September 1944
Luxembourg
The 83rd Infantry had been in France and Luxembourg since August. They had encountered several attacks and counterattacks as they continued their push toward Germany. They had finally bivouacked in a small town on the outskirts of the Moselle. Sergeant DiNozzo and Private First Class McGee were making the final picket of their watch. An unexpected rain from the night before had made the rutted road muddy and treacherous to travel in places. They were talking quietly as they patrolled.
"Tony, up there," Tim motioned toward a pushcart stuck in the mud and the young woman working to get it out.
As they approached cautiously, Tony asked, in German, "Do you speak English?"
The woman turned at the sound of the voice. In accented English, she replied, "I do."
The two men shouldered their weapons and came closer. "Looks like you could use some help." Tim stated the obvious.
She smiled and Tony's heart melted on the spot. Beautiful didn't begin to describe the girl. Dark hair, pulled back, revealed a heart shaped face, sunned and freckled. The smile had gone straight to her eyes and also revealed a slight dimpling in her cheek. Her frame was sturdy but not fat, a woman used to hard work. "I would certainly appreciate it if you could assist me." She said.
The cart was full of clothes, bundled and tied in neat stacks. There were also two average sized black kettles and several boxes of soaps and powders. The weight had forced one of the large side wheels to bog down in the mud up to the spoke.
"I think a little muscle can take care of this," and Tony handed Tim his weapon and lined up behind the wheel. The young woman stepped next to Tim to let the other soldier work.
Tony was a tall man. As a teenager, he'd always had trouble adjusting to his size, seemingly ungainly in his carriage. He had played basketball as that was the only organized team sport the high school had. He had made a fairly decent center but running, shooting, dribbling – let's face it, Tony was not the player you wanted to handle the ball. Now, his time in the army, carrying the heavy packs, the hand-to-hand combat drills and other athletic pursuits had sculpted the body into solid muscle.
The cart wheel moved and rolled forward quickly. In fact, too quickly, as Tony didn't have time to regain his footing before it moved. Suddenly, the Sergeant was in the mud, face down, where the cart had once been.
The woman quickly grabbed the pushcart to move it into more solid ground as Tim helped up his muddied friend.
The girl, trying not to laugh, failed miserably. "I am so terribly sorry."
Tony was covered in mud. He tried to wipe his face but his hands were muddier. Tim wanted to help but DiNozzo stopped him with a look.
"That's alright, ma'am. At least you can get on now." And, somewhat embarrassed, Tony turned to leave. Tim nodded a farewell and ran to join the senior officer but the girl's voice stopped them.
"But, wait! I don't know the names of the gallant officers who saved me."
Tony turned around, still somewhat abashed at the events, but responded, "I'm Antoni…Sergeant Anthony DiNozzo. This is Private Timothy McGee."
"Well, Sergeant. Private. As you can see, I do laundry for others around here. I believe, Anthony, that you might have need of my services. Bring your uniform up there." And she pointed towards a farm house only a few clicks from where the bulk of their tents were set. "It's the least I can do."
Tony nodded and started back down the road..
"You might tell your comrades, Private. I don't have any fixed rates. I am willing to barter these services."
"Do you have a name, ma'am?" Tim asked in response.
"Yes. It's Ziva."
Tim nodded and ran to catch up with his friend. The young woman watched them leave and then headed up the hill to her small farm.
Farther down the road, Tim and Tony met up with one of the commanding officers, First Lieutenant John Carson. The two soldiers immediately snapped to attention.
"DiNozzo, what the hell happened to you?" Carson barked.
"Well, sir," Tony began, looking straight ahead, but Tim interrupted.
"It was my fault, sir. I thought I saw something and when the Sergeant told me to take cover he, unfortunately, had the muddy side of the road."
Tony glanced quickly at his friend and then back to the C.O. He wasn't sure he bought the story. Carson knew these two covered for each other regularly. But, the one thing Carson knew for sure, in a fight, he wanted DiNozzo and McGee with him.
"Alright, Private, you're dismissed." Tim saluted and left quickly. Turning back to Tony, "You, on the other hand, DiNozzo, need to get cleaned up and report to the Major right away. He needs to see you."
"Yes, sir." He saluted as well and double timed it to his tent.
Once inside, his tent mate, Sergeant Trent Kort, stopped him. "I know mud baths are supposed to be good for you but aren't you supposed to undress first?"
"Shut up, Trent." Tony grumbled as he quickly stripped and changed into clean fatigues. "The Major wants to see me."
"What have you done now, wop?" Kort used the slang term when he was in a mood to harass his bunk mate.
Tony glared but didn't stop to argue, "I have no idea. Thought I'd kept my head low enough to avoid confrontation, but I guess not." He looked in the small mirror they used for shaving and then turned to Trent, "Am I presentable?"
"Yeah, you'll do. Get back here quick so I'll have the skinny, eh?"
Tony nodded and then headed quickly back out to the Major's tent. Waiting outside was Lieutenant Carson, who nodded when Tony arrived. The Major's right hand, Captain Gerard, motioned the two inside. Both men quickly saluted their commanding officer.
