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.

Sometimes a word or a phrase can spark the idea for a story. In this case, my story grew from the eventual title. It embraces how one's perception of things can change quickly. And it was also the seed for another story down the road. Please consider leaving a review.

DARK WINTER

CHAPTER 1

Saunders couldn't figure if his fingers or his toes were colder. In spite of his gloves, scarf and wool socks, he was still chilled. He blew on one gloved hand knowing that it was pretty much useless.

His patrol was roughly five miles due north of the town where King Company had just recently billeted. The sergeant and his men were looking for signs of any kraut activity. There had been no new intel lately, and the brass were pretty much flying blind.

The patrol had yet to encounter a single German, but that was valuable information as well.
The entire area had been blanketed with a rare snow, and the men were maneuvering through three inches of wet snowfall. However, Saunders knew that by the next morning or so it would mostly be gone, having melted away in the warmer temperatures and sunshine.

Under different circumstances, it would have been beautiful to Saunders. The full moon created a vivid monochromatic landscape around him. The hedgerows and occasional trees cast eerie shadows on the fields of stark white. The air was crisp and clear, with millions of stars twinkling in the blackness overhead.

It almost made him forget the war…or how cold he was.

"Sure is beautiful, isn't it?" Caje asked softly as if reading his sergeant's mind. "I don't get to see this too often."

" 'Specially beautiful since there's no krauts around," Kirby replied. "Where do ya think they all went?"

"I don't know," Doc answered, "but it sure is quiet."

Saunders looked around at the fields of untouched new snow. Not even animal tracks marred the picture perfect landscape. The only footprints were their own. No krauts could have come through there recently.

"Wherever the krauts are," Littlejohn added, "it sure isn't here."

The silence of the night was interrupted by a sudden rustling at the top of a sloped field. The startling sound brought everyone's weapons swinging around. As they all crouched down in tense anticipation, a deer broke free from the brush and stood frozen, alert and tall…a large buck.

When it sniffed the air, Saunders could see small billows of steam as its hot breath hit the cold night air. The sergeant watched in awe. It was magnificent. Its massive antlers swung toward the soldiers as it continued to sniff the cold air. Finally the buck bounded away back into the brush.

The men were silent for a moment until Billy said quietly, "He was huge!"

All was silent again as each man stood lost in his own thoughts. For a few brief and precious moments, the war and its brutality were forgotten.

Saunders thought of how nice it would have been to share this evening with Bette. Her medical unit was attached to K Company again…for how long they didn't know. But they were appreciating their time together, no matter how long it was for.

"We done yet, Sarge?" Kirby asked, breaking the silence. "I could sure use a warm fire and some hot chow right about now." He stomped his feet and turned up his collar.

"Yeah," their sergeant answered. "That's about it. But we're five miles out. It'll take us awhile to get back, especially through the snow. Grab something from your rations if you're hungry."

Kirby wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah, I'll wait."

"I could use something," Brockmeyer replied.

"Me too, Sarge," Doc agreed. "Can we hold up for just a minute?"

Saunders started to unsling his Thompson when he suddenly froze and looked up into the night sky. His men could tell that he'd heard something, and they all stopped and watched him expectantly.

"88's!" he yelled, and took off running. "The town!"

CHAPTER 2

The seven soldiers ran steadily, but five miles in the snow and dark slowed their pace considerably. With their sergeant in the lead, each man kept up without complaint. Their unit was under attack.

As he ran, Saunders' mind was racing as well. He knew that as soon as the barrage ended, the krauts would most likely be moving in. Now he knew why the sector that he and his men had just been patrolling was devoid of Germans. They were probably all massing farther east for an imminent attack on the town.

The Company had barely had time to move into the town. They would still have been disorganized when the barrage hit. If they couldn't hold the town, which would be likely if the Germans had enough fire power and men, then the Company would be withdrawing to the southwest.

Fortunately, Saunders thought, the medical unit was on that side of town already, with tents set up on the outskirts of town. They should be fairly safe and able to pull back quickly.

Still Saunders worried. But listening to the distant explosions, he knew that he had to push those worries aside in order to concentrate on getting his squad back to help their Company.

Once they reached the last two miles, Saunders found and fell into their old tracks from when they had first started the patrol. Running in their old tracks made it unnecessary for the sergeant to slow periodically to get his bearings. He knew that the tracks would lead him straight back to the town.

