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.
If you're a regular reader of my stories (thank you!) you'll know that I enjoy weaving WWII history and facts into my fictional stories of First squad. Well, here it comes again. It will help if you've seen the Combat! episodes Dateline and No Hallelujahs for Glory, and read my story Priceless. But as usual, it isn't necessary for understanding the story. Please let me know your thoughts at the end. It really helps and sometimes even gives me new ideas.
YANK
CHAPTER 1
Saunders lay in the foxhole, barely registering the cold dirt around him as he scanned the area. Searching in the darkness, he took a quick moment to check his men dug in and spread out on either side of him.
It had been a long, chilly night on the front line. Even with all of the hours that had dragged by, tension was still high among the soldiers of First and Third squads. The men knew that they were all that stood between their new lines and the krauts.
Barely fifty yards separated the two enemies. And the sergeant knew that they were outnumbered. Fortunately, the Germans didn't know that. It also helped that Saunders and his men held the high ground with the help of Third squad. As soon as they'd taken the crest of the hill and seemed to be holding that position, Saunders had them digging in to stay as low as possible.
Looking out over the ridge line, the sergeant could just make out movement down the long slope. The gray light of predawn was beginning to reveal the ragged, snaking enemy line. Neither side was willing to back down…or to start anything. For now at least, it was a tense stalemate.
Fighting had been prolonged and intense for the last few days. The Germans had been slowly driven back through mostly fields and small forests, all pockmarked with craters from mortars and heavy artillery.
But now they seemed to have dug in to try to hold their ground and probably even regroup or wait for reinforcements. Their lines were so close together that neither side could safely call in any kind of artillery. That was one worry off of Saunders' mind…for now. Especially since neither First nor Third squad had a radio.
The last week's fighting had spread King Company out in a thin ragged line. Saunders had been told to get as far as he could and hold. And that's what he did. But he was worried…and he wouldn't stop worrying until the Company was able to regroup. Until then, First and Third squads were pretty much isolated out at the farthest point, with a heck of a lot of space between them and the rest of the Company. Far too much.
Saunders had ordered everyone to keep quiet, and stay low and out of sight in order to keep the krauts guessing.
"Ready when you are, Saunders," interrupted the sergeant's thoughts.
He turned to see Third squad's sergeant followed by his men, all crawling low toward the foxholes. Saunders glanced at his watch. Time for some food and sleep. It'd been a long night.
As First and Third squads exchanged places, the two sergeants talked softly.
"Anything?" Morales asked as he slipped into the foxhole.
Saunders shook his head. "Nothing."
Starting to crawl away, Saunders stopped and turned back. "Make sure everyone keeps their heads down and out of sight, Morales."
With a quick wave, Third squad's sergeant replied, "Not to worry about us. We don't want to get in a firefight any more than you do, Saunders. At least not until the rest of the platoon catches up to us. Even better…the entire Company."
With a silent nod of acknowledgment in reply, Sergeant Saunders crawled down the hill, followed by his men.
CHAPTER 2
The soldiers had bivouacked at the base of the hill, along the edge of a thick stand of trees. Saunders figured that if the krauts caught on to how few Americans there were up on that hill, they just might decide to rush them. If that happened, the dense trees and brush would provide them quick and effective cover to take a stand…or retreat.
As the soldiers all dropped onto their bedrolls, most dug into their haversacks for something to eat. Saunders was so mentally and physically drained that he had to force himself to pull out his own rations.
Looking at his men, he saw Kirby lying on his bedroll with his eyes closed.
"Kirby…eat something before you fall asleep."
With a start, the BAR man opened his eyes and yawned. "I'm too tired to eat."
Ripping off the end of his ration box, Saunders replied, "You'll wish you ate if the krauts start something. Eat while you can."
Caje agreed. "Yeah, Kirby. Eat."
With a heavy sigh and another yawn, Kirby slowly sat up and opened his haversack.
