Part 2: Life on the Line - Point of the Lance

by Queen's Bishop

When things don't go as planned, you end up flying by the seat of your pants. That's how it is when you're living your 'Life on the Line.'

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.

Tales of Life on the Line

Part 2 - Point of the Lance

by: Queen's Bishop

[] Indicates German is being spoken.

()()()() Indicates time has passed or the focus of the story has shifted

to a different location or character.

Summary of Part 1: Déjà Vu – Billy dealt with a recurring dream and Pvt. Calvecchio was introduced to Life on the Line.

()()()()()()()()()()

"Well, Henderson, what do we have?" Col. Perch asked.

"It's a bit unclear, Sir. Air reconnaissance definitely shows something here among the trees," the major said as he pointed to a blurry spot, "just as the prisoner said during his interrogation. But, what the Jerries are up to is still a mystery. The prisoner didn't know, and nothing is obvious from these photographs."

"Do we have any patrols in the vicinity that can take a look?"

"No, Sir. It's over the line, in the American sector. Do you want me to give them a call?"

The colonel looked at the air reconnaissance photographs and then at a map. "No, not just yet. Order another fly-over of the area for tomorrow morning and this time tell them to have the pilot go in low. I'm sure the Yanks won't mind if we take a closer look."

"Yes, Sir." Maj. Henderson picked up the telephone and said, "Get me Cpt. Howard."

After the orders had been relayed, the major turned his attention back to the photographs. "Sir, do you think this might be some sort of storage depot for their V-2 rockets? It appears to be well camouflaged."

"I'm not sure what it is. But since they put such effort into concealing it, once we get the results of tomorrow's fight, I've no doubt we'll want to destroy it as quickly as possible."

()()()()()()()()()()

"This ridge would make a good spot for a line of Kraut OPs, so watch yourself," Hanley said as he ran his pencil along a contour line. He had been laying out the mission for the First Squad NCO for the past several minutes: avoid contact if possible, determine if a bridge was still standing and if so, would it support armor, and probe to find out where the Germans were.

The mission sounded like any other reconnaissance patrol to the sergeant. "Right, Lieutenant," Saunders replied.

"By the way, the British captured Cortier the day before yesterday." Hanley casually offered the piece of information.

The NCO looked the map over one last time before folding it and putting it in his shirt pocket. "Is a joint offensive against Bourget in the works?" he asked. That small city seemed to be the next logical target.

"I don't know, Sergeant. No-one from HQ has called to ask for my opinion," the officer responded with a smile. Then he added, "However, if it is, controlling that ridge line would be important, so take a look. Just be careful."

"Always, Lieutenant, always."

()()()()()()()()()()

Early the next morning Saunders gave the order to 'saddle up' and motioned for the squad to move out. The sergeant was walking beside the scout as they passed the lieutenant, standing in the doorway of the CP.

When Kirby, who was bringing up the rear, got to Hanley, he stopped and said, "Lieutenant, Sir, could I ask ya somethin'?"

Caje looked over at Saunders and the sergeant rolled his eyes. Kirby was always complaining about one thing or another. The two men turned around. The sergeant was about to tell Kirby to shut up and move out, but the lieutenant spoke first.

"What's on your mind, Kirby?"

"Well, Sir, I was wonderin' how come we gotta always be goin' out on these patrols?"

The rest of the squad members looked at each other and sighed. 'Leave it to Kirby,' was the thought running through most of their minds.

The lieutenant pondered the question for a moment before responding. "Remember when you were a kid, Kirby, and you read about the Roman Legions in school?"

Kirby scrunched up his face, not quite sure what Hanley had just asked him. He gave a tentative, "Yeah…"

The rest of the squad members smirked. None of them could imagine Kirby reading a book, even if it was full of pictures.

"Remember how those legionnaires stood shoulder to shoulder to form their battle line? Well, Kirby, that's just like all the platoons in the company and all of the companies in the 361st, standing shoulder to shoulder to form our battle line."

Again, the response came hesitantly. "Yeah..."

"And what did each of those legionnaires have in his hands?"

This time, Kirby gave the lieutenant a blank look.

"A lance and a shield!" Littlejohn eagerly answered.

"That's right, Littlejohn, a lance and a shield. Now, Kirby, what was at the very end of those lances as those legionnaires stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to go into battle?"

A now totally confused Kirby slowly replied, "The point?"

Hanley gave a triumphant smile. "Exactly! And you boys, Kirby, are the point of our lance. Understand?"

Kirby shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs before replying, "Yes, Sir…Thank you, Sir,"

The sergeant and the lieutenant exchanged fleeting smiles as Saunders signaled the squad to move out.

()()()()()()()()()()

Since leaving the CP, the BAR man had been unusually quiet as he mulled over what Hanley had said. But, he could only contain himself for so long. When the squad stopped to take a break he asked, "Hey, did any of you guys understand what the lieutenant was sayin' 'bout us bein' an arrowhead?"

"He said we were the point of a lance, not an arrowhead," Billy replied.

"Yeah, well, it's the same thing. What'd he mean?"

Littlejohn rolled his eyes. Calvecchio, who had been with the squad for less than a week, opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and just shook his head instead.

"He meant, mon ami, dat tankers drive tanks, pilots fly planes and bakers bake bread. Dose are dere jobs in dis war. Our job to be out in front, to set up observation posts, to do reconnaissance and to find de Krauts, like dis patrol," Caje said.

"Well, why didn't he just say that then, 'steada sayin' we was like Romans. All them Romans ended up dead, didn't they? Well, didn't they?"

"Kirby…oh, never mind. You wanna swap for this chopped egg with bacon?" the medic asked.

With that, conversation returned to the usual topics of bad food, bad weather, and how long the mission was going to take.

()()()()()()()()()()

"How much further, Sarge? My dogs are killin' me." Kirby whined.

"And you're killin' the rest of us with your constant belly aching," Littlejohn responded.

"Keep it down," Saunders growled.

The scout was about thirty yards ahead. He hadn't yet spotted anything, although the sergeant knew they should be approaching the river. The NCO raised his hand and signaled his men to take cover as he cautiously continued forward.

Caje stopped and took a knee behind a tree stump. When he turned, he saw Saunders, in a crouch, coming toward him. The NCO worked his way to the scout's position, then both of them dropped to their bellies and continued crawling forward.

There was no need for the sergeant to take the binoculars out of his field jacket for a closer look at the bridge and no need to go in and inspect its structural integrity. The Germans had destroyed it as they fell back, leaving only the pilings at the far end. The two men returned to the rest of the waiting squad.

"Calvecchio, radio," Saunders said as he took out his map.

The short dark-eyed soldier approached and then turned his back to the sergeant. Saunders pulled the receiver from Calvecchio's web belt and turned on the radio.

After going through the exchange of call signs, he said, "There's nothing left of the bridge, Lieutenant. Do you want us to scout for another location for the engineers?"

