THINK OF ME

&

P.P.T.

By: Camo Gal

Written in loving memory of our little Pixie, Mojo, She was a feisty little lady who loved Sarge with a passion. Mojo carved out a special place in our hearts and will remain there forever!

This is written as an explanation of the day Saunders was wounded in the story “P.P.T.” written for Mojo in August of 2007. “P.P.T” is included in its entirety in this document.

Saunders blinked as he walked out of the hospital tent into the bright sunlit day, stretched his cramped muscles and drew in a deep breath of the fresh air long denied him. His boots felt stiff as he wiggled his toes to try to loosen them. Guess it won’t take long to break these in or get the clean new uniform dirty. He thought as he headed for the waiting jeep.

“Hey, Saunders, how’re you doing?” Hanley’s runner asked as the sergeant climbed into the passenger seat. “Lt. Hanley wants to see you as soon as I get you back.”

“That figures,” Saunders replied, “What’s up?”

“Don’t know, he just told me to get you back as soon as the doc’s released you.”

“Well, then let’s get moving.” Saunders braced himself for the jack rabbit start the soldier was famous for and was not disappointed as they took off with a roar. He winced at the sudden twinge of pain in the area of his newly healed wound and let his mind wander back to that day. The day he decided to give up. The day he decided to die, but she wouldn’t let him.

The mission had started out like so many others. Just a routine recon to the edge of Kraut territory. “Don’t engage the enemy. Find out their strength and their positions then get out as quickly as possible.” Hanley had told him.

Just like so many others, Saunders thought, yet not at all like any of the others.

****************************************

The men of First Squad were tired and discouraged. The enemy had been pushing the Allies back for weeks causing them to lose the precious hard-won territory they had gained. The squad had seen too much action, too many men die. Rest was desperately needed. Saunders was concerned about taking his men out again but the lieutenant had made it clear that there was no other squad available. The lieutenant had his orders and, like them or not, the squad had theirs.

“I know you and your men are exhausted, Saunders,” Lt. Hanley had begun, “but the brass really needs to know the strength of the Germans before the platoon begins the big push into Kraut territory. They want to know if that farmhouse on the hill will make a good OP, whether it’s occupied by the Germans and they want to know yesterday.”

“I know, Lieutenant,” Saunders replied, his voice raspy with exhaustion, “everything needs to be done in a hurry, but my men have really had it and the two replacements we got earlier today are as green as my mother’s garden. Just like the last bunch they sent us.”

Hanley’s voice softened as he addressed his best NCO and friend, “I know that your last mission was a tough one. You lost a lot of men. It wasn‘t your fault, Saunders, you did everything you could to save them, you can’t let this eat you up inside.”

Saunders’ face visibly paled and a slight tremor ran thorough his body as the scene, which was etched into his mind, replayed in a vivid display. The three replacements were crouched behind a building as the 88’s came screaming into the town. He could hear his voice yelling for the squad to pull back. His attention was drawn toward the three replacements who were on their first mission. Their faces and bodies were frozen in fear. He ran toward them gesturing and yelling at them to move out. As they looked toward him, their faces transitioned from fear, to shock and realization, and then emptiness as the ruthless round found its deadly mark. The force of the explosion blew Saunders off his feet. Blood and pieces of the young replacements splattered across his body. With difficulty he swallowed the bile which had risen in his throat. Three more young lives cut short for no good reason. How many more deaths would he have to witness? How many more lives would he have to be responsible for? How much more could he take?

“If it wasn‘t my fault, Lieutenant, and I did all that I could, then why are there three young men out there dead?” Saunders’ voice seemed almost lifeless.

Lt. Hanley stared at the top of his cluttered desk, unable to look the sergeant in the eye and slowly shook his head. He had no answers for the war-weary man standing before him. “Look Saunders, you just need some rest. I’ll see what I can do about getting you and your men some time off when this big push is over. In the meantime, Capt. Jampel wants this recon patrol to go out now.”

