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.
Hard to believe, but this is my 47th story in less than two years. It will probably appear out of order (just like those pesky Combat! TV episodes) but I felt the need to mark the occasion. It surprises even me. Hopefully you have read the previous stories and even reread them. As with the series episodes, you can see something different every time. And I often reference previous stories or episodes.
With all of that being said, I'd like to thank Jimmy Burress for suggesting this theme for a story. It's something that Combat! fans have wondered and argued about for many years. Here's my take. So thanks, Jimmy. Hope you all enjoy, and please let me know your thoughts in a review. It really helps.
HAT TRICK
CHAPTER 1
"What ya doing, Kirby?" Billy asked as he sat on his bedroll with a can of rations.
The BAR man looked up from his bedroll where he was sitting. "Writing home to the folks. We haven't had much time lately. Figure I'd better do it before they throw another patrol at us."
Nelson stopped opening his can and stared at the soldier. "You know, you're writing on the back of a ration box."
As other squad members came into their bivouac and settled in with their rations, Kirby replied, "Yeah, I know. But I want to get this done, and the supply trucks haven't caught up to us yet. Couldn't find paper or V-mail anywhere. Lucky I even have a pencil."
He held up the stub of a pencil and wiggled it. Their sergeant knelt down at the small coffee fire in the center of their bivouac. Pouring himself a steaming cup, he took a tentative sip and looked over at his BAR man.
"Good field expediency, Kirby," he said with a smile.
The soldier grinned with the compliment and continued to write.
"What makes you think it'll make it home?" Littlejohn asked, pointing his spoon at Kirby as the big man settled onto his bedroll. "Clerk'll probably just toss it in the garbage."
"Why shouldn't it make it?" Kirby asked. "It's just like writing on a picture postcard…'cepting it ain't got no picture on the back."
He held up the cardboard and turned it over. Words were printed on the back.
U.S. Army Field Ration K
Dinner Unit
Kirby turned the cardboard back over. "See? I got the address over here, and a line down the middle. And I'm writing over here on this side. Just like a picture postcard. Ain't no difference."
In the upper right corner instead of a stamp, he'd written 'free' and drawn a box around the word.
"What d'ya think, Sarge?" Kirby asked anxiously. "Think it'll make it ok?"
Saunders took another sip of his coffee before sitting on his bedroll. Looking over at the cardboard in Kirby's hand, he replied, "It'll be fine. I've seen worse than that get through."
With a big smile of satisfaction, the BAR man said, "See? I told ya. If Sarge says it'll be ok, then it'll be ok."
"Sergeant Saunders?" came a familiar voice. Without looking around, Saunders replied, "Yeah, Price?"
It was Lieutenant Hanley's radio man.
"The Lieutenant wants to see you," the young soldier said tentatively.
When they'd first met each other, the sergeant had been rather curt and gruff from sheer exhaustion. Having the feeling that something more was going on with the young soldier, he'd tried to smooth things over with him. But ever since then, Price seemed to be very wary of the veteran sergeant.
"He in his quarters?" Saunders asked.
When he received a quick silent nod in reply, the sergeant said in the most nonthreatening voice that he could muster, "Tell him I'll be right there, Price."
As the young soldier hurried off, the sergeant took one last sip of his coffee. Slowly standing up, he stretched his muscles.
"Don't get too comfortable," he advised his men.
"Uh oh," Kirby replied, standing up as well. "I'd better get this postcard over to the Company clerk. Be right back."
Grabbing his helmet and Thompson, Saunders watched his BAR man hurrying off, and then the sergeant headed for the officers' tents.
CHAPTER 2
"You must be in a good mood," Hanley said with a faint smile as he pointed to the coffee pot on his makeshift table. "Price wasn't shaking in his boots when he reported back to me."
Saunders held up a hand as he went over to the coffee pot. He never turned down an offer of fresh coffee. Slipping his Thompson off of his shoulder, he propped it against the Lieutenant's cot.
Pouring himself a cup, he replied, "It was just that one time. I was really beat. Didn't mean to shake him up."
"Keeps him on his toes," the officer responded. "Here. Take a look at this map."
Hanley pushed the coffee pot to the edge of the table and pointed to a map spread out before them. Saunders leaned over and studied it carefully.
With his finger on a spot, the Lieutenant said, "The Company's planning to move into this little town soon. We should have been there already, but we got delayed."
Looking up at his sergeant, he continued, "The Maquis have said that it's completely deserted. No civilians or krauts. But we can't just take their word for it."
The sergeant nodded. "So you want me to take my men in to check the town out."
"The sooner the better," Hanley answered. "The brass are champing at the bit to get in there. Like I said, we're behind their schedule."
Folding the map, the officer handed it to his sergeant. "Hopefully the Maquis are right, but be careful."
