A Soldier’s Duty by Albert Baker (Claudia) August 2006

This story is interwoven with the episode, The Chapel at Able-Five from Combat! Season 5. Several of the lines are directly from the Combat episode written by Phillip W. Hoffman.

“Watch where you’re walkin’, ya big moose! Ya nearly stomped on my sore toe!” William G. Kirby was in a foul mood. Three days of endless patrols, walking miles through enemy territory, had turned the characteristically cranky private into a virtual grizzly bear.

Luckily, Littlejohn, the object of Kirby’s wrath, remained his good-natured self.

“Kirby, if you’d keep your feet out of the middle of the walkway, you wouldn’t have to worry,” he calmly replied.

King Company’s First Squad occupied the main room of a small house at the edge of the latest French village they had successfully fought to overtake from the Germans. Along with Kirby and Littlejohn, Caje and Doc sprawled about the room in various stages of relaxation. Lieutenant Hanley, was at the company CP awaiting news on the latest German push. Sergeant Saunders was out on a patrol.

Doc grinned at Kirby’s complaining. He’d been a quiet observer lately, watching the men as usual for signs of illness and exhaustion but also watching for other signs—those that weren’t so easy to detect. They were the early signs of true battle fatigue, a condition all too common among men who fought and killed day after day.

Doc also couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. The medic had received a letter this week from Pastor Hill, the pastor at his church in Eureka Springs. Pastor Hill explained that he wrote letters to all the boys in his congregation who were in the service, offering them support and an open invitation to meet with him when they returned home, and talk about their ‘duties in the war’. Doc knew that Hill meant to talk to them about the killing. He wondered how many of the soldiers in the congregation would take Pastor Hill up on his offer.

A sudden feeling of dread snapped the medic back to the present. He glanced at his watch as he had ten minutes before. Sarge should be back.

Sergeant Saunders left with Private Cochrane early this morning. Doc knew how tired the Sarge was, but Lieutenant Hanley had asked Saunders to go on the mission because the sergeant was familiar with the terrain. Doc recalled his conversation with Saunders before the sergeant left. He had tried to suggest that Saunders was too tired to go out again. The Sarge had given a rare grin and said, “Doc, you know I would do anything to shorten this war, even if it’s just by an hour. The Lieutenant needs someone to get the information on the Kraut push. If it’s not me, it’ll be somebody else who’s just as tired.”

I would do anything to shorten this war. The medic pondered Saunders’ words. As much as he would love to be back home in Arkansas, he found himself unable to fully relate to what Saunders had said. He knew Saunders would risk his own life for the men in the squad. Doc had seen Sarge do it more than once. The noncom cared deeply about his men. But Saunders was also a soldier’s soldier: A man who saw his duty and did it. Doc wasn’t sure he could be as certain about killing as the sergeant seemed to be. Perhaps it was because he carried a medical bag and not a weapon. Doc knew he could kill, but after all these months of trying to save lives, the times he felt compelled to grab a rifle were becoming less and less frequent. He’d seen too much of what a bullet or grenade could do to a human being, and he’d felt life slip from his hands too many times to count. Saunders would do anything to shorten the war; Doc would do anything to save a life. The two goals weren’t necessarily at odds with each other, but they weren’t the same, either.

Caje, studied Doc from across the room. “Sarge’ll be back soon, Doc. Maybe we’ll all get a few days R and R,”

“R and R? You’re dreamin’, Caje. We won’t be seein’ any R and R with the Krauts gettin’ ready to make a big push,” Kirby chimed in.

“Well, Kirby, a man can dream.” Caje yawned, stretching out on his bedroll.

Doc looked at his watch again.

* * * * * * * * *

Lieutenant Hanley waited with Captain Jampel in the CP. Looking at his watch and studying the map of Saunders’ route, he determined the approximate location of the two soldiers. The lieutenant rubbed his hand across his brow. He’d feel particularly relieved when Saunders and Cochrane returned with the information on the German movements. The brass could make their final decisions about troop positions, and Hanley could relax knowing that his exhausted NCO was safely back. He’d tried to find a way to avoid sending Saunders, but there was no one else available that he could trust to make it. Saunders had picked up on Hanley’s hesitation. Staring at Hanley with those steely blue eyes, he had simply said, “We need to find out about those German positions or we’ll get clobbered and spend months retaking the area. We’ll be in and out in five to six hours, tops. We better get going.” With that, the sergeant nodded a goodbye and headed out.

