A Midnight Clear: A Novel (25 page)

“How’s it going, Stan?”

“God, Won’t, what a mess. Shit, it looked so easy. I never thought Wilkins would come charging out like that.”

“How’s it look to you, Mel?”

I lean closer. Stan’s shoulder’s smashed and somehow the arm is twisted around, dislocated. Gordon’s got the blood stopped with a tourniquet.

“I’d say our friend Shutzer here got the million-dollar wound. Your days as avenging Jewish warrior are over and done with, Stan.”

“Me, the one guy who wants to fight these Nazi bastards gets the million-dollar wound. Isn’t it the way?”

Shutzer swallows hard, winces. He’s about ready for heavy shock.

“How’s Mundy?”

“Dead, Stan. He died fast. Nothing I could do.”

I can’t help myself, I’m crying again.

“Fucking Kraut!”

“Come on, Stan. What the hell else could he do? He thought he’d been double-crossed.”

“Shit, what a fuckup.”

“That’s what Mundy said. He also said not to tell Wilkins.”

“Fuckin’ Mundy.”

“The story is we were pinned down; Mother got us all out. OK?”

Shutzer and Gordon look at each other, nod. I help Mel settle Stan onto the ground. We’ve got to get moving and I’m starting to drift. I head uphill to where Wilkins is with the German. I figure we’ll go straight back to the chateau down the road. It’s going to be some trick moving three bodies with only four of us. We can’t leave the German out here and we’re not leaving Mundy.

I pass the German noncom. He’s on his back with his arms and legs spread like a dead actor. His helmet’s been blown off; above his right eye there’s a bluish dent around a small hole, and there’s not much blood. He is bald. Miller really did it. The snow around isn’t thrashed up and the noncom probably didn’t know what hit him. I hate to think what his last thoughts were. Boy, if he lived, he’d be a one-man beginning for World War III.

I get to Wilkins. The German’s propped on one elbow with his head uphill. His eyes are open and he’s watching me, watching the trigger on my rifle. I realize I’ve been running with my finger inside the trigger guard. I check and the safety’s on but I don’t remember doing it. I’m going to make some mistakes for sure, but how big a mistake can you make after one like this?

The German’s scared out of his mind. It’s the same one I watched cutting wood on the first patrol, the one who looks like Max.

“He hurt bad, Mother?”

“The bone’s broken just above his knee and the bullet tore a chunk of flesh from the back side when it came out. I’ve made a tourniquet, so there’s no hard bleeding now. He won’t take the wound tablets. He even knocked the sulfa out of my hand.”

“Can’t blame him.”

“Wont, is there any chance Shutzer can talk with him so he won’t be so scared?”

“There’s not much we can do, Vance; Stan’s in bad shape himself.”

“We’ve got to get him out of here fast or he’ll freeze.”

“You stay here, Mother; I’ll go look in the lodge for coats or something we can wrap around this guy and Shutzer.”

I’m distinctly losing momentum. We’re in a bad spot and I’m running out of steam. I sprint toward the lodge trying to start my blood moving. Inside, the fire’s burned down. I prop the door open; enough moonlight comes in so I can see overcoats hung at the bottom of each bed. These are the heavy, high-collared, long Wehrmacht overcoats. They look even more bulky than ours. I guess when you’ve come from the Russian front, this kind of weather seems like spring.

It’s right then I get the first good idea I have all night. I gather six overcoats and stumble out into the snow with them. I call Gordon and Miller over, explain what to do. It’s the only way I can think for all of us to get out and away. I go back to Wilkins and give him two of the coats. We’re going to look weird but it might work.

 

Going back is miserable. We’ve slipped Mundy, Shutzer and the German onto overcoats, then covered each with another coat. Using the arms, we drag the coats like sleds. If we keep moving, it goes OK, but when we stop, the coats stick to the snow. Also snow gathers on the bottoms and front edges. Since there are four of us, we take turns pulling, three at a time. The one not pulling watches that nobody falls off, and cleans away snow from packing in front of the coats. Even though we’ve never come straight along this road before, I figure we must be half a mile or more from the château.