As he ran, he noted the silence. The shelling had stopped. It had been a fairly short barrage…the krauts probably wanted to keep the town relatively undamaged for their own use. Might even be looking to stay awhile, or set up a larger command post for the entire area. Knowing that the Germans would soon be moving in to try to take the town, Saunders pushed a little harder.

When they finally crested the last hill and looked down on the village, Saunders saw what he'd feared. K Company had already pulled back, and the krauts were starting to move into the town. Even in the stark moonlight, the various German vehicles scattered throughout the town were unmistakable.

As the patrol stood looking down at the town, Kirby said quietly, "We sure ain't going down there."

"No," the sergeant replied. "The Company is going to be off to the southwest somewhere. We'll skirt around the town and head in that direction. Maybe we'll pick up their tracks."

Saunders looked off in that direction, even though he knew that he'd never see anything in the dark. "Keep your eyes open. The krauts might have moved their line farther outside of town. We could run into them at any time."

Looking back down at the town, the sergeant noted that the med tents looked like they were still intact. A good sign that everyone had survived the barrage and made it out of town safely.

"Let's go," he said grimly as they began to slowly work their way down the snowy hill.

CHAPTER 3

The patrol gave the town a wide berth and managed to steer clear of any enemy troops. Heading southwest toward the newly drawn Allied lines, Saunders moved cautiously. At that point he was less worried about encountering Germans and more worried about being killed by skittish friendly fire.

Making sure that his men stayed well back, the sergeant took the point as they moved through the forest and the snow. No sense in more than one of them getting shot by mistake. From his maps he remembered that there was a large field surrounded by hedgerows only a hundred yards or so beyond the edge of the forest.

He knew that it would make a great billet for the Company, and as he headed in that direction, he knew he was right. Large swaths of the virgin snow had been trampled to black mud.

Breaking out of the thick stand of trees, the soldiers made their way through brush that come the next summer would be bursting with berries. But to the cold and tired soldiers, they were only dead brambles and brush.

Nearing the hedgerow, Saunders slowed to a crawl, with his men fifteen yards behind him. They all suddenly froze when a voice shouted, "Four!"

Saunders was relieved. There was a level headed sentry on duty, and they hadn't changed the passwords while they were out on patrol.

"Nine!" the sergeant called out loudly in reply.

"Advance!" the soldier commanded, and the patrol slowly passed a dozen or more men manning their most forward line. Everyone stared as the seven weary soldiers made their way into their new billet.

The Company was just beginning to reorganize itself after their hasty retreat. Soldiers were scattered everywhere, with some still trying to locate their own platoon or squad in the darkness. Others were already beginning to set up their new bivouacs.

It didn't take long for Saunders to catch sight of the rest of Second platoon. His squad immediately went to pitch in as he looked around for Lieutenant Hanley.

Cornering a passing soldier, the sergeant asked, "Niski, you seen the Lieutenant?"

"Hey, Sarge," the soldier replied. "Good to see you guys made it back."

The private pointed off to the left. "The Lieutenant is over with First platoon, talking to Lieutenant Norris. Working on new plans, I guess."

The sergeant followed the man's pointing finger and saw Hanley and Norris kneeling down in the slushy remains of the snow, looking over a map that they were each holding. The faces of the two officers were a flickering glow from Hanley's lighter that he was holding near the map.

"Thanks," Saunders replied and, slipping his Thompson over his shoulder, he headed toward the two men.

CHAPTER 4

"Lieutenants?" the sergeant said hesitantly, afraid that he was interrupting them. They appeared to be in a heavy discussion, but he really felt that he should report in.

Both officers looked up and their expressions quickly changed. The sergeant noticed the difference, but couldn't understand it. Almost seemed as if they were feeling guilty about something, he thought. Or that they'd been discussing something that they didn't want him to overhear.

Saunders looked at both men uncomfortably as they in turn looked at each other. The three soldiers remained in a brief awkward silence until Norris finally stood up, folded the map and slid it into his jacket pocket.

He murmured, "We can talk later, Hanley." With a brief nod of acknowledgement toward the sergeant, the lieutenant left.

Now what did I do? Saunders thought. Even Norris seemed cold, and he usually got along well with the lieutenant.

"Sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant," Saunders apologized as Hanley stood up and snapped his lighter closed. "Just wanted to report in."

