I own nothing or no one associated with Combat.

All of the wonderful characters are property of Selmur Productions and ABC.
Copyright (c) 2007 Tamara Hensley

Field of Fire
By CP

The heels of her pumps beat a steady rhythm on the sidewalk. Lieutenant Mollie Flannagan was a woman on a mission. After twenty-four straight days in a field hospital, she was ready to let go and have some fun. Now all she had to do was find a willing partner. Shouldn't be that hard. After all, she had a weekend pass, and there was sure to be some homesick officer who needed a little rest and relaxation as much as she did. Or some recreation. That last thought brought a smile to her full lips.

Mollie was still thinking over her plan a few moments later when she ran into a wall. Landing hard on her backside, she glared up at the man standing there, offering her his hand. Only then did she get a good look at the immoveable object she had bounced off of. Using a hand to shade her eyes from the afternoon sun, she found herself looking into a bright green gaze.

"Sorry, ma'am. I guess I need to watch where I'm going next time." His voice was rich and smooth, causing chills to skitter up her spine, despite the hot sun blazing down on the two of them.

Taking his hand, she gasped as he pulled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. Placing a hand on his forearm to steady herself, Mollie finally found her voice. "Thank you." Straightening her blouse, she cleared her throat. "Well, I'd better be going." She started to move past him, then remembered her manners. Extending her hand, she favored him with her brightest smile. "Mollie Flannagan."

Taking her small hand in his much larger one, he spoke, his voice once again sending chills over her. "Gil Hanley. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Gil Hanley." Mollie turned and continued down the street.

Hanley stood, rooted to the spot as he watched the sway of her hips. Shaking his head, he made his way in the other direction, not seeing Mollie duck into the front of the little candy shop so she could watch him walk away as well. Very nice. A definite possible candidate. If she could find him again in the busy city. Staring at him until he was out of sight, Mollie walked the last few blocks to her hotel. After signing the register, she climbed the stairs to her room, which was on the second floor.

Opening the door to the small but comfortably furnished room, she dropped her bag on the bed. Moving over to the window, she opened it, the scent of the roses in the garden below greeting her. Now, she thought, for a nice, long bath. In a real tub, with real soap. Mmm, just the thought of lounging in the tub for as long as she wanted made her smile.

Walking into the bathroom, she leaned over the tub, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. Stripping the blouse and skirt off, she threw them in the corner. Lifting one foot, she tested the water. Steam rose from the surface, and she slowly settled down in the soothing water.

Leaning her head against the back of the tub, she closed her eyes, only to open them at the loud crash of thunder. Wait. That wasn't thunder, it was artillery! Rising from the tub, she grabbed her robe. Pulling it on as she ran into the other room, she stumbled as a shell hit close to the hotel. Taking a blouse and skirt from her bag, she quickly donned them.

Mollie ran down the stairs, and out into the street. Panicked civilians were running wildly, seeking cover from the barrage. The lieutenant turned to her left, making her way down the street to the end of town where she'd passed the American encampment on her way in.

The shrill scream of incoming artillery prompted her to take cover behind a milk wagon that had been abandoned when the shelling had started. As explosions rocked the small town, the chaos increased. Soldiers were trying to evacuate the townspeople, with little success. Relying on her rudimentary high school French, Mollie attempted to help the soldiers get citizens to a safe place.

Rounding a corner, she saw a sergeant giving orders for his men to get the people out of town, now. As the troops spread out to carry out his orders, Mollie walked up to him. "Lieutenant Flannagan. What can I do?"

The sergeant raised his head, a look of surprise crossing his handsome face.

"Get out of town with the others." He shouted to be heard over the onslaught.

Mollie shook her head. "I'm a nurse. And I have a feeling you're going to need me when this is all over." She looked in the direction of two soldiers helping their fellow squad mate inside a building. The man had been caught by shrapnel and was barely conscious. Nodding to the noncom, she took off at a trot for the injured man.

