“He’s Polish, actually, and no, we’re leaving.”
“No disrespect meant. Just wondering if you needed a place to bunk down.”
“Thanks, Louie, but we have beachside accommodations. Too bad they don’t have a Bar Raffaele here, eh? Some wine, women, and song would be good about now.”
“You can sing all you want, Lieutenant, but the civilians were evacuated from Le Ferriere this morning. Bunch of Italian Carabinieri came in trucks and hauled them away. Guess they knew the place would get plastered.”
“I wondered why they were part of all this. Good idea to bring in the local cops. Hey, too bad about Rusty,” I said. “Hard to believe that German got the drop on him.”
“Can’t let your guard down, not for a second. Wasn’t like him to, but everyone slips up now and then. That Kraut officer didn’t even look like the type.”
“What do you mean, the type?”
“You know, a combat officer. He looked soft, not the type to go down guns blazing.”
“Must have thought he had a chance,” I said. “Why else would he try it?”
“He musta thought he had no other choice. Or maybe he was loco.”
“Speaking of strange, how did Danny end up with you? I mean, what are the chances?”
“Truck dumped him and that other ASTP kid off. I got ’em. Simple.”
“Rusty assigned them to you?”
“Nothing that official. I was short compared to the other guys, so they were mine.”
“You guys worked pretty well together, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, with Rusty and Landry in charge, we were a good team. Now, we’ll have to wait and see. If Evans don’t get his head blown off, he might be all right.”
“He got those replacements for you. At least he’s looking out for the platoon,” I said.
“Naw, they came from Major Arnold direct. Luck of the draw, I guess. But still, Evans ain’t the worst we could draw for a second louie.”
“Arnold? That your personnel officer?” I felt a twinge of guilt at not telling Louie that Arnold was dead, but I wanted to watch everyone for a reaction. The only guy here who would know Arnold was toes up was the guy who did it.
“Yeah. A souvenir hound, and a real jerk to boot. But at least he sent us a few new guys.”
We were close to the village. Acrid black smoke hung in the air from the remnants of a burning truck. The buildings were made of concrete and stonework, and had absorbed the shelling fairly well. The church had taken a direct hit on its roof, and craters gouged out holes in the narrow streets.
“C’mon, double time!” Louie yelled to two men lagging behind us. “See ya, Billy. I want to find a nice deep basement.”
I stood beneath a stone archway and watched as Stump and Louie ushered their men into buildings along the perimeter. Flint’s squad entered next, and he paused to watch Kaz and Evans behind him, scanning the hills through binoculars, watching for movements or the telltale reflection of the sun off a pair of German binoculars.
“Have a nice chat with the kid brother, Billy?” Flint asked.
“Yeah. Never expected to run into him here,” I said as I fell in with him.
“You just happened to be in the neighborhood?” Flint’s eyes darted over his men, up to the hills, and to the nearest building. It was small but well built, and covered the entrance to the village. He signaled for his squad to enter.
“I took a little detour. I figured the army is one thing, family is another. You have any brothers?”
“Yeah. My older brother died at Pearl Harbor. I joined up the next day. Got a younger brother myself, he’s training to be a fighter pilot.”
“Sorry to hear it,” I said. “That must have been tough.”
“It was. Got everyone riled up, that’s for sure. I didn’t like leaving my mother and kid brother to run the ranch, but I had to get into the fight. Seemed the only thing to do.”
“You’re a cowboy?”
“You got to ride a horse to herd cattle, Billy. Guess you could say I am, West Texas born and bred.”
“This is a long way from Texas,” I said.
“You got that right. Flat like Texas, though. But cold and wet. Can’t say I like it much.”
I followed Flint into the building, which had been used for storing farm implements. A small engine, maybe from a tractor, was unassembled on a workbench. The place smelled of oil and sweat, but it was dry and had foot-thick walls. Evans glanced in and nodded at Flint, as if he approved.
“How’s your new lieutenant coping since Rusty got it?” I asked.
“You heard, huh? Damn shame. I don’t know about Evans. He hasn’t done anything stupid yet, so we’ll see.” It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.
“Something happen to your radioman? I haven’t seen one with Evans.”
“We don’t have a radio, and haven’t been issued a new set. Charlie kicked in the last one, so we’re short.”
“Why’d he do that?”
“Charlie drinks. A lot. Not often, but when he does, look out. You know how they say Indians can’t hold their liquor? Well, no one ever told Charlie. He can drink more than any man I ever met. Stays pretty sober too, on the outside at least. Then he gets to a point where all his meanness comes out, and no matter who you are, best stay out of his way. He’s big, strong, and a mean drunk. Took a swing at Landry once.”
“And he wasn’t court-martialed?”
“Nope. Besides being a mean drunk, Charlie’s a damn good soldier. Landry had the MPs lock him up, and it took a pile of them to do it. After the booze wore off, he was all apologetic, and Landry let it pass. Next time, he smashed the radio instead of an officer. I guess Landry knew this little tea party was coming up, and didn’t want to lose him.”
“Lucky for Danny he didn’t.”
“Yeah. But if Charlie finds a wine cellar, he’ll drink it dry, and then Danny boy better not be in the vicinity. Word of warning, pal.” Flint unslung his musette bag and tossed it on the workbench. It fell with a heavy clunk, and the snout of a German pistol poked out where the strap wasn’t secured.
“Souvenir?”
“Walther P38,” Flint said. “I bought it off Louie after he nailed that Kraut.”
“This is the pistol Gates was killed with?”
“It is. It was Louie’s by rights, but he didn’t want it. I figure if I can get to the rear somebody’ll give me good money for it. How about you, Lieutenant?”
“No thanks,” I said, but I couldn’t stop myself from taking the automatic and feeling the heft of it. The Walther was easy to hold, the reddish-brown grip molded to fit the hand. The peppery smell of gunpowder still lingered over the steel, and I wondered again how Rusty had been caught unawares. “Louie didn’t say anything about shooting the German.”
“He was pretty upset about the whole thing,” Flint said. “We all were.”
“Billy,” Kaz said from the doorway. “They want us to take two of the wounded back to the aid station. The ambulance is full.”
“Okay. Sarge, good luck with the pistol. Maybe try Major Arnold in personnel. I hear he pays top dollar,” I said, watching Flint’s eyes. No surprise, no flicker of awareness.
“If I get that far back to the rear, I’ll have sold it already, but thanks.”
The field ambulance had taken the badly wounded already, and the medics were bandaging the last two GIs when we got back to the jeep. Stump was being patched up as well, a medic winding gauze around his forearm.
“Shrapnel nicked me,” he said. “Didn’t even feel it until I saw the blood.”
“Bad luck,” I said. “A little worse and you might have been sent home.”
“And miss this escorted tour of beautiful Italy? No way. You takin’ those guys back? They ain’t banged up too bad.”
“Yeah. You’re not going?”
“I’d be embarrassed with this scratch. Make sure they fix ’em up and get ’em right back to us. I got a feeling we’re going to need every man pretty soon.”
“It’s a long way from Bar Raffaele, isn’t it?”
“You got that right, Billy. Paying too much to drink rotgut wine in the sunshine has got it all over this. Them Krauts are gonna keep shelling us until we take those hills up there. All Inzerillo ever did was overcharge us.”