"Wait for orders," Hanley replied. "I'll contact HQ and let them decide."

Saunders signed off. "We wait," he said. "Kirby, watch the back trail. Calvecchio, you're on me. The rest of you, keep it down."

He and the radioman moved forward to keep an eye on the opposite river bank and await the call from Hanley. As they settled in, the sergeant said, "You might as well take the radio off, Calvecchio. This might take a while." He reached into his field jacket and pulled out the binoculars.

The private unbuckled the chest strap and, as the radio began to slide off his shoulders, he eased it to the ground. Only then did he turn to Saunders and say, "Sarge, can I ask ya somethin'?"

The sergeant nodded as he scanned up and down the opposite shore of the river.

"Well, what Kirby said about all the Romans endin' up dead…"

Saunders lowered the field glasses and looked at the young soldier whose parents or grandparents had most likely emigrated from Italy. "Well, obviously some of them survived," he said with a chuckle. Then he became serious as he said, "Look, Kirby's just…well, he's just Kirby. This mission is no different than any of the other ones this squad has handled. Keep alert and follow orders. That's all you need to think about."

"Okay, Sarge. Thanks."

As he went back to scanning the banks of the river, Saunders didn't know if he had done anything to quell Calvecchio's fear. He once again pushed his own apprehension, the anxiety that was always there for the safety of his men whenever he led the squad out, to the back of his mind and concentrated instead on the mission.

()()()()()()()()()()

Lt. Bennett flew low and slow, which was about all the old plane could manage. He was almost on top of the target before he spotted the buildings neatly tucked into a jagged clearing. Even the roads that led to the facility were hard to see as they wove in and out of the trees and their shadows. His orders had been very clear; get as many photographs as possible. Since there were no Messerschmitts in the air and he hadn't been greeted by anti-aircraft fire, he decided to push his luck and make another pass from a different direction.

The first time, the Germans guarding the area had been surprised by the appearance of the plane. But, as Bennett turned and made his second approach they were ready for him. Since he had no machine guns to scatter them, they stood and fired their rifles into the air at the low flying, slow moving airplane.

The lieutenant's luck ran out when a bullet tore through the plane's gas line. He watched as the indicator on the cockpit fuel gauge quickly began to fall. It didn't take much calculating for him to realize he would never make it back home. He knew he had two choices, either immediately find a place to land the plane or bail out.

He couldn't recall passing over any viable landing areas and since he preferred to survive to fly another day, he decided the best option was to jump. He was too low to safely parachute out, so he pulled back on the stick to try to gain sufficient altitude.

The engine was sputtering by the time the altimeter hit 300 meters. He quickly leveled off, unbuckled his safety harness, jettisoned the canopy and let go of the stick. Then, as he started to push himself up into a standing position, the nose of the plane dipped and the airflow sucked him out of the cockpit.

()()()()()()()()()()

A plane suddenly appeared from the other side of the ridge. Saunders raised the binoculars and spotted the insignia on the aircraft's fuselage. "It's British and he's in trouble," he said.

The engine continued to sputter and then stopped. For a brief moment, all was quiet as the plane headed nose down toward the ground. Calvecchio shrank back since it seemed to be heading right for him and the sergeant. However, when it hit the ground with a loud explosion it was some distance away. After that, all was again quiet as the two men watched a parachute gently floating down to earth. Like the plane, the pilot would end up between their position and the ridge.

Saunders took out his map and marked the approximate spot where the aviator landed. As he reached for the receiver, he told Calvecchio to go get the rest of the squad. The sergeant switched on the radio and reported the British plane crashing and the one parachute.

"If we hurry, Lieutenant, we might be able to get to him before the Krauts do," he said.

Hanley hesitated for only a moment before giving his approval. He would notify King Company HQ and let them try to figure out what a British airplane was doing flying over the American sector.

Once the squad had assembled, Saunders showed the map to Caje. The scout looked from the map to the terrain spread out before him and nodded to the sergeant.

Saunders told his men, "We need to move quickly if we're gonna beat the Krauts." Then he signaled the scout to move out.

Caje knew that meant to go as fast as caution would allow.

()()()()()()()()()()

Bennett's peaceful ride ended abruptly when his parachute snagged on a tree limb and he was jerked to a halt a good three meters from the ground. He tried to swing over and grab another branch. If he could do that, he might be able to slip out of his harness and with any luck, climb down the tree or at least get closer to mother earth before dropping down.

But, all of his efforts failed. Dropping from three meters was just an invitation to a broken ankle, or worse. So, for the time being, there wasn't anything the lieutenant could do but await rescue. However, he realized that if he hadn't been seen and was left hanging for a day or so, he would have to revisit that not-so-appealing option.

Fortunately, he soon heard the sound of approaching salvation. He couldn't get himself twisted around to see who it was, but a few moments later the sound of laughter and jeers told him that it wasn't the boisterous Americans who were coming to rescue him. He thought for a moment he would be shot; he had heard about that happening to other poor devils. But, after initially relishing his predicament, orders were given and the Jerries set about getting him down.

Once he was on the ground, Bennett was roughly searched and relieved of his sidearm and the watch his father had carried during the Great War. He had nothing else of any value, either personal or military. The only thing of military importance had been the camera and that went down with the plane. His hands were bound and he was given a shove as the squad of Germans began making their way toward the ridge.

()()()()()()()()()()

When he realized they had lost the race, Saunders signaled the scout to slow down and they began to quietly work their way in toward the sound of voices. The Krauts didn't know they weren't alone. They were making a considerable ruckus as they worked to free the chute and lower their prisoner to the waiting arms of their comrades and then to congratulate themselves for a job well done.

But, once the pilot was on the ground, they didn't wait around. They quickly hustled their captive along, moving toward the ridge with First Squad behind them, anxious to close the gap.

They might have done it and been able to overpower the unsuspecting Krauts if another squad of Germans hadn't appeared and joined them. Saunders had to be content with following them and hoping an opportunity to free the British prisoner would present itself before they reached the top of the ridge, the probable location of a line of Kraut outposts.

Spotting one of those OPs turned out to be easy; the soldiers manning it came out to add their congratulations. That seemed odd to the sergeant.

'Why is everyone so happy about capturing this particular fly-boy?' he asked himself. 'Of course, looking down on things gives you a different perspective. Maybe this pilot saw something he wasn't supposed to see.'

That particular possibility aroused Saunders' curiosity. He wondered what was on the other side of the ridge. With the OP guards momentarily out of position, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to slip past them and have a look around. He signaled Caje to move to the right and keep going.

Kirby sighed and shook his head as he said, "We're gonna end up like them Romans," under his breath.

Calvecchio gulped and bit his lip.

The squad cautiously made its way around the unmanned outpost.

