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.

After watching the episode Point of View, the theme seemed to be worth exploring further. Each person has a different point of view and we rarely find out what others are really thinking. Here's one of those stories.

A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

CHAPTER 1

"Why us?" Saunders asked angrily. "We just got back from a patrol. We're beat. Littlejohn took some shrapnel and Brockmeyer probably has a concussion. Isn't that enough?"

"I know, I know," Lieutenant Hanley agreed sympathetically. "But Captain Jampel seems to think that you're the best squad for the mission. He said he knows you'll be thorough. I tried changing his mind, but he wouldn't budge."

Drawing deeply on his cigarette, the sergeant looked up at his lieutenant. "Best squad for the mission…that's a matter of perspective, isn't it Lieutenant? I don't have much of a squad left right now. And what's left of it's not in good shape."

"Just take three men," Hanley replied, trying to ease the tension between them.

Saunders gave a sarcastic laugh. "I only have three men. And they're worn to the bone."

"What about Steller?" Hanley asked hopefully, although he doubted that his sergeant would have forgotten one of his own men.

"Steller's still on light duty from the previous patrol. Still limping. No one else left unless you expect me to force a gun into Doc's hands."

"Of course not," the Lieutenant responded quickly.

Saunders deeply inhaled one last time on his cigarette that was down to his fingers. And then he angrily flipped it out into the growing darkness. He watched the sputtering glow arcing and then dying in the damp grass.

Staring off into the trees, he added, "We haven't had a decent meal or more than a few hours sleep at a time in over a week."

The sergeant turned to look at his lieutenant. "We're not the tireless work animals that Captain Jampel thinks we are. We're only human. And exhausted humans make mistakes. Out here, they're mostly fatal ones."

Hunching his shoulders, Saunders stared into Hanley's eyes. "I don't want any of my men dying because of stupid mistakes, Lieutenant. And sending my squad out on another patrol right now is a stupid mistake."

The sergeant knew that he was risking charges or at the very least a stern rebuke, but his job included protecting his men, and that's exactly what he intended to do. They'd worked hard and without complaint for almost two weeks straight. They deserved decent food and some sleep.

"There's nothing I can do about it, Sergeant," the lieutenant replied curtly. After a moment, the officer softened. He knew that he could easily just make it an order and be done with it. His sergeant would accept it and walk away. But Hanley cared too much about Saunders and his men to dismiss the problem so casually. And his sergeant also had a very valid point.

"Look," the lieutenant added. "I couldn't get Captain Jampel to change his mind. I tried. But he did agree to scale back the mission. All you need to do is find out if there are still any krauts in Sector Charlie."

Saunders looked up at the man skeptically. "That's it?"

"That's it," the officer confirmed. "We're not one hundred percent positive that the area is cleared of krauts yet. The Captain wants more intel before he makes plans to move into that area. He wants good reliable intel, and that's why he chose you."

Ignoring the compliment, Saunders cocked his head and said suspiciously, "So if we see one kraut, the mission is complete. Just one?"

Hanley nodded. "You'll be done."

"And if we come back and I say that we didn't see any?" Saunders continued.

"Then you're done," Hanley replied. "That's important info too."

Still not convinced, the sergeant asked, "We don't have to get any information? No numbers? Troop strength? We don't have to shoot anyone? Or take a prisoner?" He intended to cover all of his bases.

The Lieutenant shook his head with a faint smile. "Nothing. See a kraut, or don't see a kraut. You're done as long as you cover the whole sector. Captain Jampel even prefers that you don't shoot anyone if you can help it. Or let anyone know that you're even there."

Hanley waited. He knew that the mission had a better chance of succeeding if his sergeant had a different perspective on it.

After a long silence with the officer staring at his sergeant, and the sergeant staring at the grass, Saunders finally ran his fingers through his tangled blond hair and sighed.

"Three men…Can we look at the map again, Lieutenant?"