Saunders took one last sip of his coffee and then tucked the map into his field jacket. "I'm always careful."
Picking up his Thompson, the sergeant left the tent and headed back to his squad's bivouac.
CHAPTER 3
"A town?" Kirby asked as he loaded up on extra mags for his BAR. "Think there might be some mam'selles there?"
Saunders clipped his utility belt on. "Town's deserted. We're going in to make sure it's deserted."
"You drop off your postcard, Kirby?" Caje asked, checking his Garand one more time.
The BAR man grinned and looked over at their sergeant. "Uh huh. Clerk said it was fine. Told me it was good field expediency and that he'd seen a lot worse make it through."
Saunders smiled silently as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth. Stuffing extra mags for the Thompson into his field jacket, he took the unlit cigarette from the corner of his mouth and looked at his men.
"Everyone ready?"
"Just about," Billy replied as he searched for his helmet. When Littlejohn handed it to him, Nelson smiled.
"Thanks, Littlejohn," he said, slipping the helmet on.
Waiting for his men to finish up, Saunders pulled out his lighter, ran his thumb across the engraving and lit his cigarette. Seeing that everyone seemed good to go, he turned with a wave of his hand and headed toward the road.
"Let's move out."
It was a pretty straightforward route to the town. The road eventually came to an intersection and Saunders stopped. To the left was the town, as the worn sign post indicated. Off to the right, the road wound its way back behind their lines. Eventually the remainder of King Company would be coming up from that direction.
Saunders headed left toward the town. The closer the squad came to the village, the more cautious their sergeant became. As they reached the first building on the outskirts of town, he could feel the tension rising in his men. He held up a hand and everyone stopped.
Silently studying the buildings and street, the sergeant listened for any activity. Nothing. It seemed to be exactly what they were expecting…totally deserted. But he wasn't taking any chances. They would carefully clear the entire town.
"We'll go in pairs," he finally decided. "Leapfrog each other and stay under cover as much as possible."
He looked at each man to be sure they understood, and then Saunders pointed across the cobblestone street. "Littlejohn…Billy, you two go first on that side of the road."
"Brockmeyer…Perez, this side of the road."
Looking up the street at the rows of heavily damaged buildings, he added, "We're not taking any chances. Once you're a few buildings down, the rest of us'll follow and go over those buildings again."
"Ok, head out," their sergeant said softly. "Slow and easy."
As the men began to move, Saunders added quickly, "Be thorough and watch your step for booby traps."
It was not unusual for the krauts to pull out of a town and leave behind a demolition team to set booby traps, or imbed a team of snipers.
As the four soldiers spread out and began a building by building search, Saunders watched them for a moment.
Turning to the remainder of his men, he said, "Caje…you and Steller take Doc and in a minute you're gonna follow Littlejohn and Billy. Kirby and I'll follow Brock and Perez."
Everyone nodded and waited for their sergeant's signal to move.
CHAPTER 4
When Saunders finally motioned for the rest of the patrol to move out, the first two pairs of soldiers were already several buildings up the street. If any krauts had managed to avoid detection, the sergeant was hoping that the follow up teams would be able to flush them out.
Watching Brockmeyer and Perez carefully as he moved forward, Saunders slipped into the first building while Kirby provided cover at the front door.
Not much to check, the sergeant thought. When the town had been shelled, the building he was in must have taken a direct hit. Most of the roof had collapsed, and only the front room was accessible. Any other rooms and even the staircase going up to the second floor were all blocked with debris.
And there no longer was a second floor. Large patches of sky could be seen overhead. He checked behind a pile of rubble and went back outside.
As soon as Saunders appeared in the doorway, Kirby moved forward to the next building with his sergeant close behind. With eyes constantly moving, Saunders kept track of his BAR man but continued to steal glances toward the other three teams of his men.
So far everything seemed to be running pretty smoothly. But the sergeant wouldn't relax until they'd searched the very last buildings…twice.
Standing in the doorway of the next building, Saunders scanned the area up and down the street. Except for the sounds of his men running on the cobblestones and debris, all was silent.
As Kirby came out of the building and turned to run up the street, Saunders caught movement in an upper window across the street about forty yards away.
Without even having time to register what he was seeing, Saunders screamed, "Hit it!"
Grabbing Kirby's jacket collar, he spun the soldier around and back into the protection of the doorway. A shot rang out and a bullet plowed into the door jamb next to Saunders' head. Before he could duck into the doorway himself, the first shot was quickly followed by a second.
CHAPTER 5
Saunders' head was jerked into the door frame as the bullet clipped his helmet. Pulling back into the doorway, he spun to look up into the window where he'd seen the movement.
"Where is he?" Caje yelled from across the street.
