Combat! is owned by ABC TV. This story is meant only for the enjoyment of Combat! fans, with no intention to infringe on any copyrights, and no monetary compensation has been received.

Here comes part two to answer all of your questions. What's going to happen with Saunders and Bette? What's Sarge's plan? How are they ever going to get all those Germans? Well, here you go. Hope you enjoy the conclusion and my little nod to the one and only Sarge…Vic Morrow. Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

UNCONDITIONAL

Part 2

CHAPTER 12

With his other three men all in place, Saunders stuck close to Brockmeyer. Caje and Billy were covering the back windows and door. Kirby was covering the front door and window. Saunders and Brockmeyer were near the left front window, closest to where the Germans were clustered around the fireplace and table.

As Saunders peered in again, he could see the four soldiers still at the table, just finishing their meal and drinking coffee. The aide must have prepared it, along with the hot food he was serving the officers. Probably found some food and used the pots and dishes, Saunders thought. The two officers were still drying out, sitting by the fire.

The NCO ducked down and whispered, "Brock, you need to make them believe they're totally surrounded and outnumbered. That their chances of escape or shooting their way out are hopeless. I want to take the rest of them alive if possible. Especially those officers. Most important, I want to keep all of us alive and well."

"I'll do my best," Brockmeyer replied.

"The krauts are just finishing eating. They might be changing the guards soon. So it's now or never," Saunders added.

Brockmeyer nodded. "If you stay right here, I'll tell you what I'm saying. Just let me know if you want me to say anything different."

Saunders agreed. "Works for me. Whenever you're ready."

Both men stood up on either side of the window. Brockmeyer leaned back against the wall, staring out into the now lessening rain. He wiped his wet face with both hands and took a deep breath.

CHAPTER 13

"Kapituliere! Du bist komplett umzingelt!" Brockmeyer yelled in a deep, authoritative voice. He whispered, "I told them surrender, you're completely surrounded."

Saunders gave him a silent thumbs up.

The lantern inside was suddenly extinguished. The now low fire in the fireplace was the only source of light. Its glow flickered and danced around the room as Saunders brought one eye to the corner of the window. All seven men were on the floor, scrambling for their weapons as Brockmeyer continued in a commanding stern tone.

When he was through, he whispered, "I told them that we have every possible exit covered. Anyone trying to escape with a weapon will be shot."

"Good," Saunders said softly, "Keep up the pressure."

Brockmeyer yelled again, more confident now. He looked at Saunders, "I said that there are too many of us to resist. We won't wait long. If they don't surrender, we'll blow them all up or burn them to the ground."

"That's a good one," Saunders whispered. "If that doesn't convince them to surrender, then nothing will."

Just then, they heard Kirby scream from the back of the house, "Give it up or die, krauts!"

From the left side in the back, Caje yelled, "Come out with your hands up!" Saunders had to smile. His men knew how important it was to get them to surrender, and they were jumping in to keep the pressure on.

The sergeant could hear movement inside. When Saunders quickly peered in again, he saw the aide putting out the fire with the coffee. Soon the krauts were in total darkness. Not a good sign that they were about to surrender.

Saunders looked up at the night sky. He realized that the rain had stopped. They were running out of time.

"What do you think, Sarge?" Brockmeyer whispered.

"We've got to keep the pressure on them. Don't give them any time to think," Saunders replied. "These guys aren't front line soldiers. Keep the pressure on them, and they'll cave."

Brockmeyer nodded. He thought for a moment, and then began yelling again. Saunders had no idea what he was saying, but it certainly sounded intimidating.

There was dead silence inside for a long while, and then they could hear a low but heated conversation as the officers talked it over.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Saunders asked, leaning towards the window.

Brockmeyer shook his head. "No, but the two officers are probably talking it over. I told them that if they came out without a fight, they wouldn't be harmed, and they'd be treated in accordance with the Geneva Convention."

Saunders waited. There wasn't a lot more that any of them could do to force the krauts into a peaceful surrender. A firefight was his last resort. He really wanted to bring those two officers in. But he wanted to keep all his men safe.

A firefight would bring more krauts down on their backs, and they'd be in deep trouble. They were already outnumbered. Any more Germans showing up would be a disaster for his squad. A fatal disaster.