Returning the salute, Major Fornell ordered, "At ease, gentlemen." As the men shifted to parade rest, the Major continued, "I have some good news for both of you. You're being promoted. Your commissions were just approved."
The men shared a quick glance as neither knew they were being considered. "Congratulation, Captain Carson." As the Major shook his hand, Captain Gerard changed out his 1st Lieutenant's bar for the double bars. Then the major turned to Tony.
"I must say, DiNozzo, it's much nicer to have you in here for this than our usual discussions."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." And as the Major shook his hand, Captain Carson was handed the bar, indicating DiNozzo's new rank. "Congratulations, Second Lieutenant."
The Major stepped aside and let Carson do the honors. He then turned back to the new officers, handing them each a glass. He then passed one to Gerard. Clinking the glasses, the officers "wet down" the new ranks.
Draining the last of his glass, the Major dismissed Carson and Gerard but kept DiNozzo behind.
"One more thing, Lieutenant," he handed DiNozzo an official looking envelope. "I thought you might like the honor of awarding your friend, McGee, his new promotion."
Tony's chest puffed out, "Really, sir, may I?"
"Yes, you may. Also, I've been told there's a woman near here that will do laundry. Heard anything about it?"
News traveled quickly in a camp this size, "Yes, sir. McGee and I met her earlier."
"Take Kort and McGee with you and check her out. If you think it's safe, spread the word to the rest of the men." Tony nodded and then was dismissed.
He took the time to quickly look at his bar, indicating his new rank, and made the way to Tim's tent.
"Tim?" Tony stuck his head in.
McGee replied, "Yeah, Tony. Come in. I was just…" And McGee suddenly noticed the new insignia on Tony's uniform. Tim kicked his tent mate who also recognized the officer's designation and they quickly saluted.
Tony was caught off guard but returned the salute, "That's not necessary. At least, not in here, guys."
"Yes, sir." Was Tim's reply.
Tony only shook his head and then became serious. "Well, McGee, it seems you're out of uniform. Think I need to put that on report?"
"No, sir. But how am I…" he looked his uniform up and down to try to discern what Tony was talking about. He looked back to his friend who only smiled and opened the envelope. From it he removed the commendation and the new stripes indicating the Private's promotion to Corporal.
"I think you need another stripe, Corporal." Tony shook his friend's hand. "Congratulations, McGee. The Major gave me the honor."
Tim, like Tony, was a bit awed. Tony continued, "You need to come with me. We're getting Kort and the three of us are going to check out that laundress we met."
Tim gathered his things and they picked up Sergeant Kort, who was shocked at Tony's news. "That's fine but I'm still going to call you 'wop' if you piss me off."
"So long as it's Wop, sir." Tony teased.
The three of them made their way to the farm house Ziva, the laundress, had indicated earlier. Tony had grabbed his muddied uniform to bring with him.
They knocked on the door and were given access when she recognized the faces of the two American soldiers.
"You brought your uniform, Anthony?" she asked, holding out her hand.
Kort raised an eyebrow at the exchange, but kept his mouth shut, "Just as you agreed, Ziva."
"Please, sit. I don't have much but what I have I share."
"You don't sound German, miss." Kort observed, taking a seat at the table, situated near an open hearth.
"That's because I'm not German, Sergeant." Was her reply.
Tony replied, "Before I can refer your services, Ziva, I have to make sure our men will be safe."
"I can assure you, Anthony, they will not be in danger. I am not German or a German spy. I have no love for the Germans at all."
"Many say that, miss." Trent accused.
"Trust me, Sergeant, I mean it." She paused and then finished, "I am a Jew."
The men turned to stare at her. Tim spoke first, "Are the stories true then?"
She nodded, "The Germans have, indeed, rounded up many of the Jews, moving them to either slums or work camps. That is how my husband and I became separated."
"You're married, then?" Tony asked.
"We are as good as married but it was not consummated. We were separated before the union could be blessed."
Tony nodded as Trent asked, "And your husband?"
"I haven't heard from him in over a year. We have an agreement to meet in Paris once the war is over. We will wait on each other for six months. If one or the other doesn't show, we know to move on with our lives."
The men were struck by the finality. Each knew that any minute could be the last but to hear it spoken of so matter of fact by one not much younger than the three of them made it almost too real to bear.
"What is your husband's name?" Tim asked.
"Michael Rivkin."
"So, Mrs. Rivkin," Tony started.
Ziva shook her head, "No, I still use my last name, David."
"Very well, then, Ziva, I think you'll soon have a trail of American G.I.'s at your door. I'll be advising my commanding officer that you're safe."
She reached out and grabbed Tony's hand. The harsh soaps and water should have made her hands rough and yet, Tony didn't seem to notice. He only noticed how good it felt and how perfectly it seemed to fit.
"I am most grateful, Anthony." Again, the smile lit her face, all the way to her eyes.
Trent and Tim exchanged a glance, knowing that the two of them were forgotten. They quietly exited the farm and waited just outside the door.
Tony looked again at her hand in his and then back into her sparking eyes, "You're most welcome, Ziva."