()()()()()()()()()()

Bennett was hot, tired and thirsty by the time the Jerries stopped near the top of the ridge for another celebration with the soldiers who were on duty in some sort of glorified hole in the ground. He was grateful when one of the men passed him his water skin and he was able to take a long drink before he was again shoved forward over the crest of the ridge, across its rocky top and then down its backside. He recognized where they were headed and grimly realized he was going to get an up-close look at the target he had photographed from on high.

They approached a fenced in yard and building, something Bennett hadn't even noticed from the air. He had been so focused on trying to get clear pictures of the rest of the complex that the most unambiguous structure, a small POW camp, had totally eluded him. He was also immediately aware of the fact that, from what they had told him at his briefing, the intelligence officers didn't know the camp was there either.

The initial humor of the situation, the Jerries having gone to such trouble to make the POW camp obvious while camouflaging the rest of the buildings, and everyone at HQ being focused on the other mysterious structures and oblivious to the obvious, slowly changed to dread.

If his superiors didn't know that prisoners were being kept so close to the other buildings, buildings they were clearly concerned about, they might decide to not send out another air reconnaissance flight and take action instead. Such action would, no doubt, endanger the lives of all of the POWs and that now included him.

The Jerries had been counting on the Allies being prudent, so the joke was on them. But, he and the rest of the captives would end up being the punch line.

()()()()()()()()()()

From their position part-way down the backside of the slope, the squad was able to watch the Krauts as they first appeared at the top of the ridge and then made their way down a circuitous path to the bottom. From there they seemed to disappear among the trees, only to momentarily reappear and then vanish for good.

Saunders tried to call in to King Two, but was unable to make contact; they were on their own.

"Alright, listen up; Caje, you're on me," he said. "The rest of you wait here. If we're not back in an hour or if you hear shooting, head for home. Call in to the lieutenant when you get on the other side of this ridge. Let him know that something's down there an' it's probably what that British plane was interested in. Got it?"

The men nodded and settled in for a long wait.

The scout and the sergeant began cautiously making their way to the bottom of the slope, not by the winding path, but by an equally indirect route. Then they headed toward the last place they had seen the Kraut patrol before it disappeared. They moved slowly and carefully, not knowing what they were going to find.

If they hadn't been so wary, they might have stumbled onto a well-camouflaged guard snuggled down taking a nap beside an overgrown rhododendron. The Americans evaded him and continued working their way deeper into the woods. They came to two trucks and a half track all covered with camouflage netting. They watched a single guard slowly patrolling around the vehicles before resuming their investigation. Then, even though they had looked right at it numerous times, it wasn't until they were within fifty yards of it that they realized there was a building hidden among the trees.

The two men glanced at each other and each gave a small shake of his head. Neither knew what they were looking at, but both knew it must be something important if the Krauts had gone to so much trouble to make it practically invisible. Saunders signaled and Caje continued moving slowly around the perimeter. They located two other smaller buildings, each as equally well camouflaged as the first. But strangely there were no guards patrolling around any of the three buildings.

Then came the biggest surprise of all; about a hundred yards from the back side of the largest building was a barn surrounded by a fenced in yard. No effort had been made to hide it. Guards were walking slowly around the enclosure while about a dozen prisoners were either sitting on benches and leaning back against the building or strolling aimlessly around.

"Are any of dem British?" the Cajun asked in a hushed voice.

"No, but he might be inside. Let's get out of here," was the sergeant's reply.

They very carefully made their way back to the rest of the waiting squad.

()()()()()()()()()()

Bennett's intake as a POW was brief; keep away from the fence and if you don't make trouble, there won't be any trouble. With that, he was escorted to the gate and shoved into the yard. It wasn't much of a shock to find that all of the prisoners were Yanks. This was, after all, the American sector.

The prisoners, however, were surprised to see him. They had all seen the plane fly over, heard the rifle fire and seen the plane go into a nose dive. But, nobody had seen the parachute so they all assumed the pilot had been killed in the crash. Therefore, they were understandably reserved about welcoming him, thinking he might be a Kraut plant.

"I say, what is this place?" he asked as he approached two men.

"What's it look like," one stated as they looked him over.

The lieutenant hadn't expected a salute, but the total disregard for his rank astounded him. Then, as he glanced around, he realized that all of the men in the yard were enlisted. Perhaps, he reasoned, these Yanks didn't recognize a British officer when they saw one.

"Is there an officer in charge?" he asked the next man he approached.

The man said nothing but jerked his thumb toward the barn.

When he entered, Bennett was gratified to see a fellow lieutenant. After introductions were made, he again asked, "What is this place?"

Lt. Wagner, the highest ranking officer in the camp, said, "It's a temporary holding area. The Krauts throw in anyone they catch until there's enough to transport to an official POW camp. But, you're the first Brit I've seen."

"I think maybe he's some sort of a spy, Lieutenant, put in here to see what he can learn," Sgt. Michaels, a short stocky man with penetrating dark brown eyes, said as he menacingly circled the new-comer.

Bennett straightened up, trying for a more aristocratic bearing. "I assure you, I am not a spy. Go ahead, ask me anything that a subject of His Majesty King George VI would know but a Jerry wouldn't," he stated with confidence.

"Alright," Michaels said, taking up the challenge. After a few moments of thought he asked, "Who made up Murderers' Row (1)?"

"Well, I say, that is a rather difficult one. Could it be, perhaps, your most infamous gangsters?" Bennett replied sarcastically.

"You askin' or tellin'?" the sergeant insolently replied.

"Alright, Michaels. He's a Limey. You can't expect him to know anything about baseball. We gotta ask him something only a real Limey would know," Wagner reasoned.

"You meant like about all them King Henrys an' other Georges? But, Sir, how are we gonna know if he's right?"

"Gentlemen, perhaps I can be of assistance. Ask me anything you wish about the American War of Independence. I read history at Oxford before the war," Bennett offered, maintaining his air of superiority.

"Huh?" Michaels responded.

"He means he studied the Revolutionary War at some university," Wagner said.

"Just so, but not some university, my dear fellow, Oxford," Bennett replied.

"Oxford, huh. Well, ain't you little Lord Fauntleroy!" the NCO sarcastically replied.

"Alright, Sergeant, that's enough. Ask him a question about the Revolutionary War," Wagner said.

"Okay, who was the Frenchie…" Michaels asked.

"The Marquis de Lafayette."

"When an' how did Washington cross the Delaware?"

"Standing up in a rowing boat on Christmas day, if you are partial to such outlandish myths."

"I got one for you," Wagner said. "Who brought the cannon down from Fort Ticonderoga to Boston?"

Bennett wrinkled his brow. "I can see him…a chubby little fellow. Now what was his name? Ah, I've got it." He smiled. "Knox, Col. Henry Knox. I believe you Yanks keep all of your gold bullion in a fort named for him."

"Okay, I guess you're legit. Are you the idiot who buzzed us earlier?" Wagner asked.

"I could take offence at the term 'idiot' except my second pass was rather ill-conceived," Bennett responded. "However, I believe we have a much bigger problem."