Captain Jampel was walking to Hanley’s side to study a map when the crackling of the radio caught his attention. Private Adams, the radio operator announced, “It’s White Rook. He just broke radio silence.”

Hanley felt a knot in his stomach. Saunders would not break radio silence unless he was in real trouble. The captain grabbed the radio but his repeated attempts to obtain a viable connection failed. Soon Hanley was pointing out Saunders’ approximate location. The lieutenant reached for his rifle before the captain gave him the order to go and try to pull out the missing men.

“Hanley, we need that information,” Jampal reminded him.

The lieutenant felt momentarily repulsed by the captain’s stated priority. After all this time, Hanley had not yet lost his strong feelings about bringing his men home. This was something he and Saunders had in common, and whenever the responsibilities of command had caused these feelings to fade, Saunders was there to bring them back into focus. Hanley knew he had to both get the needed information and bring his men back. He looked over at Jampel. “Yessir,” he responded softly.

* * * * * * * * *

“All right, everybody, saddle up!” Lieutenant Hanley’s baritone echoed through the house.

“Are you kiddin’, Lieutenant? We just got here and we aint got a chance to rest up.” Kirby shouted indignantly.

“Knock it off, Kirby! Saunders broke radio silence. We’ve got to go out and try to locate him and Cochrane,” Hanley explained.

“Well that’s different,” Kirby backpedaled. Grabbing his boots, he asked, “Where is the Sarge?”

Caje, Doc, and Littlejohn gathered their equipment and assembled around the lieutenant and Kirby. Hanley pulled out his map. “I’ve figured out the general area to be here. Saunders and Cochrane probably have the information on the Kraut push that we need. Radio silence is no longer an issue, so we bring a radio and call in the information as soon as we get it. Now let’s go!” Hanley ordered.

The squad moved quickly over the hilly terrain, watchful for any signs of the missing soldiers. Doc saw the fatigue, so apparent just an hour ago, melt away as the men took on new purpose--saving two of their own. The medic couldn’t shake his feeling of dread and mentally went over his supplies in his head, wishing that he had replenished his medical bag with extra bandages.

Reaching the top of a steep hill, First Squad was met with the stench of death and smoke mingling in the air. Broken and burned remnants of trees littered a small field that had been part of a once picturesque farm. The body of an American soldier lying face down in the sun came into view. Cautiously making his way to the fallen man, Doc turned the body over. It was Cochrane, obviously killed by a mine blast. Doc looked at Hanley and shook his head. Curiously, Kirby found Saunders’ broken radio and parts of a German officer’s uniform--a jacket and hat, nearby.

“All right, fan out and see what else you can find. Watch out for more mines,” Hanley ordered soberly.

Doc stood by the lieutenant for a moment, considering the situation. “Lieutenant, why in the world would a German leave his jacket and hat here?”

“I don’t know, Doc. It looks like some kind of deception. There’s no sign of Saunders, so there’s a chance he’s still alive.”

Kirby and Caje soon returned with pieces of another uniform and the Saunders’ 45. “The Sarge must be hit. If he was a prisoner, the Krauts woulda kept his 45 for sure,” Kirby surmised.

Hanley took the 45 into his hand and studied it briefly. “Saunders may be a prisoner or he may be wounded and alone. Either way, we need to find him, fast.”

The squad moved out, running towards German lines, and hopefully, their missing sergeant.

* * * * * * * * *

The sun was high in the sky and beating down on the Americans as they moved into another gully. Suddenly, a single shot rang out, and then another. Hanley sent Caje to the top of the next hill to check it out.

“The shots are coming from the other side of that hill, Lieutenant,” Caje shouted as he bounded back toward the squad.

Hanley studied his map. “There’s a bunker over there,” he replied, as he shoved the map in his pocket and led the squad in the direction of the shots. A third shot was heard, and then all hell broke loose as the squad arrived at a partially demolished wall overlooking a bunker. American artillery rained down over the area. The ground erupted into whirling clouds of smoke and debris as 105 after 105 pounded into the earth.