"Above you and over one to your left," his sergeant replied. "Stay down!"
Looking farther up the street, Saunders could see Littlejohn leaning out of a doorway to try to get a shot at the sniper.
"Littlejohn, stay back!" Saunders shouted to the soldier.
Ahead of him, Saunders knew that Brockmeyer and Perez had already rounded the corner heading onto a side street. They would be wide open with no cover if they tried to return the same way right now. They'd have to circle behind the buildings and try to find another way back to the main street.
It was going to be up to him and Kirby to get the kraut.
Pulling back from the doorway, the sergeant looked at his BAR man. "You ok?"
Kirby wiped a sleeve over his mouth. "Yeah…thanks."
"We're the only ones who've got a good shot at him," Saunders said.
He went to the window, being careful to stay in the shadows. The sniper had a good position where he could see up and down pretty much the entire street.
"See the building across the street with the sign over the door?"
Kirby followed his sergeant's pointing finger. "Yeah."
"He's in the window directly over the sign," Saunders explained.
Kirby could just make out the tip of the German soldier's rifle as it rested on the window sill.
"I'm gonna draw his fire. When you see him shoot, get him."
The BAR man looked across the street again and back at his sergeant. "You sure, Sarge?"
Saunders just nodded. "Get ready."
Leaning against the door jamb safely tucked back from the kraut's sight, the sergeant looked out at the street in front of him. The cobblestones were broken and littered with debris, but the soldier's attention was focused on a wagon lying on its side with a splintered wheel.
One corner of the wagon was tilted downward, and the back corner was pointing skyward. Fat burlap sacks were strewn out onto the street, with even more still remaining stacked in the wagon. Several bags on the street had broken open, and grain had spilled out over the cobblestones.
Perfect cover, Saunders thought as he tried to judge the distance that he'd need to cross to safety. He looked back at his BAR man standing next to him. Kirby waited patiently with his eyes trained steadily on the window across the street.
"Ready?" Saunders asked tensely.
When Kirby nodded, the sergeant took a deep breath, ducked low…and ran out into the street.
CHAPTER 6
Taking two quick, long strides, Saunders dove behind the wagon. Landing hard, he slid on his side through the debris on the cobblestones.
Several bullets tore into the bags of grain and splintered the thick wood planks of the wagon with deadly thumps. One bullet ripped through the wood and ricocheted off of the cobblestones near Saunders' leg, spraying stone dust into the air.
Almost simultaneously the BAR opened up, unloading a half mag into the window frame. A rifle slid over the sill and fell to the cobblestones below, quickly followed by the kraut sniper. The loud thud of the body hitting the street broke the tense silence.
"Sarge?" Kirby called out anxiously to their sergeant hidden behind the overturned wagon.
"Ok," came the response. And then Saunders shouted, "Caje…Steller, check out that building. Stay where you are, Doc. Everyone else stay put."
As Caje and Steller slipped into the building, the Cajun quickly kicked the rifle away from the German's body…just in case. The soldiers all nervously waited under cover as the two men made a thorough search of the entire building.
Saunders sat up and leaned against one wheel, rolling his shoulder and gingerly rubbing his arm. He wiggled his fingers and bent his elbow a few times. Although he'd landed hard in the rubble and was pretty sore, he was sure that nothing was broken. But he wasn't looking forward to seeing the size of the bruise that he knew would be coming.
"All clear, Sarge!" Caje called out from the window where the sniper had been. "Looks like it was just him."
Saunders slowly stood up and came around the wagon. "You and Steller stay up there," he yelled. "Keep watch while we finish clearing the town."
Caje waved his acknowledgement as the sergeant added, "Doc, go on up and stay with them. Everyone keep your eyes open. Snipers rarely work alone."
The medic appeared in a doorway, waved and hurried into the next building to join the two other soldiers. As the men continued their search, Caje and Steller kept close watch from two different windows.
When the patrol neared the last few buildings, Caje called out, "Kraut!"
All of the soldiers instantly slipped under cover as the Cajun fired multiple rounds, emptying his clip toward the edge of town.
"Missed him!" he called out. "Looks like he might have been the spotter for the sniper. You flushed him out of that last building. He got away. Took off over that hill out there."
"Probably just those two," Saunders replied. "But stay up there until we're done."
Again Caje waved his acknowledgement.
One by one each of the remaining buildings was carefully cleared. The rest of their patrol was uneventful, and soon Caje, Steller and Doc rejoined the others on the edge of town.
Saunders looked back at the silent deserted village, rolled his shoulder and winced. "Let's move out."
CHAPTER 7
First squad was finishing up their breakfast as Kirby put a fresh pot of coffee on the low fire.