"Lieutenant!" He called after her, but to no avail. Stubborn woman. That's all he needed. "Caje, Kirby, get those people outta here. Now!" Saunders shouldered his Thompson and jogged over to his men, who were arguing with a couple that refused to leave their house. Shaking his head, Saunders motioned for the two privates to follow him.

They ran to the building where Doc and Littlejohn had taken Nelson. Kneeling on the floor next to Billy, working furiously to staunch the bleeding from the worst of his wounds, was Lieutenant Flannagan. Caje and Kirby exchanged confused looks. What was an American nurse doing here in the middle of this attack?

Before they could question Saunders, Doc walked over and spoke to him. "Sarge, if it weren't for her, Billy would've probably bled to death. She knew more about where to apply pressure than I did." The medic looked at the woman, admiration shining in his pale blue eyes.

"Hey, Caje. You hear that?" Kirby looked out the window, a look of relief crossing his face.

"Hear what, Kirby?" The scout joined him at the window. "I don't hear anything."

"That's what I'm talking about. I think it's over." He walked over to where Nelson lay, patting the young man on the shoulder. "You're gonna be all right, Billy. We can get you to the hospital now."

Billy smiled weakly at the BAR man.

"Kirby, Littlejohn, you two go check this end of town. Sergeant Richards' squad will take the end by the river." Saunders said.

Mollie continued her ministrations at Billy's side, removing the blood-soaked bandages and replacing them with fresh ones.

"Caje, help Doc rig something up to carry Nelson back to our lines."

"On it, Sarge."

Kirby came running back up the street, Littlejohn on his heels. Waving his arms grimly, he shouted to the others, "Take cover! The chorus girls are coming back!"

Mollie stood, a look of bewilderment on her face. "Chorus girls? What's he--" That was all she got out, as Caje grabbed her and shoved her under a table, covering her with his upper body.

"Stay down!" he told her.

She had the answer to her question in just a few minutes. Axis planes filled the sky, dropping death and destruction to the ground.

The small building voiced its displeasure at once again being disturbed. Shards of glass sang as they flew from their panes, and the beams overhead joined in the discordant chorus, groaning as if in agony.

Littlejohn leaned over Billy, knowing that the wounded man couldn't protect himself from the debris that was showering them. Saunders and Doc took cover in a corner next to Kirby, who was curled around his BAR while he spouted creative epithets about the pilots above.

After a long while, the skies were silent once again. The occupants of the small building began to stir, rising from their hiding places.

Caje lifted himself from the floor, giving the lieutenant’s shoulder a shake as he rose. “Ma’am, it’s over now. We can get up.” But he received no response from her. Worry creased his brow, and he called for Doc.

“What is it, Caje?” Doc asked, making his way across the debris which now covered the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. But Lieutenant Flannagan isn’t moving.” Caje knelt beside the medic as Doc checked for a pulse. Finding one, he gently shook her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered open, and Mollie attempted to sit up, only to have Doc ease her back to the floor.

"Easy there, ma'am." The aid man smiled at her. "That's quite a goose egg you got there."

The lieutenant raised a hand and gently touched the back of her head.

"What happened? All I remember is someone grabbing me and throwing me under a table. Was that you?"

Doc grinned and shook his head. "No, that was Caje. He's the one who got you out of harm's way."

She turned to see the scout standing there, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I guess I shoved you harder than I meant to."

Mollie smiled at the soldier. "That's okay. I'm fine, really." Sitting up, she looked at the Cajun. "But would you mind helping me up?" Caje rushed over and took the woman's hand, pulling her to her feet. She swayed and Caje took hold of her, leading her to the nearest chair that hadn't been destroyed. Looking up at the soldier, Mollie blinked several times, willing the multiple faces in front of her to merge into one. Shaking her head slightly, she winced at the throbbing pain behind her eyes.

Doc watched the woman closely, before walking over to Saunders. "Hey, Sarge, I think we might need two litters." He nodded toward the officer who was sitting across the room, a dazed look on her face. "The lieutenant don't look like she's in much condition to walk anywhere."