If the krauts didn't surrender soon, Saunders decided that they'd have to walk away and leave his prizes behind while he tried to think of another way to get at them. Maybe make them think they had left, and wait for them to come out. He just didn't know.

But if the krauts started firing, he'd have no choice. He'd lob in a couple of grenades, get out of there fast, and hope that the whole German army didn't come down on their heads.

As they continued to wait in silence, Saunders leaned against the wall and stared out into the farm yard. He needed to do something to tip the scales in the minds of the Germans. But what? He found himself staring at a rounded rock about two feet from the front steps. Staying low, he went to it, picked it up and hefted it a few times in his hand.

He brought it back to the side of the window and rolled it in the palm of his hand, thinking. Smiling, he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his camouflage paint stick. Opening it, he began to cover the rock in black face paint. Brockmeyer looked on, totally confused.

As he finished, Saunders said, "Tell them that they're out of time. They have ten seconds to come out with their hands up or we'll blow them out of there."

Still confused, Brockmeyer nodded and yelled out his command.

They waited.

When Saunders had counted to ten, and no one came to the front door to surrender, he ducked down under the window sill.

"Watch out," he whispered to Brockmeyer as he drew back his arm and threw the rock through the window pane. The glass shattered with a loud crash. Both men pulled back to avoid the flying glass.

As Saunders heard the rock bounce on the floor inside, he also heard a word he was familiar with. Several krauts were screaming, "Granate!" The panicked voices repeated, "Granate!"

And then silence.

"Now tell them that the next one coming through the window will be a live one. And then if there's anyone of them left, we'll burn them out. Tell them we don't have any more patience with this. It's now or never," Saunders whispered. It sure is, he thought.

Brockmeyer smiled and yelled once again in his best deep, authoritative voice. The sergeant could see that the private was really beginning to take to this authoritarian thing. Hopefully he didn't get too used to throwing commands around.

Once again, there was silence. At least they haven't started shooting, the NCO thought. There was still a little hope. Just when Saunders was convinced that it wasn't going to work, a voice came from inside the farmhouse.

Brockmeyer became excited. "They're going for it, Sarge! He says he's Colonel Seidel, and he wants to discuss terms. He and the major want to be treated according to their rank. And they demand to be able to keep their personal items. I guess maybe he means pictures, watches, jewelry…stuff like that?"

Saunders was elated. It worked! Now if they could just finish this with no foul ups. No one getting hurt.

"Tell them it's an unconditional surrender. No conditions," Saunders replied firmly.

"Es ist eine bedingungslose Kapitulation!" Brockmeyer yelled forcefully. Then he added, "Komen jetzt raus!" Come out now.

More silence. More waiting. Saunders found himself holding his breath. Then the front door slowly opened.

CHAPTER 14

Saunders and Kirby both swung their weapons toward the doorway.

"Brockmeyer! Tell them hands up, no weapons, and no one will be hurt. The colonel and the major come out first," Saunders called out over his shoulder.

As Brockmeyer quickly relayed the order, the colonel appeared on the front porch with his hands raised. Once he reached the steps, he was followed by the major. Saunders noted that both men had their tunics on once again, formally buttoned, along with their caps on their heads.

Kirby ran over and pulled them towards him, away from the doorway, while carefully keeping them between him and the open door. He thoroughly searched both of them. Nothing.

He nodded to his sergeant, "They're clean."

Saunders looked at the two officers and thought, Now what do I do with them? I've got to get five more krauts out of that farmhouse.

"Brock," he said, "tell them to sit down." He pointed the barrel of his Thompson towards the ground.

"Hinsetzen!" Brockmeyer ordered.

The two soldiers stared at the mud. The colonel shook his head, "Nein."

"Hinsetzen!" Saunders repeated angrily, mimicking Brockmeyer, and pointing his Thompson at the colonel's chest.

Reluctantly, both officers slowly sat down in the mud.

"Caje!" the sergeant yelled.

"Yo!" came the loud reply from behind the farmhouse.

"Stay on the back door and send Billy out front," Saunders ordered.

"Got it," came the answer. After a brief moment, Nelson came around the far corner, behind Kirby.

"Billy, keep an on these two while we get the others out here," Saunders said as he motioned to Kirby to move closer to the doorway. Kirby went cautiously up onto the porch, against the wall, careful to avoid exposing himself to the open door. Staying flat against the wall, he nodded to his sergeant.