Wagner and Michaels listened as he outlined his mission and stated his concern for their safety. When he was finished, the two Americans looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief before returning their gaze to Bennett.

"Okay, but since you didn't return, I'm sure your brass will order another reconnaissance flight tomorrow and we'll be spotted," Wagner confidently stated.

"Yeah," added Michaels. "We can all be outside waving' our shirts or somethin'."

Bennett responded, "That is, of course, a possibility. But, as I said, it is more likely, since my superiors are unaware of the existence of this POW camp, or whatever the Jerries call it, they will decide to forego the air reconnaissance…"

"…and just send bombers or order an artillery barrage?" Michaels asked.

"Yes, that is what I believe will happen."

"Then, Lt. Bennett, what do you suggest?" Lt. Wagner asked.

"Well, gentlemen, I recommend we put as much distance between ourselves and the rest of this facility as possible before dawn."

()()()()()()()()()()

"Col. Perch, we just received notification from the Americans," Maj. Henderson said as he entered the colonel's office. "One of their patrols reported seeing a British aircraft shot down over their sector near the Perrot River. They spotted a parachute and received permission to try to rescue the pilot, but regrettably, nothing more has been heard from the patrol."

"The Perrot River you say. That could be our overdue reconnaissance flight. Do you agree, Major?"

"Yes, Sir. It is, unfortunately, most likely the case."

"Very well. Contact the Americans. It is time we have a…what is the term they use?"

"I believe they call it a pow-wow, Sir."

"Yes, it is time for a pow-wow."

()()()()()()()()()()

"Did you find him?" Littlejohn asked when the two men returned.

"No, but we dink we know where he is. Dere's a POW camp down dere," the Cajun responded.

"A POW camp!" Nelson exclaimed. "What's a POW camp doing so close to the front lines?"

"Maybe they haven't had a chance to move the prisoners back. How many were there, Sarge?" the big private asked.

"We saw about a dozen in a fenced in area, but there were probably more inside a barn," Saunders replied.

He picked up the radio receiver and again tried to contact Hanley even though he knew it was hopeless.

"What are we gonna do, Sarge? Are we gonna try to get them out?" Billy asked.

"I say we head for home. The lieutenant said to try an' get the pilot, right. He didn't say we gotta die tryin'. If it's a POW camp, there's gonna be guards. We go in there an' we're gonna end up dead or captured, too," the BAR man said.

"Kirby, nobody asked for your opinion," Saunders replied.

"But, Sarge…"

The NCO responded with a glare which ended the discussion for the moment. Trying to free the men who were being held prisoner was a choice, not an order. He needed time to think so he moved off, away from the rest of the squad, and pulled out the binoculars.

"I mighta known. We're all gonna end up dead, just like them Romans," Kirby quietly said to the remaining men.

Billy said, "The Sarge wouldn't lead us down there if he thought that was what was gonna happen." He turned to Littlejohn and asked, "Would he?"

()()()()()()()()()()

"I am certainly no expert, but perhaps if we review the camp routine we shall find a chink in the armor, so to speak?" Bennett said.

"Alright. Where do you want to start?" Wagner asked.

"With the general set-up and then the first events of the morning I should think."

Michaels gave a big sigh and began. "Well, there's four guards walkin' 'round the fence all the time. They change every three hours. There's also one in the watch tower. He turns a spotlight on at dusk and constantly sweeps the yard 'til dawn. There's no water here in the camp, so every day at 0500 and again at 1700 we gotta carry in bucketfuls from a pump."

Wagner picked up the narrative from there. "At 0500 four guards come into the yard. Two enter the barn, do a head count and pick two men to carry water. Those four go outside and head for the gate while the other two guards come in and pick another two. It's the same at 1700 except it's just two guards and they only take two men."

"How many trips do they make to the pump?" Bennett asked.

"Five or six. It depends on how much water is left in that vat," Wagner said, pointing to a large metal trough that sat on the floor in the corner. "Once that's done, guards bring in food. We get fed twice a day."

Bennett walked over to inspect the water supply and grimaced. Even if the place wasn't going to be shelled, he decided he wouldn't want to spend much time living in a barn which lacked even the most basic of amenities.

He turned on his heel to face the two Americans. "So in the morning, it is still reasonably dark when the water detail begins and the spotlight is on, but the sun is up by the time sufficient water has been acquired and the spotlight has been turned off. Is that correct?"

"Yeah," Michaels said as he nodded. "That's right. Hey, maybe we could jump the Kraut guards first thing in the mornin'. What do you think, Lieutenant?" he asked, addressing Lt. Wagner.

At first, "Hmm," was all Wagner said. But after thinking about it for a moment, he slowly proposed a plan for escape. "If we jump the first two guards at 0500 and take their weapons, helmets and tunics, two men could act like Krauts escorting the first men to get water. Then we could repeat the process with the second two Krauts. That would give us four rifles. We should also be able to get another one from the sentry when he opens the gate."

"And, if someone shoots out the spotlight, we would make our escape while it is still somewhat dark," Bennett confidently concluded.

"An' then all we gotta do is hope the place gets bombed at dawn, 'cause if it don't, we'd be hunted down like dogs," Michaels responded.

"Well, yes, there is that," Bennett replied. "But, I believe the alternative is to wait here and hope the bombs do not fall at all. Do either of you really want to take that chance?"

Michaels and Wagner again exchanged glances. After a few moments of silence, Wagner said, "Sergeant, get Graves, Albertson and Willis in here. We'll need them to hammer out the details."

()()()()()()()()()()

Col. Perch picked up the photographs. He was pleased and couldn't help but nod and smile with satisfaction. Even though it was uncertain what the Jerries were doing, he had been able to convince the Americans that they were up to something. Now, the men gathered around the table were just waiting for one of the battalion's junior officers to confirm that there would be no troops in the area before finalizing an artillery barrage targeting the German compound.

When Cpt. Douglas returned he said, "There was a squad sent out this morning from King Company to check on this bridge," he pointed to a location on the map spread out on the table, "and probe for the Kraut OP line. It's the same patrol that reported seeing the parachute from the reconnaissance plane that was shot down. They were going to try to get to the pilot before the Krauts, but we haven't heard anything from them since then."

"So, nothing for the last," Maj. Henderson checked his watch, "six hours, more or less. Did they have orders to venture beyond this ridge?"

Douglas hesitated. "No, but the platoon CO thinks the squad leader would probably check the ridge line because at the mission briefing he had pointed out that it was a good location for Kraut OPs."

"Well then, I see no reason not to go ahead with an artillery barrage," Perch stated.

Douglas looked at his superior. "Sir, if that squad is on the other side of the ridge, their radio is probably out of range."

"Yes," Perch agreed. "But, for what possible reason would they have ventured so far afield?"

When neither Douglas nor anyone else could come up with a plausible rationale for the squad of infantrymen to have crossed over the top of the ridge, an artillery barrage aimed at the mysterious buildings was set for 0530 the next day.

