Harding and I draped Stump over our shoulders and dragged him away, the sound of tank treads and German war cries not far behind. We met up with Danny and Charlie outside of Le Ferriere, as our artillery began to pound the area around the farmhouse, ground we had held and given up. They took Stump and we entered the village through the gate where the attack had begun early that morning, and I wondered if the brass had stuck around to watch the retreat of the survivors. Probably not.
An antitank gun was wheeled up and positioned at the gate. All I cared about was getting some peace and quiet to think things through, which was a bit difficult with an artillery barrage sailing over my head and Tiger tanks a half mile down the road. We headed to the aid station, which was doing brisk business. Most of the wounded were being treated outside, with only the most serious cases going inside the small building, one of the few structures in Le Ferriere that had escaped damage. Ambulances pulled up and medics loaded wounded aboard, then returned to the line of men with bloody bandages and dazed looks.
We laid Stump down and Danny began to clean his head wound, washing away blood with water from his canteen and applying sulfa powder. Harding sat on the ground, still not looking all that well. I gave him my canteen and he drank thirstily.
“Can you talk, Colonel?”
“Get… his… weapon,” he managed to croak out. I took Stump’s. 45 from his holster as Danny looked at me strangely. I checked the magazine as I sat down next to Harding. There were six rounds, and one in the chamber, meaning one had been fired. I sniffed the barrel. Recently.
“Louie, Danny’s squad sergeant, was shot in the back of the head, close range,” I said. “Probably when we came under fire in the streambed. With the smoke and the noise, no one would have noticed one more guy going down. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
“Thought I saw vehicles. Used binoculars,” Harding said, choking out each word. “Next thing, someone’s twisting the strap around my neck. Forced me to the ground. Almost had me, then that Tiger opened up. I blacked out, then you were cutting the strap.”
“I found Stump about ten feet from where you were. Did you see who attacked you?” Harding shook his head no, and drank more water. I went over to Stump and checked him again. The cut on his forehead was bad, but that seemed to be his only injury. He was probably hit by a piece of wood or masonry. If it had been shrapnel, he’d have been dead. I went through his pockets as Danny stood back. Nothing unusual.
“What’s going on, Billy?” Danny asked. I took the card from my pocket and showed Danny. He whistled. I stowed it away and put my finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet about it. Then I brought him over to Harding, who’d managed to stand up.
“Colonel Harding, this is my brother Danny.” I was glad Danny didn’t play the rookie and try to salute. Harding nodded and stuck out his hand, and they shook.
“Billy has told us a lot about you, Colonel.”
“I can only imagine,” Harding said, his voice returning but still sounding harsh. “He’s mentioned you as well. You hold up all right out there?”
“I think so, sir.”
“He did, Colonel, I can vouch for that,” I said.
“Good to meet you, son. Take care of yourself. Stay low out there,” Harding growled.
“I will, sir. That’s just what Billy tells me.”
“Danny, see if you can find Lieutenant Evans. Flint probably brought him here.”
“Okay, Billy,” he said, and he and Charlie began searching the wounded.
“Do we have our killer?” Harding asked.
“Sure looks like it. He had you lined up to be part of his royal flush.”
“I was in the wrong place at the right time, for him anyway. I never was so glad to almost be killed by a German 88.”
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere soon, but can you keep an eye on him? I want to find Father Dare.” I handed Harding Stump’s. 45.
“Not a problem,” Harding said. “I hear the padre does good work as a medic.”
“He does,” I said, thinking about the. 45 that he carried. Plenty of guys who weren’t officially issued automatic pistols, like Father Dare, got them one way or the other. How many of those weapons were out there today, in the smoke? A fair number, but most wouldn’t have been fired at all. This fighting hadn’t been at close quarters. I stared at Stump’s face, cleaned of blood and grime, and wondered why. Why did the killings start, and why did they have to go on?
I asked around and a medic told me he saw Father Dare enter the village church, a few buildings down. I climbed the steps and opened the carved wooden doors, feeling the weight of centuries behind them. The small church had been hit by a shell on the roof, and thick, heavy timbers had fallen in, crushing rows of pews. Father Dare knelt at the altar, his helmet on the floor, his head bowed. He swayed, and it seemed as if he were so lost in prayer that he might lose his balance. I stepped closer, not wanting to interrupt his prayers, but unwilling to let him crack his head against the marble altar. I went to steady him, and only then noticed the pool of blood spreading under his left leg.
“Father,” I said, kneeling at his side. Even though he was a rough-and-tumble padre, and we’d dodged bullets together, here in God’s house I felt ill at ease, like the altar boy I’d been, unsure of the ways of adults and especially priests. “Are you all right?”
“I am praying, Billy. Praying for God himself to come down and save us. I told him to leave Jesus home, that this was no place for children.” He folded his hands in prayer once again, and fell into my arms.
“Shrapnel in his calf,” the medic told me after I’d carried Father Dare back. “He must have been bleeding into his boot, and when he knelt down, it all came out.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He won’t be dancing anytime soon, but it should heal up. It’s mostly shock that concerns me, losing all that blood. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t gotten him back here.” With that, he went back to tending to the last of the wounded, the less serious cases who’d had to wait.
Danny had found Evans, on a litter, waiting for the next ambulance. His arm and shoulder were heavily bandaged, and an IV drip had been set up on a rifle set in the ground by its bayonet. He looked as white as a sheet.
“Doc said he lost a lot of blood,” Danny told me. “Flint saved his life getting here.”
“How you doing, Evans?” I asked as I squatted down next to him.
“They gave me enough morphine that I think I’m okay,” he said lazily. “But I don’t think I am.”
“That’s a million-dollar wound you got, Lieutenant,” Flint said, appearing at Evans’s side. “Doc told me himself. You’ll live, but you’ll do your living back in the States.”
“I’m sorry,” Evans said. “Sorry to leave you guys so soon. Did we lose many men?”
“It would have been worse without you, Lieutenant,” Flint said. “You did real good for your first time out, you can be proud of that.”
“Thanks. Tell Louie and Stump so long, okay?”
“Sure,” Flint said, barely missing a beat. “Soon as I see them.” He walked away, giving me a secretive wink as he passed. No need to burden Evans with the bad news. Danny and Charlie said their good-byes, and I sat next to Evans.
“What was it you wanted to ask me back there?” Evans said, his eyes closing.
“When you were assigned to the supply depot in Acerra, did you ever go the Bar Raffaele?”
“Sure, lots of guys did. But I never… you know.”
“Never paid for a whore?”
“Right.”
“You talked with the girls though,” I said.
“Couldn’t avoid it,” Evans said. His eyes were fully closed now.
“Ever meet a girl named Ileana?”
“Oh yeah, Ileana. A looker.” His head nodded off as the morphine took effect. He mumbled something under his breath. “… one of the guys