Saunders looked around to make sure he was comfortable with their situation. Then he looked at Brockmeyer and nodded.

"Rauskommen!" Brockmeyer yelled into the farmhouse.

After a long moment, the five soldiers, with hands on their heads, slowly made their way out the door and down into the front yard.

As soon as the last one made it out the door, Saunders yelled, "Caje, c'mon around to the front."

In a few seconds, Caje appeared, running around the corner.

"Kirby, check them over carefully. Caje, you keep an eye on them."

After a thorough search, Kirby said, "They're all clean, Sarge. Must have left everything inside."

Saunders looked at the two officers sitting in the mud. "Kirby," he asked, not taking his eyes off of the colonel. "Did you find any papers on any of them?"

"No, Sarge," Kirby replied. "No paperwork on any of them. Just some photographs that look like family. Should I have taken them?"

Saunders shook his head and continued to stare at the two men.

CHAPTER 15

The German colonel and the sergeant remained staring at each other. Saunders knew that there were papers. Brockmeyer said that they'd used a map to find the farmhouse. They must have hidden it. And where there was a map, there were probably other papers. They weren't out in the middle of nowhere for no reason. If they'd hidden everything, it probably meant that map and those papers were important.

"Watch 'em," he said as he went up the stairs and into the farmhouse. He looked around the room, thinking of possible hiding places. He thought about the fireplace, but he didn't think that they'd had enough time to burn papers before the aide had put the fire out. He went over to the fireplace to double check. No sign of any burnt paperwork.

No. The papers and map were somewhere. He just needed to find them. The sergeant started by the door and slowly made his way around the room. He looked in cupboards, drawers, canisters and tea pots. He searched every shelf and cabinet. It didn't take him long to go completely around the room and back to the door.

Going to the table, he took out his lighter and lit the lantern. Carrying the lantern, he went to a closed door and pushed it open. Nothing. The dust on the floor was undisturbed. He walked to the next door, repeating the procedure. Nothing.

Looking around, he realized that only the kitchen in the back remained. There was no sign of a cellar or attic. He walked over to the kitchen doorway. Here he saw clear footprints straight to the back door and over to the window on one side. Then the footprints returned. There was no deviation. Clear signs of someone just checking the back area when they had first arrived.

Saunders was pretty sure that they never left the front room. The papers had to be somewhere in this room, he thought as he looked around again, studying every area.

As his gaze passed by the fireplace, it came back to where the kraut weapons were all piled on the rug on the floor. He placed the lantern on the table as he passed it.

Going over to the stack of weapons, he kicked at the rifles and bayonets, working them off the rug and onto the hardwood floor. Once the rug was clear of weapons, the sergeant reached down and pulled back the corner of the rug. He moved a chair so that he could pull the rug back even farther.

Barely peeking out from under the rolled back rug was the corner of a piece of paper. He moved another chair out of the way, and tugged on the rug some more. There lay a good half dozen papers and two maps. Picking them up, Saunders smiled. He walked back to the table and looked around the room again, tapping the papers on the table as he thought. If they went to this much trouble to hide them, they were definitely important.

He folded them up and tucked them into his field jacket. The sergeant rapped his knuckles on the table, blew out the lantern, and went to the front door.

CHAPTER 16

Standing in the doorway, he could feel the officers' eyes on him, wondering if their cache had been discovered. Saunders wasn't about to give them that information.

"Caje, Kirby, help both of them up," Saunders said, indicating with the barrel of his Thompson.

Both men bent to help as the officers, trying to maintain their dignity, struggled to stand. The officers worked at trying to clean some of the mud from their uniform and hands.

The sergeant took off his cap and ran his hand through his still wet hair. He looked up at the night sky. Not only had the rain stopped, but the stars were beginning to poke their way through the clouds.

He couldn't believe that they'd actually pulled it off. A colonel and a major, with maps and papers thrown in as a bonus. And not a single shot fired. And I didn't get a scratch, he thought as he smiled and put his cap back on.

"Caje, take the point," Saunders said, reaching into his pocket for his own damp map, and handing it to the Cajun. "Shortest way back."

He looked at the seven Germans, now lined up in a row. "Billy, take the left flank. Kirby, right. Krauts in the middle. Brock and I'll bring up the rear."