CHAPTER 2

"Again?" Nelson looked up from his bedroll, his eyes wide with surprise. "I was finally gonna get some sleep. I'm too tired to even eat, Sarge."

"Well, now you're gonna get a little exercise," Saunders replied wearily. "Where's Kirby and Caje?"

"Someone call our names?" Kirby answered as both soldiers walked into their bivouac.

"We went over to the kitchen truck to see if they were set up yet," Caje added. "We're starved. Cook said another half hour. Can't wait!"

"Yeah," Kirby laughed. "We tried to bribe Cook to get us something early, but he chased us out of there with a rolling pin. Can't believe we're finally gonna get some hot chow."

"Well, forget that," Billy replied angrily. "The Army doesn't think we need to eat or sleep. We've got a patrol."

Caje and Kirby stood in stunned silence until finally Caje asked, "He's kidding, right Sarge?"

"Lieutenant Hanley wouldn't do that to us," Kirby insisted. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Would he?"

All eyes turned to look at their sergeant. Saunders stood in uncomfortable silence, wishing that he was anywhere at that moment except sending his men out on another lousy patrol.

"We're going," was all that he could manage.

More stunned silence fell around the four soldiers. Finally their sergeant said, "The order came down from Captain Jampel…be ready in fifteen."

He turned and went to his own gear to grab his helmet, utility belt and Thompson.

Each man prepared for the patrol in silence. They may not like it, but orders were orders. They would do their job.

CHAPTER 3

Knowing that they were only looking for a kraut and not trying to capture or kill anyone did not improve the four soldiers' mood…or hunger. They'd each grabbed boxes of K rats to bring, but by the time they'd left the Company billet, the smell of dinner from mess was wafting in the air.

"Just had to leave right now," Caje griped as they headed toward the woods on the edge of the field. "I'm really hungry."

"Sure smells good, don't it?" Billy asked, sniffing the air. "Smells like hash, potatoes and corn. Reminds me of my mom's hash. She always made it with mashed potatoes and corn too." Nelson smiled with the memory as he walked.

Kirby, however, crinkled his nose. "You're right, Billy. Potatoes. I think I'll be fine with rations."

Billy looked back at the BAR man behind him. "A minute ago you were mad about missing dinner, and now you'd rather have rations? What gives?"

Kirby hunched his shoulders and gave a little shiver. "Last time I pulled KP duty, I peeled enough spuds to feed the whole kraut army. The smell still kinda makes me sick."

He looked at the fingers on one hand as he walked. "I swear I still got potato stuck under my fingernails."

"Your last KP was kinda deserved, wasn't it, Kirby?" Caje called over his shoulder.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault that fight started in the café," the BAR man answered defensively.

Breaking his silence, Saunders said flatly, "Yes it was."

As Caje and Billy laughed, the gloom hanging over the four soldiers slowly began to dissipate. They settled down and continued walking quietly toward Sector Charlie.

CHAPTER 4

The patrol had just reached the edge of the sector when a light mist began to fall. Saunders automatically looked up into the starless night sky. No one told him that it was supposed to rain. They had not come prepared for rain.

Just great, he thought as he turned his collar up. He could hear the quiet grumblings of the three soldiers behind him. It was his own fault. He should have checked with Hanley before they left, he thought angrily. He was tired, but it was no excuse. He was making mistakes. This mistake would end up causing his men even more misery with no rain gear. With any luck it would stay a mist.

But the mist soon changed over to a light rain, and the sergeant fought the urge to curse out loud. He needed to stay positive and in control for the mission and his men. He actually didn't mind gentle rains like this himself.

Saunders found his mind drifting back to fond memories of being a little boy and having his father take him out in the rain to splash through the puddles. He was an only child back then, and received all of his father's attention.

As they laughed and splashed in every puddle, his mother would look out the back door and pretend to be angry at them. But she'd always end up laughing when his father called out that it was the easiest way to get their son clean.

