Saints and Soldiers

(Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They belong to someone else. I just like them. I dedicate this fanfic to my friend My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken)

Chapter 7 - An Old German Friend

The blizzard blew hard the rest of the day and on into the night, freezing the earth and covering the trees and buildings with a layer of ice, but inside the storage shed it was warm. The men slept, scattered throughout the room, wrapped in the blankets and quilts that Caterine had brought earlier. For the first time in four days Deacon was asleep.

Winley was on watch, sitting in the chair by the window. Looking over his notes and the map he sighed, disturbed and frustrated that he was in possession of such vital information and was unable to get it into the right hands. He couldn't just stay there while the Germans moved towards the Muese River and took over the ammo dump. All of the fighting, all of the sacrifices that had been made, would have meant nothing. He had to do something. Lives were at stake.

Glancing at his watch, he stuffed the papers inside his jacket pocket. It was time.

"Gunderson," he said to his relief. Gunderson, who was asleep across the room, awoke immediately upon hearing his name. His training, for all these years, had made him a light sleeper. "It's 0500 hours,' Winley informed him.

Gunderson sighed wearily and pulled off the warm covers. Reaching for his helmet, he took the Mauser from Winley and replaced him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Winley, who was wearing a flight jacket, zipped it closed and pulled on his gloves.

Gunderson knew what he was planinng. "We did everything we could, Winley."

Winley nodded and smiled, appreciatively. "We certainly did," his British accent thick. "Still," he sighed, "here I sit all nice and comfy while …," he voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he continued pulling his gloves on. When he finished he straightened his shoulders and looked at Gunderson. "You boys have been super, but I'm figuring I best get on with it."

All Gunderson could do was nod. Looking out at the blizzard, as the wind rattled the window pane, he looked back at Winley.

"Look, if I start now, I can probably get there before morning," Winley attempted to explain.

"Yeah," Gunderson shook his head. It was a foolish and dangerous idea. "You could try. I just don't know what your frozen dead body is gonna do for anybody.'

Winley considered for a moment what he was trying to tell him. The last thing he wanted to do was face the blizzard alone. Finally reaching into his pocket he pulled out the half pack of cigarettes. "You can give these to Kendrick, if you want," he grinned weakly. "Cheeri-o!" he spoke, steeling himself and went out of the door.

"Winley!" Gould called after him Gunderson watched as he disappear into the blowing snow. "You let him go?" Gould asked, astonished.

"He's not our prisoner, Gould."

"He's gonna die out there."

"Yes, he is," Gunderson answered, as he stuck the cigarettes into his pocket and continued his watch. Gould shook his head in disgust as he pulled the blanket tighter around his neck

Winley fought his way through the blowing snow, his body already covered white. He shook violently from the freezing wind but continued on.

Later that morning Caterine made her way to the storage shed carrying a basket. Gunderson stood when she entered. He had taken a great liking to this strong willed lady.

"Bonjour!" she smiled, setting the basket on the a table. The men returned her greeting. "Bon," she said as she lifted the cloth that covered the top of the basket. "Bread," she chirped happily, as she presented her gift. Deacon got up and took the rifle from Gunderson and sat down on the same chair.

"Thank you," Gunderson said to Caterine, his eyes soft with admiration.

"Where Anglais?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, ah ... Winley? Ah ... he had to leave, he ...," Gunderson began to tell her. As he spoke he was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Deacon stood trying to see through the snow who is was.

"Deac? What is it?"

Deacon saw a vehicle pull up and stop. "We got company," he warned.

The half-track stopped in front of the farmhouse and an SS officer got out giving orders to another soldier, obviously lower ranked. When she heard the voices, Catherine cried out, "Oh, Sophie!" Grabbing the basket, she ran out of the storage building before Gunderson could stop her.