Suddenly, Brockmeyer shouted, "Whoa!" and ran off. At first Saunders was totally confused, but then he remembered as well. The kraut in the barn. The men stood and waited until Saunders was becoming a bit nervous at how long it was taking. Just as he was about to send Caje in to check on him, Brockmeyer finally appeared with the kraut in tow.

The squad couldn't help but laugh. Brockmeyer still had the German pants and white shirt on, but now he had his own field jacket and boots on, along with his cap. He'd exchanged the German rifle for his own. The German had his own helmet and tunic on again, along with his jackboots…but no pants.

As they came up to the rest of the waiting men, Brockmeyer said, "Almost forgot the poor guy. Figured if he was in his skivvies, he'd be less likely to try to escape. It's a nice night. He should be ok."

Saunders shook his head and laughed. "Alright, move out. Brock, I want you listening, in case there's any chatter between them. I don't want any surprises."

As they prepared to leave, Saunders watched the two officers as they looked around the area in confusion. He knew exactly what they were thinking…Where are the rest of the men? He could see the shock. And the realization that they'd been tricked. It was only a small patrol of five.

But, Saunders thought, five good soldiers were more than sufficient to get eight krauts back to their unit.

"Move out!" he called to his men.

CHAPTER 17

Standing in front of the doorway to Lieutenant Hanley's CP, Saunders took out his cigarettes, and pulled one out. It had been a totally uneventful hike back to their unit with the prisoners. Knowing that Brockmeyer understood German, none of the prisoners spoke a single word. Thankfully, they didn't run into any other kraut patrols. Dawn broke when they were about a mile from their billet. It was going to be another beautiful day in France.

"What'd the Lieutenant say, Sarge?" Caje asked, interrupting the sergeant's thoughts.

"We all gonna get medals or something?" Kirby added.

The men were all gathered around the doorway, awaiting their sergeant's reply. They had just handed over their eight prisoners, including the two officers, along with the maps and papers. The paperwork turned out to be reports on troop movements and artillery strength. Saunders had delivered it all into a surprised Hanley's hands.

"Yeah, we got him a colonel and a major!" Billy laughed.

"And I didn't get shot. No one even got hurt," Brockmeyer happily chimed in.

Saunders lit his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the early morning air. And I didn't get a scratch either, he thought.

"Well, first off, he told me we're a bunch of over achievers," the sergeant smiled as everyone laughed. "But he finally came around to our way of thinking. Couldn't get you all silver stars…so you'll just have to settle for four days of R&R." Saunders waited for the cheers to die down, then said, "So go get yourselves cleaned up. It's daylight. No need for all that camouflage now. Then go do a lot of nothing for the next few days. That's an order!"

"I know there's a poker game out there somewhere just waiting for me!" Kirby laughed, rubbing his hands together.

Billy smiled, "Hey, it's Wednesday! I'm gonna take the whole day and write all my letters home. Every single one."

Caje replied, "I'm just going to find a soft, dry, warm spot and curl up to sleep. Then do a lot of nothing, followed by sleeping some more."

"I'm going to take about five showers," Brockmeyer added. "Try to get all the paint, dirt, sweat and kraut smell off of me. Maybe I'll need six or seven showers to get the kraut off of me."

Billy looked at him with confusion, "But you're German, Brockmeyer!"

"Yeah," Brockmeyer answered. "But I ain't a kraut!"

Saunders laughed and looked at his own blackened hands. "We can all use those showers right now." He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair.

Although he was joking with his men, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was going to get cleaned up, and head straight to the hospital building. He needed to clear the air with Bette. He knew that he needed to be less pigheaded, and try to listen to her more. He certainly had fears, but he had to remember that she did too. And hers were no less important than his. He also needed to let her know what he was afraid of. It was time to let his soldier's guard down and let her in.

He was beginning to feel better about both of them getting their cards on the table when an ominous sound interrupted his thoughts. Everyone looked up.

"Hit it!" Saunders screamed, and everyone scrambled for cover.

CHAPTER 18

"88's!" their sergeant yelled, pulling open the CP door and throwing himself in. His men found every hole and pile of rubble to protect themselves as best they could. Saunders was lying on the floor along the wall, just inside the doorway. Looking out, he checked to be sure his men were in safe positions. He saw Billy lying flat, but too far out in the open.