()()()()()()()()()()

Saunders settled down against a tree, resting his elbows on his bent knees as he looked through the binoculars. But, he wasn't really studying the tree line at the bottom of the hill. Strangely, the one thing he thought he had was the luxury of time. If he decided to try to free the prisoners, it wouldn't be until well after dark. In the meantime, he wanted to consider the situation without the rest of the squad breathing down his neck.

He and Caje hadn't seen any anti-aircraft guns during their reconnaissance of the Kraut compound, so the plane had probably been brought down by rifle fire. So, it must have been flying low and slow over the area. The Brits had to have known something was there, hidden in the trees. Otherwise, why would they be doing aerial reconnaissance in the American sector? Because, if a plane is flying low and slow, that's what it's doing, taking photographs. That was the only possible explanation.

Maybe the Brits didn't realize the camp was in the American sector. He wondered if S-2 knew about it. But, when and how much the Allies shared intelligence was above his pay grade, so he returned to the problem at hand.

As he began to turn it over in his mind, he had to admit there really wasn't a question of if he would try to free the POWs. The men held captive behind the wire wore the uniform (2) so he knew he would do everything short of a suicide mission to help them escape.

He spent the next hour and a half coming up with and then fine-tuning a plan. When he was satisfied, he returned to the squad and sent Doc and Calvecchio to get Nelson and Littlejohn, who were on security. He wanted everyone to hear for himself what he had to say.

"First off, although there are at least a dozen of our guys being held down there, I wouldn't try to get them out if I didn't think we could do it. But, I'm not ordering any of you to come with me. This is strictly a voluntary mission." He glanced at each of his men before continuing. "If you don't want to go, you can start now making your way back to the bombed out bridge. That's where we'll rendezvous. Nobody, an' that includes me, is gonna hold it against you if that's what you decide to do."

Calvecchio looked at Kirby, expecting him to say something or to get up and leave. But the BAR man said nothing and remained seated, hardly fidgeting at all. The young Italian soldier was baffled. Kirby had moaned and groaned the entire patrol, but now when he had the chance to back out, he didn't take it.

'Was that what the sergeant had meant when he said that Kirby was just being Kirby?' he wondered.

With no comments or questions, Saunders cleared an area and scratched out a diagram of the compound in the dirt. "Alright, listen up," he said. "We'll start moving down at 0415. That will give us time to get into position. Doc, you carry the radio. You'll need to come with us since we might not come back here."

The medic nodded.

"Timing is going to be important. We'll strike just before dawn. Nelson an' Calvecchio, you're on me. Once we split up, give us fifteen minutes to get into position before the rest of you make your move. There's a guard about here." He added an 'X' to the sketch. He looked at the scout and said, "Caje, take care of him."

The Cajun nodded.

"Kirby, you'll cover from there. Doc, you stay with Kirby.

"Once it's clear, Caje an' Littlejohn will create a diversion. There're a couple of trucks an' a half-track parked here." He indicated the relative position. "There's only one sentry. Get the Jerry cans off the trucks an' douse all of the vehicles with gasoline. Make sure you get the half-track. When you're ready, set everything on fire an' then head back to where Kirby is."

He looked at Nelson and Calvecchio. "We'll work our way over to the POW camp. When the Krauts react to the fire, we'll move in. I'll head for the guard tower. Wait for me to open up, then get the sentry at the front gate an' get it unlocked. Watch for the other guards patrolling around the fence. The GIs should come out into the yard when they hear the commotion. Lead them back to where Kirby's waiting.

"All of you, pick up any weapons as you go along. We'll give them to the freed prisoners. There didn't seem to be too many Krauts around, but we can still use the extra fire power. Littlejohn, Doc an' Caje, once you see Nelson an' Calvecchio coming back with the prisoners, head out. Kirby an' I will cover you. If we get separated, we'll rendezvous at the top of the ridge an' cross the Kraut OP line at the same place we came through earlier today. Any questions?"

"Sarge, de Krauts went to a lot of trouble to camouflage dose buildings. Dere must be someding important in dem. Are we just going to leave dem?" the Cajun asked.

"We don't have any explosives an' we might need our grenades. I'll report the location once we get back into radio range. With the prisoners freed, it clears the way to shell or bomb the place," Saunders replied.

The sergeant looked at his men. There were general nods of agreement with the plan. "Alright, Kirby an' Calvecchio, take security. The rest of you get some rest."

()()()()()()()()()()

As soon as Saunders came in from watching the back trail the men did a final weapons check. They had already quietly had something to eat and blackened their faces. The NCO gave the signal to move out and the men fell in single file behind the scout.

It was much slower going at night than it had been when he and Saunders first made the trek down the hillside and through the woods, but by 0455 the Cajun was crouched beside a tree. He held his bayonet loosely in his hand as he watched the guard pace unhurriedly back and forth. He checked his watch, waiting for fifteen minutes to tick away.

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Inside the barn where the POWs were housed, the soldier stationed by a knothole raised his hand. In the sweep of the spotlight he had seen the guards who would escort the prisoners to fetch water appear at the main gate. Everyone moved into position and a pre-arranged argument started between three men at the back of the barn.

The first two guards entered the building and one reached for the switch to turn on the two lights. But, the bulb at the front near the door had been loosened, so half of the barn remained in semi-darkness.

[Shit!] the guard said.

[QUIET!] the other one shouted as he stepped forward to begin the head count. The first guard stood with his back against the door and his rifle at the ready.

[One, two, three, four…]

The argument at the back got louder and one of the prisoners pushed another. The dispute rapidly escalated when a punch was thrown.

[ALL OF YOU MEN, FALL IN AND COME TO ATTENTION!] the guard with his back against the wall shouted as he took a step forward.

When he did, Graves and Willis, who had been standing in the shadows on either side of the door, quickly moved behind the two guards. They slipped the garrotes they had fashioned from bootlaces tied to handles made of scraps of wood over the heads of the Krauts.

Albertson, in a gravelly voice said, [That's better. One, two, three…] for the benefit of the two guards who were waiting outside.

As the head count slowly continued, the men quickly removed the tunics from the guards who had just been killed and carried their bodies to a dark corner of the barn. When the count was complete, the new 'guards' pushed two soldiers out the door and then carefully followed them, keeping the prisoners between themselves and the spotlight as they walked toward the main gate.

The second pair of guards entered the building as the POWs prepared to repeat the same series of events. However, this time, as the garrote was being tightened around the throat of one of the Krauts, instead of dropping his rifle into the waiting hands of a prisoner and reaching up to claw at the bootlace, he had a spasm and his finger pulled the trigger. The shot hit a POW who fell to the floor, dead.

Suddenly, there was pandemonium on both sides of the fence.

At the sound of the rifle shot, the siren in the guard tower was activated and two more spotlights were turned on, one illuminating the barn door and the other the front gate.