"When's the kitchen supposed to be set up, Sarge?" Brockmeyer asked as he tucked his gum in his shirt pocket and munched on the last of his biscuits.
"Yeah," Littlejohn agreed. "These rations aren't enough to keep a guy alive."
Saunders reached next to his bedroll, grabbed one of the three remaining ration boxes, and tossed another breakfast K ration to the big man.
"Here," he said with a smile. "The Army generously offers seconds. Kitchen truck isn't even here yet."
Catching the box, Littlejohn replied dejectedly, "Great."
"Coffee ready, Kirby?" Doc asked, stuffing the biscuit wrapper back into the empty carton.
"Almost, Doc," Kirby replied. "Another couple of minutes."
Caje tossed the last of his cold coffee into a nearby bush. Looking over at Nelson, he saw the young soldier busily writing.
"What're you doing, Billy?" he asked curiously.
Nelson looked up, smiled and held out a piece of cardboard. "I figured if Kirby could use a ration box for a postcard, then I can too. It's Wednesday, and I always try to write home on Wednesday."
"Still no paper or V-mail anywhere?" Brockmeyer asked.
Nelson shook his head.
"But there's still no picture on your picture postcard either, Billy," Littlejohn reminded him.
With a smug smile, Nelson turned the cardboard over and held it up. "Oh yes there is."
The words 'Breakfast Ration Type K' were printed in bold block letters. Billy had drawn crude little stick figures with helmets and weapons doing battle between the words and hiding behind the letters.
"See?" Billy explained. "This here's the Sarge, 'cause he's got the Tommy gun. And over here's Doc." He pointed to a stick figure with a little cross on his helmet.
Kirby moved closer and squinted at the cardboard. "Where am I, Billy?"
Nelson looked at it and pointed. "There, see? Behind the 'B'. You've got the BAR."
"I'm mighty skinny," Kirby replied doubtfully.
"They're stick figures, Kirby," Saunders said as he lay back on his bedroll. "Everyone's skinny."
"I don't know if drawing soldiers fighting is what your family really wants to see, Billy," Caje commented.
"Can't think of anything else to draw," Nelson explained as he looked at the figures again.
"Ah, it's fine," Kirby said, going back to check the coffee. "Long as you don't write 'Wish you were here' on it."
"That wouldn't be good," Littlejohn agreed. Looking at his friend, he added, "You didn't do that, did you?"
"No!" Billy replied quickly. "Of course not." He hurriedly scratched out a line on his card.
"Sergeant Saunders?" a familiar voice interrupted their banter.
Saunders closed his eyes and sighed. Price.
CHAPTER 8
"Yeah, Price?" the sergeant replied wearily. "Wait, don't tell me. The Lieutenant wants to see me."
Looking down at the sergeant on his bedroll, the young soldier nodded. "I think it's another patrol."
When all of the men began to groan, Price looked around anxiously and hurried away. The squad watched him scurry off toward the officers' quarters.
"Kinda high strung, ain't he?" Kirby asked, staring at the retreating soldier.
Saunders slowly stood up, stretched and grabbed his Thompson and helmet.
"He's getting better," he replied as he slipped his helmet on. "At least he talked this time."
As he headed toward the officers' tents, the sergeant threw over his shoulder, "Don't get too comfortable."
Picking his way through the various squads bivouacked here and there, Saunders' approached Hanley's tent.
The Lieutenant saw his NCO coming and stepped out to meet him. Just then Price came around the tent with a map in hand. Seeing the sergeant, he quickly held it out to the officer. As soon as Hanley took it, the private disappeared back around the corner of the tent.
"Thanks, Price," the Lieutenant said to empty air.
"He needs a little work," Saunders said, staring at the corner of the tent. "How'd he ever make it through basic?"
Opening the map, the officer replied, "He's a whiz at electronics. The guy can fix anything. I think he could build a radio out of a mess kit. He'll come around."
Adding his own gaze at the corner of the tent, Hanley added, "But he still can't tell one end of a rifle from the other."
After a brief moment of silence, the officer held up the map. "Here's a patrol you'll like."
"We're going to Paris?" Saunders asked as he took the map and examined it.
"I'd be heading up that patrol," Hanley replied with a smile. "This one is just to be sure that the kitchen truck and food get here."
"They lost?" the sergeant asked in confusion.
"They will be," the lieutenant answered. "We were originally supposed to be in the town already. The one you cleared the other day. That's where they're heading right now."
"What do you need a patrol for?" Saunders wondered. "Why not just radio them? They always carry a radio."
"We've been trying," Hanley explained. "Either it's broken or they just turned it off for some reason."
Left unsaid between them was the possibility that the two truck caravan might have been attacked.
The Lieutenant continued, "If someone doesn't intercept them, they'll show up in a ghost town wondering where the Company is."
