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.
Saunders is off on his self-made mission, following his soldier's instincts. Meanwhile, his squad and Lieutenant Hanley are growing more concerned about their missing sergeant. Hopefully you've read my previous stories, since some of my own characters reappear, and I reference other stories, such as In Cold Blood, Lost in Yesterday and No Man's Land. Thanks for hanging in with Saunders and First squad. Be sure to leave your comments. They are always welcome.
DEAD TO THE WORLD
(Part 3)
CHAPTER 24
The men of First squad sat around on their bedrolls, quietly trying to make sense of everything they knew about their missing sergeant.
It wasn't much.
Kirby stared into the dead fire ring, poking at the cold ashes with a stick. The last thing he was thinking about was making a pot of coffee.
"What if he fell in the river?" Littlejohn asked, suddenly breaking the silence.
"I mean," he continued, "the water's moving pretty fast. And it was really dark out last night. No moon."
"Yeah," Billy agreed. "That sentry did say that the Sarge was going to the river to wash up. What if he got pulled in…and drowned?"
"Nah," Brockmeyer replied, shaking his head. "Sarge is a really good swimmer. Swam all the way across a lake once while pulling me. No way he drowned."
"But he could have been swept down river," Caje offered. "He had that happen before. Remember when he was trying to save Billy, and he got washed downstream? He showed up again."
"If that happened," Doc added, "It might take him a heck of a long time to make his way back through all those woods."
"Especially if he's hurt," Caje agreed.
More silence settled over the soldiers as they carefully weighed each possibility.
"What if a bunch of krauts took him prisoner?" Littlejohn asked.
Everyone looked at the big man until finally Kirby laughed.
"We ain't seen a single kraut in that sector since we got here. Not even any sign of one. Don't think a bunch of krauts decided to come sneakin' in there all of a sudden and just stumbled on the Sarge."
The BAR man laughed again, and then added, "Besides, he wouldn't go without a fight."
"Yeah," Littlejohn finally agreed. "Guess you're right."
Silence descended on the squad once again.
"What if…" Nelson started hesitantly, looking around at everyone. "I mean, the sentry said the last he saw Sarge, he was just standing on the bridge staring into the water."
"So?" Caje asked.
"Well…" Billy explained, "he's been pretty down lately. What if…?"
Kirby threw the stick into the ashes angrily. "He ain't that down, Billy!"
"Sarge'd never do that," Littlejohn agreed.
"But he has been pretty down," Doc countered. "He might have gone for a walk and …just kept walking."
"No way he went over the hill," Brockmeyer disagreed. "Not the Sarge."
The medic shook his head. "No, I mean maybe he kept walking and just got lost."
"He knows every inch of that sector," Brockmeyer answered. "How could he get lost?"
Kirby leaned back and looked at the others. "Sarge ain't dead. And he certainly didn't run out on us. He ain't lost, that's for sure. We been out in that sector so many times, any one of us could go through it with our eyes shut. And that goes double for the Sarge.""
"So, whata you think happened to him, Kirby?" Caje demanded.
The BAR man picked up the stick again and began rapping it on a stone.
"I think maybe Doc's kinda right. He went for a walk…but he didn't get lost. With so much on his mind, I think he mighta fallen in that culvert in the dark. Probably laying out there right now, needing our help."
The men fell silent as they all considered the possibility.
Finally, Doc spoke up. "That's possible."
"We'll check it out when we go on patrol tonight," Caje replied.
"That's hours from now," Kirby said. "If he's hurt, he's been laying out there all night and half the day."
"So?" Caje asked.
"So," the BAR man answered, standing up. "So, I say we go out there right now."
Doc stood up as well. "If he's hurt, he'll need me. I'll get my med kit."
"Kirby," Brockmeyer replied. "We can't just go out there now."
Kirby slipped on his helmet. "Why the heck not? Lieutenant Hanley told us to keep looking for him, didn't he? Well, that's just what we're gonna do."
The rest of the soldiers looked at each other until Caje finally stood up and grabbed his Garand.
"Let's go."