The Lieutenant looked at the men busily working all around them. "Let's walk, Saunders."

The sergeant hesitated for a moment. He was very confused. Walk? What was going on? But he followed his lieutenant. The two soldiers walked in silence as the officer led them away from all of the activity.

When they were alone on the edge of the field, he stopped. Both men were silent as the Lieutenant looked back at the men clearing places in the snow to set up their bivouacs.

Saunders stared out over the moonlit snow covered field. He was starting to get a bad feeling gnawing at his gut. He absent mindedly reached into his pants pocket and fidgeted nervously with his lighter.

The officer finally turned to his sergeant, hesitated and then said quietly, "We've got a problem."

CHAPTER 5

Saunders waited. "A problem?" Hanley was obviously dragging his feet, and the sergeant wished that he'd just spit it all out.

"What kind of a problem?" he asked when the officer still wasn't responding.

"When the barrage hit us in town, we were totally unprepared and had to pull back in a hurry," Hanley finally said uncomfortably.

With a pained look, he added, "Not everyone made it out."

Saunders thought that his heart had stopped. He suddenly realized what this was all about. He stared unblinking at his lieutenant.

"Bette?" he asked softly, terrified of the answer, yet needing to know. He could barely choke out the words as his gut twisted into a knot and his lungs struggled for air.

"She's dead?"

"No," Hanley replied hurriedly. "Well, I mean, we don't know."

"What do you mean, 'we don't know'?" Saunders asked, fighting back the tears and pain.

Grabbing at straws, the sergeant asked, "What happened? How could you not know? You mean she could be alive?"

Saunders stopped for a moment to gather his emotions. He was desperate for information…from his friend. "Hanley…what's going on?"

Hanley took a deep breath. He had to give the man what he needed to hear, in as calm and hopeful a way as possible.

"When the barrage hit, everyone was pretty scattered. It was really heavy, and the decision to pull back came pretty quickly. A few of the medical staff had been doing follow up on some men in First platoon who'd been injured earlier in the week and were back at their bivouac."

The officer paused, glancing down at the snow as Saunders stared at him intently. "One of the nurses who made it out said that there were three nurses and a doctor who went to the center of town where First platoon was bivouacked. She said that they joked about making house calls, but mostly they were using it as an excuse to take a break from setting up the tents and equipment. Getting a chance to stretch their legs."

"Hanley…" Saunders said quietly in frustration as he tried to push his friend to get to what he needed to know.

The officer nodded and continued, "When the barrage hit, they tried to make their way back out of town when one of the nurses was hit by some shrapnel."

Saunders' eyes widened in alarm. "Bette?"

Hanley shook his head. "We don't honestly know. This is all bits and pieces of information that I've been putting together from different sources. I just know that a nurse went down, and the others stayed to help her."

"So what happened to them?" Saunders asked impatiently.

"No one seems to know," the officer replied. "In all the confusion, no single person saw the entire thing. And when it was over and we relocated here, the three nurses and the doctor never showed up."

Hanley looked at Saunders. "They're officially MIA."

CHAPTER 6

Saunders was quiet, trying to absorb it all. He refused to believe that she was dead until he saw it for himself, no matter how painful it would be for him. She could be trapped somewhere…or lying wounded and needing help.

Hanley remained silent as he watched his friend and sergeant, giving him time to process all of the information.

"I can go check it out," the sergeant finally said. "I can slip into town and look around."

The lieutenant shook his head. "No you can't. Captain Jampel has already turned down that suggestion…from me. He said no one goes in yet until we're resettled here and he has time to assess the situation."

"What's to assess?" Saunders asked angrily. "Three nurses and a doctor are missing. Noncombatants who are under our protection. That's pretty straightforward information in my book."

"Those were his orders, Saunders. Not much we can do about it right now. Why don't you go get your men settled in. We can talk about it later. Maybe by then the Captain will have reconsidered."

"You're saying just forget about it? Go about my job pretending nothing's happened?" Saunders asked angrily. Taking his gloves off and shoving them into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter.

As he lit one he drew on it deeply, trying to calm down. Shoving his cigarettes back into his pocket, he held onto his lighter tightly.

"Not at all," Hanley replied. "I don't expect you'd pretend it didn't happen. But to be blunt, if they're prisoners, waiting won't change it."

