“What Krauts?” Danny gestured to the empty fields all around us. It was smart-alecky, the way only a kid brother can be. Half right and totally wrong.
“If you’re so smart, tell me the last time in this war when the Germans retreated without a fight? It didn’t happen in North Africa, Sicily, or anywhere else in Italy. It won’t happen here. They’re going to come down out of those hills with heavy stuff, dollars to doughnuts.”
“Now you’re the one blowing a gasket, Billy,” Danny said, with a grin to show he didn’t want to argue anymore. Which he often did when he started to lose an argument, but I let that pass. He was only a kid, after all. “I’ll take any tips you can give me on digging foxholes. Take a look at this.” He’d been digging a trench, and about two feet down, it was filled with water. “Did you know this used to be the Pontine Marshes, Billy? The water table is only a couple of feet deep.”
“Yeah, Mussolini drained them after he made the trains run on time. Kaz told me all about it. Now I have two geniuses on my hands.”
“How’s them trenches coming along, kid?” Louie ambled over, cigar clenched in his mouth and Thompson at the ready.
“Louie Walla,” I said. “Now where is it you’re from? Can’t recall.”
“Funny, Lieutenant,” Louie said. “Having a family reunion?” Louie seemed more serious out here. Wary.
“Yeah, came by to check on Danny. He in your squad?”
“Yep, him, Sticks, Wally, and Charlie over there, and a couple of other replacements. I partnered the ASTP boys up with guys who’ve been around. A little while, at least.”
“I’m with Charlie,” Danny said. “He’s an Apache, can you believe that? And Wally is with Sticks. He’s got long legs, that’s why they call him that.”
“Listen, kid, this gabfest is swell, but get on that shovel. You’ll be glad of a hole in the ground soon enough.”
“Okay, Sarge,” Danny said, frowning and halfheartedly digging into the muddy soil. “You coming back soon, Billy?”
“If I can. And Louie knows what he’s talking about, so listen up. You’re exposed out here, you need to dig deep, and sit knee-deep in mud if you have to. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Listen, come back soon, we’ll catch up, okay?”
“I will.” I wanted to hug him again. I wanted to take him with me and find a nice safe job for him in Nettuno. But I didn’t. I stuck out my hand, and we shook. I felt like my father, silent and full of knowledge that I wanted to share, but knowing that only experience could pass this lesson on. I turned away, leaving Danny to learn what he had to learn alone, or from strangers. I knew that the more I hung around, the more stubborn he’d get. And that the killer might start playing a new game, if he hadn’t already.
“Seems like a good kid,” Flint said as I passed his squad, all engaged in the same futile digging.
“That he is. Any sign of the Krauts yet?”
“Nothing. I thought I picked up some movement up in the hills, but it could have been anything.” Flint turned his clear blue eyes on me, as if registering my presence for the first time. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Just paying a visit to Danny. Nothing much else happening. We had a joyride to Rome yesterday, but since then it’s been quiet.”
“Rome? Why don’t we all go?”
“Good question. General Lucas wasn’t impressed.”
“You met the old man?”
“Yeah. We’re temporarily attached to his headquarters. He thinks it was a fluke that we got through. May have been, since we’d gotten totally lost.”
“Did I hear Rome?” Stump said as he joined us.
“Billy drove to Rome yesterday, nearly liberated it himself,” Flint said.
“Well, there were three of us, so I have to share the glory. Kaz and Phil Einsmann were with me.”
“Phil’s here? I thought he was on his way back to London,” Flint said.
“Yeah, looking for a story. I doubt the censors will let this one out though. If we get bogged down and it turns out that a reporter and two lieutenants made it to Rome on the first day of the invasion, heads will roll.”
“Next time you see Grandpa, tell him we could use some tanks up front,” Flint said. “Or at least some antitank guns.”
“Is that what you call him?”
“Some guys call him Foxy Grandpa,” Stump said.
“Wishful thinking,” Flint said. “Listen, Billy, you could do us and Danny a big favor. Talk to Lucas, let him know how exposed we are. We oughta get up in those hills ourselves, or pull back. This is Indian country, and we ain’t got a fort.”
“I don’t talk to him on a regular basis, but I will pass on the sentiment if I bump into him again.”
“He’s in Anzio?” Stump asked.
“Nettuno, in a nice waterfront villa. No mud.”
“Ain’t that the way of the world,” Flint said, and they all went back to their shovels.
Fifty yards back I found Lieutenant Evans and Father Dare walking in from the village. The padre had a first-aid kit slung over his shoulder and carried a canvas sack full of wool socks. I tried to see him as the killer, dispensing dry socks and then strangling officers. Could a priest forgive himself?
“Lieutenant Boyle,” Father Dare said. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Still chasing that Red Heart Killer?”
“I wish I was close enough to give chase,” I said. “I dropped by to see my kid brother. He’s in Louie’s squad.”
“Yes, I’ve met him. I try to get to know all the replacements. Sometimes the men ignore them at first.” What he was too kind to say was the experienced GIs waited to see if a new kid would live through the first few days. “He certainly looks up to you, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
“You should,” Evans put in. “You’re all he’s talked about since he joined up.”
“How’d you make the connection? Boyle isn’t an uncommon name.”
“I don’t know,” Father Dare said. “The same name, same Boston accent, someone probably just mentioned you.”
“That was all Danny needed to hear,” Evans said. “I think we all know your family story by now. Good thing Louie partnered him up with Charlie. He doesn’t talk much, so they’re a perfect pair.”
“Is he really an Apache?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Father Dare. “Private Charlie Colorado is a genuine White Mountain Apache. Interesting fellow. I asked him if he wanted any spiritual guidance, and he told me his shaman had taken care of that before he left. Apparently he’s protected by Usen, which is what they call their God. The Giver of Life.”
“Well, I hope he digs in deep anyway. Usen might be busy elsewhere,” I said. “Are you the giver of socks?”
“I am,” Father Dare said. “Lieutenant Evans asked me to scrounge some up. There’s going to be a lot of wet feet soon, and we have to watch out for trench foot. Clean socks are worth their weight in gold out here.”
“Far as I can see, it’s our biggest threat so far,” Evans said, watching Father Dare as he distributed socks to the men. “After losing Sergeant Gates, we can use a break.”
“Yeah, I saw his body by the road yesterday. What happened?”
“Kraut officer got the drop on him. I guess he thought he was surrendering, but the bastard pulled a pistol and shot him in the heart.”
“I didn’t take Rusty for the careless type, did you?”
“No,” Evans said. “I depended on him, he was an old hand, know what I mean?”
“I do. Did you see it happen?”
“No. He had point, and all of a sudden there was a lot of shooting. The car crashed, and by the time I got there, Gates was dead.”
“The German was still alive when I got there,” I said. “Barely.”
“Yeah, well, everyone was upset about Rusty. The Kraut was bawling about something, and no one really gave a damn. I told them to go on, that I was going to put him out of his misery. But I couldn’t do it. I fired my pistol into the ground. I didn’t want the men to know. I’ve never killed anyone, and I didn’t want the first one to be some poor defenseless bastard. But now I wish I had. I can still hear him talking to me, crying and blubbering.”