CHAPTER 25
Saunders had enough experience with hedgerows to know what he was looking for. Every hedgerow had it. Smaller animals didn't take the time or energy to go through the few man-made openings. To get to the tasty crops, they created their own openings…digging, chewing, clawing. Whatever it took to get to where they wanted to be on the other side.
Moving backwards on his knees, the sergeant quickly scanned the base of the hedgerow, pushing aside the tall grass. All the while he kept listening intently to the Germans as they continued to talk and smoke. They aren't too eager to return to their unit to report that they'd lost their prisoner, Saunders thought.
Glancing back to where he'd just searched, Saunders noticed that the grass was beaten down into a faint path. He'd almost missed it. Parting the grass revealed a fairly decent-sized opening. Leaning down with his cheek against the ground, Saunders could see daylight. It went all the way through.
It appeared to be wide enough, but he was concerned about the height. Even lying flat on his back, it would be a tight fit. He listened again to the soldiers, now laughing. Reaching into the hole with both hands, he began to pull dirt and stones out as quietly as he could.
But he knew he had to work fast. The Germans wouldn't stay there forever. As he continued to pull dirt and twigs away, the sergeant kept glancing around the field nervously. The entire time he'd been following the kraut patrol, they never encountered another German. Every time he and his squad had gone out, the whole sector was always clear…except for this one lone patrol.
Saunders couldn't make sense of it all yet, but he knew the answers lay up ahead somewhere. Somewhere close. He had to keep those soldiers in sight.
Suddenly he realized that the voices were growing fainter. The Germans were moving on. Saunders began to dig faster. He didn't want to lose them now.
Deciding he couldn't wait any longer, he pushed the piles of dirt and stones out of the way, lay flat on his back and slid his head into the opening. Almost immediately, one of his shirt buttons caught on a twig. He struggled frantically to free it, but it quickly snagged again.
Pulling himself back out of the hole in frustration, he sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt. As he took it off, he strained to hear the slightest sounds from the krauts.
Nothing.
Quickly balling up his shirt, Saunders shoved it into the hole and out the other side. Then he slid his belt around so the buckle was on his side. Lying flat on his back once again, he nestled his dog tags in the hollow of his neck under his chin. Digging in with the heels of his boots, Saunders quickly pushed himself through the hole.
CHAPTER 26
"We've been up and down this river a dozen times," Nelson complained. "All we found are lots of frogs and turtles."
"Yeah," Littlejohn agreed. "Maybe we oughta look somewhere else."
"I still say we head out to that culvert," Kirby argued. "If Sarge is hurt, that's gonna be where it happened. We're just wasting time."
"But if we go straight there," Brockmeyer warned, "we might miss him. He could be lying in the brush somewhere between here and the culvert."
"If he just tripped and fell in the woods somewhere," Kirby countered, "he'd a just skinned his knees maybe. He wouldn't be out all this time."
"But what if he fell and hit his head?" Doc asked. "Remember when he hit his head and couldn't remember where he was?"
"Doc's right," Billy agreed. "He could've been wandering around out here, not knowing what's going on."
"C'mon," the BAR man replied. "What are the chances of that happening again?"
"Look," Caje interrupted. "We're wasting time. We're out here to find the Sarge. Let's do it right. Just like we'd clear the sector of krauts. Spread out ten or fifteen yards apart. We'll work our way up to the culvert."
The Cajun looked at the others for their opinion.
"That sounds good," Littlejohn agreed. "Right, Kirby?"
"Yeah," Kirby finally agreed. "Ok, let's do it."
"No stone left unturned," Doc added.
The soldiers automatically spread out, took up their positions, and began to slowly walk through the woods heading toward the culvert.
CHAPTER 27
As Saunders' head and shoulders first went into the hole in the hedgerow, he couldn't help but think about Littlejohn. Thank goodness he didn't have to get the big man through this. It'd take the entire squad to dislodge him.
Then he realized that through all of this, he hadn't really thought about his men at all. Hadn't actually thought about much of anything at all other than those krauts he was trying to stay up with.
On the one hand, he sure could have used the support of his men through this. Caje was an excellent tracker. And Kirby could have watched their backs. They were all dependable, excellent soldiers.