How silly they must have all looked to the neighbors…that crazy Saunders family…as father and son stomped their feet in the puddles and the mother laughed as a gentle rain fell around all of them.

Saunders remembered how he thought that those days would last forever. By the time he was a teenager, his father was gone.

"Man, I hate the rain," Kirby griped, unknowingly interrupting his sergeant's fond memories. "When I was a kid, it always seemed to rain on a Saturday. I'd drag myself through a whole week of school just champing at the bit to get to the park on Saturday. And then it'd rain, and I'd be stuck in our apartment staring out the window at the fire escapes across the alleyway."

"Couldn't rain every Saturday, Kirby," Caje remarked.

Kirby snorted, "Sure felt like it when I was a kid back then. That park was like heaven to me. Swings, monkey bars, seesaws. And that whirly thing…that was the best. My friend Danny made it go around real fast and I'd almost get sick. It was great."

The soldier smiled at the memories. "Hey," he called out, pointing at Nelson, "What's today, Billy?"

"Saturday," Caje replied before Billy had a chance to speak.

The BAR man snorted again, "See? What'd I tell ya? Always rains on Saturday. Always."

Saunders interrupted their banter. "Ok, quiet down. We're just about to head into Sector Charlie now. Keep a sharp eye out for krauts. Remember, we confirm one kraut here and we're done. But we don't want them seeing us."

The four soldiers fell silent as they entered the sector.

CHAPTER 5

The farther they walked in the darkness, the heavier the rain fell. The four soldiers were soaked and chilled. It didn't help that they were moving through mostly open pastures. No trees to provide the slightest protection as the rain pelted them and the wind picked up.

"This is brutal," Kirby finally complained in a loud whisper that could barely be heard over the noise of the rain.

Walking sideways against the wind and squinting into the darkness he added, "I can't see a thing."

His sergeant agreed. There could be a whole kraut platoon ten feet away from them and they'd probably miss them. They needed a break from the driving rain and wind. Someplace to hunker down and wait the storm out, or at least wait for it to let up some.

Stopping momentarily, he squinted through the rain, looking for any possible shelter. Off to their right there was a darker area, as if there was a structure there. Hopefully a farm house. Occupied or not, he hoped for anywhere to get them out of the rain. He headed the patrol in that direction.

As they drew closer, the sergeant's hopes fell, and he could hear his men's sounds of disappointment mirroring his own when they saw that the farm house had been completely destroyed. No farmers cooking dinner. No warm, welcoming fire in the fireplace.

The area had been the scene of intense fighting several days earlier, with little change in possession of territory. Except that the farmer and his family had obviously lost their home.

The four soldiers fanned out and cautiously checked the entire area. Even the small barn was in pieces, roofless and doorless. A bloated dead cow lay in the doorway. Wet molding hay was strewn around in random piles. The splintered remains of a wagon lay on its side in the mud.

Just as Saunders was about to gather his men and move on, Caje called out, "Hey, Sarge."

The four soldiers came together from their search. "Over closer to the tree line there's something that looks like a shed of some kind," Caje said, pointing behind the burned out farm house.

"Did you check it out?" their sergeant asked.

Caje shook his head. "Figured I should have some cover for that."

"You figured right," Saunders responded. "Caje, come with me. The rest of you stay here and cover us."

The two soldiers skirted around the remains of the farm house to the rear. Saunders stopped to observe the shed, barely visible through the rain. It appeared to be either a tool or wood shed. It also appeared to be undamaged from the last battle.

Looking beyond the shed out to the trees, the sergeant realized that the trees would offer no protection from the rain. It was only a small stand of sparsely spaced young saplings. It would have to be the shed.

Signaling to the Cajun, Saunders moved quickly to the shed door, careful to stand flat against the wall between the door and a small window about shoulder height. A window box hanging beneath the window was filled with either purple or red flowers. Saunders couldn't tell in the dark.