The first four men hadn't yet reached that gate. They had counted on the sentry opening the locked entrance with a grunt and gesture from the 'Kraut guards' since Albertson, the only German speaker in the group, was still in the barn.

But now, the sentry looked at his supposed comrades and asked, [What's going on?]

The prisoner 'guards' could do nothing but shrug their shoulders and shake their heads as they looked back at the barn, not knowing whether they should remain where they were or try to make it back to the building.

One of the sentries patrolling the perimeter yelled, [WHAT'S GOING ON?]

Albertson who, like the other men, had been momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events yelled, [NOTHING…EVERYTHING'S ALRIGHT!]

But, everything wasn't alright. The prisoners were desperately trying to get the tunics off the two guards, but it seemed to be taking much longer than the first time.

One of the prisoner 'guards' near the front gate told the two POWs to get down on their knees, as if he were keeping an eye on them. But, in reality he was trying to protect them if the Krauts began shooting. They might have continued to fool the sentry at the gate in the dark, but with the spotlight shining its harsh light on them, he could see that they weren't German soldiers. The Kraut raised his rifle to shoot, but instead he was shot by one of the prisoner 'guards.' The sentry fell with the keys to the gate still on his belt, well beyond the reach of the POWs.

As the guard in the tower opened fire, the four men ran back to the barn. Only three of them made it safely inside. The fourth man, one of the 'guards', was hit and fell half-way between the gate and the barn. That left the POWs with only three rifles.

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At the sound of the rifle shot, followed immediately by the siren, Caje knew something had gone wrong. Either the rest of the squad had been spotted or someone, perhaps the inexperienced Calvecchio, had fired his weapon. But, it didn't matter. With a nod to Kirby, the scout sprang at the guard, putting his arm around the Kraut's neck as he sunk the bayonet deep into his body.

Once the sentry was out of the way, he and Littlejohn quickly headed for the vehicles. The fire would no longer be the diversion it had been intended to be, but destroying the half-track might now be a matter of survival for the squad.

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Saunders, Nelson and Calvecchio were not quite in position when the commotion inside the POW compound started. However, they had been close enough to see two Kraut guards escorting two prisoners to the main gate and to realize that the shot came from inside the barn where the rest of the POWs were being held. Then the siren went off and the additional spotlights were turned on.

But, when one of the Kraut escorts shot the guard at the gate, Saunders knew that the prisoners were attempting their own breakout. He signaled Nelson and Calvecchio to cover him as he moved forward to get an angle on the spotlights in the tower.

As the sergeant raised the Tommy gun to open fire, one of the sentries who had been patrolling around the fence came running around the corner. He stopped when he spotted the American and would have killed Saunders if Billy hadn't shot him.

The NCO sent a long burst toward the spotlights, sweeping the Thompson from side to side, spraying the area. With two of the three lights hit, he ran to the bottom of the tower and began shooting into the box where the lone guard was firing into the yard.

Nelson and Calvecchio rushed to the guard who lay sprawled at the front gate.

"GET THE KEYS, GET THE KEYS!" Billy yelled.

While he continued to watch for the remaining sentries, the young replacement hesitated before rolling the dead man over and wrenching the keys from his belt. With them in hand, Calvecchio opened the gate.

()()()()()()()()()()

At first there were only shouts coming from the area where the trucks were parked. The Cajun signaled the big private to work his way around to the right while he continued moving to the left of the vehicles. He quickly advanced on the sentry and silenced him.

But, other soldiers soon appeared, running from the two smaller camouflaged buildings, heading for the half-track.

Littlejohn got into position at the rear of one of the trucks and began firing, picking them off. With the noise of the sirens and gunfire from the opposite end of the camp, the Krauts didn't seem to hear those initial shots and so didn't realize, when the first soldiers stumbled and fell, that they, too, were under attack. But, Littlejohn's advantage didn't last for long and he was soon forced, by a hail of bullets, to retreat along the side of the truck and back into the woods.

However, the big private's delaying tactic gave Caje enough time to make it to the half-track. It only took a moment to lob one grenade into the turret and to pull the pin and wedge a second between the tread and sprockets of the vehicle, putting it out of action. He made it back to where Littlejohn waited and the two men engaged in a running firefight as they fell back, pursued by the Krauts.

Kirby told Doc to head for the POW camp as he joined Caje and Littlejohn, evening the odds a bit but not enough to halt the advance of the Germans.

()()()()()()()()()()

Inside the barn, the mood changed from desperation to confusion to hope bordering on jubilation in the blink of an eye. As they had slammed the door of the barn, figuring they would be holding off however many Krauts there were with only three rifles and limited ammunition, all seemed lost. But, with the sounds of first rifle fire and then a Tommy gun, they realized they weren't alone.

Sgt. Michaels, rifle at the ready, cautiously opened the door. He saw an American soldier climbing up the guard tower and that only one search light remained, illuminating the front gate. He quickly took aim at that target and fired.

"LET'S GO!" he yelled, leading the rest of the POWs on a mad dash to the gate.

Lt. Wagner stopped to pick up the Kraut rifle lying in the yard beside the fallen member of the original quartet. He took a knee, providing cover fire until the last of the GIs had exited their prison.

()()()()()()()()()()

Saunders stopped his climb and sent a final burst of bullets through the trap door of the guard tower before quickly pushing it up. He paused for a moment, in case the Kraut on duty was waiting for him. But, he could no longer hear any firing above him so he popped his head up and rapidly look around. The guard was lying half-draped over the railing, dead, probably hit by one of his earlier bursts.

The sergeant quickly assesses the situation. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, but there wasn't yet enough light to see beyond the ghost figures moving directly below him. There was no diversionary fire, so that part of the plan hadn't worked out.

He could hear the sounds of the BAR and rifle fire and see muzzle flashes off to the right but moving in the direction of the POW camp. Kirby, Caje, Littlejohn and Doc had to be engaged in a running battle with all of the Krauts who hadn't been on duty.

He picked up the Schmeisser from the dead guard, climbed down from the tower, and ran to the front gate where the freed POWs and the rest of his men waited. Nelson and Calvecchio had handed out the few rifles they had collected. Saunders spotted Michaels, a fellow sergeant, and gave the Schmeisser to him. Michaels passed his rifle on to Lt. Bennett.

Saunders said, "Nelson, take two prisoners with rifles and all of the unarmed men. Go wide to the left an' then climb back up to where we waited. If we're not there in thirty minutes, head for home."

Billy looked at him, mouth open as if to protest the order, but instead he said, "Yeah, okay Sarge." He pointed to the two armed men closest to him. "You two an' anyone who doesn't have a rifle, follow me."

Saunders waited for Nelson's group to move out before saying, "Sergeant, take three men an' cover the left flank. The rest of you are on me. We'll move up on the right. Be careful what you shoot at. I've got a couple of men slowing the Krauts down."

