. It's ok."
Stomping his feet, the Cajun added, "Kirby's right about his frozen feet, too. That water is cold."
Without a word of reply, Saunders led his men onto the bridge. At the crest, he reached down for the trip wire. Hesitating for a moment, he put his trust in his men…and yanked on the wire, ripping it loose and tossing it into the dark water below.
On the other side of the bridge, the sergeant stopped. More woods. It seemed like the woods went on forever, be he knew that it was just because they were moving so slowly and cautiously.
Remembering the terrain from the map, he knew that they'd be hitting the outskirts of the village in only about one hundred yards or so, around a final bend. Once they broke free from the woods, they'd either enter into a quiet normal French village…or walk into a hornet's nest of krauts.
His stomach began to twist back into a knot as the squad spread out again on either side of the road and inched closer to the town.
CHAPTER 7
When Saunders finally hit the tree line, he stopped and held up his hand. On the other side of the road, Kirby mirrored his gesture. Everyone stopped in silence, knowing that the patrol was about to become even more dangerous.
Their sergeant waited and watched the village just up ahead. Everything seemed quiet and dark. He had no idea what time it was, but he'd expected at least a few lights…some kind of activity.
The squad waited patiently for their sergeant to decide their next move. Saunders continued to stare at the town as his mind raced through all of the possibilities. Were there no krauts? No townspeople? Maybe the krauts were lying in wait for them? When he'd shot that one German, he'd certainly broadcast his patrol's position.
He continued to stare at the darkened town until he finally said, "We're gonna spread out and check the town out. Start at this end and cover both sides of the street."
Saunders pointed toward the town. "Caje, Littlejohn, Nelson…take the left side. Brockmeyer, Doc, Kirby…you're on me. We'll cover the right. Spread out. Don't bunch up. And don't miss anything."
He looked at his men and added, "Slow and easy."
Slow and easy, Saunders repeated to himself. This just didn't look right. He headed off to the right as the other half of his patrol split left.
House by house, store by store the soldiers made their way up the cobblestone street. Ahead in the darkness, the sergeant could see a sharp bend in the street where it took a hook to the left. A faint glow of light came from that direction. Saunders slowed and moved even more cautiously.
As he neared the turn, he could hear voices, and then a figure stepped into the dim light, silhouetted against the glow behind him. Saunders tensed, straining to see if it was a kraut, a villager, or one of his own men.
CHAPTER 8
"Hey, Sarge!" a familiar voice called out. Caje. The soldier waved for him to come. Saunders looked around and motioned to Brockmeyer, Kirby and Doc to follow him.
Drawing closer to the Cajun, the sergeant realized that the soldier was holding up a bottle of wine. Wine? It wasn't like Caje to drink in the middle of a patrol while they were clearing a town. Saunders wasn't opposed to the men occasionally enjoying the local French wine, but always after a mission was complete in their down time.
Another older man stepped out of the shadows and into the light. He too was holding a bottle of wine. Saunders was more confused than ever.
Pointing to the older man, Caje explained, "This is Mayor Cloches. He's welcoming us to their town."
"What about the krauts?" Saunders asked, looking around. "Any still here?"
Caje shook his head. "They all pulled out this morning. They told the Mayor not to let anyone go over the bridge to the next town or they'd die. Guess because of the explosives that they'd wired to blow. That one kraut you killed was probably there to set it up and report back on the results."
The Cajun took a sip of wine and added, "The villagers are having a big get together at the church meeting hall. They just finished their evening church service."
Must be Sunday, Saunders thought. He'd lost track of the days.
Caje broke into his sergeant's thoughts. "They're inviting all of us to join them. The Mayor says there's always lots of food, wine, music and dancing. Can we go?"
When he saw his sergeant hesitating, the Cajun explained, "Sarge…it's New Year's Eve."
New Year's Eve? Saunders thought. How could he lose track of time that much? He'd barely registered that it was December, except that he could feel the cold. And then he remembered their simple foxhole Christmas only the week before. Had it only been one week? Seemed like long hard months had passed since then.