He hesitated. "If she's dead, waiting won't change that either."

"What if she's wounded and lying in that town somewhere?" Saunders confronted his friend. "Have you thought about that possibility? Somebody is wounded out there."

The officer knew that he was right. But orders were orders. "Try to be patient. As soon as Captain Jampel makes a decision I'll send you in."

The two soldiers looked at each other until the sergeant turned silently and walked away.

"Where are you going?" Hanley called out to him.

Without turning back, Saunders replied, "I'm going back to my men…doing what I've been ordered to do."

Drawing deeply on his cigarette as he walked, the sergeant's anger and fear did not abate.

As he strode through the snow back to his men, he looked at his lighter. Clutching it in his fist for a moment, he tucked it into his pocket. Taking one last draw on his cigarette, he flicked it into the wet snow. The sizzle when it landed seemed to mirror Saunders' feelings.

"Like hell I'll be patient," the sergeant thought to himself.

CHAPTER 7

Walking slowly to give himself time to think, Saunders found his men unloading a truck. The Company had just moved into the town that morning when he and his men had been immediately sent on patrol, so they'd never had the chance to unload their possessions from the truck.

When the barrage hit, the truck managed to pull back unscathed with Saunders' squad's bedrolls and personal effects still on board.

"I've got your things, Sarge," Littlejohn called out when he saw their sergeant coming. "Where do you want them?"

Saunders reached out. "I'll take 'em, Littlejohn. Thanks."

Slinging his haversack over his shoulder, he looked around. His men had already cleared an area of snow. One place seemed as good as another. He dropped the bag and his helmet on the ground. Unslinging his Thompson, he leaned it against his helmet.

Quickly unrolling his bedroll on the cold, damp grass that was still spotted with patches of snow, Saunders laid with the haversack under his head. He untied his scarf and slid it from his neck.

"You gonna get something to eat, Sarge?" Billy asked his prone sergeant. "The kitchen truck's just over there."

"Cook saved us some dinner…after he saved the truck," Littlejohn added with a smile. "It's gonna be cold, 'cause the Captain said no fires. But it's still gotta be better than the rations."

Saunders slipped his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and fished around in his pants pocket for his lighter. Shaking his head as he lit up, he replied, "No, you go ahead. I'm not hungry."

The two soldiers looked at each other and Littlejohn tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. "We'll see you later, Sarge. If you change your mind, there still should be some food left."

Their sergeant waved his cigarette toward them and watched as they slowly disappeared in the moonlight. Food was the last thing on his mind. He needed to think.

Saunders knew that he could easily slip into the town, check for the nurses and doctor, and slip back out again. He'd done that kind of operation before. The krauts had just taken over the town. They'd still be disorganized and preoccupied if he could go right away. There was enough cover to get him there and back in the dark, especially if he was alone.

But Captain Jampel had squashed that idea, at least for now. But now was when it needed to be done.

Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero, Saunders thought. When all of his high school Latin had faded away, this had always stayed with him. And fighting for years in a world war had burned it into his brain.

"Seize the day, put very little trust in tomorrow."

Saunders made his decision. Before the krauts had a chance to settle down, organize and fortify their new position, he would get in, reconnoiter the situation and get out. The Germans would never expect anyone trying that right now. If he waited, he'd lose his advantage. His window of opportunity was fast closing.

He took one last drag on his cigarette and flipped it out into the snow. As he watched the glowing arc of the still lit butt, he sat up and then looked around. He was alone. Reaching into his field jacket, he checked to be sure that he still had his camo paint stick from their patrol. He pulled it out and quickly blackened his face, neck and hands.

Grabbing helmet and Thompson, Saunders quietly rolled out from under his blanket and melted into the bushes in the night.

Carpe diem.

CHAPTER 8

Slipping past the front line of American soldiers was not difficult for the sergeant. The men were on alert for krauts trying to sneak in, not GI's sneaking out.

Rather than make his presence known, Saunders decided to slip past the front lines unnoticed to avoid the possibility of being stopped. Captain Jampel may well have given orders that no one was to leave camp.

The wet snow made it easier and quieter as he slowly belly crawled past the soldiers, moving under the brush and into the trees. Cautiously avoiding snagging his Thompson on low hanging branches, he passed through without incident.

It'd be a different matter on the way back, he thought. But he'd worry about that when the time came. At the moment his only concern was for Bette and the rest of the missing medical staff.