"Only a couple rations left," he noted.
Littlejohn opened a can. "Yeah, Sarge. We're all getting low. What're we gonna do if we run out?"
All of the men looked at their sergeant expectantly.
Saunders had no idea what was going to happen now that they'd been cut off from the Company. There was a small stream below them, so they had water as long as their halazone tablets held out. But they definitely needed more food.
Opening his own can, he replied, "If no one catches up with us by tomorrow, I'll talk to Sergeant Morales and we can send a couple of you back for more rations."
"And more ammo," Caje added. "If those krauts decide to attack, we'll need more ammo."
Saunders nodded. "And more ammo."
The soldiers continued to eat in weary silence until one by one they finished their meals and settled down to get some much-needed sleep.
Their sergeant finished his food and sat back. Checking over his men and their surroundings one more time, he too settled in.
CHAPTER 3
Saunders opened his eyes and tensed. Something had woken him. Something that stirred his defenses.
There it was again. A twig snapping in the nearby forest. Dead leaves rustling on the forest floor. He grabbed his Thompson and sat up, swinging toward the sounds.
"Don't shoot, Sarge!" came from the trees.
Two large figures emerged from the forest. When Saunders relaxed and pointed his weapon away, one of the men called out.
"Well, if you're gonna shoot, then shoot Burg. Can't hardly miss the big moose."
Newburg smacked Jones in the stomach. "Thanks, pal."
Both soldiers waited as Saunders stood up. "Good way to get both of you shot. What're you doing sneaking up on us?"
Newburg laughed. "To be honest, we kinda got a little lost. Jonesy forgot to get a compass. Before we knew it, we'd stumbled onto you guys."
"I thought you were getting the compass," Jones replied. "Anyway, we come bearing gifts."
At this point, the entire squad was awake and gathered around the three soldiers. Jones and Newburg were carrying several overstuffed haversacks.
"Hope you got some meatloaf and mashed potatoes in there," Littlejohn said, pointing at the bags as the two soldiers dropped their loads.
"Sorry," Jones answered. "But we got enough rations for both your squads for a couple more days."
Newburg opened one sack and held it out. "We've also got lots more ammo for everyone. Even the Thompson and BAR."
"Glad to get rid of it," Jones said, grunting as he dropped his last bag. "This stuff was really getting heavy, even for us."
Saunders leaned down to inspect the bags. "Someone's a mind reader back in the Company."
"Lieutenant Hanley," Jones answered. "We could hear the fighting out this way, and he figured if you guys were still alive you'd be needing more food and ammo. At least enough for another day or two."
"Couldn't lug any water though," Newburg added.
"We've got water," Saunders said. "Everything else we need."
"So how come the Lieutenant sent you two?" Kirby asked, beginning to pull out the ammo for his BAR.
"He's only got Second squad left, and Captain Jampel had them on sentry duty at the time," Newburg explained.
"So Lieutenant Norris asked for volunteers from First platoon," Jones added. "And here we are."
Saunders looked up from the bags. "You said you got lost getting here. How you gonna get back?"
With a big grin, Newburg replied as he adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. "We're not."
"Company's planning to set up our billet near here. We were told to stick around and help you guys out," Jones explained.
"Can't say I'm unhappy about that," the sergeant admitted. "We can use you. You can stay with us. Third squad has ten men. We'll be heading up there soon to relieve them."
Pointing down at the bags, he added, "Everyone take some extra ammo. And someone take the rest up to Third squad. Leave everyone's rations down here."
"Billy and I'll take it up to them, Sarge," Littlejohn offered. "We'll leave your ammo by your bedroll."
"Brock," Saunders said. "Put the sacks of rations over there between Third's bedrolls and ours. We can take it as we need it."
Checking his watch, he added, "We don't have much time left before we relieve them up there. Better eat while you can."
Each soldier rummaged through the bags for food, and made their way to their bedrolls to eat.
