Lieutenant
Hanley glanced over his shoulder at the squad of men following him up the hill. Caje
was immediately behind him, Littlejohn and Kirby following. Nelson was several feet
behind them, then Doc with Saunders bringing up the rear. Silently cursing the steep
hill, the bushes with their sharp thorns, and the war, Hanley continued climbing. An
artillery shell slammed into the ground, knocking the men off of their feet. Hanley
heard someone cry out in pain, but there was too much dust and debris flying for him to
see who it was. Two more shells, then it was quiet again. |
"Who
got hit?" Hanley demanded. |
"Saunders."
Doc called out, already bending over the sergeant. |
"How
bad is it?" |
"I'm
fine." Saunders grunted. |
"Sure
you are." Doc retorted. "He took some shrapnel in the arm and side,
Lieutenant." |
Hanley
slid down the hill to crouch next to the injured man, the rest of the squad gathering
behind him. |
"He's
finished for today, isn't he, Doc?" Hanley asked. |
"Yes,
sir." |
"Can he make
it back alone?" |
"Well,
sir, the wounds themselves aren't too bad, but he's already lost a lot of blood, and if he
starts bleeding again, he could be in real trouble." |
Hanley
was silent for a moment, thinking as he watched the medic care for the sergeant's
wounds. He hated to lose the sergeant, as he was one of the best soldiers he had;
but even more he hated to lose another soldier to take him back. He needed all he
could get to take this OP. |
"Doc,
you take him back." He decided finally. |
"No."
Saunders protested. "You may need him. I can make it alone." |
"Doc,
you take him back. Saunders, you will go with him. Doc is in charge." |
"Lieutenant..."
|
"That
is an order." The lieutenant snapped. "Alright, let's move
out." |
Turning
his back, the lieutenant started up the hill again. One by one, Caje, Kirby, and
Littlejohn touched each man on the shoulder as they passed by. Doc finished
bandaging the arm wound, got to his feet and reached down to help Saunders to his feet. |
"I
don't need you, Doc. You should be with the squad." |
"I've
got my orders, Sergeant. It'll be easier for both of us if you quit arguing about
it." |
Doc
pulled him upright, tactfully saying nothing when he had to steady injured man.
Shrugging off the medic's hand, Saunders started walking back the way they'd come.
Shaking his head, Doc followed. When they reached a small stream, Doc called a halt. |
"We
ought to go around that grove of trees, Sarge. There's a lot of undergrowth in there
that will make it hard for you." He suggested, handing a canteen to Saunders,
who took it one-handed and drank gratefully. |
"No.
We'll go straight." |
"But,
Saunders..." |
"I
said, we'll go straight. Help me up." |
Reluctantly,
Doc did so, staying as close as he could while the sergeant moved on into the trees.
Partway through the grove, Saunders swayed and nearly fell, only Doc's quick grab keeping
him on his feet. |
"You
need to rest, Sarge." Doc told him. |
"No,
I..." Saunders paused, lifting his good hand to rub his face, apparently surprised at
the moisture he found. "Maybe you're right. Just for a few minutes." |
"Yes,
I agree." A heavily accented voice came from the left. |
Badly
startled, Saunders tried to turn; to bring up the Thompson slung over his right
shoulder. He went to his knees and Doc moved in quickly to support him, lowering him
to sit on the ground. A German sergeant stepped out from behind a tree, followed by
a couple of soldiers. He gazed down at the wounded American, who squinted up at him,
his face lined with pain and weariness. |
"A
sergeant." The German smiled. "A nice prize." He looked
at Doc consideringly. |
"Normally, we would leave you behind, but in this case you will come with us
to keep the sergeant alive until we finish with him." |
He
turned and spoke to one of his men, who nodded and took off at a trot. |
"We
will wait here for him to return. Medic, do what you can for your sergeant. We
don't want him to bleed to death. Not until we are finished questioning him." |
His
eyes sparkling with fury, Doc knelt beside Saunders, checked the bandages and gave him
another drink. They waited in silence, the sergeant trying unsuccessfully to hide
his pain and weakness. When the soldier returned, the German sergeant motioned to
Doc. |
"Get
him on his feet. Leave the weapon on the ground." |
Getting
to his feet, Doc took hold of Saunders' uninjured arm and his web belt, pulling him
upright. He drew Saunders' arm over his shoulders and looked at the German, waiting
for further orders. When the German jerked his head in the direction the soldier had
gone, Doc shifted the injured man's weight and started off, the Germans following
closely. A German troop truck was waiting for them when they finally emerged from
the trees. With rough assistance from one of the soldiers, he managed to get
Saunders into the back of the truck, lying on the floor. The vehicle started with a
jerk, promptly bumping into and out of a hole, drawing a groan of pain from the injured
man. |
They
had been on the road a little over ten minutes when gunfire erupted around them.
From his position where he'd thrown himself across Saunders, Doc identified the sounds of
M-1s and a BAR. |
"It's
Americans!" He grinned at Saunders, then grunted as the body of the German
sergeant fell across his back. |
In a matter of
moments, the gunfire ended and an eerie silence descended. |
"Help!
We're Americans!" Doc shouted. |
"Who
are you?" Came a return shout. |
"I'm
a medic. I've got a wounded sergeant here. We're from the 361st." |
"Hold
on, we're on the way." |
Unable
to get out from under the dead German without reopening Saunders' wounds, Doc did the best
he could to keep their combined weight off of the injured man. He sighed with relief
when the body was lifted away, then two G.I.s had him by the arms, lifting him off of
Saunders, who appeared to be unconscious. |
"Is
he dead?" Asked one of the G.I.s. |
"No.