Deacon watched as she trotted up to the officer and presented the basket. Her hope was to divert their attention from the shed and the house. With a Lugar in hand, the SS officer lifted the cloth and picked up a loaf. Smelling it, he tossed it back in the basket and gave Caterine a broad toothy grin. The other German soldier thought he saw movement in the shed window and cautiously approached it, his rifle ready. He was very nearly to it when he heard the woman scream. Turning in her direction he frowned, as the SS officer grabbed Caterine around the waist, lifting her up as he tried to kiss her. She struggled, repulsed, and pulled away. Grabbing her arm he gruffly yanked her back.

"No!" she screamed. "No! No!" The German soldier frowned and he went to stop the officer. As the two Germans argued Deacon burst out of the door.

"Hände ab!" he screamed, pointing the rifle at them. "Hände ab!"

The two Germans were taken completely off guard. The soldier threw down his rifle and held his hands up. The SS officer pushed Caterine away and aimed his Lugar at Deacon. Deacon got off the first shot and killed the officer. Caterine screamed and ran into the house.

The German soldier tried to run towards the woods but Deacon fired again and he landed face down in the snow. He had only tripped and got up to run again. Deacon fired again but the soldier kept running. The fourth shot, the rifle jammed. The soldier disappeared into the woods.

"Deac, get the luger! We gotta catch him!" Gunderson ordered, as he grabbed a pitchfork.

Grabbing the Luger, they both ran after the German. Gould searched the dead officer but all he could find was a knife. Running into the woods, Gunderson and Deacon lost track of the German. "Damn it! You've got to be kidding me!" Gunderson yelled, punching the air in frustration. They had no recourse but to return to the storage shed.

Gould followed them and closed the door. "Did you get him?"

"We lost him," Gunderson answered, clearly upset.

"What happened to dead eye?" Gould asked accusingly, looking at Deacon.

"I don't know. I just couldn't hit him."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" Gould's tone was acidic.

"Hey, I did not miss on purpose!" Deacon defended himself.

"That's a lie!"

"That's enough!" Gunderson stepped in between them. "If Deacon says he just missed him, he just missed him. We've got other things to worry about right now."

Just then, the door burst open and in charged the German soldier. Winley was behind him. Startled, the men all jumped, ready to fight.

"Look what I found!" Winley growled. "I heard gunshots so I started back through the woods and found this little bugger …" he gruffly pushed the soldier to his knees, his helmet falling off, rolling onto the floor, "... kneeling down praying his little Gerry head off."

"I say, we shoot him right now!" Kendrick held the Luger out, ready to fire.

"Shut up, Kendrick," Gunderson told him. He was trying to keep control of the situation.

"I'm with Kendrick, let's shoot him now!" Gould voiced angrily.

"With his own gun," Winley piped in. The German was crying and praying, unsure of his fate.

"We don't shoot prisoners, people." Gunderson raised his voice.

"Yeah, well HE does," Gould pointed.

"SHOOT HIM!" Kendrick yelled, his finger on the trigger.

'Shut up, Kendrick!" Gunderson grabbed him, pushing him down hard on the ground.

"What's wrong with you? SHOOT HIM!" Gould yelled at Winley, who cocked his pistol and held it to the German's head.

"WINLEY, PUT THE GUN DOWN!" Gunderson raised the rifle pointing it at him.

"Helfen Sie mir Jesus!" the German prayed, holding his head and crying for mercy.

"YOU WILL OBEY MY ORDERS! " Gunderson moved closer to Winley.

The German looked up at Deacon for a moment and back down. A look of recognition came on Deacon's face.

"Rudy?" he asked, not believing his eyes. The German looked at the American who was calling his name. Deacon quickly moved over by him. "Erinnern Sie sich an mich?"

The German looked at him and gasped. "Nathan Greer? Nathan Greer? Es ist Sie?" he looked up as Deacon who pulled the German to his feet. The rest of them just looked on, dumbfounded.

"Deacon?" Gunderson questioned, puzzled.