CHAPTER 4
"Krauts've been quiet," Morales said as he and Saunders exchanged places in the foxhole in the middle of the line of soldiers.
"Normal quiet, or too quiet?" Saunders asked, peering through the grass down the slope.
"Too," Morales replied. "You know they ain't gonna stay down there forever. They gotta make a move sometime."
"You're right," Saunders agreed. "If they haven't retreated by now, it just means they want this hill back. Might be waiting for reinforcements."
"You want us to stick around?" Morales asked.
Thinking a moment, Saunders finally nodded. "Yeah. Got a feeling they're close to doing something. Go grab something to eat and then bring your men back up and cover both flanks."
With a silent nod, Third squad's sergeant slid down the hill.
First and Third squads had worked together before, and Morales had always ceded command to Saunders. With far more time and experience in the field, Saunders was the natural choice to head up an operation of this kind.
Looking over his men on both sides, Saunders glanced down behind him to see the soldiers of Third squad already opening their rations. Doc was checking a minor wound on one of the men who'd been slightly injured the day before.
Saunders' instincts were screaming that the Germans were about to make their move. Having Third squad covering their flanks would give them a better chance of holding off the krauts from overrunning them.
Turning back toward the enemy's lines, Saunders kept a close watch for any signs of movement. The slope was covered in thick brush, but he knew that there were plenty of craters, large rocks and occasional dead trees that would provide excellent cover for the krauts. The brush just offered them another layer of protection from being detected. A way to slowly advance under cover.
It wasn't long before he caught movement in some brush only thirty yards or so away.
He didn't dare call out to Morales in case it sent an alarm to the krauts to attack immediately. All of his men weren't in place yet. Looking down at Third squad still eating, Saunders forcefully kicked some rocks. He watched as they slid and tumbled down straight to Third squad's sergeant.
Glancing up at the commotion, Morales caught Saunders' eye. Saunders pointed urgently out over the hill. Without hesitating, Morales dropped his can of rations and motioned silently to his own men.
Grabbing their weapons, the soldiers divided up and scrambled into place to cover both their flanks.
CHAPTER 5
The front line of soldiers was silent and tense, waiting for something to happen. Saunders glanced sideways at all of his men. Ten men in Morales' squad. He had six men including himself in his own. Add in Newburg and Jones. Eighteen against forty or more by his estimate. He wondered how long they could hold out. The only thing saving them so far was the fact that the Germans had no idea how many Americans were up on that ridge.
Saunders watched the movement in the brush intently as he could feel the adrenaline begin to course through him and all of his senses sharpen. Every man on the line waited nervously for the sergeant to make the first move. When he saw more movement off to his left, only twenty-five yards away, Saunders tensed and swung his Thompson over to the left.
That was too close. Someone could possibly get off a grenade from there. The slope was long and shallow. A lucky throw from there could easily cause major damage to his lines. Damage and death.
But he knew that once he opened up, there was no turning back. Eighteen against more than forty. In spite of the odds, he knew that he had no choice.
Sergeant Saunders aimed at the movement in the thick brush…and he fired.
CHAPTER 6
Saunders raked the brush with a short burst from his Thompson. There was a violent rustling, followed by the explosion of a grenade that shredded the surrounding vegetation. A geyser of leaves and splintered wood showered the area.
Almost instantly, an intense firefight broke out as the soldiers sought out their enemy's positions.
"Watch your ammo!" Saunders yelled as he switched the Thompson to single shot.
Even with the extra ammo that Newburg and Jones brought, they still needed to conserve. There would be no more coming. All up and down the American line, the sergeant could hear the rifle fire slow as each one began to pick his targets more carefully.
Saunders' main concern now was that the Germans would realize how few men he had. It wouldn't take a brilliant tactician to see how many were firing at them. The sergeant quickly glanced over his shoulder at the woods below…just in case they were overrun.
Firing continued on both sides as the soldiers held their position. Hearing a shout, Saunders looked right to see one of Morales' men drop his rifle and curl up in pain.