He's breathing." Doc answered, shrugging out of their hold to kneel at
Saunders' side. "Damn! He's bleeding through. Gimme your
kits." He demanded without looking up. |
He
worked on the sergeant for several minutes, finally straightening to look at their
rescuers. |
"Thanks.
Where did you come from?" |
"Back
that away. Where did they get you at?" |
"A
couple miles down the road. I'm trying to get the sarge back to the aid station at
Ouray." |
"It
ain't there no more, brother. They pulled out what was left after they got
shelled. Nearest aid station is at Avranches now." |
"How
far is that?" Doc asked in dismay. |
"
'Bout five miles, I think. This truck ain't goin' nowhere; the engine's all shot to
hell. I can give you one man to help carry him. That's the best that I can do
for you." |
"I'll
take it." Doc answered promptly. |
"Okay,
a couple of you guys rig up a litter." He called. |
A
short time later, they were on their way again, a young private at the head of the
makeshift litter. Saunders was conscious, in a lot of pain, but refusing morphine. |
After
several stops to rest, they reached the area where Doc and Saunders had been captured,
continuing on their way. They tried moving into the trees, but it was too difficult
with the litter, so they returned to the road. Doc called another halt in the shade
of a large tree, sprawling on his back beside the litter. |
"They
oughta make a rule that only little, skinny guys get shot." The private commented,
taking a swig from his canteen. |
"I
agree." Doc replied with feeling. |
"Maybe
I'll..." The private broke off with a grunt of pain, falling backward as a single
gunshot rang out. |
Doc
rolled over, automatically trying to shield the helpless sergeant. |
"Do
not move." |
Several
Germans rose from the slight dip in the ground beyond the tree, weapons trained on the
Americans. |
"Not
again!" Doc groaned in disbelief. |
"This
man. He is a sergeant, yes?" |
"Yes, but
he's badly wounded." |
Doc
soon found himself carrying one end of the litter, a German on the other, moving back
toward the front lines again. Saunders, drifting in and out of consciousness, began
to mumble as his fever rose. |
"He
needs water." Doc pleaded. |
"A
short rest." The German conceded. |
Kneeling
beside Saunders, Doc helped him drink then bathed his face and neck with the tepid
water. As soon as he finished checking the bandages, they were on the move again. |
The
German in charge called a halt as an old Frenchman ambled across the road in front of
them, a nearly full bottle of wine in his hand. They lowered the litter to the
ground and Doc massaged his aching, trembling arms. They had been walking for nearly
an hour without stopping and he was grateful for the rest. The old man came to a
swaying halt when the German yelled at him. Doc knew enough French to know the old
man was saying he didn't speak German as he waved the bottle at the Krauts. |
With
a disgusted grunt, the German stalked over to the old man and snatched the bottle from his
hand, nearly knocking the old man off of his feet. Raising the bottle to drink, the
German paused and grabbed at the front of the shabby coat the Frenchman wore, jerking it
open to reveal two more bottles tucked into his waistband. Turning, the German said
something that resulted in the other soldiers leaving Doc and Saunders alone as they
gathered around their leader, drinking and laughing. The old man sidled away,
keeping a wary eye on the Germans. |
Doc watched them,
wishing that he had a bottle, too. As the leader raised the bottle to his lips, Doc
stared in disbelief as the bottle shattered and the German flew backwards, half of his
neck blown away. A volley of shots roared and a moment later, the Germans were all
down and dead. The shambling old man straightened and strode directly toward the
Americans. When he reached them, he started talking fast and furious, gesturing
wildly. |
Doc,
having no idea what he was saying, could do nothing but shake his head. A much
younger man suddenly appeared and knelt on the other side of the wounded man, speaking
firmly to the older man, who finally quieted. |
"I
am Francios." The younger man said. "Jacques, he is excited." |
"No
kidding." Doc replied. "I gathered that. What's he yelling
about?" |
"Do
you want to know exactly or just the high points?" The man grinned. |
"Just
the high points." |
"He
says what are you doing? Are you playing musical chairs? We follow you and see
you go with the Germans, then with the Americans, then with the Germans again. Is
this how you Americans fight your wars?" |
"Well,
you tell old Jacques, there, that it sure as hell wasn't my idea! I'm just
trying to get the sergeant some medical help before he dies!" Doc's voice rose
as his temper did. "Instead of standing there yelling, maybe Jacques can tell
me where to find some help!" |
When
the younger man translated, the old man's mouth opened to reply, then he broke into a
laugh and nodded. |
"We
are with the Resistance. We will help you." |
"Thank
God for that!" Doc sighed. "Where can we take him?" |
"You have
carried him far enough. We will carry him now. Follow us and we will take him
to Avranches." |
"How
far is that?" Doc asked anxiously. |
"Less
than a mile. Do not worry, your friend will soon have help." |
Doc
stood there for a moment, watching as Jacques and Francois picked up the litter and walked
away. Following them, he shook his head. The lieutenant was never gonna
believe this! |
The End
Story Copyright Mary Wright. All Rights Reserved.
Read more Dogface Tales by Mary:
The CombatFan web site thanks Mary (aka "EagleLady") for letting
us share these fan fiction stories on this web site.
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