With Caje on the opposite side of the door, the sergeant slowly opened it a little and waited. He nodded, and Caje quickly pulled it open wide. After a long moment of silence, the sergeant swung the muzzle of his Thompson around into the doorway and stepped in.

CHAPTER 6

The inside was filled with the smell of cut wood and the wet aging planks of the four walls and roof. The air was damp and stale, and the floor was dirt, but the shed was solidly built and dry. Saunders waved for Kirby and Nelson to come in.

The sergeant pulled the door shut behind them as each soldier tried to shake off their drenched uniforms. Caje slid down in one corner to sit on the dirt floor. Both Kirby and Nelson sat on the pile of cut wood, one in each corner.

Saunders took off his helmet and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Running his fingers through his damp tangled hair, he leaned into the last corner by the window. Their body heat in the small shed was already beginning to warm up the space.

Unbuttoning his field jacket, the sergeant fished in his pocket for his cigarettes. Pulling out the soggy pack, he squeezed it in his fist in frustration and dropped the wet wad behind him into the corner.

Wiping the back of his hand across his face again, he peered out the small window at the driving rain blowing against the panes.

"Hey, Sarge?" Billy called softly, and Saunders turned to look into the gloom at the soldier.

"Here," the private said, holding out his four-pack of cigarettes from an opened K rations box. "I'm not gonna use them. And they're dry."

The sergeant saw that each of the three men was already opening their rations. He leaned forward and took the small pack. "Thanks."

He'd totally forgotten about the cigarettes with his rations. Another minor mistake. But the mistakes were beginning to pile up. He pulled out his lighter.

Just as he started to light his cigarette, he stopped suddenly and turned away from the window. Almost a fatal mistake. He turned to face the corner and block the flame as he quickly lit his cigarette.

Why don't you just stick a lantern in the window for any krauts to see, Saunders? he thought angrily.

This was one miserable patrol in one miserable rain, he complained to himself.

CHAPTER 7

"This rain is great for fishing," Caje said as he bit into a biscuit. He smiled and waved his biscuit as he talked. "On the Bayou Teche the best catfish and bass fishing is in the rain."

"Are you nuts?" Kirby asked, stopping in mid bite.

"No, really," the Cajun replied. "The bottom gets dredged up and the fish can go into a feeding frenzy. Great for fishing."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "My dad and I'd go out on rainy days to fish sometimes too."

"Best kind of fishing is in a fish market," Kirby grumbled. "Get what you want every time."

He pointed his empty box toward the Cajun. "I just know that you can't play on monkey bars in a rain like this. Tried it once. Kept falling in the mud…And there's no fish in the park either."

A sudden flood of memories of fishing in the rain on the Rock River with his own dad quickly washed away Saunders' anger and frustration. A slow smile came over him. He could still hear his father laughing as his son pulled up a big fish, and the two of them tried to grab hold of the wet flapping creature.

"You ever go fishing in the rain, Sarge?" Caje asked as he ate.

The sergeant smiled again and looked out the small window, careful to keep his cigarette down.

"Yeah, a few times," he replied simply.

Saunders watched the rivulets of rain slide down the window pane as he thought of the rain…his father…and home.

Leaning away from the window into the corner, the sergeant finished his cigarette. Although the shed was fairly small, he could barely make out his three men in the darkness as they finished their food in the other corners.

He thought about his mission. He was already down three men. He intended to make sure that they got through the patrol with no more casualties.

"We gotta get moving," he said quietly as he crushed out his cigarette in the corner. "Rain looks like it let up some, but we can't wait any longer. Sooner we get out there and get this done, the sooner we can get out of here."

Running a hand through his hair, the sergeant put his helmet on. Taking a last quick look out the window, Saunders came face to face…with a face.

CHAPTER 8

Saunders jerked back with a start and dropped to the floor.

"Hit it!" he whispered as he went down, and the three soldiers instantly followed his lead.