"Medic!" Morales shouted, even as he continued firing.
Doc scrambled up the slope, grabbed the wounded soldier and helped him slide down to the bottom.
"Saunders!" Morales yelled again. "They're moving in over here!"
"Hold 'em!" Saunders shouted in return as he continued firing himself.
There just weren't enough of them to keep the krauts back, he thought. And even if they retreated, he knew he'd lose a lot of his men. After a short while, another shout came off to his left. He saw Jones fall backwards and start to roll down the hill.
"Jonesy!" Newburg shouted, trying to grab his friend.
"Keep firing, Newburg!" Saunders yelled.
Seeing Doc scramble over to his injured friend, Newburg reluctantly turned back, took up his position again, and continued to fire at the enemy.
"They're moving in!" came a shout from their left flank.
Saunders knew it wouldn't be long before they were surrounded and overrun. He was surprised the krauts hadn't tried another grenade, but he knew it was coming. He had to make a decision quickly. Stand and fight to the bitter end or retreat and at least try to save some of his men. Either way they would suffer heavy losses.
And then it seemed that all hell had broken loose.
CHAPTER 7
The firefight suddenly intensified, and deadly bullets seemed to fill the air. But Saunders quickly noted that everything had stopped coming at them. Enemy fire was now directed at their left flank. The krauts began to make a hasty retreat as swarms of GI's closed in on them.
King Company had finally caught up to them. And Saunders couldn't have been more relieved. Seeing the last of the krauts quickly withdrawing, and the soldiers of King Company in pursuit, the sergeant turned his attention back to his own men.
"Casualties?" he shouted, looking up and down the lines.
"Jones," Newburg replied anxiously as he slid down the hill to check on his friend.
"One! Curtis!" Morales shouted from the right flank.
"Doc?" Saunders called down to the medic.
Doc looked up from working on Jones. "They both should be ok, Sarge. Not too serious."
Newburg slid next to his friend. "How is he, Doc?"
"I'm not dead, Burg," Jones replied with a grimace of pain. "I can still talk. Just ask me."
Doc was bandaging the soldier's head. "Just got grazed. But he's one lucky guy."
Jones held up his helmet and stuck his finger through a hole.
Newburg laughed in anxious relief. "Good thing they went for your head. Hard as a rock. That'll teach you to keep your head down."
"Well, it ain't easy keeping my head down when I'm this big. You oughta know," Jones answered with a nervous laugh as the adrenaline rush began to recede. Everyone was well aware of how close he'd come.
Saunders slid down the hill next to the others. Putting a hand on Jones' shoulder, he asked with concern, "You sure he's gonna be ok, Doc?"
The medic nodded. "Can't be sure until the doctor checks him over, but I think he'll be ok. One heck of a headache for a while though. I'll give him some aspirin."
Morales came down the hill as Saunders asked, "How about Curtis?"
The wounded soldier was lying in the grass with a bandage wrapped around his upper arm. Morales went over to check on his man, looking back at Doc expectantly to hear his answer.
"Curtis got hit in the arm. It took a gouge out of his bicep, but the bullet isn't in there. I think he should be ok, but he'll need stitches though."
Both Saunders and Morales were visibly relieved. Outnumbered, they'd managed to hold their position with only two minor casualties.
But both sergeants knew that had the Company shown up a mere five or ten minutes later, there would have been a very different…and deadly outcome.
CHAPTER 8
Sounds of the firefight faded as the Americans chased the remaining Germans. Saunders was content to keep his men on the ridge. They'd done their part in holding the line.
Looking up at the row of men still on the hill behind him, he called out, "Brockmeyer!"
"Yeah, Sarge?" the soldier responded, looking over his shoulder, down the slope.
"You and Billy stay up there and keep an eye out. Send everyone else back down."
With a silent wave of acknowledgment, Brockmeyer began to call out to the others. Saunders turned to Third squad's sergeant.