With that, the group split and began moving to flank the sound of the rifle fire which was steadily getting closer. Aside from Bennett who was out of his element, the other five former captives slipped effortlessly back into the role of infantrymen.

Calvecchio, Bennett and Lt. Wagner followed Saunders as he crouched down and began circling to the right. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned to his men and said, "Spread out but don't open up until I do."

The British pilot looked at him wide-eyed, then gulped and nodded.

Doc appeared, looking over his shoulder as he ran toward them.

"DOC, OVER HERE!" Saunders yelled.

The medic slowed down and searched in the direction of the call. A look of relief appeared on his face when he spotted the sergeant standing by a tree and signaling him.

Doc had barely reached Saunders when Caje, Kirby and Littlejohn appeared. They were backpedaling, firing as they moved from tree to tree. It was only an instant later that the first of the Krauts materialized. They were moving forward, pressing the Americans as they fired, shouted and gestured to each other.

Saunders waited until his men had passed by, then he opened up, sending a burst from the Thompson at the pursuing enemy soldiers. The rest of the men with him began firing, stopping the Kraut advance dead in its tracks.

For a few minutes, which seemed like hours to both sides, a stalemate held. It was suddenly broken by the nearby explosion of a shell from a 105 as an artillery barrage began pounding the area.

Although he yelled, nobody actually heard Saunders holler, "FALL BACK, FALL BACK…LET'S GET OUTA HERE!" A few men saw his arm signal and they began the process of following the leader, picking up the rest of the men as they made their way, running and stumbling away from the compound and toward the hillside and what they hoped would be relative safety.

Nelson and his pair of freed prisoners were waiting to provide cover fire as the exhausted men came running up the hill, collapsing among their comrades, their burst of adrenaline used up.

As soon as the medic caught his breath, he began tending the wounded. Littlejohn had been nicked as he, Kirby and Caje had retreated from the Krauts, and two of the freed prisoners had been hit by wood splinters as the artillery shells exploded among the trees.

Saunders, surveying the scene, said. "Doc, make it quick. As soon as you're ready, we'll move out. That barrage isn't gonna last forever an' when it ends, they'll come after us."

Billy ministering to Littlejohn while one of the freed soldiers assisted the medic as he quickly and efficiently dressed the wounds on the other two men. None was seriously injured so within ten minutes Doc let the sergeant know they were ready to continue.

The NCO waited for Lt. Wagner to take over, but the lieutenant said, "You know the way. We'll follow you, Sergeant."

"Littlejohn, can you carry the radio?" Saunders asked his wounded comrade.

"Yeah, Sarge, I'll take it."

"Give your rifle to someone else; Caje, take the point."

The Cajun led the men the rest of the way up the hillside with Caje and Michaels bringing up the rear. As the scout neared the top of the ridge, both Saunders and Wagner joined him while the rest of the men sought cover.

The sergeant pointed at Wagner and indicated that he should go to the left. He motioned for Caje to go the right. Finally he held up a fist, opening and closing it twice to indicate how much time they had. He moved straight ahead and crested the ridge.

Ten minutes later they had rejoined the waiting men. The report from each was the same; just as when they had come over the ridge there didn't seem to be any enemy soldiers stationed on the top.

"Alright, listen up," Saunders said. "There's about three hundred yards that's pretty open. It sounds like the artillery barrage is winding down, so be quiet but keep moving as quick as you can. Then we've got to get past a line of Kraut OPs on the back side of the ridge. Because of the barrage they may be expecting an attack, but not coming from behind them so we should be able to overpower one OP without too much trouble. We're not looking for a fight, so once we're past, we'll head down the hillside an' continue on to the river.

"Kirby, Michaels an' you," he pointed to one of the freed prisoners who had a rifle. "What's your name?"

"Yates," the man replied.

"Okay, Kirby, Michaels an' Yates, provide cover. Littlejohn, let Lt. Wagner have your bayonet. Doc, the wounded an' anyone who doesn't have a weapon, wait for my signal before you advance.

"Caje, Nelson, Calvecchio, an' Lt. Wagner, fix bayonets. I'll be right behind you with the rest of men. Nobody fires unless I do. Any questions?"

Those near the BAR man heard him mumble something about dead Romans, but he didn't say anything to the sergeant.

Saunders scanned the men looking for any uncertainty in their faces. Only the British pilot seemed hesitant, so the sergeant unsnapped the flap on his holster and pulled out the Colt. He offered the sidearm to the aviator who willingly accepted it. The rifle he was carrying was passed to another ex-POW.

Bennett marveled at the calm with which the men did a last minute check of their weapons. He heard the small clicks as the four bayonets were locked into place. Before, he hadn't known exactly what was happening and so was too naïve to be afraid. But now, if he understood the situation correctly, those four would momentarily be going face-to-face with the enemy. He longed for the false security and anonymity the cockpit of an airplane provided. At least that was a war he understood.

When he was ready, the Cajun looked at Saunders. The sergeant nodded, and the scout motioned the three men who would lead the assault forward. Once they neared the edge, Caje halted the others. He got down on his belly and slithered forward.

He looked first to the OP the squad had evaded on their way up. It was down about thirty yards and off to left another thirty yards or so. The next Kraut position was at least fifty more yards to his right. That one offered better cover, both approaching the OP and heading down the hillside. He signaled the three men to move to the right and, seeing the shift in position, Saunders and the rest of the men followed suit.

The three men with bayonets at the ready joined Caje and, suddenly, they disappeared from sight. Saunders and the rest of the armed men moved swiftly but quietly forward to the edge of the ridge.

The Krauts manning the OP were taken by surprise and quickly overpowered. There were few sounds to mark the brief encounter, a single muffled cry, shuffling feet, and the brief clatter of a heavy machine gun knocked out of position as two men, struggling, fell over it. Then it was over. Three Krauts were dead and not a shot had been fired.

Lt. Wagner motioned to Saunders and the NCO sent the rest of the contingent, both armed and unarmed, down the hillside. Kirby, Yates and Michaels moved up, ready to provide cover fire, first from the top of the ridge and then from the liberated OP, but it wasn't needed. If anybody had survived the artillery barrage, they were too disorganized to pursue the escaped prisoners and the occupants of the other OPs were intently focused on the strip of hillside directly in front of them. They didn't notice the single-file stream of American soldiers that quickly and quietly disappeared among the trees as they headed down the hill.

()()()()()()()()()()

Once they were within radio range, the sergeant grabbed Littlejohn. While the rest of the men continued moving, he reported in, letting Hanley know they had not only picked up the British pilot but also freed a group of POWs.

"Were you close enough to see the results of an artillery barrage? Over," the lieutenant asked.

"A little too close. We had a front-row seat. Over," the sergeant replied.

"Good. S-2 will want to talk to you when you get back. Over and out."

()()()()()()()()()()

They didn't stop until they reached the destroyed bridge where Saunders finally told them to "take ten." The men, tired from the pace the scout had set and from the tension of the previous hour, were more than happy to relax for a moment.