With his heart in his throat, the sergeant waited, listening for any sounds, waiting for a hail of bullets. Nothing. The four soldiers held their breaths, waiting.

Saunders remained silent as his mind raced. And his inner voice was screaming, How stupid could he be? Seeking shelter in a shed, and now they were trapped. He should be shot for gross incompetence.

Well, he thought, he was going to be shot for his incompetence. By the Germans. And so were his men. He knew that there was no hope that it was a local Frenchman or one of the Maquis. He'd seen the man's helmet and he knew it was a kraut.

Thinking of all of the options, he thought with luck the Germans would call for their surrender. Saunders would have no choice. But at least his men would be alive.

He wanted to pound his head on the floor. Suddenly the myriad of thoughts exploding in his head ground to a dead stop. One thought loomed up over the others, consuming all else…grenade.

If he was the one standing out there in the rain, he wouldn't waste time. He'd smash the window and lob in a grenade, taking out everyone in the shed without a fight. Simple.

Sitting up suddenly, he leaned back in the corner with his mind racing once again. The sergeant looked into the gloom at his three men, motionless on the floor. Each of them was depending on him for their very lives. And he was failing them.

Saunders made a decision. He could at least give them a fighting chance. He knew what he had to do. If a grenade came through that window, he'd smother it. Hopefully some of the others would survive and manage to fight their way out of this mess.

The sergeant looked around in the darkness, straining to see everything that he possibly could in his last moments of existence.

CHAPTER 9

Sergeant Leben had not wanted this patrol…find and capture any Americans they could, or kill them if capture was impossible. And he was to report any and all activity in the area.

This was a miserable patrol in a miserable rain. He and his men were worn out. And on top of everything else, no one had even bothered to tell him that it was going to rain like this, so he and his men had come totally unprepared.

This was supposed to be his last patrol. He was about to receive a promotion and transfer. He was being sent back to Berchtesgaden to help manage the Kehlsteinhaus…the D-House. The French called it Nid D'Aigle…Hitler's Eagles Nest.

By whatever name, Leben was thrilled. His wife and son were living only thirty kilometers north in Salzburg. He'd worked extremely hard to get this post, and he was looking forward to seeing his family once again. And to be away from the front.

Everything had seemed perfect. Too perfect, he realized. He'd been given this one last patrol…and he had a very bad feeling about it. Hoping to stay alive and well, the sergeant had been moving slowly and cautiously. None of his men had complained, but he knew that they were miserable in the driving cold rain and just wanted to finish the patrol and get back to someplace warm and dry.

After hours of walking through inches of slick mud and fighting the driving wind, the sergeant saw a farm house up ahead through the gloom. His soldiers were elated until they drew closer and realized that both the house and barn had been destroyed.

Just as he was about to move on, Leben spotted a small wooden structure not far from a stand of young trees behind the farmhouse. It would be a tight fit for him and his seven men, but it looked intact and solid. It would give his soldiers a chance to dry out and take a needed break to finally grab something to eat. Maybe he could even get in a quick smoke if he could find a dry cigarette.

Leaving his men behind, the sergeant made his way cautiously toward the shed. Flat against the front wall, he inched forward and peered into the window. Shocked to see a face, he jerked back against the wall, trying to catch his breath…an American!

CHAPTER 10

Saunders heard a whispered, "Sarge?" from one of his men.

"Sh!" he replied quickly as he continued to listen.

The only sounds were that of their stressed breathing and the pounding of the rain as the four soldiers continued to wait and listen.

What were they waiting for? Saunders thought as he pushed himself into the corner. The krauts weren't calling for their surrender.

Aufgeben…surrender. It was a word he knew and had heard before. He was almost hoping to hear it now. It would mean that they wanted him and his men alive.

Saunders closed his eyes, trying to decide what he should do next. He thought about taking another quick look out of the window again, but he didn't dare rock the boat. The longer it took for the krauts to decide what to do, the better the odds of keeping his men alive.