Saunders looked at the map. "How do I find them? They could be anywhere on the road."
Pointing to the map, the officer replied, "You just need to get to this intersection before they do. They'll be turning right toward the town. You have to get them to turn left toward us."
"So we just need to get there before them and turn 'em this way," the sergeant said.
The Lieutenant nodded. "That's it. You can even ride back in the supply truck that's with the kitchen truck. A milk run."
Saunders gave a skeptical laugh. "The last time you sent me on a 'milk run' Kirby and I came back with a kraut halftrack, a prisoner and a bullet in my leg."
"Well," Hanley answered, "hopefully when you cleared that town, the last of the krauts got cleared out of this sector."
"Hopefully," Saunders responded. "We'll leave right away."
CHAPTER 9
"We're not all going, Sarge?" Nelson asked.
Saunders took his cigarette out of his mouth and flipped it into the dirt. "We're just going to keep the kitchen and supply trucks from heading in the wrong direction. Shouldn't be any kraut activity."
"Supply trucks are coming?" Littlejohn asked hopefully.
The sergeant shook his head as he dropped a spare magazine into his field jacket. "Just the kitchen truck and a food supply truck. The rest are still on their way."
Littlejohn nodded. "Well, at least the food trucks are coming."
"Amen to that," Kirby agreed with a grin.
Caje, Kirby and Brockmeyer were preparing for the patrol as Littlejohn, Billy, Steller, Perez and Doc looked on.
Picking up his BAR, Kirby said, "Hey, you guys get to rest up for dinner. We're just going out for a little stroll. We gotta make sure that Cook and that kitchen truck get here so's we can finally have some hot chow."
Pointing to the pot on the fire in the middle of their bivouac, he added, "Just make sure you keep the coffee hot."
Grabbing his helmet, their sergeant called out, "Ok, let's go."
Although Saunders had taken the map, he hadn't bothered to look at it anymore. They were following the same route that they'd taken to town on their previous patrol. But as they came to a sharp bend in the road, he veered off and headed through the brush up a steep hill.
"I thought we were going toward the town, Sarge," Caje called out.
"Trucks are due any time now," Saunders said over his shoulder as he climbed. "Unless you want to run, this'll cut some time off so we can get to the crossroads before them. The road takes a wide sweep around this hill. If we miss 'em, we'll have to go back into the town to look for them."
"I'd rather climb than run," Kirby admitted as he began to climb behind his sergeant.
"Sooner we meet up with them, the sooner we get back," Brockmeyer agreed, following the BAR man.
Finally reaching the crest of the hill, Saunders stopped and looked around. Pointing into the distance off to their right, he said, "Just in time."
A cloud of dust was enveloping a single vehicle as it moved slowly along the rutted dirt road.
"Didn't you say that there'd be two trucks, Sarge?" Caje asked as they watched the vehicle make its way closer.
"I did," Saunders replied. "Maybe that's not it. But Lieutenant Hanley didn't mention that we're expecting anything else today."
Searching in the distance to be sure there wasn't another vehicle lagging behind, he added, "C'mon. Let's check it out."
Making their way quickly down the hill toward the road, the four soldiers went to intercept the truck.
CHAPTER 10
Standing in the middle of the road, Saunders and his men waited as the truck came closer. The sergeant could tell that it was definitely a U.S. Army truck, but he wasn't about to relax. He could see that there was a lone soldier in the vehicle, but he couldn't tell who he was yet. He waved the driver down.
When the truck came to a halt with a screech of the brakes and an even larger cloud of dirt, the sergeant could finally make out the driver. It was Hash, their Company cook.
The soldier was hard to miss. He was a big man in both height and girth. Cook always joked with the men that he was a victim of his own cooking.
Walking over to the driver, Saunders put his foot up on the step. As he leaned against the truck, he winced and rubbed his still sore shoulder.
"Where's your supply truck, Hash? There's supposed to be two of you."
The cook pointed over his shoulder. "Flat tire. I left my helper with him to change it. Figured I'd go on ahead and start setting up the kitchen. I knew you guys would probably be itching for some hot chow."
"You can say that again," Kirby replied, looking at Caje and Brockmeyer's nods of agreement.
"Your welcoming committee is really appreciated, Sarge," Hash grinned. "But what the heck are you doing out here? You guys lost?"
Saunders smiled. "We're here to keep you from getting lost. The Company isn't in the town yet. They've been trying to reach you. What happened to your radio?"
Hash shook his head. "Ah, Petie left it on and the battery died. Good thing you guys caught up to me. I'd have probably started setting up in town without thinking about it. So where's the Company if they ain't in town?"
The sergeant pointed off to the left. "Out that way. When you hit the fork in the road up ahead a ways, you take a left. A couple miles out. Can't miss 'em."