Turning to Brockmeyer, the sergeant said, "Brock, the radio fired up?"
CHAPTER 9
Brockmeyer nodded. "And still lots of juice." He handed the receiver to his sergeant.
"Checkmate King Two, this is White Rook, over," Saunders said and waited. Before he could repeat himself, he heard the reply.
"This is King Two. Wait one."
Saunders waited as the other men stared at him hopefully. They could hear faint sounds of laughter from around the corner and music began to play.
"White Rook," Hanley replied. "What's your situation? Over."
The sergeant answered, "Everything's clear right now. Requesting permission to stay for the night at our current location. Over." Keep it vague, he thought. Never know if the krauts are listening. Don't want them to know they're in the town or that they cleared the bridge.
The men grew anxious with the long pause of silence over the radio, and then the Lieutenant came back on. "Permission granted. We'll be meeting up with you in the morning. Over."
Saunders was about to sign off when Hanley added, "Happy New Year, White Rook. Over."
With a smile, the sergeant replied, "Happy New Year, King Two. Out."
Handing the receiver back to Brockmeyer, Saunders smiled at his men. "Go get the others, Caje. We have a party to attend."
CHAPTER 10
As Billy, followed by Littlejohn, came up to their sergeant, he asked, "Caje said we're gonna join the party. Is that true, Sarge?"
The other soldiers moved in closer, impatiently waiting for the sergeant's reply.
Saunders smiled. "It's New Year's Eve. What better time than now to have a party?"
Kirby laughed. "Ya know? Every year my New Year's resolution is always to try to make it long enough to see a gray-haired old man staring back at me in a mirror one day. And every year, I get a little bit closer. But no one says you can't party a little along the way. C'mon guys!"
Amid their laughter and banter, the soldiers slipped around the building at the bend in the street. Following behind them, Saunders rounded the turn himself and stopped to look at the bright light emanating from the church doors.
Even with the chill in the December air, the doors were wide open and the light, music and laughter poured out as more villagers arrived with pots of food. Although he was still a distance away, the sergeant could smell the wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread and other food.
The church bells began to chime, and Saunders looked up at the steeple. Midnight. He watched his men as each went into the brightly lit doors to celebrate the coming of a new year.
Living to see a gray-haired old man staring back in the mirror, the sergeant thought. He hoped that each one of them made it to that mirror. He looked up again and listened to the slow toll of the bells.
He'd never told anyone, but for many years he'd had an overwhelming feeling that he'd never live to see a gray-haired old man staring back at him in his mirror.
When he'd first started having those feelings, even before the war, he'd occasionally feel deep pangs of fear and panic. But over the years, those feelings had slowly changed. Now when those thoughts crept back into his mind, he just felt a deep sadness.
He didn't know when it was coming, but he knew…he just knew…that it was coming.
Saunders gave a big sigh. But it was coming for everyone, wasn't it? Those bells? He knew John Donne's poem by heart. It tolls for thee. His own bell was just going to be tolling sooner.
And then he remembered a different line.
'Each man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind.'
With new resolve, Saunders decided that his New Year's resolution was to do everything he possibly could to keep his men alive. If all he ever accomplished in his life was to give his men the chance to go home and live their lives, then that was good enough for him.
It would have been a life worth living.
As the last bell tolled, his thoughts were interrupted by his medic. "You coming, Sarge?"
Then Doc added with concern, "You ok? What you thinking?"
Saunders looked at his medic and smiled. A comfortable peace seemed to settle around him as he listened to the echo of the last bell. "Just thinking how beautiful those bells sound."
Doc nodded. "Kinda sounds like there's hope for the world."
Slinging his Thompson over his shoulder, the sergeant replied, "There's always hope, Doc."
And then Saunders wrapped his arm around his medic's shoulder and headed toward the laughter, music and his squad…and the light in the darkness.
"Happy New Year, Doc."
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE
In 1944 New Year's Eve fell on a Sunday. The squad started 1945 on a Monday.