He waited.

CHAPTER 11

Sergeant Leben was terrified. An American. And where there was one American, there were sure to be more of them. As the rain streamed down his face, Leben closed his eyes trying to decide what he should do next.

He could slam a grenade through the window, but what if they managed to throw it back? What if it was a dud? What if a brave soul smothered it to protect his fellow soldiers? Then he'd have a desperate patrol of Americans ready to fight their way out. There could be a lot of them jammed in there. And they'd have nothing to lose. It would be like fighting a rabid dog.

Concentrating his firepower on the shed still might not get all of them. Then what? The last thing that Leben wanted was a firefight. He just knew that with his luck, he'd get wounded or killed.

The sergeant feared that he had a tiger by the tail. Anything that he did could potentially lead to his own injury or demise. Why couldn't they just surrender? He thought of calling out to them, but then the fighting would begin…he just knew it.

He was just so close to getting off the front lines and back to his family. Don't mess this up, Leben, he thought to himself anxiously. The sergeant suddenly opened his eyes. Maybe they didn't see me? he thought. Maybe the rain caused a glare or reflection, and the soldier didn't even see me. Or he just thought it was his own reflection. It was very dark, after all.

If he just backed the patrol out and reported seeing Americans, his men would wonder what he was talking about. And his commanding officer might reprimand and punish him for not bringing a prisoner or killing them all. Or he might decide that he needed the sergeant to stay with their unit if they planned an attack. What could he possibly do to resolve his dilemma?

Maybe there was a way to let go of the tiger's tail without being devoured he thought. Looking back at his waiting men, the sergeant began to work out a plan. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

It was simple, really. But usually the simplest ideas were also the best ideas.

He slowly slipped back to his patrol that was huddled closely together by the remains of the farm house. They had managed to find a partial roof overhang still intact, and they were pressed together under their scant shelter. When Sergeant Leben reached them, he realized that there was no room under the overhang for him, and no one seemed to be ready to volunteer to give up their little spot.

But the sergeant didn't care…he had a plan.

"We can't go into the shed," he told his men bluntly.

"Why not?" one soldier asked as he pulled his tunic tighter around his neck. "We're soaked to the skin."

"And we're cold," another added.

"And we're hungry," another voice called out. "We could all fit in there."

Here goes, the sergeant thought. Make it work, Leben.

"Someone has trapped a wild animal in there," he replied seriously. "And it sounds very angry." An American tiger, he thought to himself. He certainly wasn't lying about that.

"Just shoot it," one answered.

"Or blow it up with a grenade," suggested another.

"If I blow it up, I also blow up the shed," Leben answered sternly. "And if it's a bear or a wild boar, once I open that door it could kill or injure several of us before it dies. We'd be fighting a wounded wild animal."

He looked at each man. "Which one of you wants to take that kind of a chance just to get out of the rain?"

The soldiers looked at each other and fell silent.

Finally, a quiet question arose from the huddle of cold, wet soldiers. "So what should we do?"

Good, the sergeant thought. That was the hard part. The rest of the plan was easy because he knew that his soldiers would eagerly agree.

He could hear Berchtesgaden and his family calling to him.

"We've been out here searching for hours with absolutely no luck. I think that we can go back now and I can safely say that we saw no signs of any Americans."

The men's faces brightened as their sergeant said, "We're heading back."

CHAPTER 12

Saunders couldn't stand the suspense any longer. His gut was twisted into a knot. One way or another he had to know exactly what was going on. They couldn't hide in that shed forever. Slowly he inched upward, took off his helmet and barely peered one eye out the side of the window, ready to pull back at the slightest provocation.

His eyes opened wide in astonishment, and he pressed his face against the cold, damp window pane. The krauts were leaving.

There were eight of them that he could see. What the heck was going on? he thought. Not that he wasn't thrilled and greatly relieved. But…what the heck?