Doc stooped down behind the remnants of the wall and gazed at the destruction. The medic strained to see any sign of Saunders. How is the Sarge going to survive if he’s down there in that? He could hear Hanley calling in to ask why there was artillery fire. It was then that Caje and Kirby ran up to report that they had seen Saunders being led into the bunker.

“Call it off! We’ve got a man in the bunker!” Hanley shouted into the radio.

As the shelling stopped, First Squad began a gun battle with a squad of Germans who had also come to investigate the earlier gunshots. From inside the bunker, a German voice shouted. The gunfire stopped as each side strained to hear what was being said. Doc understood very little German, but the words “American” and “fire through the slits” were easily discernable. Another German voice yelled, “No!” The medic looked at Lieutenant Hanley and it was obvious that he too had understood the words. The lieutenant ordered the men to break into two groups and to keep the Germans away from the bunker. Doc watched the raging battle, tensely clutching his medical bag.

Caje and Littlejohn, working like a well-oiled machine, covered each other and moved toward the other side of the bunker. Kirby and Hanley shifted with Doc around the near side, Kirby’s BAR taking out German after German who tried to get to the bunker slits or lob in a grenade. At one point, Doc thought he heard Saunders’ voice from one of the slits, but German gunfire escalated, and he couldn’t be sure. After ten minutes of fierce fighting, it appeared the German squad was dead. The Americans began to move cautiously toward the bunker, when suddenly one of the wounded Germans threw a grenade from his prone position into the bunker. Although the German was quickly taken out by the GI’s fire, the damage was already done.

Doc held his breath as he heard the blast of the grenade detonating inside the bunker. Oh my God!

* * * * * * * * *

Each squad member’s face told the tale of his inner fears as the squad moved swiftly and watchfully toward the bunker. Lieutenant Hanley, aware of what scene may be awaiting them inside, went first. As Hanley pushed the door open, smoke billowed out, followed by the odor of blood and torn flesh. Two men wearing German boots were lying on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Hanley saw movement to his left and squinted through the hazy smoke to see it was Saunders struggling to sit up. He rushed to the sergeant’s side, with Doc close behind.

“All right Saunders, take it easy,” said Hanley as he placed his hand on Saunders’ shoulder.

Saunders immediately reported the information he had so desperately wanted to get back to the Americans. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant, panzer division massing for an attack near crossroads 3-0.”

Watching Saunders, Doc observed with alarm that the sergeant was not looking at anyone, but instead gazing into space. Sarge can’t see.

“Caje, call it in. Kirby, give him cover,” Hanley ordered.

“One’s still alive,” Littlejohn announced, as a German with a chest wound began to move on the floor of the bunker.

“Which one?” Saunders asked.

In heavily accented English, the wounded German spoke. “He jumped on the grenade. He was a fool.”

Realizing that the German was referring to his dead countryman, Saunders replied, “No. He was a Chaplain.”

Hanley and Littlejohn stood in stunned silence, until Caje’s voice echoed off the bunker walls. “I called it in, Lieutenant. Jampel wants us back as soon as possible.”

“Doc, see what you can do for Saunders and the German. Let me know when they’re ready to move out,” Hanley said, staring with concern at the sightless sergeant.

Doc spoke softly to Saunders. “Sarge, I think I better look at the German first. He’s bleedin’ pretty badly. You okay for a few minutes?”

“Sure, Doc. I promise I won’t run off while I’m waiting’” Saunders replied wryly.

Doc went to work bandaging the wounded German, and asked Caje and Kirby to make a stretcher.

“What about the Sarge? Kirby asked angrily.

“I can hear fine, Kirby, and I don’t need a stretcher,” Saunders replied.

Doc moved back over to the wounded sergeant. “How ya doin’, Sarge?”

“I’ve been better, Doc.”

“I don’t see any wounds on your eyes, Sarge, but you have one heck of a bump on the back of your head. It looks like the blow to your head caused the problem.”

“Looks like the Chaplain was a pretty good medic, too,” Saunders said sullenly.

Whaddaya mean?” Doc asked.

“He told me exactly the same thing.”

Doc looked over at the dead Chaplain and shook his head.

Saunders placed his hand over his eyes and rubbed them. Exhaustion was setting in, and with the pain from his head injury, Saunders’ strength was ebbing quickly.