"Billy! Get over to Brockmeyer!" he yelled.

Brockmeyer, deep in an old crater from previous shellings, waved to Nelson. The young soldier pulled himself up, and ran to the crater, diving on top of Brockmeyer. A shell landed nearby, blasting a crater not far from Billy's last position.

The shelling continued with deafening destruction. When Saunders looked up once again, to check on his men, he froze. He watched in horror as a shell made a direct hit on the hospital building down the other end of the street. The entire front of the building crumbled.

Saunders was instantly up and running.

CHAPTER 19

His heart was pounding as he ran down the street, oblivious to the destruction around him. Instinctively, he ducked when a shell blew out the front of a building behind him, but he continued to run.

Another shell exploded well up ahead of him in the middle of the street. It was too far away to catch him with shrapnel, but the concussion knocked him off of his feet. He landed hard on his side, losing both his jeep cap and Thompson.

Dazed, Saunders rolled onto his stomach, getting up on his hands and knees. He shook his head, and wiped at the blood coming into his eye from a cut over his eyebrow. Then he pushed himself up and continued to run unsteadily towards the hospital building.

"No, no, no…" he shouted as he ran.

His heart was in his throat when he reached the destroyed front of the hospital. The sergeant continued to scream, "No!" as he dug furiously at the rubble, pulling chunks of concrete loose and tossing them aside.

Saunders ignored the continuing barrage around him. His mind was racing. Emotions and thoughts were bombarding him from every corner of his brain. But he was focused on only one thing.

He had lost a piece of his soul when Ann died in an air raid in England. He could still see her lying in the ruined living room, crushed under a beam. The vivid image would always be burned into his brain.

He couldn't lose Bette now in the same way. He couldn't.

As he continued to tear at the rubble with his bare hands, he kept thinking. What did I do? What did I ever do that was so horrible that I deserve this? The Germans I've killed? It's a war! The men who've died under my command? Something else that I don't even remember? Certainly Bette never did anything to deserve this.

His eyes welled up, and tears began to paint pink streaks on his dirt covered face as the blood from the cut over his eye joined the stream of tears.

"Take me!" he screamed out loud to the heavens as he tossed aside stone and concrete chunks. The jagged debris sliced into his hands.

"She didn't do anything. Don't punish her because of me! Take me!"

A shell exploded in the next building, and shrapnel and debris went flying outward. Saunders fell sideways from the concussion, and felt a searing pain in his thigh. But he struggled to pull himself back up, and kept digging.

He had to get her out. Alive. He had to.

CHAPTER 20

"What's the Sarge doing?" Billy yelled as he pointed through the smoke.

Caje look down the street. "It's the hospital. Sarge is down by the hospital."

Kirby started to get up, "He needs help."

"Stay where you are!" a command came from the open doorway. Hanley was on his belly, looking out at the men. "No one's moving until this is over," he shouted so everyone could hear him.

"But the Sarge..." Kirby began.

"That's an order, soldier!" Hanley shouted. "One man out in this is one too many." The lieutenant looked out at Saunders worriedly.

The four men stayed in place as ordered, watching helplessly as their sergeant dug furiously at the rubble amid the continuous barrage.

CHAPTER 21

A soldier, hunkered down in a building up the street, took a chance to peer out the front door at the ongoing destruction.

"Hey!" he called to the others who were huddled in the far corner. "There's some crazy soldier out there, digging through the rubble like a madman. Now there's someone bucking for a Section 8. If he survives."

The soldier looked back at those in the corner, now paying attention to him. "Looks like he's a sergeant, too. Guess he's been in one too many firefights."

Bette Peters sat up, eyes wide. She scrambled onto her hands and knees, and crawled quickly towards the door.

"Where?" she asked in a panic. "Where is he?"

The soldier pointed, "Over there, where our field hospital used to be."

As soon as she recognized the blond head, she shouted, "Oh, No!" Nurse Peters was instantly up and out the door, running.

"Hey! Hey!" the soldier yelled. "Where are you going? You're gonna get killed!" He turned to the others in the corner. "Is insanity catchy? What gives?"