But on the other hand, being alone meant that he wouldn't have to go through the pain of losing another man. The success or failure of this…what could he call it? Certainly not a sanctioned mission. Whatever it was, the outcome fell solely on his own shoulders.
A twig snagged on his undershirt, bringing his focus back to his task. He twisted slightly and the twig pulled free. He dug his heels in once again.
Trying to stay focused, part of his mind still wondered what his men were thinking about his sudden disappearance. AWOL? Dead? One or the other. If he didn't make it back from all of this, they'd never know.
As far as everyone was concerned, he'd be dead to the world.
He pushed all of those thoughts aside as his head and then shoulders broke free on the other side. One more hard shove with his boots and both arms came loose.
He craned his neck and nervously looked all around. The field was empty. No sign of the krauts. He was almost to the opening at the top of the field. Grabbing his balled-up shirt, Saunders stood up and immediately leaned against the hedgerow for support. His vision blurred and then dimmed.
Not now! he thought to himself angrily. Lack of food and dehydration was catching up to him.
Not now.
CHAPTER 28
Saunders fought to stay upright as he wasted precious seconds waiting for his head and vision to clear. As the world around him slowly sharpened, he fumbled with his shirt and began to put it back on.
When he felt secure enough to stand without leaning against the hedgerow, the sergeant pushed off from the thicket, and ran up the field to the opening.
Trying to stay low, he ran close alongside the hedgerow buttoning his shirt as he moved. Coming to the wide opening, Saunders stopped and pressed himself against the thicket while buttoning his shirt sleeves. Poking his head out quickly, he silently cursed to himself. He'd missed the krauts.
Another dried-up corn field. Empty. Not a soul in sight. And then he realized he had another problem. There was a large opening across the field. But there was also an opening half-way up the field off to his left.
Which way? Guessing wrong could mean he'd lose them for good. With only a moment's hesitation, Saunders headed diagonally off to the left. He'd look quickly, and then move up the field if he had to. Hopefully he'd catch sight of them. But crossing that field out in the open would leave him extremely vulnerable. His heart began to pound even harder in his chest.
Starting across the field toward the opening on the left, the sergeant stopped abruptly and knelt down …listening intently. He smiled slightly. There was no need to look through the left opening. He could hear sounds coming from behind the thicket in the upper right corner of the field. Right near the opening there. Voices. Lots of them.
Staying low, the sergeant ran through the rows of dead corn stalks. Nearing the top of the field, he advanced slowly toward the opening. He stopped, knelt down, took a deep breath and poked his head around the corner. Instantly, he jerked his head back and pressed his body tightly against the hedgerow. His adrenaline spiked once again, and his heart felt like it would jump from his chest.
Just around the corner stood a German soldier.
CHAPTER 29
In spite of Kirby's impatience, the squad took its time clearing the sector. Moving slowly through the dense woods, they occasionally stopped when someone thought they'd found something important.
Nelson stopped and knelt down. "Hey, guys. What about this?"
He held up a soggy, crumpled, empty cigarette pack. The others gathered around him to look.
Caje shook his head. "Can't be the Sarge's."
"Why not?" Billy asked, inspecting it more carefully.
Brockmeyer leaned in to take a closer look. "It's wet and dirty. Didn't have any rain last night."
"Not for a couple days now," Doc agreed.
Kirby squinted at the soggy pack. "That's mine. I dropped it last time we came through here."
"Why're you so sure?" Littlejohn asked.
The BAR man pointed at the crumpled pack with matches still tucked inside the cellophane wrapper. "See there? The matches were all wet and wouldn't light, so I left 'em with it. That's mine."
"We'd better get back," Caje said, checking his watch. "Lieutenant Hanley's probably looking for us by now."
"Well, I ain't leaving until we check out that culvert," Kirby insisted.
"The Lieutenant's gonna be mad," Billy said worriedly.
"So," Kirby countered, "he ain't gonna be much madder if we stay a little longer to check out that culvert."
After a brief silence, Doc pointed ahead of them. "The culvert isn't too much farther. Let's keep going."