"Looks like we're done here, Morales. Your men can take off if they want."
Checking his wounded soldier's arm, Morales replied, "If it's all the same to you, Saunders, we'll hang out here. Nowhere else to go until the Company pushes the krauts back and sets up our billet. They got more than enough guys chasing those krauts. Don't need us."
"Suit yourself," Saunders answered as the men of First and Third squads came down the hill and settled in around him.
Doc closed his med kit. "As soon as the field hospital gets set up, I'll get
Curtis and Jones checked out."
"Grab some of the guys if you need help," the sergeant said.
Saunders sat back in the grass, feeling his heart rate slowly returning to normal and the adrenaline rush fading. He closed his eyes.
They'd come so…close.
"Hey, Sarge?" came from the top of the hill.
Brockmeyer.
"Anything, Brock?" the sergeant called out, twisting to look up behind him.
"Nothing," the soldier replied. "Not a soul in sight. Not even one of ours."
"Ok," Saunders answered. "You and Billy can come on down."
Saunders slid the Thompson off his shoulder and laid it near him on the grass. Dropping his helmet next to it, he lay back and closed his eyes again. The two soldiers came down the slope and joined the others.
Listening as the men of First and Third squads settled down with their own release of adrenaline, Saunders slowly drifted off, in spite of the noise and chatter around him.
He never even heard the commotion as some of King Company began to set up their billet in the nearby open fields.
CHAPTER 9
"Saunders," came a familiar voice.
The sergeant instantly opened his eyes and sat up, looking around. Standing up, he quickly slipped on his helmet and grabbed his Thompson. Carefully stepping over and between the prone bodies sprawled around him, he replied quietly.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
The officer waited for his sergeant to draw near and then jerked his head for him to follow.
As the two men walked, weaving their way around craters and men, Saunders asked, "What's up, Lieutenant? You need my men?"
Hanley shook his head. "Let 'em rest. They deserve it. You all did a great job holding the line. Any casualties?"
Saunders shook his head. "Not bad. Curtis took one in the arm. Doc said he'll need stitches but he should be ok. Jones got grazed, but he's ok too. I think Burg's more upset than Jones. Thanks for sending them. The extra men and ammo really came just in time."
"Glad they made it," Hanley replied. "Weren't quite sure where you were. When we heard the fighting, we knew though."
"If you'd come ten minutes later there wouldn't have been much of us left."
"We were on our way in this direction when Lieutenant Norris and I first heard the fighting start," the officer explained. "Figured you might be in trouble so we pushed our men to get here as fast as we could."
"Appreciate it," Saunders acknowledged simply.
The Lieutenant stopped and pointed off to the right. Soldiers were everywhere, busily setting up the Company billet.
"Officers' quarters are over there. I've kept a nearby area clear for both First and Third squads to bivouac close to Second. Not far from a few large artillery craters in case we need quick cover. When your men are rested, Price can show you where."
Saunders nodded. "Any chance we'll be able to get some hot food? Been a while."
Hanley smiled. "Cook is expecting mess to be up and running by late afternoon. All his equipment hasn't shown up yet."
Returning the smile, the sergeant replied, "My men'll be glad to hear it. I'll let Morales know."
"When you're all settled in," the officer added, "come see me and we'll go over what happened out here."
Saunders nodded and turned to go back to his men. "I'll send Newburg and Jones back to First platoon."
CHAPTER 10
Saunders watched as his men laid out their bedrolls in their area near the officers' quarters.
"We gonna get some hot food, Sarge?" Littlejohn asked, dropping his haversack next to his bedroll.
"That'll be up to Hash," his sergeant replied. "But Lieutenant Hanley seems to think they'll have mess up and running before evening."
"That'd be great," Nelson grinned. "I don't even care what he makes, so long as it's hot."
Checking over his men once more, Saunders said, "I'm going to report in to the Lieutenant, in case anyone needs me."