Once into the trees, Saunders stood and brushed off the wet snow that was still clinging to the front of his uniform. Slowly making his way toward the town, the sergeant was alert for any kraut night patrols.

It was very late, and the krauts were probably settling into their new billet, he thought. They would have a forward line dug in just like the Americans. Bypassing them wouldn't be so easy, but he knew that he could do it. He had to.

CHAPTER 9

While grabbing a late dinner at the kitchen truck, the squad got caught up on the latest scuttlebutt by Cook. As he filled plates, the soldier told them about everything they'd missed while out on patrol.

The men were only half paying attention as they concentrated on getting their meals, but they all froze when Cook added, "Sarge must be going crazy."

"Why?" Littlejohn asked anxiously, taking a dish from the man.

"Those three missing nurses and the doctor," Cook replied, handing Kirby his food.

"Here's some for the Sarge," Cook said, handing Kirby an extra plate. "If you wave it in front of him, I bet he'll eat something. He'll need it."

"What happened, Hash?" Billy asked in frustration. "C'mon, spit it out!"

The cook answered defensively, "Well everyone knows that the Sarge is sweet on that pretty blonde nurse…"

The squad looked at each other quickly, and Brockmeyer interrupted, "Nurse Peters?"

Cook nodded. "Yeah, that's the one. She's one of them that's missing. Them three nurses and the doc just never made it out of the town. No one knows what happened. But Captain Jampel ain't letting anyone go find out."

Without replying, Caje said to the other men, "C'mon."

The six soldiers quickly made their way back to their bivouac, scanning the surrounding area and bivouacs as they ran. No sign of their sergeant anywhere.

"He's not here," Billy said anxiously as they looked around their own small bivouac.

"We all know where he'd go," Brockmeyer replied. "His helmet and Thompson are gone. Bet his paint stick is gone too."

"What're we gonna do?" Doc asked.

"Not much we can do until he gets back," Caje answered quietly.

"You mean if he gets back," Kirby added with a grim look.

The soldiers were all quiet until Littlejohn finally said, "He'll get back. He's the Sarge."

CHAPTER 10

Saunders lay motionless in the wet snow and underbrush. It had taken him seemingly forever to inch his way toward the kraut lines. He'd taken the extra time to skirt farther south before approaching the town.

The maneuver had paid off. As he had suspected, the heaviest concentration of krauts was positioned farther north, closest to the Allied lines nearest the town.

From what he could see, there were only two sentries that he'd have to contend with in the more southern area. But he was going to make absolutely sure before he moved any closer. Going it alone without anyone to cover him, there was no room for error.

Just as he was thinking of sliding forward a little again, Saunders heard a soft sneeze off to his right, and one of the two sentries whispered, "Gesundheit."

There was a third kraut hidden in the brush. The sergeant froze, listening intently. He needed to get an accurate fix on the soldier. After a few moments, he heard the man sniffle. That was all the sergeant needed. But he still remained immobile, waiting, watching and listening. He didn't want to be surprised with a fourth man. He waited. Nothing.

When he heard the men whispering, he saw his opening…and he took it. Whispering meant that the soldiers were distracted. They were more preoccupied with each other than with watching for the enemy.

Saunders crawled forward, sliding silently in the snow.

CHAPTER 11

Barely moving inches at a time and hardly breathing, the sergeant slowly slipped between two of the sentries who were only about twenty-five yards apart. It took longer than he would have liked, but the soldier was patient.

Finally getting beyond the sentries, Saunders made sure that he was a good distance away before he stood up again in the trees. He no longer bothered to brush the snow from his uniform. He was already soaked to the skin.

Approaching the edge of the tree line near the field on the outskirts of town, Saunders stopped and looked around. He was glad that he'd come in from farther south. It not only meant fewer sentries. The field hospital tents were now only about forty yards away.

It also appeared that most of the kraut activity was centered around the opposite end of the town, farthest from the Allies…and farthest from Saunders. He realized that one of the tents was probably occupied since there was obviously a light on inside. The canvas glowed softly in the darkness and he saw shadows moving.

There were occasional bushes scattered between the tent and the tree line, but it was mostly open field. It would be tough traveling that distance undetected, but at least he didn't have to worry about leaving fresh tracks in the virgin snow. Everything was trampled and slushy from the Company's activity and eventual retreat.