The lieutenant tried once again to stand, but she was woozy and unable to focus on anything, and her head throbbed so that she lowered herself back to the chair.

Caje joined Saunders and Doc as they searched for something to make a couple of litters to carry Billy and the lieutenant back to their lines. Finding four sturdy pieces of wood, they quickly wrapped several blankets around them.

"Doc, you and Littlejohn put Nelson on this one. Caje and Kirby can carry the lieutenant." Sarge waited until the wounded were loaded, then opened the door, which was somehow still on its hinges, and led the small group out of town.

The trip back to the American lines was surprisingly uneventful, with only the occasional complaint from Kirby about his feet breaking the silence of the afternoon.

When they arrived at the CP, Saunders went to find Hanley and check in, while the others carried Nelson and Lt. Flannagan to the aid station.

Saunders and Hanley arrived at the aid station just in time to hear Lieutenant Flannagan's loud protestations at having been told she was going to be sent to the rear for a few days.

"And I'm telling you that I'm just fine. A little headache, but nothing I can't handle, Doctor." Mollie glared at the man beside her bed. "Besides, there are others who are wounded much worse than I am. Send them back. I can be of service here." She glanced around the tent, noticing the lack of medical personnel.

The doctor shook his head, looking to Hanley and Saunders for assistance with the mulish woman in the bed before him. Finding none, he excused himself, leaving the three of them in awkward silence.

Saunders spoke first. "Thank you for helping Nelson back there. Doc says he probably would've bled to death if it hadn't been for you." The noncom shifted his stance, uncomfortable under the stare of both lieutenants.

There was a commotion at the front of the tent, signaling that there were new arrivals. Raising up on her elbows, Mollie tried to see around the two men. Her training won the battle between the need to stay in bed and the even greater concern for the wounded. Throwing the blankets off her, she stood, taking a moment to steady herself, before slipping past Hanley to the front of the station.

"What do we have, Doctor?" She brusquely addressed the physician. Looking at the soldier lying on the litter, she grimaced when she saw the crimson mask he wore. Scalp wound. Grabbing a stack of gauze, she placed it on the jagged tear at the man's hairline. Applying firm pressure, she followed along as the medics carried him to the side of the tent, lowering him to the cot.

Calling out to a passing aid man, she asked for more gauze, tossing the bloody bandages to the floor. Holding the gauze to the wound with one hand, she used some of it to clean the man's face. Her main concern was to stop the bleeding so the doctor could stitch him up.

Picking up the syrette that the aid man had brought over, she gently injected the morphine into the soldier's arm. He winced as the needle pierced his skin, then stilled. Feeling the effects of the drug almost immediately, he closed his eyes, the war forgotten for a brief moment.

Across the tent, the members of 361st King Company gathered around Billy's cot. Mollie watched the interaction between the soldiers with interest. In her time here in France, she had yet to see a more cohesive unit. The concern the others showed for the wounded young man was something that you normally didn't find among relative strangers. She was amazed to see that even their commanding officer was included in the well-wishers. These men weren't just a squad, they were brothers.

"Is he gonna be all right, Lieutenant Hanley?" Littlejohn asked.

"They're sending him to London for a few days, until the most severe of his wounds are healed." The tall, handsome officer smiled at the private. "Don't worry, he'll be back soon."

Just then the doctor came over to the group, letting them know that the ambulance was waiting outside to take Billy to the rear. One by one, they filed past Nelson, each man giving his wishes for a speedy recovery to the young soldier.

Smiling at the camaraderie between the men, Mollie turned back to the soldier on the cot beside her. Her day certainly hadn’t ended like she’d planned. But if she was honest with herself, it wasn’t a total loss. Seeing the squad across the tent worry over Nelson as if he were each man’s kid brother reaffirmed her belief that even amid all the horrors of war, and the inhumanity that it often brought out in the soldiers who fought it, there was still a place for compassion and caring in their souls.

As the squad walked out of the aid station, Mollie gave them one last glance, noting how they talked and laughed with one another. Yes, she thought to herself, it’s a great day to be alive.

End