"Well, I think I'll just stop at the fork and wait for Petie and Gus with the supply truck," Cook said. "Otherwise you'll be coming back out to look for them too."
"We can wait for them," Saunders offered.
"Nah," Hash replied. "I might as well wait. Give me a chance to rank Petie out for letting the battery die. I'd give you guys a lift, but I can only take one passenger. The supply truck should have room, but it might take 'em another hour or so to get here. Don't know how good those two jokers are at changing a tire."
Saunders looked back at the empty road behind them. No sign of a truck for as far as he could see.
"Thanks, but if you're gonna wait for them, we'll just head back. We can be back to the billet in less than an hour."
"Suit yourself," Hash answered. "Thanks for giving me the heads up."
With a quick wave, Saunders started back up the hill with his men right behind him. Just as they crested the hill, an explosion ripped into the road below them.
CHAPTER 11
Instantly the four soldiers hit the dirt. Saunders looked down to the road to see the kitchen truck smoking, with a mangled right front side. Land mine.
When he saw an arm move in the driver's window, the sergeant jumped to his feet.
Running down the hill, he yelled over his shoulder, "Stay here and cover me. He's still alive."
Slipping and sliding on the rocks, Saunders managed to stay upright as he raced to the truck's cab. Smoke was pouring from the engine, and he knew that he had very little time before the gas cans strapped on both sides of the truck exploded.
Finding the door jammed shut, the sergeant tossed his Thompson down, planted a boot on the side of the truck and used both hands to pull on the door frame. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he gave it everything he had.
With a loud screeching of metal on metal, Saunders ripped the door open.
"Hash!" he yelled, pulling the door wide enough to get to the man.
The soldier was barely conscious, with blood seeping from a gash in his forehead. Grabbing his arm, Saunders tried to drag him out of the cab as flames ignited the canvas that was covering the back of the truck. A thin stream of fire leapt outward, scorching the back of the sergeant's helmet. He shouted and arched his back as another flame flicked against his shoulder.
Saunders fought the panic that was welling inside, threatening to consume him. Flashbacks of being trapped in a burning barn flooded his mind.
But as much as his instincts were screaming for him to run, he knew that he could never leave the soldier to that fate. He kept pulling until with one last heave, the man tumbled from the cab and both of them fell to the ground.
Saunders stood up to drag Hash away from the truck as one of the gas cans on the other side of the vehicle exploded. As the truck rocked, it was quickly followed by another explosion. The vehicle shuddered with the violent concussion of the blast.
The sergeant was knocked off his feet, landing hard on the ground on his injured shoulder. Quickly getting back up onto his knees, he continued to drag the soldier farther from the truck that was now engulfed in flames.
Welcome arms reached out as Caje and Kirby helped to pull both soldiers to a safer distance. Brockmeyer stood halfway down the hill, nervously watching the road in both directions while stealing glances back to watch the four soldiers near the burning truck.
Saunders looked back at the flaming vehicle and could just feel the difference as the fire touched the truck's gas tank.
"Get down!" he screamed, and both Caje and Kirby dropped flat just as the vehicle went up in a huge fireball, with flames shooting skyward.
Saunders leaned over Hash to offer the injured soldier some sort of protection from the flying debris and bits of smoking canvas raining down around them.
When it appeared that there would be no more explosions, Saunders sat up cautiously to see if anyone was hurt. Both Caje and Kirby sat up as well, staring at the fiery ball that was once the Company's kitchen truck.
Wiping sweat from his forehead with a sleeve, Kirby sighed. "No hot chow tonight."
CHAPTER 12
"Hash, you ok?" Saunders asked as he rolled off of the big man.
Hearing the soldier groan at least told him that the man was still alive. Looking around, he saw Brockmeyer halfway up the hill, keeping watch and giving them cover.
"Brock…anything?" Saunders was worried about who had heard the explosion.
"Nothing, Sarge," the soldier called out in reply. "All clear so far."
The cook opened his eyes and blinked blankly several times. "What happened?" Reaching up, he wiped some blood from his eye and stared at his hand.
"Land mine," the sergeant answered. "Where you hurt?"
As Hash struggled to sit up, Caje and Kirby helped him. Seeing his truck engulfed in flames, the soldier groaned again.
"Oh, no! My truck!"
When Cook tried to stand, Saunders held him down. "Nothing you can do about it now. Lucky the truck hit it on the right side or you'd be dead."
Just then Brockmeyer shouted, "Sarge! There's a vehicle coming. Fast!"
"Get him behind those rocks!" Saunders yelled to Caje and Kirby as he ran over to scoop up his Thompson.
The two soldiers immediately pulled the big man up and half carried, half dragged the cook to an outcropping of rocks at the base of the hill.