Zigzagging through the debris and smoking craters, Bette called out, "Saunders!" over and over. She needed to get him off the street. She tripped and stumbled to her knees, but pulled herself up quickly.

As she stood up, she screamed, "Saunders! Saunders, I'm over here!"

The sergeant looked up at the building. She could tell that he'd heard her. But he looked like he thought that she was calling to him from inside the ruins. He began to dig even more feverishly.

Reaching him, she grabbed his shoulder, but he shrugged her off, and continued to claw at the rubble. His fingers were now bloody and torn from his frantic efforts.

"Bette!" he yelled, pulling at a massive chunk of stone.

Bette grabbed his shoulder again and shouted, "Saunders, I'm here. I'm here."

The sergeant turned, and relief overcame his grief. He grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her close, holding his hand protectively over her head.

He buried his face in her honey blond hair, his tears mingling with hers. Then his soldier's instincts took over. "We've got to get out of here!" he said, looking around for a safer location. Holding her hand, he started to stand, but his hand slid away suddenly and he began to fall backwards.

Bette grabbed for his head just before it hit the pile of concrete debris. Another shell exploded in the old field hospital building, and she instantly threw herself on top of the unconscious sergeant.

And then there was an eerie silence. The barrage had ended.

CHAPTER 22

Bette looked at Saunders, lying on his side on the pile of rubble. She couldn't understand why he was unconscious. She gently rolled him onto his back, and saw a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded in his thigh. His entire lower leg was blood soaked.

"Man down! Man down! I need a litter!" she screamed, as she quickly reached for the sergeant's belt and unbuckled it. Tugging frantically, she pulled the belt free.

"Man down!" she screamed again, as she slid the belt under his thigh, and wrapped it around his leg just above the piece of metal shrapnel.

Saunders' squad was up and running towards them as soon as the barrage had ceased. When she saw them coming, she yelled, "Help me get him to the hospital. Hurry!"

The four men looked confused, glancing up at the ruins in front of them. But they didn't need to be told twice that their sergeant needed their help.

As Kirby, Caje, Brockmeyer and Nelson all picked up the NCO, Caje asked, "Where to?"

Bette stopped for a moment, realizing that they'd all been out on a night patrol, and didn't know.

"Over here," she pointed, and led the way up the street to what looked to them to have been a warehouse at one point.

Two men with a litter came out of the building, but the soldiers carrying their sergeant were almost there.

"Have them prep for surgery, stat!" she yelled to the two men. They immediately turned around and ran back into the building.

"In here," Bette told the four men. "We've got to hurry."

As they brought the unconscious NCO in and laid him on a table, Bette checked Saunders' pulse.

"He's getting weaker," she said worriedly. "Where's the doctor?"

A man in a white coat came rushing over and saw the shrapnel embedded in the soldier's thigh. He quickly checked Bette's tourniquet. "OR is ready. Get him in the next room. He'll need blood. What's his type?" He went to reach for the sergeant's dog tags.

"O+," Caje, Kirby and Bette all said at the same time.

"Brockmeyer and I can give you some," Kirby volunteered. "If you need more, Littlejohn is O+ too."

As the men carried Saunders into the operating room, the doctor said, "Nurse Peters, get them set up out here for giving us some blood. They'll be back out in a moment."

Bette stared as the OR door closed in front of her. In spite of her terror, she went to prepare the equipment for Kirby and Brockmeyer.

CHAPTER 23

"Any word?" Hanley asked the soldiers who sat outside the hospital doorway. It had been almost two hours since their sergeant had gone into surgery.

Caje shook his head. "No, Lieutenant. Guess they're still working on him."

"Sure has been a long time," Billy said with a worried look at the lieutenant.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Hanley replied, trying to reassure his men. "We've got some great doctors and nurses here."

Brockmeyer, looking to change the subject, asked, "That was a really heavy barrage, Lieutenant. How bad were we hit?"

Hanley was taking out his cigarettes. After he'd stuck one between his lips and lit it, he looked at the men. He handed the pack and his lighter to Kirby, who offered his thanks, took one, and handed it to Caje. As Caje said a quick thanks, Kirby lit both of their cigarettes, and the Cajun handed the pack back.

"Five casualties, including Saunders. Two dead. We lost a jeep, and a supply truck. And our communications is down, but they're working on it right now. Considering the structural damage in town, it's not as bad as it could have been. Fortunately, there's no sign of a kraut push. Guess they just wanted to let us know that they know we're here. We were lucky."

