Saints and Soldiers

Chapter 5 – Deacon's Ghosts

An hour later they were on their way once again only this time Gunderson led the way. Cautiously and carefully he moved through the forest, rifle poised for defense as he watched and listened.. In some places the snow was knee deep and difficult to move through. On and on the small band moved through the Ardennes forest. Gunderson stopped under the canopy of some large fir trees and motioned for the group to gather.

"I gotta figure out where the hell we are," he said handing the rifle to Deacon and pulling out the map and compass he had found at the ambulance. As they waited Winley decided to strike up a conversation with the men.

"So, Gould," Winley started. "What's your secret?"

"What?" Gould asked irritated.

"You know, your big secret, you don't tell the other chaps around the campfire. I mean, we've all got them. I'm sure Kendrick here has 10 or 20 of them."

"Yeah, well, I don't have any of those."

"Rubbish."

"Even if I did why would I tell you?" It was obvious Gould was not fond of the Brit.

"You don't have to tell me, of course, it's -- it's just that we're on this perilous mission together. And I've found that when men can share anything with each other -- anything, well it creates a sort of -- Esprit de Corps, you follow?"

"Yeah, well forget it," he breathed into his hands trying to warm them.

"Righty-O. You can play as you want."

"I never kissed my wife 'til the day we were married," Deacon offered.

"All right, Deacon. You see, I feel close already."

"When I was 15," Gunderson added, "I showed up at school with a bloody lip. I told the guys I got it playing stick ball, but I actually got it 'cause I got beat up by Alice Palisky."

"Alice Palisky. Good, good," Winley chuckled.

"All right, all right," Kendrick wanted to be a part of this so he offered his secret, "One time when I was, uh, in high school, I was working on my dad's truck. And he had one of them vacuum tubes -- you know what I'm talking about -- And, uh, I figured out that if I held it just so and sucked," and he made a sucking sound as though sucking through a straw, "I could give myself hickeys. I had them all over my neck. And I told my buddies that, uh, I had a girl out of town."

All of the men chuckled. Winley couldn't stop laughing covering his mouth with a gloved hand to muffle it..

"Guess we found a new nickname for Kendrick. Hickey," he teased and they all laughed more except for Kendrick. Shaking his head in disgust he now he wished he'd never volunteered the story.

"Let's go," said Gunderson. "we're making good time, but we gotta keep moving."

As they got up to move once again Kendrick reached out stopping him."So, Winley, what's your secret, huh?" he asked hoping to hear something juicy and incriminating.

"Good grief, you think I'd tell you chaps? I've just barely met you," Winley walked away, chuckling to himself.

Kendrick couldn't believe his ears. He'd been outsmarted by the Brit once again.

Deacon guided the band silently through the forest carrying the rifle. He heard something in the woods and raised his hand to signal the others to stop. Gould saw it and motioned to the others further behind him to also stop. The men crouched down, alerted. Something was wrong.

Raising his rifle, every muscle in his body tensed for action. Somewhere ahead of him were voices, whispering. Then they were to his side. In his left peripheral vision he saw blurred movement, the sound of running steps in the snow. Then it was behind him and he swung around facing the direction he had just come, where the men waited and watched. Instinctively they also looked behind them expecting anything, but nothing was there. Confused they turned back to Deacon.

"What the hell is he doing?" Gould asked confused.

The sound was in front of him again and he swung back around, his weapon ready snd aimed. There in front of him stood one of the women and three children from the church tower, a look of terror on their faces.

Deacon gasped and screamed. The innocent ones he had killed now stood in front of him; haunting him; terrifying him; filling him with fear and dread for what he had done to them; wanting retribution; vengeance; justice.

"NO!!" he screamed throwing down his rifle and dropping to his knees. "NO! NO! NOT THIS!! NOT THIS!!" He tried to crawl away. Gunderson saw him and immediately ran to his side. "NO!! NO!! DON'T KILL ME!! NO!! NO!! HELP ME!! HELP ME!!" his voice echoed through the forest.

Gunderson grabbed him as Kendrick reached for the rifle. Deacon kept screaming.

"Cover his mouth," Gould yelled. "He gonna get us killed. Bring him here," they pulled him up to a tree.

"Deac! Deacon! Deacon! Shush! It's okay," Gunderson tried to calm him as Gould muffled his screams with a gloved hand. Deacon continued screaming and sobbing loudly. "Can you do something for him?" he pleaded with Gould.

"He needs a warm place to sleep."

"Yeah, we really don't have that, do we, Gould?" he yelled. Gould continued to hold his hand over Deacon's mouth muffling his screams. "What can you do for him here, right now?"

He looked at Gunderson. There was something he wasn't telling him. "Deacon," Gould tried to get through to him. "Deacon! Do not get us killed! Look at me! LOOK - AT - ME!! Open your eyes and look at me." Deacon opened his eyes shaking with fear and breathing hard. "Relax. Breathe. I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth. Do not scream, okay?" Deacon nodded yes. "Okay. Shh." Gould slowly lifted his gloved hand from Deacon's mouth.