Doc walked outside to talk to Lieutenant Hanley. “Lieutenant, he’ll disagree with me, I know, but I don’t think Saunders has the strength to walk back.”

“What do you think about his vision, Doc?” Hanley asked, his unblinking green eyes showing his concern.

“I don’t see damage directly to the eyes. I think he’ll be okay, but I’m no doctor. We need to git ‘im to a hospital,” Doc said sternly.

Hanley relaxed slightly, relieved to hear that Saunders’ blindness might not be permanent. “I’ll have Kirby and Caje rig another stretcher and we’ll carry them both back.” Within another ten minutes, the squad was ready to move out. To Doc’s relief, Saunders had fallen asleep while waiting for the group to leave, so there was no argument about the stretcher.

* * * * * * * * *

Doc’s worried face hovered above Sergeant Saunders as he awoke at the field hospital two days later.

“It’s good to see ya, Doc.”

“See me? You mean those baby blues are workin’ again?”

“Well you’re a little blurry, but that just means you look better than usual, Doc.”

The sergeant reached for a cigarette that the medic helped him light. Taking a deep drag, Saunders asked, “How’s the Kraut doin’?”

“It looks like he’s gonna make it, Sarge,” Doc looked at the sergeant trying to decide whether or not to say anything more. The hesitation wasn’t lost on Saunders.

“Spit it out, Doc. What’s botherin’ you?”

“Sarge, I can’t stop thinking about that Chaplain--how he threw himself on that grenade.”

“He was quite a man, Doc. He saved my life--both of our lives. I’m sorry he had to die.” Saunders shook his head, obviously causing considerable pain.

“Take it easy, Sarge. It’s gonna be a few days before your head feels normal again.”

Saunders ignored Doc’s comment and continued talking. “While we were in the bunker that German officer, Krauss, asked me if I would kill him and the Chaplain if they had the kind of information about our troops that I had about theirs.”

“What did you tell ‘im?” Doc asked, his brow furrowed.

“I couldn’t answer--I couldn’t answer, Doc, because at that moment, I didn’t know. I still don’t know,” Saunders replied, a troubled expression on his face. “Krauss said I would kill them because it was my duty; because it’s a soldier’s duty.”

Doc contemplated his response. It was rare that Saunders admitted being unsure about anything, especially after all this time on the front. Doc realized that the Chaplain might have given the Sarge another gift that the noncom was not yet aware of. “It was a tough situation, Sarge. The fact is you weren’t in a position to make that decision. If you were, I know you’d of done what you thought was right at that time. You’ve said it yourself more than once, ‘We can only try and do our best.’ It’s no different for any one of us.”

“Yeah, Doc. I guess you’re right,” Saunders answered as he drifted back to sleep.

**********

Doc walked out of the field hospital into a light afternoon rain. He lifted his face to the sky and felt the cool droplets of water roll down his face. Thank you, Lord,

The medic walked silently back to the small quarters the squad was resting in.

“Doc, how’s the Sarge today?” Kirby sat up on his bedroll as Doc walked in.

“His vision is almost back to normal, Kirby. They’ll probably release him in a few days.”

“Kirby, what’s all the noise about?” An awakened Littlejohn asked with a scowl.

“The Sarge will be back good as new in a few days, that’s what!” Kirby shouted back.

Littlejohn’s grin slowly grew to a wide smile, and Caje nodded with obvious relief.

Doc sat down on his bedroll and took out some paper. He began his letter to Pastor Hill with the usual greetings and small talk. He ended it with these words:

I’ve thought a lot about a soldier’s duty since I got your letter last week. I want to share my thoughts with you and hope you won’t mind me putting in my two cents worth.

I’ve been looking around me at the soldiers, with all their different jobs. We’re all struggling to do our best and hopefully get home alive. Most feel we are here because it is the right thing to do. Some have had to kill as part of their duties. The killing and the dying are ‘the name of the game’ as they say. But it’s more complicated than that. A soldier can get used to the killing and the dying, but it’s when we lose ourselves along the way that we really need your help. You see, sir, there’s a soldier’s duty and then there’s also our duty to ourselves. It’s when the battle is between those two things that the real damage to a man’s soul can be done. The thing is, men with that kind of damage probably won’t come home looking for you after the war. You’re probably going to have to find them...

END