Bounding up the hill to Brockmeyer, Saunders said, "What's it look like? Krauts?"
The private stared into the distance intently. "Can't tell yet. They're kicking up too much dust."
Saunders looked out and focused on the incoming vehicle. It was indeed moving fast. Too fast for a tank, he thought. But too big for a jeep. He was sure that they'd heard the explosion.
Looking back to check on Hash and his two men, Saunders' mind was rapidly racing through all of the possible scenarios and outcomes.
And then Brockmeyer said excitedly, "Sarge, look! It's one of ours."
CHAPTER 13
"Stay here and keep an eye out," Saunders ordered as he slid down the hill again toward the back of the still burning truck on the road.
Standing thirty yards from the vehicle, Saunders waited. The rolling black smoke drifted off to his left, with occasional tendrils snaking out to briefly encircle him before fading with the slight breeze.
The fire was hot on his back and he rolled his shoulder to try to ease the pain. His one shoulder had been taking a lot of punishment in the last couple of days. He'd landed on it again when the truck exploded, and now he could feel his shoulder blade where he'd been burnt when the fire had flared out.
Thinking of what he'd endured in that burning barn, he soon forgot about his shoulder as the approaching truck came into view. It was the supply truck, towing a small mobile shower. Sliding to a halt, the vehicle kicked up a cloud of dust as two soldiers flew out of the cab on either side.
"Where's Hash?" a young man yelled in wide-eyed panic as he ran toward the burning truck. "Is he still in there?"
Saunders reached out and grabbed the soldier's arm. "Take it easy."
"I'm ok, Petie," Hash called out as he slowly made his way toward the young man with Caje and Kirby by his sides.
"Oh, man," Petie said in relief. "I thought…"
"Yeah," the cook interrupted, putting a hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "I would have been toast if the Sarge hadn't dragged me outta there."
Saunders winced, flinching slightly under Hash's hand. With a faint smile he replied, "We lose you and we'll be eating K rats all the way to Berlin."
Waving to Brockmeyer, he called the soldier off of the hill. Then he turned back to Cook. "If we're gonna get the supply truck back in one piece, you'll need to keep it off the road."
"You ok, Sarge?" Caje asked, pointing to the back of his sergeant's field jacket. The burnt spot was not large, but it was quite obvious.
Saunders dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "It's ok."
"Well, you were sure lucky you had that helmet on," Kirby added, pointing to the back of his sergeant's helmet.
Slipping his helmet off to take a look, Saunders stared for a brief moment at the scorched black spot where the flame had reached out for him. Without replying to his BAR man, the sergeant put his helmet back on.
"Hash," he said, "You three guys get in the truck. We'll walk in front of you and check for mines. But we're going to stay off to the side of the road. It'll be really slow going for awhile, but we're not going to take any chances."
With a nod, the cook said, "Let's go, Petie. Gus…you drive."
CHAPTER 14
The return trip to their billet was indeed agonizingly slow and tense as Saunders and his men walked spread out ahead of the truck. The sergeant didn't expect to hit any mines on the narrow side of the dirt road, but he was still taking it slow.
Tension was high and the soldiers were practically drowning in adrenalin as they made their way toward their billet. When their front lines finally came into view dug in up ahead, Saunders began to relax. No krauts would have been able to plant mines this close to their front lines.
He stopped and waited for the truck to catch up to them. "You should be ok now. Go on in."
Waving his own three men back toward their bivouac, the sergeant headed to the officers' quarters. Standing outside Hanley's tent, Saunders gingerly rolled his shoulder again and slung his Thompson over the opposite shoulder.
"Lieutenant?"
The officer looked up from a map he had spread out in front of him on his makeshift table.
Standing up straight, he replied, "C'mon in."
Looking at his sergeant with concern, he added, "Everyone ok? The front lines reported hearing an explosion."
Saunders took off his helmet and dropped it onto the table. Quickly running a hand through his hair, he answered, "Kitchen truck hit a land mine. I guess the krauts were busy before they pulled out of the sector."
"Casualties?" Hanley asked.
The sergeant pulled out his pack of cigarettes, shaking his head. "Hash got out with just a bump on the head. The supply truck had a flat tire back a ways and Hash went on ahead leaving Petie to help Gus change the tire. Otherwise Petie would be dead."
Lighting his cigarette, Saunders offered the pack to the officer. Hanley shook his head. "Supply truck make it back ok?"
Nodding in reply, Saunders briefly ran his thumb over the engraving on his lighter before tucking it back into his jacket.
"How about their radio? What happened?" the officer asked.
"Like you thought," Saunders answered. "Battery died."
As he looked down at the table, the Lieutenant noticed his sergeant's helmet.