"We'll be even luckier if we get good news about the Sarge," Kirby said glumly.

A half hour later, Bette Peters came out of the door, pushing her hair back from her eyes. Everyone scrambled to their feet, looking at her hopefully.

"He's going to be fine," she smiled at them. "He took a piece of shrapnel in his thigh. Nicked an artery, but we got to him before he bled to death. Thanks for the blood donations, by the way."

Caje laughed, "I think the Sarge has more Kirby blood in him by now than Saunders blood."

"Hey, that blood is A-1. Guaranteed to get you up and running in double time," the BAR man laughed in relief. "I think Brock and Littlejohn are neck and neck with me by now."

Bette could see the tension draining from the men as they all began to relax.

"No sense in all of you hanging around. He could be out for hours. I'll tell him you were all worried about him," she told them.

"No, don't do that," Kirby replied quickly. "He might get a swelled head or something. Just tell him we said hi. C'mon guys. Look at us."

Caje, Brockmeyer and Nelson looked at each other, realizing for the first time that they all still had their jeep caps and camo paint on.

Littlejohn laughed, "You guys are sure a mess. Don't smell too great either."

Caje replied, "Time to hit the showers, and scrub that night patrol off us and get to that R&R."

Billy agreed, "Now we've really got something to celebrate. Well, besides bringing in a kraut colonel and major. And a mess of important papers."

Kirby slapped Nelson on the back. "And maybe if we hurry, we can still make breakfast."

Brockmeyer laughed. "I'll probably miss breakfast by the time I take all those showers. I wouldn't mind getting out of these kraut britches, that's for sure."

As Hanley watched his men heading back to their bivouac, he turned to look back at the nurse. "Take good care of our sergeant, Lieutenant Peters."

CHAPTER 24

Saunders opened his eyes wide, and sat up straight. His hand went to the cut on his forehead, and he saw his bandaged hand. Holding up the other, he realized that it, too was covered in white bandages. Confused, with heart pounding, he began to panic.

"No!" he yelled, and started to get out of bed.

An orderly and a nurse came running over, and pulled him back down onto the bed, trying to keep his IV from tearing out as he fought them. But as he continued to struggle, the two realized that they were going to lose the battle. He was just too strong and determined.

"We need help here!" the nurse called out.

Bette Peters came rushing into the tent, knowing who the problem patient would be before she saw them.

Grabbing the sergeant's arm, Bette called out, "Saunders! I'm here. I'm here and ok. We're both ok."

As he focused on her face, she gently pushed him back down. Saunders wrapped his bandaged hands around her arm.

"You're ok?" he asked hoarsely.

Bette looked at the other two and said, "He'll be alright now. Thanks." She sat in the chair next to his bedside, where she'd been sitting for hours after his surgery.

"I'm fine," she replied, smiling.

"But the hospital…" he began in confusion.

"We had to move the hospital. It was raining so hard last night that the roof was leaking like a sieve. We covered everything the best that we could, and as soon as the rain stopped, we moved everyone and everything over here to this old warehouse. I was going to tell you when you got back from patrol, but then we got hit with the barrage."

She pulled his blanket up over his chest again, and checked his IV. "You really tore your hands up pretty badly digging through the rubble."

"I…I thought…" the sergeant hesitated, not even daring to say it.

"I know," she replied. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I wish I could have gotten to you sooner."

"You took a piece of shrapnel in your leg," she continued. "It nicked an artery and you bled quite a bit." She smiled. "So now you've got more Kirby blood in you. Better watch out, or you'll be wanting to sneak off to visit the local ladies, or be itching for a good poker game."

"Never happen," he smiled, glad to have the subject changed.

"I heard that you had quite a night. Go out for a prisoner, and come back with eight, including a colonel and a major. Talk about giving 110%!"

"I was careful," he replied quickly.

She looked at him with confusion. "I'm sure you were. Why would you say that?"

Saunders looked away for a moment, and then looked back at her. It was hard for him to put it into words, but he knew that he had to say it.

"I don't want you to leave me," he said quietly.