After checking on his squad, the sergeant sought out Lt. Wagner. "How many men did you lose, Sir?" he asked.

Sgt. Michaels gave the grim tally, "Pvt. Philips was shot in the barn by one of the Krauts we jumped. Cpl. Amos was killed in the yard when we tried to break out an' Pvt. Nichols got hit by a piece of shrapnel from the artillery barrage."

"It would have been worse if you and your men hadn't arrived when you did," the lieutenant added.

"Speakin' of arrivin' in the nick of time, I was never so glad to hear anything as when ya opened up with that Tommy gun, Sarge. I thought them Krauts was gonna run over us for sure," Kirby interjected. "But ya sure cut it close with the artillery."

"Yeah, Sarge, how'd you do it?" Littlejohn asked. "Doc had the radio an' besides, we were out of range."

Saunders looked at his men and shook his head.

"Perhaps I can clarify; Lt. Alexander Bennett, Royal Air Force," he said by way of introduction as he offered Saunders his hand.

"Hey, we seen the plane crash. Are you the pilot who parachuted out? We tried to get to ya before the Krauts did, but they got there first," Calvecchio said.

"An' I, for one am glad they did. Otherwise we wouldn't've tried to escape an' you fellas wouldn't've been there to help us," Sgt. Michaels responded. Then he looked at Bennett and added, as an apology for having doubted him, "We've been sittin' ducks when that artillery opened up."

"So you called in for the barrage before you crashed?" a wide-eyed Billy asked.

"Hardly, old chap. I merely told these gentlemen that since I didn't return from my reconnaissance mission, my superiors might deduce that the Jerrries were trying to hide something of value."

"I don't think so, leastways not today," Albertson, the German-speaking POW piped up. All eyes turned to him. "I heard them Kraut guards talkin' 'bout what easy duty it was. They only had to watch us. When shipments came in, there was soldiers travelin' with the stuff to guard it an' to do all the heavy liftin'."

"Did they happen to mention what sort of stuff?" Bennett asked, eager to get the details to pass along to British intelligence when he made it back to his own lines.

"Yeah, art…paintin's, things like that. This one Kraut said that everything got transferred to Germany by rail, but if the tracks were bombed further along the line, it got stored there in that big buildin' until repairs had been made."

"Paintin's!" Kirby exclaimed. "What do they want that stuff for?"

"Because you can't place a value on great works of art," Lt. Wagner said.

"Exactly," Bennett responded with a nod. "We've heard from the French underground that this looting has been going on for years."

Saunders chuckled and said, "Then it's a good thing the brass didn't figure out what the building was used for because empty or full, they'd never have authorized a fire mission if they'd known." He checked his watch; he didn't want to stay in one place for too long. "Lieutenant, if you're ready, we still need to get home."

"Of course, Sergeant," Wagner said. "Lead the way."

"Alright, saddle up; Caje, take the point. Kirby, the rear."

As they started to move out, Kirby mumbled, "We ain't home yet. We still could end up like them dead Romans."

Although the sergeant had earlier said to ignore the BAR man, Calvecchio had reached the end of his tolerance. He wheeled around. "Kirby," he said, "you don't know what you're talkin' about…"

Littlejohn laughed. "He hardly ever does, Calvecchio. C'mon, let's head for home."

"But…"

"Don't let it bother you," Nelson added. "It's just Kirby. He'll be mumbling and complaining about something else tomorrow. That's the one thing you can always count on."

()()()()()()()()()()

Three days later the squad was sitting around a small fire waiting for the two scrawny chickens Caje and Doc had caught to finish roasting when Lt. Hanley and another man approached. Saunders started to get up but Hanley waved him back down.

"This is Mr. Hooper. He's a correspondent for the Atlantic Sentinel," Hanley said by way of introduction. "He'd like to ask you men a few questions." With that, the lieutenant turned and walked away, leaving the reporter.

The squad members looked from the correspondent to their hot meal.

"Boys, Ah'm working on a story about the Nazi confiscation of art, and Cpt. Jampel said y'all recently had an interesting mission. Ah'd like to talk to y'all about it."

The squad members again looked from the journalist to their dinner.

The BAR man stood and put his arm around the shoulder of the reporter. "The rest of these fellas are kinda shy, but I'd be happy to fill ya in. The name's Kirby, William G. Kirby."

As he began to steer Hooper away from his comrades they could hear him say, "Well, we got involved in this mission 'cause we're what the army calls the arrowhead. This is what happened…"

The rest of the squad members rolled their eyes.

Littlejohn reached for a chicken leg and wiggled it. "I think it's done. Do we save any for our spokesman?"

They looked at each other. "Nah," Calvecchio said. "That Roman legionnaire don't need to fill up on chicken. He's already full of hot air!"

The rest of the men would have laughed, but they were already busy devouring the chickens.

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1. Murderers' Row was the nickname for the first six hitters of 1927 New York Yankees: Earle Combs, Mark Koenig, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Bob Meusel and Tony Lazzeri.

2. Reference to 'Point of View' from season 3 of Combat!

Historical Note: It is estimated that a quarter of a million pieces of art, as well as everyday objects such as china, crystal and silver were looted by the Nazis during the Second World War. In 1940, Hitler designated Alfred Rosenberg to head the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg für die Besetzten Gebeite or ERR. This task force was designed to confiscate the great art treasures in France and other occupied countries. The art works from France alone, including those from the Louvre which the museum staff hadn't managed to hide prior to the German occupation, were valued at $1 billion. The western branch of this organization for France, Belgium and the Netherlands, was headquartered in Paris at the Museum Jeu de Paume. There art historians and other personnel inventoried the loot before sending it on to Germany.

Between October 1940 and July 1944 Rosenberg's official reports to Hitler stated that he had appropriated 21,903 art objects of all kinds, sent to Germany in twenty-nine shipments using 137 freight cars. Among them were 5,281 paintings, including works by Rembrandt, Rubens, Goya, Gainsborough, Fragonard, and other masters; 5,825 handmade objects such as porcelains, bronzes, and coins; several hundred icons; and 2,477 pieces of furniture from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Most was destined for either the private collection of Hermann Goering or the Führermuseum, an art museum which Adolf Hitler planned to build in Linz, Austria near his birthplace.

At the Nuremberg Trials, Rosenberg defended his acquisitions by presenting the argument that German property to the value of 25 billion marks had been expropriated after WWI for reparations. His work was, he claimed, "historical justice." The vast operation was "to protect art from the vicissitudes of war, to make an exact inventory, and to see that the great treasures were not destroyed." "They were certainly not intended," he insisted, "to be added to Goering's private collections." When reminded that several Dutch paintings had been found in his own home, Rosenberg replied that "those had been gifts to his wife, who loved antiques."

Main source: Encyclopedia of the Third Reich by Louis L. Snyder, PhD.