More silence followed as the soldiers weighed all their options. Finally, silent nods of agreement went through them. Slowly, the men of First squad spread out to resume their search.
CHAPTER 30
Saunders' mind was racing as he tried to decide what to do. All of his instincts were screaming to run. But he had an overriding need to see what was going on around the corner on the other side of the hedgerow. He'd come…so far.
He listened intently to the sounds. Lots of activity, maybe a hundred or hundred fifty yards away. If he took off now, he would probably go unnoticed and be able to safely make it back to his Company. He could warn Captain Jampel and Hanley about the krauts. But what good would it do? He could give them an approximate location if he saw a map of the area. But the Company had no artillery available. And the location of what? There could be fifty men…or two hundred. He had no idea.
Not without looking.
Saunders made his decision. He stooped down, took a deep breath, and inched an eye past the thicket. There was just one, lone sentry at the hedgerow opening, and his back was turned toward the sergeant. Made sense, he thought. The hedgerows around there were thick and tall. No way the enemy could sneak up on them. They'd have to come up through that open field. No need for more than one sentry there. But the soldier seemed more interested in the activity in his billet than guarding the opening against possible enemy intruders.
Saunders couldn't see around the soldier's legs…not without sticking his head out a lot farther. A lot farther.
He pulled back to think. More questions. What exactly was going on out there? Preparing to advance? Retreat? How many were there? Did they finally get some artillery? If so, Captain Jampel needed to be warned.
He needed answers.
It didn't take long for him to make up his mind. Taking out the rope from his pants pocket, the sergeant wrapped the ends around his hands, and peered around the side of the hedgerow again. He'd come this far…he stood up.
Seeing his best opening, Saunders took it.
CHAPTER 31
Littlejohn stopped and looked around in frustration. "Kirby, we've checked out every inch of this culvert more times than the river."
"Yeah," Billy agreed wearily. "At least at the river we saw something. Not even a turtle here."
"No turtles in a culvert, Billy," Littlejohn responded.
"That's what I said," Nelson replied in confusion.
"Guys," Kirby broke in with frustration. "He's gotta be here somewhere. He didn't go over the hill. He ain't along the river, and we've covered every square inch of this sector. He can't just disappear."
"Well, I agree that there's no way he'd go AWOL," Doc replied.
"We all agree on that," Brockmeyer added. "But we keep going like this and we're gonna be too tired to go out on patrol tonight."
The men looked at each other until Caje answered. "Ok, let's check once more up around the dirt road and bridge. Maybe we can go up a little way on the north side of Sector Charlie. Can't go too far though. Never been up there before."
When the men all nodded, Caje added, "But then we head back. The Lieutenant'll be looking for us by now for sure."
"C'mon," the BAR man said, leading the way back up toward the dirt road. "We gotta find him."
CHAPTER 32
With rifle tucked under his arm, the German sentry was leaning against the hedgerow, trying to light his cigarette when Saunders slipped the rope over the man's head and pulled him back around the thicket. Dropping his rifle, the soldier's hands flew to the rope around his neck.
The sergeant gripped the rope tightly until the man's struggles grew weaker and finally stopped. Dragging the soldier completely away from the opening, Saunders made sure he was hidden from view, and then he picked up the rifle, hurriedly checking its ammo. A full clip.
It was a bolt action rifle, however. Hardly the firepower of the Thompson, but he didn't have a lot of options at the moment. Quickly peering out first to be sure the sentry hadn't been missed yet, he went through the soldier's utility belt for extra clips. Finding just one, he searched all of the pockets as well. Nothing. No more clips. No food. Not even a biscuit or piece of chocolate. And only five cartridges in each clip.
Stuffing the clip into his pants pocket, he unhooked the soldier's canteen and drank deeply until he'd finished it. Dropping the empty canteen in the grass, Saunders crawled past the soldier back to the hedgerow opening.
Finally, he thought, he'd have some answers to all of his questions. Peering around the corner, Saunders took everything in and immediately had some answers. Spread out over a large sloping field, a Company of Germans was making obvious preparations to move out. And very soon, by the looks of it.