Bette stared at him for a long moment, and the sergeant became worried. Then she leaned forward and took his bandaged hand. "Sergeant Saunders, I would never leave you. I love you. Why would you think I'd ever leave you?"

"I got hurt again," he started to reply.

"You're thinking about our conversation yesterday?" she asked.

When he gave a faint nod, she replied, "I was trying to tell you how much I care and worry about you. Not that I would ever think of leaving you. Guess I didn't do a good job of getting that across to you." She stopped and smiled.

"My love is unconditional, soldier. My own fear is that you'll go out on patrol one day…and you'll leave me…forever."

"I can't guarantee it," he said softly, "but I'll try not to."

"I'll take that," she smiled again. "I know that it's the best I can get from you. It's a war."

She stood up, leaned over, and kissed him lightly. "Right now, you need rest. I heard you've got four days of R&R. You're going to need every one of them. I'll go see about getting you something to eat. You must be starved."

Saunders lay quietly, staring at the ceiling.

"Thank you," he whispered. He felt his gut wrenching fear melting, and his confidence returning. Her love for him was unconditional. He smiled and closed his eyes.

CHAPTER 25

Days later, the sergeant lay on the cot, looking at his red and calloused hands. The bandages had just been removed. He wiggled his fingers as he held them up.

"Now that's what I call the height of boredom. Staring at your own fingers." Bette appeared next to him with her hands behind her back.

Saunders looked up at her and smiled. "They just took the bandages off. Still tender, but they look pretty good. And they all seem to work ok." He wiggled his fingers again.

Bette laughed. How he loved to hear her laugh.

"Well, good," she replied. "Because you'll need your hands for this." She pulled her hands from her back and held out a plate with a square of cake on it. Taking up almost the entire top of the small cake was a stub of a candle that was glowing with a flickering flame.

"Happy birthday, Sergeant Saunders!" she said with a big grin.

Saunders looked around nervously at the other patients. No one seemed to notice.

"What do you mean? No…" he started to say.

"Sorry," Bette interrupted him, whispering. "But you can't deny it, soldier. I have your chart, remember?"

The sergeant looked around again. "I don't like anyone knowing that."

"Oh," she said, looking around very conspiratorially. "Then I guess you'd better hurry up and make a wish, and blow out your candle before word spreads that you were a Valentine baby. I do remember today is Valentine's Day." She held out the plate to him.

Saunders took the plate in both hands and looked up into her smiling turquoise eyes. He gave her a lopsided grin as he made his wish and blew out the candle.

"What did you wish for?" she asked.

Saunders shook his head. "If I tell you, it might not come true." And I certainly hope it does, he thought.

"Where'd you ever get the cake?" he asked to change the subject.

She sat down on the chair next to him. "One of the doctors got a fruitcake from his wife. He cut it up and gave all of us nurses a piece. Perfect timing, huh? I found the candle in the little house that all of us nurses are living in."

The sergeant set the plate on his stomach, took the candle off of the cake and handed the still smoking candle to Bette. She set it on the small table nearby.

Picking up the square of cake, he broke it in two. "I think for my birthday, we should both pig out and eat my entire cake." He held one half out to her.

Bette held up a hand in protest. "No, thanks. I'll pass. I really hate fruitcake. I only took it from the doctor so I could give it to you."

Saunders put on an exaggerated hurt look. "If we don't share it, my wish might not come true. Besides, I thought your love was unconditional. That doesn't include eating a little fruitcake?"

She stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. Looking at the piece of fruitcake that he held out to her, Bette reached out to take it. She studied it carefully, and with two fingers, picked out a piece of fruit, dropping it onto the plate. Turning the small cake, she pulled out another piece and deposited it with the first one.

Saunders watched this procedure quietly, trying hard not to laugh. After she had eliminated four more pieces of fruit in the same manner, Bette looked the cake over carefully, and then looked up at the sergeant.

Holding it for another long moment, she finally held it out in a toast to the sergeant. "Happy birthday, Saunders." She put the entire half into her mouth, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. She chewed it hesitantly. After she swallowed, she shrugged.

"That wasn't bad," she admitted, with an honest laugh.

Saunders stuffed his half into his mouth. As he chewed, he gave her a big grin. How he loved to hear her laugh.

Licking his finger, Saunders replied, "Happy Valentine's Day."

THE END

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE!

Happy Birthday, Vic