"Did you see 'em?" a look of panic on his face as he asked both Gould to Gunderson. "Did you see 'em? Tell me you saw 'em," he pleaded.

"It's okay, Deacon. It's okay, Deacon," Gunderson tried to reassure him.

"Come with me," Gould pulled Gunderson's arm. "Here, oyu sit with him," he told Winley. Winley put his arms around Deacon to comfort him while Gould and Gunderson moved a short distance away.

"Talk to me," Gould looked at him.

"All right," Gunderson hesitated before he swallowed hard. He didn't like telling this story. "Last Thursday we ran into some Krauts in a little town in the Elsenborn Ridge. They were pulling out, but this one little bastard was holed up inside a church. Deacon was sent to take him out. It was dark in there. Somebody took a shot at him so he threw in a grenade, sprayed the room, went in and took the guy out. In the room were two women and six kids. It was a mess. When it was over, Deac just … flipped out. Our C.O. gave me a jeep to have him checked out at St. Vith. We got captured about an hour before you guys ran into them at Malmedy." He looked over at Deacon and back to Gould. "You don't mention this to him. Do you understand, Gould?" he emphasized pointing his finger at him.

"Yeah," Gould nodded. No wonder Deacon was flipped out.

"All right, what do we do?"

"We keep him talking," Gould was sounding like a doctor, now. "Don't let him go off by himself. And, please, put that rifle in somebody else's hands."

"Yeah," Gunderson agreed.

After Deacon gathered himself they took the opportunity to rest for awhile before moving on.

"47, 48, 49, 50, 51 … C'mon. Damn." Kendrick counted his deck of cards, frustrated at not having a full deck.

Gunderson checked the map again using the compass. Satisfied, he closed it sticking it back into his pocket. Gould nibbled on some crackers and watch the now sedate Deacon read his Bible as he sat leaning against a tree..

"What is that, some kind of code?" Kendrick asked Winley as he looked over his intelligence.

"It's the way I write," Winley answered snobbishly as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"I hope somebody can translate it."

"Of course ... I can," he looked down his nose at the Southerner.

"Are you trying to tell me you're the only person who knows what that says?" Gunderson looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes, that more or less sums it up."

"So, us not letting you die would be pretty important?" Gould asked looking sharply at him.

"Yes."

Gunderson again couldn't believe the audacity of this Brit. "Great," he said disgusted. "Kendrick, you got watch," he handed the rifle to him. "Winley, give me your pistol. I'm gonna scout a bit. I'll be right back."

After Gunderson left Gould's attention was drawn back to Deacon who seemed lost in thought, so he moved over by him.

"That good reading?" Gould asked him as he sat by him.

Deacon looked over at him thoughtfully. "Do you believe in a life after this one?"

Gould scoffed bitterly. "Not a chance in hell. When we first got here, I was working on this kid. He got shot up pretty bad. He kept saying, 'Please, God. Please God' over and over … like it meant something. He was so sincere about it, I thought it might work. Then two minutes later he was dead. There wasn't a thing I could do about it. When I looked into his eyes … there was nothing there. Nothing," he emphasized. "That's when I realized that … this is it."

"It's funny."

"What could possibly funny about that?" Gould spoke acidly.

"I don't mean it's funny funny. It's just that, uh … We were just outside Sainte-Mere-Eglise. We were getting pounded pretty hard. I was holding this … this kid on my lap, and … he was shot up pretty good. And I remember him praying. And I was praying, too. Then all of a sudden, he … he was gone. And that was -- that was it, really. That was the first time that I -- that I really watched somebody die. But right then, I knew he was -- he was in a better place."

"How convenient for you," Gould replied caustically.

"Convenient," Deacon snorted. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking about what you said. Funny, huh?"

"Where you from?" Gould asked deciding to change the subject.

"Arizona."

"I know Arizona. Where in Arizona?"

"Snowflake."

"Snowflake -- I never heard of it. What do you do in Snowflake for fun?"

"Hunting."

"What do you hunt?" This is like pulling teeth Gould thought.

"Whatever's in season."

"So, you like to shoot things?" Deacon looked at him hard. "Forget I asked." Gould was quiet for a moment but then asked him, "So, why do you like the Krauts so much?"

"Cause I know 'em," Deacon shrugged. "I know that most of them are just like you and me. They just wear a different uniform."

"So Adolph Hitler is a pretty nice fella?" his tone became acid again. "Once you get to know him? It's just a different uniform?"

"That's not what I said."

"Those guys at Malmedy -- they're just like us, except they got different helmets on?" he felt like screaming at him, punching him.

"If it makes it easier for you to hate 'em, then go right ahead," he looked at Gould.

Gould got angry, his face reddened. "You know what, if it weren't for them, I'd be finishing med school and putting a cast on Billy's leg 'cause he broke it falling off his bike. But instead I'm pulling lead out of his 17-year-old brother's gut, 'cause he wanted to serve his country, and he lied about his age. And now he's spitting up blood, lying in the dirt, and asking God to come and save him. It's more than a different uniform." Gould spat the words out at him and moved away.

Deacon shook his head sadly and sighed.