Wilkins tells us why he came out after us. I should have known. Ware and Love are at the château looking for their prisoner. Well, we’ve got one, so long as he stays alive. Mother strapped a tourniquet on him, using the
Gott mit uns
belt. Not tonight. Mundy’s favorite joke was “We got mittens, too”; somewhat sacrilegious for an almost priest.

Shutzer’s still conscious and the pain is coming on strong. The German moans for a while, then goes quiet. Every time we stop to change on the pulling, Gordon lets up the two tourniquets. I look at Mundy. In one way he looks like a real corpse, his arms folded across his chest, but he’s smiling. It must be some facial muscle spasm pulled up his lips.

We’re almost reaching the ends of our endurance, the changing and stopping getting more and more frequent, when suddenly a voice calls out of the dark.

“Stop! Who goes there?”

I’ve already hit the ground before I realize who it is. It’s in English; it’s Love.

“It’s we, sir. It’s the second squad. This is Sergeant Knott here.”

“Rhythm?”

“We don’t know the counter, sir.”

There’s quiet. I hear Ware’s voice, then Love’s voice again. I’m at the breaking point. Maybe I should just sob, cry, scream, let it out. Maybe then they’d know I can’t do it anymore.

“Advance forward slowly to be recognized. Keep your hands over your head.”

I struggle up off the ground with my hands on my head. My hands are raw from pulling on the sleeves and are numb cold. I walk down the road. Lit by the moonlight I see where they’re crouched in a gulley.

“All right, Knott, you can put your hands down. How come you don’t know the password?”

Ware speaks up. I don’t think I could say anything without bawling. I’m in a bad state.

“They’ve been out on post five days, sir. We didn’t think it wise to give the pass over the radio.”

“With German infiltrators all through here, in American uniforms, speaking perfect English, we can’t be too careful, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where’s the rest of your squad, Sergeant?”

“Back on the road, sir.”

“Did you manage to take a prisoner?”

“Yes, sir; but he’s badly wounded.”

Ware steps forward. He has his carbine in his left hand.

“We heard firing maybe fifteen minutes after we sent Wilkins out to bring you in. Did you make contact?”

“Yes, sir. Mundy’s dead and Shutzer’s badly hurt. Could we please bring them into the château now, sir? Shutzer and the prisoner are in shock.”

“Jesus Christ. Why the hell didn’t you tell us that before, Sergeant?”

Love flips open his holster and pulls out his side arm.

“The enemy may be in direct pursuit. We’d better get out of here, Lieutenant. Let’s get moving on the double.”

“Except for our prisoner, sir, the Germans here are all dead. We were pinned down in a firefight when Private Wilkins broke us out. I’d like to mention him for a citation, sir. He saved the squad.”

“Wilkins? Ware, is that the soldier we found here at the château?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He didn’t look like much of a soldier to me.”

“Sir, he stood alone in plain view and shot down six of the enemy with eight shots.”

Why go through all this now? We need to get Shutzer and our prisoner into the château. Somehow Love and Ware have to move out of our way.

“My God!”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll see about any citation later; after this is all cleared up and we know what happened.”

“Yes, sir. Is it all right if we move the wounded into the château now, sir? Both of them are bleeding badly.”

“Did you give them their wound tablets, Sergeant?”

“Not the prisoner, sir. He wouldn’t take them.”

“All right. Let’s get those men in, and make it on the double.”

Love breaks into a shuffling jog through the snow along the moonlit road toward the chateau. His leather pistol case has a dangling thong and bounces against his leg. He keeps his pistol out as he runs. He also has a carbine slung over his shoulder. Ware stays back.

“How did Mundy get it?”

“Fast, sir. Right through the chest.”

“How about Shutzer?”

“Shoulder wound, Lieutenant; probably bones broken, a bad dislocation. Gordon fixed him up. We’ve got it tied down and a tourniquet on it, sir.”

I’m afraid I’m going to cry again. It’s all so stupid.

When I get back, the rest of the squad’s busy. Miller’s covering the German; he’s unconscious, could even be dead. Gordon and Wilkins are working on Shutzer. His eyes are half open, but when I speak he doesn’t answer. He’s breathing hard; it’s almost like snoring. I look at Mel; he shakes his head. I wonder if my face is white as his. Against the snow, with the moonlight, we look like pale greenish ghosts, almost transparent.