Picking it up, he asked, "Got a little too close to the action?"
With a quick glance at the scorched helmet and the gouge where the bullet had clipped him earlier, Saunders inhaled deeply on his cigarette. "Hash needed a little help getting out of the truck."
The officer knew that he wasn't going to get much more detail from his sergeant. He'd have to wait until he questioned Hash, Kirby, Caje and Brockmeyer.
"You'll have to send a detail out to check that road again before anyone else tries to come through there," Saunders said.
With a nod, the Lieutenant replied, "I'll do that right now. We're expecting the rest of the Company tomorrow morning. Why don't you go take a break for the rest of the day."
With a silent nod, Saunders picked up his helmet and slipped it on. Leaving the tent, he flipped his cigarette into the grass as he headed to First squad's bivouac.
CHAPTER 15
"Hey, Sarge?" came a voice from behind the prone sergeant.
Saunders twisted to look up at the soldier. "Yeah, Petie?"
The young soldier came around the sergeant's bedroll to face him. "Hash said that the mobile shower is set up, and he wants you guys to use it first. He said it's his way of saying thanks. He had Gus and I set it up over there just before you get to the latrines." He pointed off to their right.
The men all sat up on their bedrolls where they'd been relaxing.
"Hey, that's great!" Nelson exclaimed.
"You gotta go first, Sarge," Brockmeyer said.
"Yeah," Caje agreed. "You're the one who pulled Hash out of that truck."
Kirby looked up at Petie. "Hey! Any chance for hot chow?"
"The truck's gone, Kirby," Littlejohn reminded the soldier. "Nothing to make hot chow on."
Petie smiled. "Actually, Hash is trying to jury-rig something. Don't count it out quite yet."
The BAR man grinned hopefully. "Well, you tell our chef that if he needs any help, William G. will be happy to give it to him."
"Water's hot, Sarge," Petie said before leaving. "Anytime you're ready."
Saunders was already up and off of his bedroll, looking for his wash kit and towel. "Kirby…Caje…Brock, you can flip for who goes next. The rest of you follow them."
Pulling out his only clean shirt, Saunders stripped off his utility belt and field jacket. When he took his shirt off, the squad fell silent. As he pulled his undershirt up over his head, the sergeant noticed the silence and looked around.
Doc finally broke the silence. "Caje said that everyone was ok. You're definitely not ok, Sarge."
The medic pointed at his sergeant's shoulder. Saunders' entire upper arm was an ugly mixture of deep shades of purple and blue, with the outer edges already turning a sickening green. In the middle of his same shoulder blade was a blistered raw spot the size of a silver dollar. Saunders automatically reached up to lightly touch his arm.
"Looks worse than it is," the sergeant replied. "It'll feel better in the shower."
Indicating the large bruise, he added, "Not much you can do for it anyway."
Pointing to the burn on his sergeant's back, the medic responded, "Well, there is something I can do about that. After your shower I can put some ointment on it. You don't want it to get infected."
Silently relenting with a quick nod, Saunders grabbed his towel and soap and headed to the shower.
CHAPTER 16
Making his way back to their bivouac, Saunders was definitely feeling better. The first spray of water had burned ferociously on his back, but then it began to numb out. By the end of his shower he had hated the idea of getting out. But he had to leave it. Brockmeyer had won the right to shower next, and he was standing nearby with his wash kit and towel.
Doc was waiting when the sergeant got back to the squad. Saunders took the wet towel from around his neck and hung it over the branch of a nearby dead tree. Sitting down on his bedroll, he leaned forward and looked up at the medic.
"So what's that?" he asked, pointing to a tube of medicine in the medic's hand.
"Sulfadiazine," Doc replied, holding it out.
"I thought that was a pill?" Saunders asked in confusion.
Doc nodded. "It's a pill, but this here's an ointment, especially for burns."
"Wow," Billy said in awe. "That's some medicine. Works both inside you and out."
Watching intently, Kirby said, "Hey, Doc. You gonna poke him with that stick? That's gotta hurt."
"Stick?" Saunders said with concern, trying to look over his shoulder at the medic.
Doc smiled and held out the small flat stick. "It's an applicator. I'm not gonna poke you, Sarge. It helps to keep it clean."
Slowly and carefully the medic spread the ointment on his sergeant's burn. At first Saunders tensed and sat up straighter. But as the salve covered the raw area, he visibly relaxed.
When the medic finished, he asked his sergeant, "Better?"
Saunders nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Doc."
As the sergeant reached for his undershirt, Doc said, "Wait awhile before you put anything on. Give the medicine a chance to work. Then I'll put a bandage over it."
Hesitating, Saunders finally put down his shirt and reached over for his book. Opening it up, he began to read…and wait.
TO BE CONTINUED
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