Making his way around the men to the officers' tents, he stood by Hanley's open tent.
"Lieutenant?"
The officer looked up from his makeshift table. "C'mon in. Grab a seat."
The sergeant pulled over a crate and sat down. Looking at the map spread out on the table, he shook his head with a smile. "Price redrew our lines on the map already?"
With a short laugh, Hanley replied, "He started working on it as soon as we got here. We set up the billet around him."
"The Army sure gets its money's worth out of him," Saunders said with a smile.
"So, what happened out here before we got to you? You were cut off from the Company for a while, but you handled it ok."
As Saunders reported on the events, the Lieutenant occasionally broke in with questions.
"How did you know you were outnumbered?"
"We were pretty evenly matched at first," the sergeant replied. "But then I saw more of them showed up. By the movement and what I could see, I figured around forty or fifty of them total in the end. By that time we'd really dug in up on the ridge and were laying low. They had no idea if we'd picked up reinforcements too."
"So, it became a stalemate," the officer said.
Saunders nodded. "Pretty much. At least it was until just before you showed up."
"They really wanted that hill back," the Lieutenant noted.
Saunders nodded again. "I'd say so."
"Well," Hanley said. "You and your men take it easy until the Company gets organized and Captain Jampel decides what our next move is gonna be."
"Sounds good," Saunders replied as he stood up to leave.
CHAPTER 11
Mess was disorganized and sporadic. Not Hash's usual efficiency, Saunders thought. But the men of both First and Third squads weren't complaining. Even as others grumbled around them, the soldiers of Second platoon waited patiently in the long line. They were about to get hot, fresh food. They weren't about to gripe.
When Saunders finally made his way up to the front of the line, he held out his plate as Hash filled it.
"Nice to have guys appreciate my work," the Cook remarked. "None of your men have moaned about the service. They recognize the miracle I pulled off in just a couple of hours with only half my equipment here. And it wasn't easy finding a level place to set up, you know."
"They're hungry," the sergeant replied. "We're all tired of rations. They aren't about to bite the hand that's feeding them."
"Well," Hash huffed, "whatever the reason, I appreciate it. When your guys are done eating, send them back for seconds if they want it. I should have enough left for both you and Third squad. I'll tell Petey, just in case I'm busy."
"I think they can handle that," Saunders smiled. "I'll let Morales know."
Hash waved his serving spoon as the sergeant went to find a spot to sit down. Empty and full crates were scattered around in groups. Saunders saw his men and went over to join them. Passing Third squad as they ate, he stopped.
"Hash says our squads can have seconds if we want."
Morales looked up. "That's great. How come we get such an honor? Maybe 'cause we've been living off of rations for so long?"
"Some of that. Mostly none of our guys had any complaints," Saunders replied. "Tell your men not to wait too long. Hash might change his mind."
"Will do," Morales said. "Thanks."
With a silent nod, Saunders went over to his men and found an empty crate.
"Wow," Billy said as he shoved a spoonful of peas into his mouth. "Never thought Army food could taste so good."
He held up another spoonful. "Real peas."
"When you're done," the sergeant said, setting his coffee down in the grass, "Hash says you can have seconds."
"You mean it?" Littlejohn asked, sitting up straighter.
Saunders popped a piece of meatloaf into his mouth and nodded.
"Alright!" the big man replied with a grin, beginning to shovel in his food.
"Slow down, Littlejohn," his sergeant said. "He's holding the rest of the food for just us and Third squad. Take your time."
In spite of his words, Saunders could see all of his men eating more quickly. He couldn't blame them. Hot, fresh food being prepared for them had become so infrequent lately that the soldiers intended to get all they could while it lasted.
As Saunders sipped his coffee, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Sergeant Saunders?"