He just hoped that it didn't get any warmer and turn the field into a sea of slush and mud. With one more look around, Saunders took a deep breath, crouched low and headed out across the small open field.

CHAPTER 12

He ran quickly to the nearest bush. There didn't appear to be any kraut activity in the area. Waiting and watching, the sergeant knelt motionless until he moved again to the next bush.

Hopscotching from one bush to another, he dropped to his belly when he neared the backside of the lit tent. At that point, his chest, legs and abdomen were almost numb with the cold and wet. But he barely noticed, even as he laid the side of his head in the snow at the edge of the canvas.

Sliding forward slowly, the sergeant lifted the canvas just enough to peer inside. With cartons of supplies blocking his vision, Saunders slid over a few feet and laid his head in the snow again to peer inside.

This time he had a decent view of most of the tent. In the center were several cots, with a woman lying on one of them. With guilty relief, he looked at the others sitting nearby and saw the doctor, a nurse…and Bette.

CHAPTER 13

Saunders remained quiet and looked around the best he could from his awkward position. It didn't appear that there was a guard posted inside with them, but he was certain that there would be one stationed just outside the front of the tent.

The doctor was facing away from the sergeant, but both Bette and the other nurse were facing in his direction. No one was speaking. He held up the side of the canvas with his Thompson, slid his arm under and waved his hand. No one seemed to notice.

The ground inside the tent was only damp grass since the field hospital had been erected just before the snow had begun. Saunders pounded his fist on the ground with a dull thud. When he got no reaction, he did it again…this time twice.

Bette glanced up and sat staring for a short moment until recognition set in. Then her eyes widened and a mixture of shock, delight and relief crossed her face. Almost as quickly, it was all replaced with panic and fear as she looked over at the tent opening.

Saunders waved for her to come over to him, but she shook her head no, pointing to the others. Seeing her gesture, the other nurse looked up and started to speak. Bette grabbed her arm and held a hand over the woman's mouth. Facing the two women, the doctor turned to see what they were both looking at.

The sergeant put a finger to his lips, and then waved for the doctor to come closer. Hesitating, the doctor looked at the front opening for a moment before standing up, motioning for the nurses to stay, and then approaching the prone soldier.

Holding up a hand, the doctor went to the stacked cases and reached into the top carton. He pulled out a bottle of plasma and knelt down.

"How many guards?" Saunders whispered.

Looking back to the front of the tent again, the doctor replied. "Just one. But he comes in periodically to check on us."

Saunders gestured toward the wounded nurse. "How is she?"

"She's stable," the doctor answered. "But she sure won't be walking out of here on her own."

"You see any others besides the one guard?" the sergeant asked.

The doctor shook his head. "Just a lieutenant when we were first captured. I think they're waiting until morning to talk to us…or move us."

Saunders looked around the tent again to memorize the layout. "Try to keep everyone calm. I'll be back."

"You're alone?" the doctor asked incredulously.

"Yeah. But I'll come up with something," Saunders replied and looked over at Bette, who hadn't stopped staring at him.

He gave a smile and a little wave as a flash of panic crossed her face. Then, tight-lipped she gave a weak smile and a nod.

A German voice broke the silence. "Was ist das?"

CHAPTER 14

Turning quickly, the doctor blocked the soldier's view of the sergeant as he pulled his arm back under the canvas. The doctor stood up and walked toward the nurse.

"Plasma," he said as he held up the bottle.

The kraut gestured with his rifle for the doctor to sit. As the man sat down, the soldier looked around nervously and slowly backed out of the tent. He hadn't seen the sergeant.

With barely one eye peering under the canvas, Saunders saw all three heads swivel toward him. He slipped a hand under the tent, gave a quick wave, and then he was gone.

Sliding backwards, the sergeant looked around and rose up onto one knee. With a last quick glance across the small field, he bent low and began to run. Passing the bushes, he ran straight into the woods without stopping.

Once inside the tree line, the sergeant leaned against a tree to wait for his heart rate to return to normal. He ran a hand through his wet hair to remove the clumps of wet snow from the side of his head. Then wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he looked back across the field to the tent.

He hated the idea of leaving without doing something, but he knew that he'd be back. Saunders turned away, put on his helmet and headed toward the German and American lines.

TO BE CONTINUED