A Company. No, he thought as he observed their actions. Not a full Company…not even close. Seems they were running as short-handed as King Company was. Probably why they hadn't attacked in force yet. And he saw no signs of mortars.
Being extremely short-handed, he could see why they only had one sentry on the hedgerow opening. Their unit was also protected on three sides by long, dense, virtually impenetrable walls of hedgerow. Their only weak point was the opening that Saunders was currently using.
Unfortunately, they had chosen an inattentive soldier to guard that weak spot. Fortunate, however, for Saunders.
Pieces of the puzzle were now tumbling into the sergeant watched the Germans preparing to move out. They sure weren't packing up to make a hasty retreat, he thought. Which could only mean that they were planning to move forward. And where best to attack? A well-fortified sector…or a virtually unguarded sector where their recent patrol encountered no resistance and was able to come close to capturing a prisoner?
They most certainly were planning to attack through Sector Charlie. Saunders was sure of it. Those almost constant skirmishes in the other sectors were not accidents or random patrols. They were quite intentional. Saunders could see what their plan had been all along.
Keep hitting the other sectors. Keep everyone on their toes. Force the Americans to put all available men in those sectors to beef up their lines there. And where else could they draw from but a sector where there had been absolutely no enemy activity?
They figured the Americans would leave Sector Charlie with minimal defense. And why not? After all, no kraut had stuck a foot into the sector. With the German Company so under-manned themselves, it was definitely a plan worth trying.
And it was working.
CHAPTER 33
Saunders' mind was racing as he watched the activity. They obviously had no artillery support, or they'd have called it in by now. They definitely knew exactly where the Americans were, even if they didn't know how strong they were. And by the looks of their preparations, it looked like they would be advancing soon…perhaps within the next few hours.
If he ran, he could get back to the Company in enough time for the men to dig in and reinforce Sector Charlie. Or Captain Jampel might have his men advance to surprise them, knowing exactly where they were. Whatever the Captain's decision, Saunders needed to warn him about the German whereabouts, strength and activity.
All of these thoughts flew through his head in a matter of seconds. Saunders pulled back and stood up. Pausing for a second, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and rolled the soldier over. He grabbed the grenade from the soldier's belt and gripped it for a moment, getting the feel for the weapon. He'd had more than his fair share of encounters with it, and was familiar with the German stick grenade. And he knew how to use it.
Sliding the grenade through his belt, the sergeant unslung the rifle. The prone soldier moved slightly. And then the man gave a soft moan. He was still alive.
But the soldier was no longer his worry. By the time he came to, Saunders would be long gone. And he wouldn't kill an unarmed, unconscious man.
Turning to run, he suddenly froze.
"Klaus? Wo bist du?"
CHAPTER 34
As soon as the German appeared from around the hedgerow, Saunders had no choice. He swung around and fired before the surprised soldier could register the American's presence and fire in return. Without hesitating to check the results, Saunders turned and ran.
He ran through the rows of dead corn stalks, mindful that stumbling and falling on the uneven terrain would mean certain death. Saunders knew that he had precious few seconds before others followed. He needed to put as much distance as possible between them if he was to have the slightest chance of outrunning them or with any luck, losing them in the dense woods ahead.
But he knew that he had one more open field to cross before he could make it to the cover of the forest. He just made it to the opening into the second field when the first round of bullets came flying past his head like the sound of angry bees.
Instinctively ducking, Saunders crouched lower as he began to run through the second corn field. With no time to spare, he ran as fast as he dared, jumping over the uneven rows and piles of dead corn stalks. He could feel his back muscles tighten in anticipation of the bullet that might find its mark.
Once the Germans reached the opening that he'd just passed through, they would have a clearer shot at him as he ran out in the open. His only hope was that they were lousy shots and that he was a faster runner than they were.
And luckier.
A wave of bullets flew past, wide of their mark as the Germans fired on the run. When one bullet tore up the dirt near his boot, Saunders knew that someone must have stopped to take aim.
He was almost to the opening.
CHAPTER 35
Only a few yards from the opening, Saunders dove for the cover of the thick hedgerow. Hitting the ground, he rolled over, scrambled to face his enemy, and began firing. Pulling the bolt back, he fired again.