CHAPTER 12
Saunders looked back over his shoulder at the unfamiliar soldier. The man was just under six feet, Saunders guessed. Lean but muscular, probably mid-twenties. A few wisps of dark, curly hair looked to be escaping from under the soldier's helmet. The young man reminded him a little of his friend Syd Thomas.
"You need me?"
"I'm a journalist. Captain Jampel assigned me to your squad," the soldier replied.
"You eat yet?" the sergeant asked.
"No…just got here," came the reply.
"Go grab something before it's gone," Saunders told him. "My guys'll be heading up there for seconds soon."
Looking over at Hash, the soldier replied, "Yeah, I'm kinda hungry. I'll catch up with you later."
Saunders watched the young man leave. Journalist, he thought. Just what he needed. Another journalist.
"Just what we need," echoed Kirby. "Another journalist."
"Think we'll be chasing him around France?" Caje asked, staring at the young soldier.
"Or breaking him out of some kraut prison camp," snorted Kirby.
"Maybe he'll be better than the last ones," Brockmeyer said hopefully.
"Hey, how come he's in uniform if he's a reporter?" Billy asked.
"Yeah," Doc agreed. "Thought they were all civilians."
"Captain Jampel sent him," Saunders noted, taking another sip of coffee. "Whatever happens, and whoever he is…he's ours."
Saunders drained his coffee cup and stood up. "Better get seconds before Third squad eats it all."
Littlejohn shoveled the last of his food into his mouth and led the soldiers of First squad as they hurried to the chow line.
CHAPTER 13
"You done, Corporal?" Saunders asked as he stood behind the soldier.
Draining his coffee cup, the young man replied, "Sure am, Sarge. That was great. Sometimes I'd rather have C-rats than some stuff the Army serves up. But this was good."
Heading to the cleaning station, the sergeant agreed. "Hash is a pretty good cook. But we don't tell him. Might go to his head."
Rinsing his utensils, he added, "C'mon."
The two soldiers walked as Saunders headed back to First squad's bivouac.
"So, who you work for?" Saunders asked.
"Uncle Sam," came the reply. "I'm with Yank Magazine."
"Well, that explains the uniform," the sergeant noted. "What's your name?"
The young soldier grinned. "Morrison Abromowitz."
"That's a mouthful," Saunders said. "What do people call you?"
"My friends call me Morrie. But most soldiers call me Yank."
As they neared the bivouac, Saunders said, "Here's my squad."
All of his men had just returned from mess, and Kirby was already preparing a small coffee fire.
"I want that fire out by nightfall, Kirby," Saunders ordered. "I don't want us giving any stray krauts an easy target."
"I know, Sarge," the BAR man replied. "I'll just get some coffee hot and then it'll stay warm in the ashes."
Pointing a thumb at the Corporal by his side, Saunders said, "We've got ourselves a journalist for a while. This is Corporal Morrison Abromowitz."
Indicating each man, the sergeant called off, "That's Kirby with the coffee. That's Caje, Doc, Brockmeyer…we call him Brock. That's Billy and the big guy is Littlejohn."
Each soldier in turn gave a slight wave of recognition.
Kirby stared at the young soldier for a moment. "We gotta call you all that? Got something a little easier?"
The journalist laughed. "I get that a lot. My friends call me Morrie. And I work for Yank Magazine, so most soldiers just call me Yank."
"Yank Magazine!" Caje smiled. "We read it whenever we can get ahold of one. I really like the Mail Call section."
"Me, too," Brockmeyer agreed.
"I always turn straight to Poets Cornered," Littlejohn admitted.
"I do, too," Doc replied. "Some can be pretty funny. But some guys can really get to what it's like here."
"Well," Nelson laughed. "my favorite's the Sad Sack comics. I sure like that guy. I know how he feels sometimes."
Kirby shook his head. "I don't know about you guys. But I go straight to the pinups. Did you see that last one? Rita Hayworth in a nightgown. A real show-stopper."
"What about the one with Betty Grable in her bathing suit?" Caje asked with a smile.