We start out, Ware bringing up the rear. He’s walking beside Mundy and not saying anything. Mundy’s smiling his idiot smile.

It takes a good struggle uphill to the chateau. Our fire’s almost out but two of the flambeaux are burning. How long have we been gone? It can’t be much more than two or three hours. It’s hard to believe how fast things change.

First we carefully carry Shutzer and the German in. Even Ware helps. Love is standing with his back to the fire rocking up and down on his toes with his hands behind him, staring around. Our place looks like hell. It’s for sure Wilkins didn’t have much time alone before Ware and Love showed up.

While Gordon, Miller and I carry Mundy in, Ware warms up the radio. Mundy’s already beginning to stiffen. It could be only the cold. Miller cracks a few more frames for the fire. He eases behind Love and throws them in. Love turns around to watch. Then he turns to me. He starts pacing back and forth with his carbine in one hand. He’s put his pistol back in the holster but hasn’t fastened it.

“Sergeant Knott, get some men out on post. We can’t be sure the enemy didn’t hear the firefight and won’t be sending out a patrol.”

“Yes, sir.”

Now I’ve got to tell it. I’m spinning wheels to tell it right; not actually right, the way it was, but so it sounds right.

“Sir, before the prisoner went into shock, he told Shutzer there’s supposed to be a big attack through this sector soon, maybe tomorrow.”

“Holy shit, soldier. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us that right away? I thought this was an I and R platoon.”

Well, at least he got something right. We are the I and R platoon now, Wilkins, Miller, Gordon and I.

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Ware, get regiment.”

Love flips his wrist and looks at his watch.

“We just have time. They’re closing down all radio communication at o-two-hundred.”

Ware’s switched on the radio. While they’re hanging over it, I go to Mundy, kneel beside him and slip off his watch. It’s an expansion bracelet on that Benrus. I ease it over his big hand and slide it onto my wrist. Mundy wouldn’t mind. I don’t think his parents would want it back, and I’m not sure it would ever get that far.

Ware reaches Leary; Love takes over.

“This is Major Love, Corporal. Write down this message and rush it to the regimental commander immediately. Over.”

“Wilco, sir. Over.”

“Have contacted enemy. Have taken prisoner. Prisoner badly wounded. Have suffered casualties, one dead, one wounded. Have destroyed enemy outpost.

“Prisoner informs us impending enemy attack through this sector, perhaps tomorrow. Repeat TOMORROW! Leaving immediately with prisoner and wounded. Will contact you directly at regiment. Signed Major Love. Repeat the message, Corporal. Over.”

Leary reads it back.

“Correct. Get that to the Colonel on double-quick time right now. Wake him if necessary. This is urgent. Over and out.”

“Wilco. Over and out.”

Ware flicks off the switch. It’s all so embarrassing. Shutzer moans and Mel wraps a quilt closer around him. We pull the fart sacks from the other beds to cover Stan and the German. They’re both shivering violently. It doesn’t make sense but I cover Mundy, too.

 

Love’s pacing like a lion now. He won’t look at Shutzer or the German; or, particularly, Mundy.

“We’ve got to get out of here fast, Lieutenant. We’ll take the prisoner and the wounded soldier with us.”

He turns to me.

“Sergeant, have the chains transferred from one of the squad jeeps to mine. We have a long way to go and the roads out there are rough. We had a hard time getting through to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I look over at Miller, but he’s already on his way out. I’m glad he’s getting out, because I can feel he’s about to say something that could grow into a general court-martial. I know myself that if he starts I’ll join in. We could wind up killing Love and Ware, bang bang! We could cover up; who’d ever know? But I know I won’t do it myself. The essence of the peasant mind is resentment without courage or initiative to strike back effectively. I’ve learned to live with it.

“Sergeant Knott.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m shocked with the condition of the quarters here. This is private property and the United States government is responsible.”

Ware surprises me by speaking up, actually lying.

“It was in bad shape when they came in, Major.”

“Nevertheless, Lieutenant, there’s ample evidence to indicate dereliction of duty, conduct not becoming American combat troops. I wonder if these men realize there’s a war going on. At this very minute, the entire American military presence in Europe is endangered. If it weren’t for extreme extenuating circumstances, I’d see that this soldier, as noncom in charge, was brought before a military board and severely disciplined.