Maybe the rain caused a glare or reflection on the glass, he thought. Maybe the kraut didn't even see me, or he thought it was his own reflection? That could explain why they hadn't started shooting or tossed in a grenade on them. Or called out to demand their surrender.

It would explain why the krauts were leaving…and his men were still living.

Saunders continued to stare at the Germans until they were out of sight, and he was sure that they weren't just hiding and waiting for him and his men to come out of the shed. He waited motionless in the dark and silence.

When all remained quiet except for the patter of the lessening rain and the sounds of his men breathing, the sergeant finally moved. Sliding on his belly toward the door, he crawled over Billy's legs and reached up to pull the handle down to open the door slightly.

An inch…then two. And then Saunders opened the door wide enough to peer out with one eye. He saw nothing, but he knew that his field of vision was extremely limited. He opened the door wider and slid forward until his head was lying sideways in the mud. Rain pelted his head, soaking his hair instantly and filling his ear. Barely moving his head, he looked around. Nothing.

Slowly rising up on his knees, he searched the area again. When nothing happened, he stood up and stepped out of the doorway one step. Nothing. The krauts were definitely gone.

Saunders closed his eyes and raised his face to the rain. As the pelting drops washed away the mud and sweat…and fear, the sergeant said a silent thank you.

CHAPTER 13

Wiping his face, Saunders turned to his men. "It's clear. Let's get out of here while we can."

Instantly the three soldiers rose up, slipped their helmets on and came out of the shed to stand next to their sergeant.

"What was all that about, Sarge?" Caje asked nervously.

"Later," the sergeant stopped him. "Move out. Caje take the point. Straight through those trees out there and skirt along the edge of the next pasture."

Saunders pointed to the stand of trees behind the shed. "We'll go back using as much cover as we can find, and in as straight a line as possible."

The Cajun nodded and headed in that direction.

"Kirby, rear," Saunders called out, and the BAR man dropped back, letting the others go by him.

"Twenty yards," the sergeant said as they each fell into line. Slowly the four soldiers spread out leaving the twenty yards between them. Saunders was done taking chances. He'd had one lucky break after another and he wasn't going to push it any further.

The patrol slowly and cautiously made its way back to their unit.

CHAPTER 14

The three soldiers were so tired, cold and wet that they didn't press their sergeant about what had actually happened while they were in the shed. They knew that they'd find out eventually.

First and Second squads were bivouacked in a small barn, but to the three bedraggled men it seemed like heaven on earth. As they stripped off their wet clothes, their sergeant stayed by the door.

"You're not turning in, Sarge?" Nelson asked as he took off his field jacket and draped it over a stall.

Saunders shook his head. "Not yet. Gotta report to the Lieutenant and the Captain. Get some sleep. It'll be dawn soon."

The sergeant looked out the door. "At least the rain finally stopped."

As Kirby pulled his wet undershirt over his head, he laughed. "That's 'cause it ain't Saturday no more."

Saunders closed the door and headed to the officers' tents. "Sirs?" he said quietly as he waited by the open flap. When the Captain waved him in, he took off his helmet and ducked into the tent.

The sergeant waited silently as the two officers conversed while looking over a map that was spread out on a door resting on two crates. Two steaming cups of coffee sat on either side of the map. The aroma of the fresh coffee was almost overwhelming as it filled the tent.

Saunders was soaked to the skin, tired, hungry and thirsty. He could have certainly used one of those hot coffees and a dry cigarette. Neither was offered to him.

Finally the Captain looked up. "What's your report, Sergeant? Did you see a German?"

"No, Sir," the sergeant answered with a faint smile. "I saw eight of them. Right in the middle of Sector Charlie."

"Eight?" Jampel asked gruffly. "A full patrol? In the middle of the rain at night? What would they be doing out there?"

"Probably the same thing we were, Captain," Saunders replied wearily.