Right, Lieutenant,” Saunders replied, giving a weary, half-way salute, turning on his heels and heading out to give the news to his squad.

Lt. Hanley sighed wearily and turned back to the pile of paperwork on his makeshift desk wishing with his whole being that he was going out on patrol with Saunders and his men. An uneasy feeling crawled into his gut as he worried about his sergeant’s well being. He had seen Saunders’ morale sink before but he had never heard him question his leadership ability. Saunders had always had the innate ability to stuff his thoughts and feelings into some recess of his mind and continue to successfully lead his men in seamless effort. Now Hanley wasn‘t sure how much more Saunders was going to be able to take before reaching the breaking point. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.

The squad moved out within twenty minutes with two replacements—Jackson and Lewis. Saunders could almost feel his shoulders bending under the weight as the responsibility of keeping two more men alive settled onto them. He struggled to keep his thoughts on the mission and not on the vision of the many faces of the men who had died following his orders.

Caje’s frantic signaling brought Saunders’ mind back to the tasks at hand. He signaled to the squad to get down, not knowing what was up ahead. “Sarge,” Caje began when the sergeant joined him at the edge of the clearing, “looks like that could be the mine field Lt. Hanley warned us about. Should we go around or do you want me to check it out?”

“Our orders are to get the information as fast as we can.” Saunders spoke softly as he pulled the map out of his field jacket. “According to the map we won’t lose too much time if we take a detour around this field.” Caje nodded looking over Saunders’ shoulder at the map.

“Okay, I’ll head that direction.” The Scout rose to his feet gathering his equipment.

“Hang on, Caje, the men need a break. We’ll take five then head out.” Saunders waved to the rest of the squad. The men sank gratefully to the ground and began opening canteens, lighting their cigarettes and taking advantage of a chance to rest. Jackson and Lewis, taking their cue from the other men, tried to relax and appear at ease on their first mission.

“Hey you guys,” Kirby scooted over to the two men, “don’t you worry about a thing. The Sarge over there knows exactly what he’s doing. You stick with him, do what he tells you and you’ll come out of this smellin’ like a rose!”

Saunders felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he overheard Kirby singing his praises to the two replacements.

“Sure, Kirby,” Jackson nodded, grinning at Lewis “we’ll keep that in mind.”

“Right,” Lewis chimed in nervously.

Sanders closed his eyes and slid his back down the comforting trunk of a large tree allowing some of his weariness to be absorbed by its strength and solidness. The crinkling of the letter in his jacket pocket brought a slight smile to his lips as he pictured her face with longing and remembered the day they had met.

***************************

He had been to the vacant lot to play a game of baseball with the guys on that hot summer day. He knew he needed to cut the grass before dinner and ran home to get the job done after his team had secured their victory. As he finished cutting the grass, the little girl whose family had moved in during the winter came wandering into the yard.

“Hi, my name is Mary Anne and I’m your new neighbor.”

“Hi new neighbor, Mary Anne. My name is Chip,.” he answered her while putting the push mower back into the shed.

She smiled shyly, “Chip? That’s your name?”

“Actually it’s Charles but that was my father’s name so to keep down the confusion he started calling me Chip. It seems to have stuck.” He grabbed the broom and began to vigorously sweep the grass off sidewalk and steps.

“Where is your father? I haven’t seen him around,” she asked curiously.

He stopped sweeping, drew in a breath, blew it out in a short puff between lips and stared off into the distance avoiding her eyes, “Oh, he died about two years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” The little girl seemed embarrassed.

Wanting to ease her embarrassment he replied, “That’s okay, it gets easier with time but I’ll probably always miss him.” He was surprised that he was sharing so much of his carefully guarded feelings with a little girl he had just met. There was something about her that seemed to have loosened his tongue.

Throughout the rest of their conversation, he was surprised to learn that she was only one year younger than he, she was so small. She told him that she had been born with a heart defect that had affected her growth. She would always be small and life would always be uncertain for her.

At first he felt sorry for her, but he soon learned that she could hold her own. She was a feisty little thing, always speaking her mind and never letting anyone get away with anything. She even told him point blank that she didn’t like his name and since she was going to marry him someday, she was “going to call him ‘Darling’ because that’s what wives called their husbands! That’s when he had told her that he thought she was nothing but a little Pixie! So, the nicknames stuck. Through the years their friendship grew. She taught him to live each day to its fullest and not to take life for granted. They had so much fun together that he never considered taking anyone else to any of the high school dances. Even though they had grown close she wouldn’t let him discuss marriage, “We will be friends only, Darling.” Both of them knew the reality and uncertainty of her health, but Saunders didn‘t care. He badgered her mercilessly, finally convincing her that they belonged together. They began making plans for their future.

Then, the Army drafted him and sent him off to North Africa. She faithfully wrote him funny, newsy letters from home. She never mentioned her health and he knew it was because she didn’t want to worry him. A recent letter from his mother, however, had included the news that Mary Anne was growing weaker. The letter in his pocket from his little Pixie was filled with humorous details of his sister’s first date, but Pixie never mentioned her heath.

******************************

Abruptly his mind came back to the present, “Caje,” Saunders waved toward the Scout, “take the point and let’s make some time.”

“Right, Sarge,” Caje waved, dropping his half smoked cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with the toe of his boot and moving out at a rapid pace.

As Saunders pushed himself up off the ground into a standing position, he placed his hand over the letter in his pocket, a concerned frown on his face. Okay, little Pixie, as soon as this war is over and if we both survive it, our lives can really get started. Shaking himself mentally, his thought continued, Better get my mind off things at home and onto the mission at hand, these men depend on me.

The rest of the squad groaned at the thought of traveling faster. They drug themselves to their feet, scooped up their gear and started off in the direction Caje had gone. Doc observed each man as they moved past him, looking carefully for signs of exhaustion, illness, sore feet or any other malady. He grinned as Kirby went past him grumbling under his breath about ‘the Army trying to kill him before the Krauts could‘. A sure sign that Kirby is doing fine. Doc thought as he fell in behind Littlejohn. Flashing a quick glance at Saunders he noticed the weariness etched into his face and the fatigue weighing down his body, Sarge sure took the death of those three young recruits last week hard. He hasn’t bounced back like he usually does, guess I better keep an eye on him. Doc mused.

As the squad traveled deeper into enemy territory an uneasy silence settled over them. Lewis and Jackson became increasingly nervous. Littlejohn, noticing Lewis and Jackson’s edginess, as well as the fact that Saunders’ obvious exhaustion seemed to have kept him from giving the newcomers his usual slices of advice, caught up to the recruits and spoke in a quiet voice, “Just keep quiet, stay alert, and follow orders. Keep an eye on Caje and the Sarge, they will signal if there’s any trouble up ahead. If there is, drop to the ground and don’t move or make a sound until they signal the all clear.”

Lewis looked at Littlejohn, fear in his eyes, “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve been out here a long time and are used to this.”

“Hey, you don’t ever get used to this, we’re all afraid.”

“Even the Sarge?” Jackson asked, his face full of doubt.

“Even the Sarge,” Littlejohn nodded, “Listen, ya just learn to concentrate on the mission at hand and think about being afraid after you’re safe and sound in your bedroll.”

The two replacements looked one another with doubt on their faces but each decided to follow Littlejohn’s sage advice as they picked up their pace to keep up with the squad.

After an hour of traveling at the grueling pace Caje had set, Saunders knew that the tired men needed a break. He signaled the men to take five and caught up with Caje. “We’re getting pretty close to the farm house. You stay here with the men, I’ll take Kirby and scout on up ahead.”

“Right, Sarge,” the weary but grateful Cajun joined the rest of the squad, sank to the ground pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one with a long satisfying drag then closed his eyes as he rested his head on a moss covered rock.

“Kirby, you’re on me.” Saunders said over his shoulder as he went in the direction of the farm house.

“Yo! On my way.” