No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author.
Thanks to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading.
Intersection
by: Queen's Bishop
2021 © Reg. No. TXu 2-280-049
[] Indicates German or French is being spoken, depending on the character.
()()()() Indicates time has passed or the focus of the story
has shifted to another character or location.
### Indicates the beginning or end of a flashback.
Chapter 1 – Rain
The blond-haired blue-eyed sergeant lay quietly on his bedroll for a moment, listening to the quiet. There were no sounds of war this morning, neither close by nor in the distance. He reached for his helmet as he sat up, then the rest of his gear as he stood. He made his way to the door of the squad's billet, stepping over the leg of one sprawled soldier. He turned and glanced around; no tell-tale noise he had made had awakened anyone. He opened the door and slipped outside into the cool morning air.
He sat on a crate near the door and pulled on his boots. As he stood again, he adjusted the cartridge belt around his waist and slung his weapon over his shoulder. Only then did he walk away from the building where his sleeping men had sheltered for the night. He stopped at a tree and for a few minutes he was free of the responsibility he carried for other men's lives. All of the bad dreams of the night also seemed to melt away and he was left with only the memories of home.
The sergeant pulled out a cigarette and lit it. From their frequent letters, he tried to imagine how his family would spend their day. He thought of his siblings, how they had grown and matured since he left home. His mother would also look older now, not only from the time that had passed but also from worry.
Although a heavy cloud cover blocked the stars, millions, maybe billions of them were still there. He smiled as he remembered waking up his baby sister and younger brothers and taking them outside for a meteor shower or to point out the constellations to them.
'I wonder if they ever search the night sky and think about those times so long ago,' he thought.
Yes, these early mornings were precious to him. But his thoughts were interrupted by a disembodied voice.
[Sergeant, there you are. Lt. Maltz wants to see you.]
Sgt. Jünger sighed. "Ja, ja," he said as he carefully snuffed out the cigarette against the tree and slipped the butt into his pocket.
()()()()()()()()()()
"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?" Saunders asked as he followed Brockmeyer into the CP. Then, after spotting the dark circles under Hanley's eyes, he asked, "Another late night?" Since Cpt. Jampel liked to have one of his platoon leaders with him for a 'boots-on-the-ground' tactical assessment when he met with Col. Dale to map strategy for an upcoming offensive, it didn't take a genius to figure out that something was up.
The lieutenant gave a weary smile and responded with a chuckle. "Nothing escapes you does it."
Saunders flashed a grin. "Not if I can help it, Lieutenant."
Although they always maintained strict military decorum, Brockmeyer marveled at the easy rapport the two men had. It was quite unlike the reserve the lieutenant exhibited when meeting with the other squad leaders of Second Platoon. The corporal was aware that Saunders and Hanley had a history but he also knew that he was unlikely to ever learn what the story behind their friendship was.
Hanley spread a map out on the plank held up by crates of ammo that served as his field desk. "The Germans have pulled back all along this section of the line," the lieutenant said as his finger traced an imaginary boundary on the paper. "S-2 thinks they're massing for an attack but they don't know where the Krauts plan to hit. We're pretty weak at the moment so we're sending out squads all along the line to try to find out where to expect the attack so we can prepare."
Saunders didn't need S-2 to tell him that things had been unusually quiet for the last few days. Every soldier with more than forty-eight hours on the line sensed something was in the wind. All during their patrol yesterday it had been like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"What do you want us to do, Lieutenant?" he asked.
"Third Squad set up an OP at the local government office here in Mardur two days ago," Hanley said as he indicated a dot on the map. "Relieve Henderson and keep watch. Radio in if you see any activity."
"Sure, but I don't know how much we're gonna be able to see if this cloud cover doesn't lift. It looks like we're in for a big storm."
"I know, but do the best you can. The Krauts might use the rain to cover their moves. Head out as soon as the men have had breakfast."
"Right, Lieutenant," Saunders said as he picked up the map.
He was almost to the door when Hanley said, "Saunders, call in every four hours whether you see anything or not."
"Right, Lieutenant," the sergeant replied as he exited the CP.
()()()()()()()()()()
The men clung to the wall of the last building on the street to avoid being spotted but also for whatever shelter the wall provided from the lashing wind and heavy stinging rain. Soldat Kort Herkel shivered and pulled the collar of his raincoat more tightly around his neck. The men were waiting for their sergeant to return from his reconnaissance of the village.
There was a general sigh of relief when he suddenly appeared, seemingly materializing out of the storm. [They're here,] Jünger said in a voice just loud enough for the words not be carried away by the wind. [It looks like just one squad but we'll still have to be careful. They're in the big house on the south side of the village square.]
[Is that the house with a cupola that has a 360-degree view?] Hans asked.
[Why aren't they using the church bell tower? It's taller,] Otto said.
Hans laughed and then responded, [Because, dummkopf, we blew it up when we pulled out.]
[Oh, right. I forgot.]
[If you're done…] Jünger said sarcastically.
Kort cut him off saying, [Yeah, shut up so the sergeant can finish and we can get out of this rain.]
Jünger glared at him. The rest of the men smirked as they impatiently shuffled their feet, waiting.
[Besides having men in the house, they've got two patrolling the streets. Even though those two spend most of their time standing in doorways, you still have to be careful.] The sergeant paused and searched the faces of his men, looking for any sign of fear or confusion. Only one, Herkel, looked nervous; the rest had faced the enemy before. [Remember, go in pairs and pick your hiding places with caution. Once you're set, don't go out and wander around. When we strike, it must be a complete surprise. And don't forget, the first man out picks up the radio and we rendezvous at the farmhouse. Now, let's synchronize our watches. I have 0924…45…50…55…mark.]
Two at a time, he sent six of his men out until only Soldat Herkel remained. Nobody wanted to partner with him, and the sergeant didn't blame them. Herkel was smart, and could be a good soldier when he chose to be. The problem was, he didn't often make that choice. He shirked his share of the routine tasks a soldier had to perform and feigned illness when he couldn't otherwise weasel out of an unpleasant assignment. The only reason he had even ended up on this patrol was that Jünger wanted seven men with him to carry out the mission he had been given. So, the sergeant had ordered Herkel, threatening him at the point of a bayonet, to join the rest of the squad. And now, this reluctant soldier would be his partner as they executed the final step of the plan.
[Alright, Herkel, follow me. I know a cellar where we can hide. It will give us a good view of the village square.]
[Sergeant, shouldn't we position ourselves further down a street, away from the Americans?]
Jünger stared at him in disgust. [No! I want to know what the Americans are doing, and we can't carry out our assignment if we're not close to the target. Now, let's go.]
Kort reluctantly followed his sergeant, holding the collar of his raincoat with one hand and his rifle with the other.
()()()()()()()()()()
When they started the mission, it was just beginning to sprinkle. But now, as the squad walked along a well-trod path beside a stone wall, it was raining hard. And, to make matters worse, the wind was whipping the individual droplets into stinging pellets that splattered against their faces and made a thunderous racket as they smashed against their helmets. To their right lay an untended field. To the left, on the opposite side of a stone wall, was a line of old trees and beyond the trees, another field. But visibility was so limited they had trouble making out the trees, let alone anything beyond them.
"BOY, I'M GONNA BE GLAD WHEN WE GET THERE," Nelson said as his foot sank in a puddle of muddy water. He spoke loudly, but doubted anyone could hear him.
"WHY? YA THINK SAUNDERS IS GONNA LET YA TAKE YOUR BOOTS OFF AN' WARM YOUR FEET IN FRONT OF A BIG COZY FIRE?" Sidwell, who was plodding along in front of Billy, shouted back.
That was what Nelson was hoping, but hearing Sidwell, an experienced soldier although a recent addition to the squad, say it out loud made him reconsider. The sergeant might let them build a small fire to heat up coffee if the downpour continued, but that was about it.
When he hollered his reply into the wind, Billy lowered his voice to try to sound more mature. "NO, 'COURSE NOT," he chuckled. "ONLY A GREEN KID WOULD THINK THAT."
Sidwell snorted.
Billy wished Littlejohn was ahead of him but after the last break, the sergeant had sent the big private up front with Caje. Visibility was so limited that Saunders wanted two men on point. If Littlejohn had still been in front of him, he might have gone along with Billy's daydream for a while before bringing him back to reality. Even the Sarge would have found a way to let him know there wasn't going to be some big roaring fire without making him feel like an inexperience replacement.
They continued walking in silence with the rain muffling all sounds until Billy thought Kirby said, "Get the Sarge…" but the words were so faint that perhaps his ears were playing tricks on him and it was actually the wind that had whispered the message. Still, Nelson spun around just to be sure. The BAR man had taken off his helmet and was walking backward. However, he wasn't doing the little dance of a step or two back then spinning to face front. Kirby was walking backward.
Billy took off, running up the line until he reached Saunders. "SARGE, KIRBY NEEDS YOU. I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING BEHIND US," he shouted.
Saunders turned around; the rainwater was streaming down his face. "FIND CAJE AND LITTLEJOHN. TELL THEM TO STOP AN' TAKE COVER ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL. PULL THE REST OF THE MEN OFF THE PATH AS THEY REACH YOU. IF IT'S KRAUTS, LET THEM PASS. YOU GOT IT?" the sergeant yelled in response.
Nelson nodded and took off to find the two point men. Saunders unslung the Thompson and quickly checked it. He had been carrying it barrel down on his shoulder but now he wanted the weapon comfortably in his hands. He jogged past the rest of the squad, giving each man the same message, "KEEP MOVING 'TIL YOU REACH CAJE AN' LITTLEJOHN!"
There was a gap after Sidwell, then he spotted Kirby, walking slowly backward. The BAR man was turning his head to look forward only enough to keep from tripping over something, but when he spotted the sergeant, he stopped, took a knee and waited.
"YA HEAR IT?" Kirby asked.
Saunders crouched beside the soldier and also took off his helmet. He tilted his head and listened. At first, he could only hear the rain and the wind whipping through the branches of the nearby trees. Then he closed his eyes and let the storm melt away. And suddenly there it was; the faint rhythmic sound of metal hitting against metal. Once he had the sound in his ear, it was easy to pick it out against the storm. He stared down the path the squad had just sloshed through, but couldn't see anything. And, with the storm, it was hard to determine how far away the noise was.
The two men stood and put their helmets back on and the faint clanging instantaneously disappeared. Saunders nudged Kirby and said, "C'MON, WE'LL WAIT WITH THE OTHERS."
Together, they hurried up the path and clamored over the wall when they reached the spot where the rest of First Squad waited, rifles at the ready.
"WHAT IS IT?" Billy asked.
"SOMETHIN' BANGIN' AS SOMEONE WALKS,' Kirby said.
"HOW'D YA HEAR IT?" Sidwell asked.
Kirby grinned. "I TOOK MY HELMET OFF 'CAUSE I HAD AN ITCH."
Sidwell snorted. Billy looked at Littlejohn and the big man shook his head and rolled his eyes as if to say, "Leave it to Kirby to scratch his head in the middle of a downpour."
"MAYBE IT'S A KRAUT'S RIFLE HITTIN' AGAINST HIS CANTEEN," Green, the replacement fresh out of Basic, said. Even the whipping wind couldn't cover the nervous shake in his voice.
Sidwell sneered and replied, "KRAUT CANTEENS AIN'T METAL."
Once again Billy glanced at Littlejohn. He was glad his pal never made him feel like an idiot when he said something stupid.
Saunders snapped at his men, "ALRIGHT, ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP!"
The chatter immediately ended, leaving only the sounds of the storm. After a minute or two, first faintly and then gradually very clearly, the sound of a rhythmic clanging drew closer and closer. The men sank down a little further behind the stone wall although their eyes remained riveted on the path. Ever so slowly, a form emerged out of the rain. As it took shape and was identified, each man exhaled a sigh of relief.
It was a cow with a bell hanging from a strap around its neck. As the beast lumbered past the crouched men, its bell, although muffled against the sound of the storm, clanged with each step.
They waited and another small form appeared, a young boy. Saunders tapped Caje on the shoulder and jerked his thumb toward the child. The scout stood and stepped over the wall. The boy shrank back in fear.
[PETIT, DON'T BE AFRAID. I'M AN AMERICAN. I'M NOT GOING TO HARM YOU,] the Cajun called.
[AMERICAN?] the boy asked cautiously.
Caje smiled and nodded. The rest of the men stood, eliciting a smile from the child.
[WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH YOUR COW?] the Cajun asked.
[HOME. THE BOCHE HAVE LEFT THE VILLAGE SO GRANDPERE SAID IT IS SAFE FOR US TO COME HOME AND TO BRING JEANNE D'ARC OUT OF HIDING,] the boy explained.
[WHERE IS HOME?]
The boy waved his arm to indicate someplace off to their right.
[WHY DON'T YOU CUT THROUGH THE FIELD?]
The child stared at the scout in amazement and then laughed as if to say adults, or maybe just Americans, are so stupid. Then, speaking slowly, he explained, [BECAUSE, MONSIEUR, COWS FOLLOW THE SAME PATH HOME. JEANNE D'ARC WOULD BE UPSET IF I TRIED TO GO ANOTHER WAY.]
Caje nodded. [PETIT, LISTEN CAREFULLY. TELL YOUR GRANDPERE THAT IT IS NOT YET SAFE TO COME HOME. THE BOCHE ARE STILL IN THE AREA AND MAY RETURN AGAIN. YOU MUST GO BACK INTO HIDING AND TAKE JEANNE D'ARC WITH YOU.]
The boy furrowed his brow, as if not quite believing what the soldier was telling him. [HOW WILL GRANDPERE KNOW WHEN IT IS SAFE TO RETURN?] he asked suspiciously.
Saunders had come up beside the scout and Caje filled him in, then asked him how to reply to the question.
"HAVE HIS GRANDFATHER WAIT THREE DAYS. IF THERE ARE NO MORE SOUNDS OF BATTLE, IT WILL BE SAFE," the sergeant responded. He figured things would be decided by then, one way or another.
Caje relayed the message and added, [DON'T FORGET, PETIT. TELL YOUR GRANDPERE YOU MET SOME AMERICAN SOLDIERS AND THAT IS WHAT THEY SAID.]
"OUI, MONSIEUR," the boy replied as he took off running to catch up with his cow.
Saunders waved the squad forward and they resumed their walk toward the village. Not long afterward, they came to a less well-traveled path off to the right. Caje smiled. If it hadn't been raining so hard, he was sure he would have spotted the boy and Jeanne d'Arc headed for home.
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter 2 – Hide and Seek
Sgt. Jünger and Soldat Herkel stood beside the double doors that opened to the storage cellar of the general mercantile. During their previous occupation of the village, Jünger had learned the two ways into the cellar. The first was the most common. Walk up the few steps to the covered porch, enter through the front door of the store, go around the counter to the small back storeroom and down a flight of stairs.
The second entrance was through these double doors which opened onto the street. This was the access the store proprietor used to accept heavy items like plows, sacks of grain and barrels of wine that hadn't been bottled to be sold piecemeal. It opened onto a loft so those heavy, bulky items didn't take up precious space in the back storeroom or have to be hoisted up and down the cellar stairs. Besides the double doors, the loft could be reached by stepping onto the landing from the storeroom stairs. The proprietor kept the cellar secure with a heavy block of wood lying in metal 'J' hooks attached to each of the double doors.
Jünger pulled out his bayonet and slipped it in the opening between the doors.
[Sergeant, why don't we just go in the front door?] Kort Herkel asked.
The sergeant closed his eyes and sighed. 'Was Herkel being lazy or did he lack common sense?' Jünger asked himself.
[Because, Herkel, we would leave a trail of wet footprints that anyone looking in the store window would see.]
[Oh, I guess we would.]
The sergeant pushed his bayonet up and the block of wood, which he had precariously balanced before they left the village, lifted the final centimeter and toppled to the floor of the loft. Jünger smiled. If anyone had asked him why he had taken the trouble to position the bar before his unit retreated, he wouldn't have been able to give a reason. It was just a feeling he had had that they would be back.
Even if there had been any Americans in the village square, the sound of the wood crashing to the floor of the loft would have been drown out by the noise of the storm. So Jünger and Herkel were able to slip into the cellar and close the door behind them unnoticed.
[Take off your raincoat, boots and helmet and put them in that corner,] the sergeant commanded as he lifted the wooden bar and put it back into position.
With only the sergeant's flashlight to pierce the gloom, the two men stashed their gear in the corner. Then they descended the stairs to the floor of the cellar and moved crates and barrels around to create a square with a hollow center where they could hide if the storage area was searched. After finishing that task, the sergeant climbed back up to the loft and stood by the small grated window that was cut into one of the double doors. Its original purpose had been to allow someone to check to make sure nobody was standing in front of the door before it was opened. But now, it gave Jünger a clear view of the village square.
()()()()()()()()()()
The rain had let up considerably by the time the squad trudged into town. Sgt. Henderson and several members of Third Squad came out of a large house to meet them as they crossed the village square.
"Glad to see ya, Saunders. How was the trip in?" Henderson asked.
"Wet," was Saunders' one word reply as he took off his helmet and wiped his damp sleeve across his face.
"Well, come on inside and get yourselves dried off. I've got a pot a hot coffee ready for ya."
His men waited expectantly for Saunders to give the go-ahead, but the sergeant just stood quietly assessing the situation. Third Squad had been essentially blind during the storm and their OP in the cupola would have been useless. Just as importantly, Henderson hadn't had enough men to cover all of the routes into the town. After a moment, he asked, "When was the last time you flushed out the village?"
Kirby gave a groan.
"Look, with all the rain…" Henderson started to say.
"…It would've been easy for Krauts to sneak in," Saunders completed his statement.
"If they had, they woulda shot at us," Billings, a member of Third Squad sarcastically stated.
Saunders gave him an icy glare, a look that his own men had seen before and understood all too well.
"No, Saunders is right," Henderson said. "Billings and Howard, go find Lucas and Pratt. You boys start at the outskirts an' flush out all the buildings on this street." He pointed to the main road bisecting the village. "Do a good job; check all the rooms, cellars an' attics, under the beds an' in the wardrobes. You know the drill. Ronowski, you're on me. We'll start at the mercantile an' work our way up that street." He pointed to a cross street that ran out from the village square.
The First Squad sergeant sent his men off in pairs to cover the rest of the village until only Littlejohn, Green and the medic were left. Saunders headed for the large ostentatious house that dominated the square. Hanley had said it was the local government office. Whatever it was, Doc's assessment, "Well, that sure is a monstrosity stuck here in the middle of this little town," summed it up.
At three stories plus the cupola it was more like a Rube Goldberg grand country manor put together as its function changed over time. Two wings, one of which looked like it was probably the original structure, were attached to a center entrance-way, giving the building the appearance of the letter 'H'. The outer walls of the first floor were made of stone, but the two additional floors were wood, all with varying architectural features. And if that wasn't enough, there was also a portico stuck off the left wing to further set it apart from the other buildings in the village. The portico would have allowed first carriages and then automobiles to drop off passengers knowing they would be protected from the weather.
The four men entered through the front door and found themselves in a large foyer with a sweeping staircase straight ahead and two short hallways to their left and right. If the outside was a mishmash, at first glance, the interior of the building was the exact opposite. It appeared that someone had taken the trouble to keep it updated with each new addition and change in function.
"Littlejohn, leave the radio here with Doc an' Green. Check out the left side of this floor," Saunders said.
The sergeant headed down the corridor to the right wing. Opening the doors as he went, he found a meeting room and several small offices before reaching the kitchen which took up most of the end of the wing. Within the kitchen there were two doors, one of which led to a pantry. In earlier times, the shelves had probably been well-stocked, but now all of them were bare. A second door led outside to a small storage shed. Also in the kitchen was a circular staircase that coiled its way to the third floor. After finishing his cursory inspection, Saunders returned to the foyer.
Littlejohn was already there. "It's just one big room, Sarge. They must have parties or dances there," the big man matter-of-factly stated. "The only door is to that covered porch where the guests arrive."
Leaving Green and the medic on the ground floor, Saunders and Littlejohn, toting the squad's radio, climbed the stairs to the second floor. If the first floor had been for business and official functions, the second was the family living quarters with bedrooms in the left wing and a finely furnished parlor and library on the right. At the end of that hallway was a dining room, easily accessed from the kitchen below by the spiral staircase.
On the third floor the two soldiers found the staff quarters to the left and rooms for sewing and other domestic chores performed by the servants as well as storage space on the right.
At last, they climbed up to the cupola. With the heavy rain, Henderson hadn't had anyone keeping watch, for which the big private was thankful. The cupola wasn't overly large and much of the space was occupied by a telescope set up for star-gazing. After Littlejohn got his large six-foot six-inch frame installed, there wasn't much room for anything else. With three men, it would have been hard to turn around without bumping into each other.
Saunders took a moment to admire the telescope then pulled out his binoculars and turned slowly around, sweeping the countryside. Although the cupola wasn't as high as a church bell tower would have been, it did give an unobstructed view in all directions. All was quiet, as far as he could see.
Once Littlejohn had the radio set up and contacted King Two, the sergeant let Hanley know that the squad had arrived. He checked his watch. Their next contact would be at about 1530.
"Littlejohn, I'll be downstairs once we finish flushing this place out. But in the meantime, call in to Lt. Hanley right away if you spot anything."
"Okay, Sarge."
As Saunders started down the stairs, the big man asked, "Sarge, how long do I have to stay here? It's kind of small."
The sergeant scanned the cramped space. "Only a couple of hours. Doc will bring you a cup of coffee in a few minutes."
The big man said, "Okay, Sarge," with a sigh. Unlike Kirby, who could be counted on to complain about every discomfort, Littlejohn accepted the sergeant's orders with only an occasional grumble.
Once back on the ground floor, Saunders said, "Doc, Henderson said he had coffee ready. It's probably in the kitchen, down that corridor. Take a cup up to Littlejohn. Green, you're on me."
The two men returned to the village square where the sergeant paused for a moment, noting the progress that had been made by the other soldiers. "Alright, Green, we'll start over there. You keep on my tail, just like you learned in Basic."
"Right, Sarge, just like in Basic," the young soldier nervously responded.
()()()()()()()()()()
Jünger cursed under his breath. The two enemy sergeants had stood in the light rain, the remnants of the storm, and talked. Then pairs of soldiers had dispersed. He hadn't anticipated the Americans flushing out the village again, even if a new squad arrived.
[Herkel, take cover! They're coming to flush out this building.]
The sergeant did a last-minute check to make sure their wet gear was well hidden before he moved to the stairs and joined Herkel in the hidey-hole they had created.
The double doors to the storage cellar rattled as the Americans tried to open it, but the wooden block barred their entrance. It was quiet for several minutes, but they could imagine the enemy searching the rooms of the mercantile. Finally, the door to the cellar opened and the enemy was at the top of the stairs. The three bare bulbs that illuminated the storage area suddenly blazed and shafts of light pierced the cracks between the crates and barrels where the Germans hid.
The Americans weren't speaking, but Jünger listened to the sound of their footsteps. One was walking around the loft while the other continued down the stairs. Herkel draw in a sharp breath when the soldier's random movements blocked the rays of light. Jünger put his hand over the Soldat's mouth as the American jabbed into the cracks with his bayonet. But, fortunately for the Germans, the tip never made it past the side of a crate.
Then a voice from the loft broke the silence "Ronowski, move some of that stuff so you can see behind it."
Jünger didn't know what had been said, but he could guess when the statement was followed by the sound of a crate scraping across the top of the stack and then a crash as it fell to the floor. The sergeant's hand left Herkel's mouth and slid down the barrel of his rifle. His fingers wrapped around the trigger housing.
At that instant, the worst and the best possible thing happened. Shots rang out and the two Americans clamored up the steps.
[Who do you think they found?] Herkel whispered.
Jünger didn't respond. He pushed the barrel that covered the entrance to their little cave out of the way and crawled out. The Americans, in their haste, had left the lights on. He quickly climbed the stairs and crossed over to the loft. The little window didn't show any activity in the village square. The commotion must be down one of the streets. He checked his watch. It was too early to put the plan into action.
[Damn,] he quietly said. He scowled as he thought about his next move. After a moment he turned and gazed down at the Soldat. [Herkel, move the crates and barrels to eliminate the crawl space, but leave the one the American dropped where it is.] Then he turned back to the window and continued to stare out it into the empty village square.
()()()()()()()()()()
Soldiers from both squads converged on a nondescript house. Billings was leaning against the door jamb, but his partner, Howard was nowhere to be seen. Two figures appeared in second story windows and shots again rang out. The soldiers scattered, first seeking the closest cover and then returning fire.
"BILLINGS, WHERE'S HOWARD?" Sgt. Henderson hollered.
Billings didn't respond. He dropped to his knees and remained in the doorway as the fire fight raged around him.
The First Squad sergeant stood in the doorway of a near-by building with Green squeezed in behind him. He quickly located Caje and Kirby, then Sidwell and Nelson. All were solemn-faced with clenched jaws and fixed bayonets. They had been working in pairs as they cleared each house, cautiously probing under each bed. Billings' rifle lay in the doorway where he had dropped it. His bayonet was still in its scabbard. When they found Howard, Saunders was sure he would be lying beside a bed, shot in the face. Leaning over to look under a bed instead of probing with a bayonet wouldn't get you a second chance in this war. He sympathized with Henderson, but all any sergeant could do was hope his men applied the lessons they had learned in Basic. You couldn't babysit them all the time.
"CAJE!" Saunders yelled.
Once he had the scout's attention, the sergeant signaled him to move to the left. Then, with a hand raised to Green to tell the young replacement to stay where he was, Saunders began making his way in a counterclockwise direction. As the rest of the soldiers kept up cover fire, the two First Squad men made it to opposite sides of the house's front. With their backs against the wall, they inched their way to the door. Billings was still there, but he would be of no help.
The sergeant signaled the rest of men to hold their fire. The Krauts on the second floor also stopped shooting and an eerie quiet momentarily kept everyone frozen in place. The two Americans stealthily entered the house and then as quietly as they could, made their way to the stairs that led to the second floor.
They slowly climbed the steps one at a time, expecting the Krauts to appear at the landing or to lean over the railing and start shooting down the staircase. But, after several agonizing moments, they reached the top. A narrow hallway ended in a closed door. Saunders pointed to that door and shook his head. From the shape of the house, the dormer windows in that room would face out on the side, not the front of the building. However, halfway down the hall was another door and that one was open. The windows in that room would overlook the street below.
Saunders aimed his Thompson at the open door to provide cover while Caje moved along the hallway wall until he reached the door. The scout unfastened a grenade that dangled from the buttonhole in the lapel of his field jacket and pulled the pin. He glanced back at the sergeant and Saunders silently mouthed "one, two three." The Cajun tossed the grenade into the room as both men threw themselves to the floor.
The blast shattered the quiet.
Caje quickly rushed into the room with Saunders only a step behind. Two Krauts were crumpled on the floor near the windows. Both men were dead. The missing American lay alongside the bed. Caje pulled on the chain around his neck until his dog tags appeared and he was able to remove one. There was no need to roll him over; his cause of death was obvious.
Saunders yelled, "ALL CLEAR!" out one of the shattered windows.
By the time he and Caje returned to the street, only Henderson, Billings, Kirby, Green and Doc remained. Everyone else had already returned to the task of flushing out the village, each with a renewed sense of danger and diligence. The sergeant's eyes met those of the medic and he gave a slight shake of his head, letting Doc know that there was nothing he could do. Caje and Kirby exchanged glances then left to continue their search.
Saunders said, "Sorry, Henderson," as he handed over the dog tag.
Henderson shook his head, then he said to Billings, "I guess some of you guys gotta learn the hard way."
"Green, you go with Sgt. Henderson. I'm gonna check on Littlejohn," Saunders said.
The replacement nodded. He reached up to make sure his bayonet was still firmly attached before following the Third Squad sergeant.
()()()()()()()()()()
Jünger and Herkel had taken their gear and moved from the storage cellar to the second floor of the mercantile. The sergeant's view of the square wasn't as good as from the window in the double doors, but he thought the Americans might return to finish their search of the cellar. However, they probably wouldn't go back over the rest of the building. He was right. The little bell attached to the front door jangled, but there was no sound of boots climbing the steps to the second floor. He turned his attention back to the square. Two Americans, the medic and one of the sergeants, were walking cautiously along the fronts of the row of buildings on the opposite side of the street. He couldn't see where they went, but they were headed in the direction of the large house.
The Germans waited until the Americans had left the mercantile before returning to the storage cellar where Jünger again took up his post.
()()()()()()()()()()
Saunders and Doc entered the house. Their footsteps echoed in the empty foyer as they crossed the parquet floor. The sergeant bounded up the stairs while the medic went to the kitchen to reheat the coffee. He was sure everyone would welcome a steaming cup once they finished checking out the rest of the village.
Saunders climbed the stairs to the cupola where Littlejohn had pulled down the upper windows all the way around. The big private stood with his elbows resting on the tops of two of the lower frames supporting the binoculars as he scanned the fields to the east and south of the village.
"How many were there?" Littlejohn asked.
"Two. Have you seen anything?"
"No, not a thing."
"Can you see the village streets?"
"I can see the whole square and all the way down the main street, but most of the rest are blocked by the buildings."
"Well, keep an eye on what you can see, especially once we finish flushing out everything."
"Sarge, do you think there're more Krauts here?"
Saunders didn't know what to think. Those two might have been alone, either stragglers or deserters. They could have come into the village just to get out of the rain. He couldn't say why, but he didn't think so. It was just a feeling he had, but he had learned from experience to pay attention to those hunches.
##########
"Saunders, why haven't you and your men moved up? You're holding up the whole platoon."
"Lieutenant, you see that dip in the ground just before the trees. I'd like to scout it out. I think…"
"You're not being paid to think, Corporal, I am." The lieutenant took his binoculars out of the case and scanned the copse. "Just as I thought, there's nothing there. When I get back, I want you holding that grove of trees. Now, move up! That's an order!"
##########
He shuddered as if shaking off a bad memory. "I don't know, Littlejohn. Just watch for any movement. Doc will be at the bottom of the stairs. Holler to him if you see anything."
"Okay, Sarge." Littlejohn took his eyes away from the lenses just long enough to see Saunders disappear down the stairs.
()()()()()()()()()()
Sgt. Jünger checked his watch. The American squad that had been in the village when he and his men arrived was getting ready to leave. The search of the buildings was complete and the other four members of his squad had escaped detection. Now, there was nothing to do but wait.
()()()()()()()()()()
"I'll bet they're glad to leave this place behind," Kirby said as Third Squad turned the corner, heading for the path that would lead them back to their lines. "Well, let's go get some coffee."
"Not so fast. Kirby, Sidwell an' Nelson, go down to the end of this street," Saunders said as he pointed to the main street. "Start on the left side. Two men check each building while the third watches the back door of that building an' the adjacent one. An' I mean really check it. Don't forget what happened to Howard. Caje an' Green, you're on me. We'll take the other side an' do the same thing."
"Saunders, you gotta be kiddin'! We just finished goin' over the whole damn village." Sidwell said, his voice a mixture of astonishment and disrespect.
The sergeant's icy glare matched his tone when he replied, "You heard me. Now get moving!"
Nelson took the lead as the three men clung to the fronts of the buildings.
Sidwell, the last in line, mumbled, "This is the stupidest thing I ever heard of. What's the matter with Saunders anyway?"
Before Billy could respond, Kirby said, "Shut up, Sidwell. The Sarge got his reasons."
Billy didn't know what those reasons could be but the brief exchange made him smile as they continued walking to the end of the street.
Once the three men were out of ear-shot, the Cajun asked, "You dink dere's more Krauts hidden somewhere?"
Saunders shook his head. "I don't know. It just doesn't make sense."
Green didn't want to get on the wrong side of the sergeant so he hesitated before saying, "Maybe those two just wanted to get out of the rain."
"Then why did they pick a building half-way to the square? Why didn't they hold up in a house on the edge of the village?" the sergeant asked, finally able to express some of what had been nagging at him.
When they were near the end of the street, Saunders said, "Alright, Green, take the alley. Watch the backs of the last two buildings. Once we start going through them, someone may try to slip out the windows, cellars or back doors. Any questions?"
"No, I understand," the kid responded.
As they started to split up, Caje's eyes bored into the replacement as he said, "It'll happen quick, so keep alert."
Green nodded then hustled to get into position before the other two entered the first structure.
##########
"Bishop, Alvarez an' Morgan, you're on me. The rest of you give us cover." I said once the lieutenant had left.
"But the lieutenant said to move up," Pauley complained.
"An' who ya gonna listen to, the corporal whose been doin' some actual fightin' or that snot-nosed lieutenant who don't know his ass from a hole in the ground?" Morgan responded.
I didn't say anything. I just motioned for the three men to follow me. We moved off to the left and then continued in an arc that would bring us up on the flank of that dip.
##########
[Is anything happening?] Herkel asked. He was seated on the landing throwing a small ball he had found into the air and then leaning forward to catch it with his helmet.
Jünger watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to the village square. [That sergeant has them searching the other side of the street,] he said.
Herkel took his eyes off the ball and missed the catch. The ball fell to the cellar floor and bounced several times before rolling out of sight. He stood and walked over to his sergeant's side. [Why?] he asked. Then he answered his own question. [They must know we're here. We should attack now.]
The sergeant let out a small sigh of frustration. [It isn't time and I have no way of communicating with the rest of the squad. We stick to the plan.]
[Well, I think…]
Jünger snapped back, [No, Herkel, you don't think. That's your problem. Now go sit quietly until it's time.]
()()()()()()()()()()
It was the fourth house they had searched. Kirby opened the door and Billy entered first, his rifle raised as he swung to the right. Kirby was a half-step behind him and immediately swung the BAR to the left. They quickly cleared the combination kitchen-living room, checking every nook and cranny large enough to hide a man.
They were about to enter the bedroom when there was a scraping sound. It wasn't loud, but in the silence of the supposedly empty dwelling it stood out. If Billy had been alone, he might have thought he had imagined the noise. But when he glanced at his partner, Kirby pointed to the cellar door. So, it wasn't his imagination, but maybe it was a Frenchman who had though it was safe to return to his home or maybe a hungry animal. Maybe it was a Kraut. Whichever it was, now they would have to take a very careful look around that cellar.
Billy grabbed the knotted rope that served as a doorknob and slowly pulled it. The door creaked as it opened.
Kirby shouted, "SURRENDER OR WE'LL TOSS DOWN A GRENADE!"
If there was an outside entrance to the cellar, they could only hope that Sidwell had been alerted by the BAR man's yell and was ready.
The shout was greeted by silence. Kirby's eyes darted around the kitchen and settled on a cast iron frying pan that sat on the stove. He quietly walked across the floor and picked it up. He returned to Billy's side and mouthed, "On three. One…Two…Three."
The pan clattered as it rapidly tumbled from step to step. About half-way down, its progress was greeted by a volley of shots. The two Americans clung to the kitchen walls, then returned fire into the darkness of the cellar.
Suddenly, the underground cavern was filled with light. There was an outside entrance and whoever was down there had opened it. The burst of light was immediately followed by more shooting, but the shots were no longer aimed at the Americans in the kitchen. Kirby and Billy rushed down the stairs and toward the gaping hole made by the open cellar door.
They cautiously climbed the half dozen steps and Billy called out, "SIDWELL, WE'RE COMING OUT! DON'T SHOOT!"
Sidwell was slumped against the wheel of a wagon that sat behind the row of houses. As they approached him, he raised his hand and pointed. Further down the alley was the sprawled body of a German. Kirby went to check him out. As Billy knelt to help him, Sidwell's hand fell to his lap as if it was too heavy to hold up any longer. Nelson was quickly joined by the other members of the squad as Saunders, Caje and Green came running down the alley.
Saunders knelt across from Billy and asked the wounded man, "Sidwell, how many were there?"
With some effort, Sidwell lifted his head. "Two," he said. Then, in a strong voice he added, "I guess I should've been more careful." He drew in a sharp breath as his head fell to his chest.
Kirby returned and said, "Sarge, he got one of 'em but I seen another make it around the corner at the end of the alley. Do ya want us to go after that one?"
"No, he's long gone. Where were they?" Saunders asked.
'Hidin' in the cellar. I'll bet them Third Squad men never even checked it," the BAR man replied.
##########
"Hey, what's the lieutenant doin'?" Alverez hissed.
I was crouched down about ten yards ahead. I turned to look back at Alverez. Beyond him, the lieutenant and the other three men in the squad were advancing straight ahead like they owned the field.
Bishop, Alvarez, Morgan and I weren't close enough to attack the Krauts. I tried to shout a warning but it did no good. We could only watch in horror as the four men were cut down.
##########
"What do you want us to do, Sergeant?" the Cajun asked.
"Continue searching. Caje, you go with Nelson. Green, you're on me. Kirby, cover the back. We'll leap-frog up this side of the street."
The men were tense as they started to flush out the remaining buildings.
Saunders was now sure that more Krauts were hiding in the village, but he couldn't figure out what they could be up to. 'Why haven't they attacked, especially after Henderson and Third Squad pulled out?' he asked himself.
()()()()()()()()()()
Soldat Hans Meitner ran around the corner of the first building he came to. He continued running, not looking back until he had put two fields between himself and the village. Only then did he dive behind a bush. He rolled over and rose to a crouch with his rifle aimed at the empty space that lay between himself and the now distant town. His breathing was ragged. His hands were shaking and the sweat running down his face stung his eyes. He waited, hoping Otto would miraculously appear. But in his heart, he knew Otto was dead.
They hadn't expected to find an American in the alley behind the house when they burst out of the cellar and evidently, he hadn't expected them either. For an instant, Otto and the enemy faced each other, frozen into inaction. Then Meitner, just a half-step behind his friend, had broken the spell. He raised his rifle and fired.
Otto probably thought they were momentarily safe. After all, who would miss from such a short distance. He took off running. But Meitner had missed. Hans Meitner, the best shot in the squad had missed, giving the American the opportunity to shoot Otto in the back. Meitner's second shot was true, but it was too late to save Otto.
It had all happened so fast, in barely a few seconds. The next thing he knew, he was running.
Finally, his breathing returned to normal but still he remained crouched behind the bush as he debated what to do next. There was nothing in Sgt. Jünger's plan that covered his current situation. He checked his watch.
'Should I return to the village and try to find another hiding place until it's time for the attack?' he asked himself. 'Or maybe I should just go back to our base camp and report that the mission has failed. After all, we all heard the prior gunfire. Counting Otto, that makes at least three of the squad members killed. Maybe Sgt. Jünger was one of them.'
He tried to stop guessing which other members of the squad were dead, but their faces kept blurring his vision. Finally, he said, [Get ahold of yourself, Meitner! You're a German soldier, not some sniveling coward. You're going to pick up the radio and head for the rendezvous point, just like Sgt. Jünger said.]
He hesitated a moment longer, then began working his way toward the tree where they had stashed the radio earlier in the morning.
()()()()()()()()()()
At the sound of the shooting, Jünger checked his watch and silently cursed; thirty more minutes.
'That American sergeant could have accepted the initial search as adequate, but he hadn't,' the sergeant thought. 'Now that they've found another pair of my men, they will continue looking. How many buildings are left on the opposite side of the street for them to search? How long will that take? When they finish that side, they will begin on this side and this mercantile is the first building.'
[Herkel, come here,] he said.
Kort Herkel reluctantly joined his sergeant at the double doors. This time he didn't need to ask what had happened. He had already calculated the odds of the mission going as planned and they weren't good. This time he really was ill.
[Listen carefully. They will be searching here soon. We have to split up so I won't be there to cover you, but your part of the plan stays the same. Tell me your role.]
[Sergeant, we've been over it a hundred times already,] an exasperated Herkel replied.
[Tell me again!] Jünger demanded.
[I get the two cans of petrol, go in the side door, dump them on the stairs and light it.]
[No! Pay attention. At exactly 1400 you go in the shed. I've been watching. There are only two Americans in the house. One is a medic and the other is probably in the cupola. You wait until we start our attack. That will draw out the medic. Get the petrol and go quietly up to the third floor. Start spreading the petrol there. Begin with the stairs that lead to the cupola but get the hallways and other rooms as well. Do the same on the second and first floors. Once you've finished with the first floor, throw your match and make sure the petrol catches fire. Then pick up the radio if it is still where we left it and head for the farm on the outskirts of the village. Wait for the rest of us to join you.]
[How long do I wait?]
Jünger sighed in frustration. How many times had he explained this to Herkel? Burning the house would leave the enemy blind. The artillery barrage at 1415 would make them think this was where the offensive would be launched. The farm was on a knoll and from the loft of the barn they would be able to confirm that troops had been drawn away from the actual attack.
[Until we know that the Americans have fallen for the ruse,] he replied. [Now, you tell me exactly what you are going to do.]
As he listened to the Soldat recite the plan, he wondered if the American sergeant, who at that very moment was doggedly searching for them and his two remaining men, also had to deal with a Herkel.
[Alright, do it exactly like that. Now, follow me. We'll slip out the back door and you can make your way to the shed to wait.]
[Sergeant, what are you going to be doing?]
[Me? I'm going to create a diversion that will give you cover to complete the mission.]
[How?]
[How?] Jünger gave a little smile. [I'm going to kill that American sergeant.]
At the back door, Jünger and Herkel checked their watches. With a nod from the sergeant, the Soldat began moving stealthily along the narrow lane toward the big house. Jünger inched his way along the back wall of the mercantile. He quickly covered the few feet that separated that building from the next and arrived at the back door of another small shop. It was locked so he ran to the back of the next building, a dress shop. The back door was also locked but a back window wasn't. Jünger nodded in grim satisfaction. Maybe his luck was changing. He pushed the window up and entered, then quietly moved to the front window of the store where he settled behind the display of fabrics to watch and wait.
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter 3 – ATTACK!
"Sarge, ya know I'm not one to complain, but do ya think we could take a break an' get somethin' to eat? We've been at it for hours." Kirby said, with a slight whine in his voice.
Even though Littlejohn wasn't with them, Billy knew he would have extravagantly rolled his eyes at the BAR man's opening comment. Just the thought of the big man's reaction made him smile even though he, too, was tired and hungry.
The men had finished the left side of the street and were gathered against the wall of a small house close to the middle of the right-hand side. Saunders didn't need Kirby to tell him that his men needed a break; so did he. But every bone in his body was shouting to him that the Krauts were up to something.
##########
"At ease, Corporal. I've already spoken to Pvts. Alvarez, Bishop and Morgan so I have a pretty good idea of what happened. Do you have anything to add?" Cpt. Lehman asked.
I stood at attention and stared straight ahead, not looking at the company CO seated across the table from me or at Reynolds, the platoon sergeant who stood at the end of the table. I figured if I was lucky, I'd only lose my stripes, again. "No, Sir. I'm sure they told you everything that happened."
"What made you think there were Krauts hidden in that dip?"
"It was just a hunch, Sir."
"So, it didn't pass the smell test, is that it?"
"Sir?"
The captain chuckled. "Something seemed fishy."
"Yes, Sir."
"Alright, Corporal. You're dismissed."
I saluted and left the tent. Once outside, I closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. I didn't mean to ease-drop, I just hadn't moved on when the captain said, "That boy has good instincts. It's too bad Lt. Duncan didn't listen to him."
##########
"We'll finish this side of the street before we take a break. Caje an' Nelson, move down to the end an' start working your way up. Kirby, get out back. Let's go, Green," Saunders said.
"You're a hard man, Sergeant…a hard man," Kirby responded. He crouched and checked around the corner of the house before disappearing.
()()()()()()()()()()
Herkel reached the shed off the right wing of the house. It was early, but he carefully opened the door and slipped inside anyway. There, in the corner, right where the captain's driver had stored them, were the two jerrycans of petrol he kept for emergencies. Petrol was the catalyst for the main part of the plan the sergeant had been tasked with carrying out.
'It's a good thing the driver forgot to take them when we withdrew from the village,' Herkel thought. 'Otherwise, I'm sure Sgt. Jünger would have made me lug the cans into the village with us.'
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Soldat Kort Herkel picked up the two cans and walked quickly to the back door of the kitchen. He opened it just a crack and peeked inside. He didn't see or hear anything. From what Jünger had said, he only had to worry about a medic, someone who should be easy enough to take care of. He opened the door wider and carried the petrol into the kitchen.
His unit had occupied the village for several months and he had been in the kitchen many times, both when he was on guard duty and after delivering messages. He had often slipped in the same door he just entered to share cups of coffee with his comrades, so he was familiar with the layout of the room. Besides the back door, there were two other doorways. The one on the left led to the pantry and the other one opened into a hallway. He opened the second door a crack. The hall was deserted.
'This is going to be easy,' he thought as he softly closed the door.
He carried one jerrycan up the spiral staircase and then returned for the second one. Jünger had said to start on the third floor, but the cans were heavy. 'If the second floor burns, the third will, too,' Herkel reasoned.
()()()()()()()()()()
Jünger waited as the seconds ticked away. This time would be different. This time his men would be on the offensive. Ten…nine…eight…Herkel would go inside the shed now.
()()()()()()()()()()
Further down the street gunfire erupted, shattering the early afternoon quiet. Caje and Billy plastered themselves against the wall on both sides of the door they had been about to enter. Saunders, with Green on his heels came rushing out of the mercantile. The sergeant scanned the street, quickly taking in any movement, which in this case was Doc running out of the big house, rucksack in hand, heading across the square toward the sound of the shooting.
()()()()()()()()()()
Herkel listened as the steps running across the foyer faded away.
'That must be the medic leaving,' he thought. 'Jünger had been right!'
He left his rifle leaning against the wall outside the dining room along with one of the gas cans. He picked up the second one and walked quickly to the far side of the building and began spreading the petrol. When he reached the stairway to the third floor, he sloshed some of the accelerant up the stairs before leaving the half-empty can there while he returned to the dining room to begin dousing the drapes and carpets on that side of the building.
()()()()()()()()()()
"Green, go help Nelson an' Caje. Hug the fronts of the buildings as you go," the NCO told the young soldier.
"Right, Sarge," Green said as he started moving down the street, staying as close to the buildings as he could.
Saunders ran a zigzag pattern and intercepted the medic in the middle of the square. "Doc, get back to the house. We don't know how many there are or where they're hiding."
"But, Sarge, one of the fellas might need my help," the medic countered.
"I don't have time to argue…GET BACK!" the sergeant snapped.
"I'll wait by the mercantile so I'll be close."
"No, we didn't finish clearing it. Now, get back. That's an order!"
Doc muttered, "I can't do my job if I'm sitting back at that house," but he turned around and headed back.
Saunders scanned the other buildings that lined the square, ready to provide cover for the medic if it should be needed. When Doc reached the stone steps that led up to the house, the sergeant moved over to the mercantile and began making his way down the street to where his men were still engaged in a battle.
()()()()()()()()()()
The two German Soldats stopped firing for a moment.
[You should have waited until they got inside. Then they would be dead instead of shooting at us,] Gerd said.
[Sgt. Jünger said to start at 1400. It was 1400 so I started shooting,] Heinrich replied.
[The sergeant said…The sergeant said…You dummkopf, Jünger is probably dead. You heard the shooting earlier.]
[That doesn't mean he's dead,] Heinrich stubbornly insisted.
[Do you hear him firing? Well, do you?]
[No…] Heinrich hesitated, then glanced at his comrade. [What do you think we should do?]
Gerd squeezed off a few more rounds. [Make a run for it. We can circle back to the farmhouse. If any of the squad is left, that's where they'll go.]
[The sergeant said to hold them off until 1410, until just before the barrage starts.]
[If we stay here, we'll be dead by 1410,] Gerd stated matter-of-factly.
Although Heinrich didn't want to let Jünger down, Gerd was probably right. They were the only ones who were shooting at the Americans. The rest of the squad must have been killed or captured earlier. The carefully constructed plan had failed. [Alright, let's go,] he said.
The two Soldats fired a few more rounds to keep the Americans cowering behind cover, then headed for the back door. Gerd opened it a crack. He didn't see anyone so he opened it a bit further. The alley was clear. He stepped out, with Heinrich right behind him. They were about three steps from the safety of the doorway when a BAR opened up. The two Germans were cut down where they stood.
()()()()()()()()()()
The bark of the BAR was followed by silence. Sgt. Jünger squeezed his eyes shut to keep any tears from falling. He didn't know who had just been killed, only that it was the last of his men, except for Herkel. But, if Herkel succeeded, they would have accomplished their mission. Wasn't that what was important?
He needed to ensure that success…and show the American sergeant that he wasn't as clever as he thought he was.
Jünger raised his head just enough to see over the display case. The sergeant was just passing by. Jünger crawled to the front door, stood and reached up to hold the little bell that told the proprietor a customer was entering the shop. Very slowly, he opened the door. He intended to cross the main street, shooting the sergeant as he went, and disappear into the houses on the other side. While the rest of the Americans searched for him, Herkel would finish and make his escape. Once the big house was ablaze, the German sergeant thought he could easily elude capture in the confusion.
He eased the door open and stepped out. Quickly but quietly, he covered the short distance to the middle of the intersection where he stopped and raised his rifle.
()()()()()()()()()()
The skirmish at the end of the street had abruptly ended with the burst from the BAR and now an eerie quiet again hung over the village, broken only by a few shouts from Kirby and Nelson. Saunders slowed to a walk. Those shouts told him that everyone was safe and that they were now carefully searching the building to be sure they had flushed out all of the Krauts.
'I wonder if one of them is a corporal or a sergeant,' he thought. 'Of course, the squad leader might have been the one who got away when Sidwell was killed. If he was, he might have circled back. That's what I would 've done.'
The noise behind him wasn't very loud; perhaps a small pebble had been kicked when somebody took a step. But it was loud enough to catch Saunders' attention. His grip on the Thompson tightened as he wheeled around.
The crack of a single rifle shot with an overlapping cry of agony shattered the stillness as Saunders fell to the ground.
()()()()()()()()()()
Herkel was finished with the dining room. He stepped back into the hallway and slung his rifle across his back. Then he sloshed the accelerant on the carpets, drapes and walls of the parlor and library as he made his way back to the stairs. There he exchanged gas cans and began backing down the steps to the first floor.
He took a quick look over his shoulder; there were only a half dozen more steps to go. Then he would douse the heavy drapes and scattered furniture in the foyer and finally flick a lit match into the petrol before he made his escape down the hallway to the kitchen and out the back door. The flames would hungrily follow the trail of accelerant he had left and quickly spread to the rest of the house. By the time the Americans figured out what had happened, it would be too late to save the structure or the one soldier who had the misfortune to be keeping watch in the cupula.
()()()()()()()()()()
Doc was still muttering to himself as he climbed the stone steps to the doorway of the house. The door was open, just the way he had left it. He entered and went only a few paces before he stopped as his mind tried to comprehend what his eyes were seeing; the back of a Kraut with a gasoline can in his hand. At that moment, a single rifle shot rang out.
The enemy soldier reflectively turned to look and their eyes met in mutual surprise. The German dropped the gas can; its contents spilled down the last few steps and began to flow over the parquet floor. He whipped around, his hands groping for the bayonet that hung at his side, as he followed the path of the accelerant down the stairs.
The medic took a step back. His natural instinct was self-preservation, to run back toward Saunders, but suddenly the full impact of what he had seen, a Kraut spreading gasoline, hit him and he pushed instinct aside. Doc charged toward the German, swinging his rucksack. The heavy bag wrapped around the glistening bayonet and as the medic's arm continued on the arc of the swing, the weapon was pulled from the German's hand. It momentarily continued with the bag, then dropped to the floor with a clatter several feet from the Kraut.
The shock of being disarmed was short-lived. The Kraut stepped forward and threw a punch. He caught the off-balance American in the jaw, causing him to stumble backward. The German followed up on the punch by charging the medic, hitting him squarely in the chest with his shoulder. Both men fell to the floor with the Kraut on top. He righted himself and quickly delivered a series of blows to Doc's face. Although the medic raised his arms in self-defense, blood was quickly spewing from his nose and a cut over his eye. Doc mustered his strength and rammed the base of his palm into the German's Adam's apple as hard as he could.
The Kraut grabbed his throat, coughing and gagging. Doc pushed him off and struggled to get to his feet. But, before the medic could make another move, the German also stood and again charged at him, driving him into the tall grandfather's clock that stood against the wall of the foyer. The glass front shattered and the old clock began to totter.
The German spotted his bayonet. He left the dazed American and rushed over to get the weapon. He turned and began to move menacingly toward the medic. This time, Doc had no way of blocking the deadly thrust of the blade. He moved from the front of the wobbling clock cabinet to the corner it formed with the wall. In desperation, he pushed and pulled on the tall clock, rocking it and then sending it crashing to the floor on top of the advancing Kraut, pinning him underneath it.
()()()()()()()()()()
The Kraut sergeant was on his knees clutching his bloody arm. His rifle lay where he had dropped it. Saunders got up from the ground where he had thrown himself and moved quickly to kick the weapon out of reach. The shot had come from behind them. He started to scan the surrounding buildings, looking for its source. However, he stopped his search when he spotted the figure in the cupola windows…Littlejohn.
The shot had drawn the attention of the rest of the squad members. Kirby, Caje, Nelson and Green came running. Everyone was there, except Doc.
"Take care of the Kraut. Caje, you're on me," the sergeant ordered.
The two men had only taken a half-dozen steps when the unmistakable whistle of a Kraut artillery shell caused Saunders to yell, "HIT IT!" as an explosion shook the ground.
Saunders yelled, "HEAD BACK TOWARD OUR LINES. WE'LL CATCH UP WITH YOU." He and Caje continued on toward the big house as a few more sporadic shells fell on the village.
()()()()()()()()()()
Jünger stared at the house through eyes glassy with pain. No smoke was billowing from its windows. Herkel, that damned Herkel, had failed. He started to scream in frustration, but as the American tightened a belt around his upper arm as a make-shift tourniquet, it became another scream of agony.
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter 4 - Fire
With the first sounds of the artillery barrage, Soldat Meitner backed up to the window and quickly glanced out. He had already picked up the radio and secured the farmhouse. Then he waited. But with the start of the shelling, the rest of the squad should be coming soon. A small movement in the room drew his attention back inside. The boy had stood.
Meitner raised his rifle and said, [No! Sit back down.]
The boy turned to his grandfather. Neither of them understood more than a few words of German. The old man shook his head, but the boy persisted. [Please,] he said in German and then pantomimed holding a cup to his lips and drinking.
The Boche soldier kept his rifle aimed at the pair as he moved around the room to the kitchen. He thought he might find a bucket of water carried in from the well in the front yard, but there was no water or even a half full bottle of wine. He pulled the waterskin off his utility belt and tossed it to the boy.
Meitner had been surprised to find them there when he arrived. The farm had been deserted when the squad pulled out from the village only a few short days ago. The Soldat didn't know what he should do with the old man and the little boy. He would wait for Jünger to decide and then he would carry out the sergeant's orders as he always did, unlike Herkel. He liked Kort and thought he was funny, but he was always in trouble with the sergeant. Meitner, however, prided himself on obeying without question.
()()()()()()()()()()
Shells continued to fall as Saunders and Caje neared the house. Suddenly, the medic stumbled out the door. His face was covered in blood.
"CAJE, TAKE CARE OF DOC. I'LL GET LITTLEJOHN," the sergeant yelled as he dodged the medic and headed for the stairs.
Caje stopped in front of the medic and grasped his shoulders to steady him. "Doc, what happened? Were you wounded by one of de shells?" he asked the dazed man.
The medic lifted his arm and pointed at the open doorway. "Ah think he's still alive," he said by way of reply.
"Alright, Doc. You stay here."
Although Caje's first thought was that the medic was referring to Littlejohn, he still lifted his rifle and cautiously entered. Ahead, Saunders was bounding up the stairs, hollering for Littlejohn as he went. Then the scout spotted the overturned grandfather's clock with a Kraut pinned beneath it.
He approached the enemy soldier and the man cried out, "Bitte, please, get me out. Do not let me burn."
Caje got a puzzled look on his face. He scanned the room and spotted the overturned jerrycan. Suddenly, the air was heavy with the pungent aroma of gasoline and he instantly understood what the Kraut had been doing and that it wouldn't take a direct hit by an artillery shell, only a spark, to set the building on fire. He was torn between running up the stairs after Saunders and trying to free the Kraut.
The decision was made when Doc appeared at his side asking, "What do you want me to do?"
After studying how the clock lay for a moment the Cajun said, "I'll lift it from here and balance it on dat corner. You pull him out. Are you ready?"
Doc bent down and grabbed hold of the Kraut's free arm. "Ready," he said.
The Cajun squatted and, with a grunt, he lifted the heavy piece of furniture several inches. The medic pulled the Kraut, first by his arm, but then by his utility belt, until he was no longer beneath the clock.
"Okay, Caje, he's free."
"Good," the scout said as he released his hold and the cabinet crashed back down. "Dat is heavy."
()()()()()()()()()()
Littlejohn came half-way down the stairs that led to the cupola. "Sarge, are you okay? I was afraid I might've hit you."
"You did good, Littlejohn. Give me the binoculars and get out of here. Head out of town the same way we came in," Saunders replied.
"Okay, Sarge. I'll get the radio," Littlejohn said as he turned to climb back up to the cupola.
"No, you go. I'll get the radio." Saunders figured he could grab the radio and make it back downstairs faster than the lumbering big man. Besides, he wanted to see how many Krauts were advancing on the village behind the shelling.
Littlejohn reached the top of the first-floor stairs just as Caje dropped the grandfather's clock. As he came down the last flight, he gaped at the medic's bloody face. "Doc, what happened!?" he asked.
"We don't have time to talk now," Caje said. "Dis place could go up in flames at any moment."
Littlejohn and Doc started talking at the same time. "Flames!? What do you mean?" "His leg is broken. Ah've got to set it…"
The Cajun cut them off. "We don't have time. Littlejohn, where's de sergeant?"
"He went up to the cupola to get the radio," the big man responded.
"Alright, I'll get Saunders if you can carry him," Caje said, pointing to the German.
Littlejohn sized up the Kraut and nodded. Although Herkel cried out in pain, Doc and Caje pulled him to his feet. The big man took a knee and his comrades draped the Kraut over his back and then steadied Littlejohn as he stood.
"Doc, you go with dem. Head for our lines, de same way we came into de village. You'll meet up wid de rest of de squad. I'll get de sergeant and we'll be right behind you," Caje said.
As the three men reached the door, a shell hit the right wing of the house and exploded. Everyone cowered, but the only damage in the foyer was some plaster falling from the ceiling.
"GO! GO!" Caje shouted. Doc and Littlejohn, stooped over from the weight of the Kraut, exited the house and began making their way across the village square to the path that would lead them back to their own lines.
The Cajun kept watch until they were safely across the square, then turned, ran across the foyer and started up the stairs. But suddenly, the hallway at the top of the second-floor landing was ablaze as the fire eagerly followed the track of the gasoline. Nobody was going up or down the stairs now.
Caje stood for a moment, mesmerized, before he turned and ran out of the big house.
()()()()()()()()()()
Saunders scanned the fields to the east and south of the town. He expected to see Kraut infantry and armor moving up under the shelling, but there was not a sign of any enemy troops. After one more sweep, he grabbed the strap of the radio and slung the box over his shoulder as he started down the steps. He'd contact Hanley as soon as he and the squad were beyond the range of the shells.
He was heading down the hallway toward the main staircase when the shell hit the right wing of the house. In the cupola, with all of the windows open, he hadn't smelled the odor, but now, with every breathe he took, the strong smell of gasoline filled his lungs. By the time he reached the head of the staircase, the fire was already consuming the floor below and the flames were beginning to devour the stairway carpet to the third floor.
For a moment the grip of panic seized him, rooting him in place. 'Not again!' he thought, 'not again! (1)'
But the terror quickly passed. There had to be another way down. He thought of going back up to the cupola and climbing out one of the windows onto the roof, but when he remembered how steep the roof surrounding the cupola was, he quickly dismissed that idea. Then he thought of the spiral staircase he had seen in the kitchen.
He sprinted down the hallway but found only twisted iron where the staircase had been. The artillery shell had smashed into the house at the second-floor level, obliterating everything below it. Saunders turned around and headed back down the hall.
By the time he reached the main stairway, the air was full of smoke and the flames were hungrily climbing the banister, drawn up by the open cupola windows. He ran past the stairs to the other wing of the building. He tried the last door on the right; it was locked. The door across the hall opened and he entered a bedroom. He quickly closed the transom window and grabbed the throw rug to stuff beneath the door.
'That will keep the smoke out for a few moments,' he thought as he quickly glanced around the little room that had become both his refuge and his prison. There were only two other possible avenues of escape.
()()()()()()()()()()
Jünger gazed up as Herkel arrived, carried piggy-back by one of the Americans. As Herkel was eased to the ground, the enemy soldiers who had brought him to the edge of town started talking to their comrades. All of them turned back to look at the house. It had been grand but now it was engulfed in flames with smoke billowing out of windows and doors.
The German sergeant tried to smile although he was in such pain that it was more of a grimace. Still, they had successfully completed the main part of their mission although it had cost the lives of most of his men. [You did well, Herkel. The entire building is burning,] he said with grim satisfaction.
Herkel was pleased. It was the first time Sgt. Jünger had ever praised him. [And I think the American sergeant is trapped inside. At least he was when they carried me out.]
"No talking, ya hear me!" Kirby sharply said.
Jünger didn't understand the words but it didn't matter. He had learned all he needed to know.
"Hey, Doc, can we move these two apart?" Kirby asked although his attention was more on the inferno than the prisoners.
"Once Ah finish working on them. Billy, get me some sticks Ah can use for a splint," the medic replied. He was determined to focus on his job and not think about the unfolding catastrophe in the village.
()()()()()()()()()()
There were two corner windows in the room Saunders had entered. And, most importantly, one of those windows was directly above the portico. When he leaned out that window, he spotted the drain pipe for the gutter running down the edge of the building. It didn't look very sturdy but maybe he could use it to reach the roof of the portico one and a half stories below.
The other window was closer to the corner so he moved to that one and leaned out of it as far as he could. He grabbed the pipe, giving it a good shake. The bracket holding it in place above his head came loose and the two pieces of pipe separated. It had been sturdy enough to direct water, but that was all. He lurched to grab hold of the window frame and pull himself back inside, losing his helmet in the process. It made a barely audible thud as it hit the portico roof and tumbled to its resting place not far from the edge.
It was only a few paces to the door and he could already feel the heat from the fire. He pushed the bed over to the window above the portico and tied one corner of a sheet to the bed frame. He quickly rummaged through the oversized wardrobe and found one more sheet on the top shelf. He tied one corner to the first sheet and the opposite corner to the duvet. He didn't think his make-shift rope was long enough to reach the roof of the portico, but even if he broke a leg when he dropped, it would be better than staying in the house any longer.
He tested the knots one last time before dropping the bed linen rope out the window. He was right. When he reached the end of the duvet, he would have to let go and take his chances.
The roar of the fire suddenly seemed much louder than it had been only moments before. The voracious blaze was consuming the third floor; there was no time to second guess his decision. He slung the Thompson across his back and slipped the radio straps over his shoulders. Then he climbed onto the bed, grabbed the sheet and straddled the window sill. The flames were at the door as hand under hand he began lowering himself down.
()()()()()()()()()()
Meitner moved again to the window. He was getting nervous; other members of the squad should have arrived by now. However, since they were delayed, the Soldat didn't think Sgt. Jünger would want to wait for the radio to be set up once he arrived. Meitner needed to go to the barn and get it ready.
[Get up!] he said as he motioned with the barrel of the rifle.
[Grandpere, I think he wants us to stand,] the boy whispered in French. When the old man nodded, the boy stood and faced the Boche soldier.
The grandfather rose stiffly and pulled the boy to his side. 'I must be brave, for my grandson's sake,' he thought as he put a trembling hand on the boy's shoulder. He had seen the Boche shoot unarmed civilians before and he thought that was what was about to happen.
Meitner swung the barrel of the rifle toward the door. His two prisoners did as he indicated, opening the door and walking outside.
[When we stop, Marcel, close your eyes and hold my hand,] the grandfather said.
[We're going to the barn. Get moving,] the Soldat said as he put the rifle barrel against the old man's back and pushed. Once outside, he was sure he could smell something burning. 'Good,' he thought, 'Herkel has completed his assignment. The sergeant will be happy.'
()()()()()()()()()()
Caje ran around to the side of the building. He was determined; he wouldn't leave the sergeant behind to face the flames this time (1) regardless of the shelling or the threat of Krauts storming the village.
He hadn't been inside this house when the squad arrived in the village, but as a boy he had visited several ornate homes in New Orleans with his parents and there were always additional staircases for the servants and the children to use.
He was correct. This house had one, too. As he rounded the corner, he could see the top of what was left of a spiral staircase hanging down from the third floor.
He continued moving to the back of the house. Smoke was pouring out of the first and second floor windows and he could see the flames following the gasoline trail as they traveled up heavy drapes and devoured furniture. Suddenly, a kerosene lamp exploded, adding more fuel to the inferno.
He had reached the back of the foyer when he spied it, a long ladder lying tucked beside the base of the house, perhaps used to close or repair shutters. He remembered the portico he had seen when he and Saunders came back for Doc and Littlejohn.
'With the ladder, I can reach its roof, then haul it up and lean it against the house. Maybe it will reach the third-floor windows,' he thought. 'And then what? I'll figure that out once I get onto the portico.'
He really needed a second man to maneuver it, but the rest of the squad was gone so he dragged the heavy ladder along the side of the building. He tried to set the ladder upright by standing on its side and lifting it, but quickly realized that wasn't going to work. The ladder came crashing down, barely missing him as he dove out of the way. He stood, leaving his helmet where it had fallen, and began again, this time picking up one end and pushing it upward as he walked beneath the rungs. With some difficulty he finally managed to get it upright and leaning against the portico roof.
Once the ladder was in place, he quickly began climbing up. His head had cleared the top of the portico when he spotted a figure in a third-floor window. He couldn't see the person or the uniform clearly, but It had to be Saunders. Who else could it be…unless there was another Kraut? The ones they had discovered in the village had been hiding in pairs.
"HEY, YOU IN DE WINDOW, I'VE GOT A LADDER!" he hollered but he didn't think the person could hear him. Parts of the building were beginning to collapse and the roar of the fire, mixed with still-bursting artillery shells, was deafening.
Caje climbed up on the roof and began hauling up the ladder. It was so heavy it almost slipped from his hands. If that happened, it would fall back to the ground and he and the man he was determined to rescue would be trapped. He glanced up. The figure was descending in a cloud of smoke, some coming from the window he had just exited but most billowing from the second story windows below.
Finally, Caje got the ladder up on the roof. When he paused to catch his breath, he noticed Saunders' helmet lying not very far away. With renewed determination, he dragged the heavy ladder over to the house and up-ended it, leaning it against the side of the building as close to the second story window the descending man was approaching as he dared. Then he began to climb up through the smoke and the heat.
()()()()()()()()()()
Meitner scanned the barn for some rope. He found it hanging on a nail near the cow's pen. He didn't like cows. Although this one was securely locked up, the beast was eying at him. He felt a shiver run down his spine.
The Soldat tossed the coil of rope to the old man. [Tie up the boy,] he said. Meitner reasoned that as long as the boy was in his control, the old man would offer no resistance.
The grandfather caught the rope but frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
Meitner shouted, [TIE UP THE BOY!] and took a menacing step toward the pair.
The old man moved behind his grandson and said, [Put your hands behind your back, Marcel.] Then he whispered, [Hold your arms as straight as you can.] After he loosely bound the wrists together, he whispered, [Now cross your arms and pull so the ropes feel tight.]
[Hurry up!] Meitner ordered.
The old man stepped away from the boy. The Soldat turned the youngster around and checked to be sure that the boy's arms were securely bound while he kept his eyes on the grandfather.
[Alright, both of you sit down,] the German said, again motioning with his rifle.
Once both his captives were seated, Meitner pulled out his bayonet. The grandfather cringed, but all the Soldat did was cut away the remaining long end of the rope from the boy's wrists. He bound the old man's hands and both of their ankles.
When he finished, the Boche left his prisoners and went outside to get the radio. Meitner carried it into the barn and up the ladder into the loft. He opened the loft door that faced the American lines. As yet the artillery barrage hadn't drawn any reaction from the enemy, but it was still early. He would wait until Sgt. Jünger arrived and let him make the decision of when to call in and report.
()()()()()()()()()()
Doc loosened the belt tourniquet and cut away the tunic from the Kraut sergeant's mangled arm. The bullet had caught him in the back of the elbow as he had raised his rifle to shoot. There was nothing the medic could do except sprinkle sulfa powder, wrap the wound to try to keep it clean and ease the injured limb into a sling. If he survived, Doc was sure he would end up losing the arm. He took one of his morphine ampoules from his rucksack and plunged the needle into the Kraut's thigh.
"Sorry," he said. "That's all Ah can do for you."
Jünger nodded his understanding. He closed his eyes and waited for the drug to take effect.
()()()()()()()()()()
The smoke was getting denser; Saunders could hardly breathe. He had not yet reached the duvet. He was descending cautiously, fearing that any sudden shift in his weight would cause one of the knots to slip or one of the sheets to tear. He glanced down. He could barely make out the roof of the portico; it was still too much of a drop.
At last, he reached the duvet. This last section ran alongside the second-floor window. Smoke was billowing out and flames were licking the window frame. The sergeant turned his head and took in a lungful of smoky air. He was determined to hold his breath the rest of the way for fear that he would pass out and fall before reaching the end of the coverlet.
Suddenly, something was pulling his right leg further away from the window. His boot landed on something narrow but solid. Next his left foot was guided to a secure spot. He reached over. His hand clawed at the side of the building trying to locate the support he had been guided to, but there was nothing there. So, he continued to slowly move hand under hand down the duvet as his feet stepped down. He felt the sheets above him give and he once again reached over. This time, his fingers touched the side of the ladder. As he shifted his weight, the duvet went limp in his other hand and what was left of his cloth lifeline was consumed by flames.
The two men made it down to the portico roof. Saunders was bent over coughing and trying to take in a breath or two of air while Caje man-handled the ladder. Once he had an end over the side of the portico and firmly on the ground, the Cajun picked up Saunders' helmet and tossed it over the side, then steered his sergeant to the last leg of their escape.
When they reached the ground, they quickly moved away from the totally engulfed building. Even at a distance, the heat from the blaze was intense. Then, without warning, the great house gave a groan and the roof and second and third floors collapsed inward.
"Are you okay, Sergeant?" the Cajun asked.
"Yeah," Saunders replied. Then he turned to the scout, and with a grin, asked, "What took you so long?"
Caje started to explain about the heavy ladder, but then he stopped and stared at the sergeant for a moment before also grinning.
Saunders put his arm around the Cajun's shoulder and mussed his hair. "Let's find the rest of the squad," he said.
The two men retrieved their wayward helmets and sprinted across the village square.
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter 5 – The Hero
Once the Boche soldier was out of sight, Grandpere leaned over and whispered, [Marcel, straighten your arms and pull your hands free.] It wasn't hard for the child to slip his hands out of the ropes. [Good boy. Now untie your ankles.] That was harder; the soldier had made the knots tight. But finally, Marcel was able to get free. [Alright, now go quietly and lift the latch on Jeanne d'Arc's pen.]
[But why, Grandpere?]
[Just do as I say.]
[Yes, Grandpere.]
Marcel stood and glanced up at the top of the ladder. The soldier was still somewhere in the loft. The boy quietly moved over to the cow's pen and lifted the latch. Suddenly, he could hear the soldier walking toward the ladder. The boy quickly returned to where he had been sitting and put his hands behind his back.
()()()()()()()()()()
"Boy, are we glad to see you! We thought you two were goners!" Billy exclaimed, echoing the sentiments of the other squad members.
Neither Saunders nor Caje responded. The scout had squared the personal debt he thought he owed and that was all that mattered to him. And Saunders never singled out any of them who saved his life for praise (2). A quick nod was all the acknowledgement any of the men expected or received.
The sergeant glanced at the two Kraut prisoners the medic was tending. Both were in bad shape.
"Are you ready to go, Doc?" he asked.
"Yes. The sergeant can walk but will need someone to help steady him. We've got a litter for the private. He's got a broken leg," the medic responded.
The NCO nodded then turned to the scout. "Caje, you think you can find that farm the kid we met on our way in was talking about?" he asked.
"I can try…" the Cajun started to respond, but was interrupted by Littlejohn.
"It's easy, Sarge. Just head straight from here until you hit the cow path, then follow it," the big man said.
"Alright, saddle up. Littlejohn, take the point. Green an' Nelson, help Doc."
()()()()()()()()()()
Meitner came down from the loft and walked over to the open barn door. He would wait there for the arrival of the rest of the squad. He was staring intently across the fields when unexpectedly something nudged him in the back. He froze. He was nudged again, this time a bit harder. He slowly swiveled his head around, expecting to see either the old man or the boy holding a weapon. But, instead, he was looking into the eye of the cow.
All of the fear he had had when he was a little boy and had been chased by the cows on his grandfather's farm in Bavaria suddenly washed over him. He let out a shriek as he stumbled out the door, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground.
The cow stared at him, then started slowly walking toward him. Meitner fumbled with his rifle but his arm was tangled in the strap. The soldier began crab-walking backward as the cow kept coming. He gave another shriek as he got to his feet and turned to run away, the rifle falling forgotten to the ground. He glanced back; the beast was chasing after him.
Meitner fled in terror followed by the cow and, bringing up the rear of the strange procession, the boy hollering, [JEANNE D'ARC, JEANNE D'ARC, COME BACK HERE!]
As they came into view, Littlejohn could see that the soldier was unarmed. He let him run past then began waving his arms to halt or redirect the cow. The animal slowed and veered off, stopping a few yards later. With a triumphant "moo," she lowered her head and began grazing. The boy ran to her and threw his arms around her neck.
"Jeanne d'Arc, tu es une héroïne!" he exclaimed.
Caje started to say, "De boy said dat de cow…"
But Kirby interrupted him. "We got it, Caje…the cow just won the war!"
"Caje, ask the boy what happened," Saunders said.
The Cajun posed the question and the boy responded, [The Boche soldier tied us up but I got loose. Grandpere said…GRANDPERE!...I forgot about Grandpere.] He tapped the cow twice on its muzzle then started running back toward the barn with the cow trotting after him.
"Kirby, grab the radio. You an' Caje are on me. The rest of you stay here an' keep these Krauts quiet," the sergeant ordered.
Meitner had collapsed. At first, he was grateful that the beast was no longer chasing him but then he lowered his head in shame. He had surrendered to the Americans without even putting up a fight.
Doc eased Jünger to the ground. The sergeant glared at Meitner, shaking his head in disgust. [Afraid of a cow; it's no wonder the war is going badly,] he snarled.
Nelson and Green had lowered the litter and Billy stepped between the two Germans, "You heard the Sarge. No talking," he said.
Herkel twisted around so he could see his squad mates. [Meitner, that was the funniest thing I've ever seen,] he said with a laugh.
[Shut up!] was the only response Meitner could come up with.
"I said no talking!" Billy commanded.
()()()()()()()()()()
The cow, following the boy, entered the barn. Saunders signaled the scout to go after them while he moved toward the house. Kirby remained behind a wagon in the yard, ready to provide cover fire for whichever of his comrades needed it. Once Saunders had finished searching the house he headed for the barn but he paused stopped in the doorway. Caje was helping the boy untie the old man.
"De barn's clean, Sarge. Dere was only de one Kraut here. De old man says he took a radio up into de loft," the Cajun said.
Saunders took the radio from Kirby and then told him to get the rest of the squad. He slung the box over his left shoulder and with the Thompson over his right, he climbed the ladder to the loft. The Kraut radio was by the opening that faced the American lines. The sergeant went to the loft door on the opposite side and pulled out the binoculars. The view wasn't as good as that from the grand house, but he was able to look beyond the town and across several fields. After slowly scanning the horizon, and seeing no sign of Kraut movement he turned on the radio and reached Hanley at the Second Platoon CP.
The lieutenant was glad to hear from him but was also anxious for a report. "What's going on? We heard the shelling. How much armor is moving up?"
"No armor and no infantry, Lieutenant. I got a good look at the start of the barrage. Nothing was moving up under it. We've fallen back to a farm outside the village with a pretty good view and still nothing. There was a Kraut here looking toward our lines," the sergeant replied.
Hanley was quiet for a moment as he digested that piece of information. "It sounds like a diversion, trying to draw us away from wherever they're planning the actual attack," he finally said.
"What do you want us to do, Lieutenant? I've got three prisoners, two of them wounded."
"S-2 will want to talk to them as soon as possible. You and one man stay there and keep watching, just in case. Send the rest of the squad back with the prisoners. I'll talk to HQ and get a half-track to meet them."
"Roger. White Rook over and out."
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter 6 - Epilogue
Jünger stepped out of the doorway into the bright autumn sunlight. The leaves on the trees, in shades of red and yellow, were set against a brilliant blue sky. All-in-all it was a perfect day and he couldn't have chosen a better setting. He had taken a sabbatical from his position at the XXXXXXX to visit the United States. He had planned the trip carefully, mixing visits to important bridges as research for the structural engineering text he was writing with opportunities to meet other esteemed professors and lecture their students.
It was quite by accident that two days ago he had witnessed a scene common on college campuses. A man carrying a briefcase, most likely another professor, came out of the building across the street along with a few students. They appeared to be engaged in a lively discussion, with gestures and laughter. The young people continued walking with the man for about half a block before scattering as the professor continued on his way.
But, in that instant, as Jünger watched the man walk away, he suddenly found himself back in France, remembering events he had often revisited in his mind for the last twenty-some years.
The following day he had witnessed a similar scene and confirmed his suspicion. Today, as he waited, he pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Although college students were hurrying past him, one stopped and flicked his lighter. Jünger leaned toward the flame. "Danke," he said with a nod.
Across the street the scene again played out. Jünger rushed down the sidewalk until he was walking parallel to the man. They both reached the corner at the same time and when the light changed, they headed across the street toward each other.
When they met in the middle, Jünger said, "The young; they are so passionate. They think they know all about life. But they know nothing, do they, Sergeant?"
Saunders instantly tensed.
"You don't remember me, do you. We met once before at an intersection."
Saunders stared at the face. The accent was German. The man was about his age and in a superficial way resembled him, the same blonde hair, now showing the effect of the years, the same blue eyes, height and build. But Saunders didn't recognize him.
He shook his head as he said, "Sorry, I don't. It's been a long time."
The light had changed and Jünger said, "We should get out of the middle of the street. Would you mind if I walked with you? I hope you will be able to give me some answers."
The two professors, walking side by side, reached the corner and continued up the sidewalk before Jünger again spoke. "Well, I really didn't expect that you would recognize me. After all, I had the opportunity to study you for several hours but you only saw me briefly. And, I doubt if the name of the village where we met would remind you of our encounter. But perhaps you recall a cow named Joan of Arc."
Saunders remained impassive for a moment, then slowly a smile appeared. It was hard not to remember the sight of a small boy running after a lumbering cow yelling, "JEANNE D'ARC, JEANNE D'ARC!"
"You were the sergeant?" he asked.
"Yes."
The two old adversaries stopped walking and faced each other.
"You lost your arm," Saunders stated matter-of-factly.
"Yes, but better an arm than a life."
After an uncomfortable moment, Jünger broke the silence. "So, perhaps now you remember that day."
Saunders nodded.
"Another squad of Americans already controlled the village when you arrived. Tell me, why did you conduct a thorough search? How did we give ourselves away?"
The question was asked nonchalantly, but Saunders wondered how many times over the years the man facing him had awoken in a cold sweat with his heart racing.
"As I recall, it had rained very hard earlier that morning…"
Jünger nodded. His mouth was dry as he awaited the answer to the question that had plagued him for so many years, for on that day he had lost five good men as his plan slowly fell apart and his mission ended in failure.
"It was nothing you or your men did. I just thought that if I were going to enter the village, I would have used the rain to cover my movements. Doing a search is what you would have done, isn't it, if our roles had been reversed?"
The German slowly nodded. "And the farm? How did you know of its location? It was not visible from the direction you entered the village."
Saunders gave a small shrug. "The boy was bringing his cow back to the farm along the same path we were on as we approached the village. It was a chance meeting."
"A chance meeting," the German softly repeated. "Such a small thing for a battle to hinge on."
"Yes…for want of a nail the shoe was lost (3)."
"Of course…Thank you for your time." Jünger turned and walked away.
Saunders stood a few moments gazing at the retreating figure, wondering if he would still be haunted by that day so long ago. Then he continued on his own walk home.
()()()()()()()()()()
()()()()()()()()()()
(1) Reference to 'Survival' from season 1 of Combat!
(2) Reference to 'No Trumpets, No Drums' from season 1 of Combat!
(3) For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost."
This proverb, which warns of the consequences of not paying attention to detail, appeared in various forms as far back as the 13th century. During World War II, the verse was framed and hung on the wall of the Anglo-American Supply Headquarters in London, England.