"This is Rudolph Gertz from Berlin," he began to explain. "When I was on a mission trip with my church, I stayed and taught his family, and I counseled --." Deacon stopped in mid-sentence. He had just realized something. "I never missed. Gundy, I didn't hit him -- but I never missed." Overwhelmed, the two men embraced, crying while the rest looked on unsure of how to react.

Later, with a lantern burning, Deacon and Rudy sat in a corner talking and praying as the rest sat at the table, sullenly watching. Kendrick was now on watch.

"Sergeant," Winley asked him. "Did you give my cigarettes to, uh …," and he motioned his head towards Kendrick. Gunderson looked at him for a moment and snorted, pulling the pack out of his pocket. But before he gave them back he took one out for himself and handed it to him. "Thanks."

"No problem," Gunderson chuckled softly.

Winley took one out and lit it.

"So, Winley, why did you come back?" Gunderson asked him, curiously.

"I heard gunshots," he explained, as he puffed on the cigarette. "And I realized I was probably going to die out there. I'm not proud of it."

"You made a choice," Gould added. "You're still alive, that's good for you."

"Yes, that's true."

"It's midnight," Kendrick said. "Gould, you're up."

The two exchanged the weapon and seats. "I see our prisoner of war is having fun," Kendrick motioned towards Deacon and the German, as the two of them talked and chuckled together.

"What's he say his name was? Adolph?" Kendrick jeered. Rudy heard him but tried to ignore the comment. "He gives me the creeps."

"It's Rudolph," Winley corrected him, harshly.

"Whatever." he shook his head and then watch him take a drag of a cigarette. He just had to have one. "Hey, Winley . I'll make you a deal. You pick a card, any card, then put it back in the deck. If I can find your card in this deck, you give me one of those smokes. What do you say?"

"Deal."

Fanning the deck out, he watched as Winley took a card. Winley pulled out the ace of hearts.

"Got it?"

Winley nodded and put the card back in the deck.

"Okay, now, you just tell me when to stop," and he began shuffling the deck.

"Stop," Winley said.

Kendrick held up part of the deck with the ace of hearts showing. "This is your card."

"Nope. Sorry Hickey."

"This IS your card," he emphasized.

Winley took a drag and blew the smoke out very slowly savoring it, as he shook his head, no.

Kendrick got up mad and stomped off. Gunderson scoffed at Winley as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You are such a ass," Gunderson scolded him.

While he was on guard, Gould had found a large stick and was now whittling on it with the knife he had confiscated from the dead German, giving Rudy a look of murder, while he and Deacon read from the Bible.

"That French lady is coming," he announced, when he saw a movement out of the window. In came Catherine with Sophie. This time Sophie carried the basket.

"Bonjour," she greeted again. "Thank you. Thank you all," she spoke in broken English. "Allez," she told Sophie. Sophie smiled and went to Gould first.

"Joyeux Noel," said to each man and held the basket out to them. In the basket were cookies she and her mother had baked..

Caterine smiled at Gunderson, but when she turned her eyes on the German, her expression went glum.

Sophie held the basket out, allowing Deacon to reach in and take out three cookies. The German looked down, not expecting anything. Caterine held out something wrapped in tin foil to him. He looked up surprised. Taking it Catherine said, "Fröhliches Weihnachten." He returned the sentiment with a nervous smile. Unwrapping the foil, it revealed a small baked potato. Deacon chuckled.

Leaving, she and Gunderson exchanged a small kiss and she was gone.

Later, as the others slept, Rudy began to fashioned something out of the foil. Gould continued carving on the stick as he watched Rudy. His dislike for the German was obvious and it made Rudy uncomfortable, but he continued.

By the next morning, the blizzard had blown itself out. The sun was shining and the small farmhouse was quiet.

Sophie had seen something shiny, sitting outside by the window of the storage shed and went to investigate. There, on the snow covered sill, was perched a tin foil angel. Carefully picking it up, she wondered where it came from.