He'd give anything at that moment to be cradling his Thompson in his arms. His first shot went wild. The second came close to one of the soldiers' boots, kicking up dirt and shreds of corn stalk. Although he didn't hit anyone, the two shots had served their purpose. The Germans dove for whatever meager cover they could find. Now they were the ones exposed and vulnerable in the open field.
With a third, more carefully-aimed shot, Saunders managed to hit one before they hid themselves behind piles of dirt and dead stalks. But he wasn't about to stay there. He had limited ammo and no time.
He emptied his clip to keep their heads down. Quickly changing clips, he turned to run for the dirt road. Piecing together his mental map of the area, he knew that once he crossed that road, he'd have good cover in a large stand of old growth trees and heavy brush.
Just as he stood up, the sergeant felt a burning pain slice across his right side. Stumbling with the sudden pain, he managed to stay upright and make it to the dirt road. Racing across the road, he ran for the largest and closest tree. Slipping behind it, he spun and raised the rifle to take aim at the hedgerow opening.
The first soldier through dropped as Saunders fired. Throwing the bolt back, he fired again but missed the second soldier. Cursing to himself, he took a deep breath, aimed and fired at another German trying to hide behind the end of the hedgerow. The soldier went down, and the others scattered, pulling back to find any kind of cover. He fired…and missed.
If he had his Thompson and a field jacket full of extra mags, Saunders knew he could easily get them all or at least force them to retreat. But he didn't have his Thompson. And he was on his last clip. Every shot had to count.
Saunders saw another opening and fired again. Another kraut fell. And then he heard an ominous click.
His rifle was empty.
CHAPTER 36
Flinching as a huge chunk was torn from the tree near his head, Saunders frantically checked his mental map again. He knew the wide animal trail leading to the stream couldn't be too far away. Looking around quickly, off to the left he saw what looked like the beginning of the animal trail. He hoped it was. Guessing wrong would be fatal. Tossing the empty rifle into some bushes, the sergeant sprinted for the trail.
Immediately, the krauts opened up. Keeping low and dodging through the thick woods, Saunders continued to run. When the trail widened and became familiar, a flood of relief flowed through him, mixed with the seemingly gallons of adrenaline pouring through his veins. Now he just needed to make it to the stream…alive.
Running alongside the trail under cover of the trees, it seemed an eternity of dodging and running. Just when he began to doubt his decision to take the trail, Saunders saw the meandering stream ahead.
With an extra rush of adrenaline, he launched himself over the stream, landing with one boot on the opposite bank and one boot in the cold water. Stumbling slightly, the sergeant scrambled up the bank and into the forest on the opposite side.
Stopping behind a huge tree, Saunders gasped for air as he pulled the grenade from his belt.
His last hope.
CHAPTER 37
Not realizing that the American no longer had a rifle, the Germans moved more cautiously from tree to tree. Knowing that crossing the stream would leave them exposed, they stopped to decide their next move.
On the other side of the stream, Saunders gripped the stick grenade firmly and unscrewed the bottom safety cap. Tossing the cap aside, he took hold of the pull cord…and waited.
He didn't have long to wait.
The first soldiers moved slowly toward the stream. He could hear some of them spreading out on either side. Saunders didn't take the time to read the fine print on the handle of the grenade. He had to act before they got too spread out. The grenade had either a 5.5 or 7 second fuse. He'd just assume it was the shorter fuse. He pulled the cord, counted a quick 1,2,3…and tossed the grenade on the stream's bank, as close as he could figure in the center of them all.
Almost immediately the grenade exploded on the edge of the water. Short fuse, he thought to himself as he began to run. He wasn't about to stop to see the results.
Saunders knew that they were too spread out, and he doubted that he'd gotten them all. So, he intended to put as much distance as possible between him and the few remaining Germans before they had a chance to reorganize enough to give chase.
He'd hoped that the grenade would discourage them from continuing, but when he heard shouts and wild rifle fire, he knew it was hopeless.
He'd just used his last weapon. His only defense now was to run. And he knew that another big problem awaited him not too far ahead.
TO BE CONTINUED