Kirby thought for a moment. "Yeah…those million dollar legs…tough choice."
"Good to hear you guys read Yank," Morrie said with a smile. "You've probably read some of my stories then."
"Every soldier who can get his hands on a copy reads it," Saunders admitted. "It's all about us."
"That's the point," the journalist agreed. "It's a magazine about soldiers, written by soldiers and only for soldiers. Regular GI's. Unlike other magazines, Yank isn't sold at home to civilians."
"So, if you're a soldier," Billy wondered, "how come you don't have a rifle?"
"He's a journalist, Billy," Doc explained. "A noncombatant. Like me."
"Doc's partially right," Morrie said. "Just like medics, some journalists choose to carry a weapon. But I just carry my camera, pencil and notebook."
He pulled out his notepad from his field jacket pocket. "Ever heard the old saying, 'The pen is mightier than the sword'?"
Kirby snorted. "Tell that to the krauts."
"Hate to break this up," Saunders interrupted. "But I've got a few things to do before it gets dark. Morrie, you can come with me or stay and talk more with the men. Up to you."
"I'll come," the journalist answered. "It'll give me a chance to check things out."
"Drop your gear anywhere," Saunders said. "We'll find you a place to bed down when we get back."
Morrie nodded, slipped off his haversack, and dropped it near the coffee fire.
"We won't be long," the sergeant told his men. "Kirby, don't forget about that fire."
CHAPTER 14
"Where to, Sarge?"
"Had a couple men injured this morning," Saunders replied as they walked over to Third squad's bivouac. "Just want to check on 'em."
"Morales," he called out to their sergeant. "How's Curtis?"
"I'm ok, Sarge," came from behind several men standing around their coffee fire.
The soldier came toward Saunders, holding his bandaged arm out. "Seven stitches and a shot of penicillin, then they kicked me out."
Morales stood up and joined them. "Don't let him kid you. They were gonna keep him but he escaped when no one was looking. Didn't have the heart to throw him back. How's Jones?"
"I'm heading over there now," Saunders replied. "I'll let you know."
"This is Corporal Abromowitz," he added. "Journalist for Yank Magazine."
Morales looked at the soldier for a moment. "You Morrison Abromowitz?"
The journalist looked surprised. "You know me?"
Morales nodded and grinned. "I like your articles. Well…those and the pinup girls."
The Corporal laughed. "Hey, that's great. I never know if anyone ever really reads them."
"You kidding?" Morales asked incredulously. "You got millions of guys who like your articles, I bet. Great stuff."
"Thanks," Morrie said with an embarrassed grin.
"You writing about Saunders and his squad?" Morales asked.
The journalist nodded. "I hope to."
With a short laugh, Morales answered, "Can't wait to read that one. Did you know…?"
"C'mon, Morrie," Saunders interrupted, "I want to get back before we're stumbling in the dark and end up in a crater."
With a silent wave, the two soldiers headed out again.
As they made their way across the field to First platoon, Morrie asked, "You were fighting the krauts this morning?"
The sergeant nodded. He pointed over to the hill. "We were with Third squad holding that hill until the Company showed up."
"I missed it," Morrie said.
Recognizing the disappointment in the soldier's voice, the sergeant added, "Good thing. It was pretty touch and go there for a while. Better to stay back where it's safer."
"No," Morrie explained. "You don't understand. I'm not a civilian reporter, remember? I'm a soldier writing about the war for other soldiers. Just like Doc, I've gotta be on the front lines to do my job."
"Well, I don't want Doc to have to take care of you," Saunders responded gruffly. "Just stay out of our way and keep your head down."
Morrie smiled. "I'm a pretty good writer…And I'm even better at keeping my head down and out of the way."
"Good to know," the sergeant replied with a faint smile. He had to admit that he liked the man. Straightforward, personable…genuine. Saunders was finding it hard to keep his emotional wall up.
"Let's check on Jones."
TO BE CONTINUED