The Captain looked at his Lieutenant momentarily. Turning back to the sergeant he asked, "You sure you saw eight?"

Saunders could literally feel his blood pressure rising. Am I sure, he thought? Keep it together, Saunders.

He took a deep breath and replied, "If you mean can anyone else verify that, then no, Sir."

"Why not?" the Captain inquired, leaning forward over his makeshift table.

"My men were too busy trying to stay alive with their heads buried in the dirt. Sir." Dead tired, Saunders was on edge but he held his emotions in check. "I wasn't going to risk anyone else's life just to verify what I know I saw. Didn't expect that to be necessary, Sir. Not hard to tell eight krauts from the forest animals."

The Captain and the Sergeant stared at each other for a strained moment as the Lieutenant stood by…all three locked in stony silence. Saunders knew that he'd crossed the line, and he waited wearily for the consequences. He was just too exhausted to care at that moment.

Taking a last look at his soaking wet, obviously exhausted sergeant, the Captain finally said with silent acceptance, "I'll have to notify command that Sector Charlie isn't totally secure yet. I'll set up a meeting tomorrow morning, Hanley. You're both dismissed."

Hanley and Saunders both replied, "Yes, Sir," and left the tent.

CHAPTER 15

The two soldiers walked side by side toward the barn. Hanley pulled his cigarettes out, stuck one in the corner of his mouth and lit it. Putting the pack away, he handed the lit cigarette over to his sergeant.

"Thanks," Saunders said, sticking it in his mouth and inhaling deeply.

"You don't have to say it, Lieutenant," the sergeant said without turning to look at his lieutenant. "I know I crossed the line."

"No, you didn't cross the line, Saunders," Hanley replied, trying to hide a faint smile. "You stomped it to death. Lucky for you the Captain was in such a good mood."

Saunders gave a short laugh. "Lucky me."

As they neared their bivouac, the two men stopped.

"So tell me exactly what happened out there," Hanley said. "You accomplished your mission, but you don't seem too happy about it."

The two soldiers talked until the sky began to lighten over the trees. Finishing his explanation of everything that happened on patrol, Saunders dropped his cigarette butt in the wet grass and ground it under his boot.

"I made a lot of mistakes out there, Lieutenant," the sergeant said, still staring at his boot. "Stupid mistakes that could have gotten my men killed."

"You and your men were exhausted before you went on that patrol. You and I both know that. Everything worked out ok," Hanley tried to reassure him.

"But it was just dumb luck that it didn't go the other way," Saunders insisted. "No rain gear? How stupid was that?"

"That wasn't stupid," the officer countered. "That was all on me. I'm supposed to send you out there with all the information that you'll need. I failed to do my job. That's been eating at me since the first rain drops fell."

"Well you had nothing to do with us going into that shed," the sergeant answered angrily. "That was all on me. Trapped us in a shed like a bunch of green recruits. I just can't understand why the krauts left. I really thought the one had seen me, but they never would've left if he had."

Hanley offered Saunders another cigarette and both lit up on the officer's lighter. "The way I see it," the Lieutenant replied, "You were darn lucky to have found that shed."

"Lucky?" Saunders asked in confusion. "What's so lucky about being trapped in a shed?"

"What do you think would have happened if you stumbled onto all those krauts out in the open?" Hanley asked bluntly. "Maybe they wouldn't have seen you…but just maybe you wouldn't have seen them."

The officer let that sink in, and then added, "Four against eight in a firefight wouldn't be the best odds. I'd say you were pretty lucky to be in that shed since they never even saw you."

As Saunders thought about everything that Hanley had said, the officer clapped his sergeant on the shoulder.

"All a matter of perspective, isn't it, Saunders?"

When he got no response, the officer continued, "C'mon, I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Cook'll have breakfast ready soon. I'm sure I can con him out of a couple hot cups of coffee. You can tell me what you're planning to do on your day off…besides sleep."

THE END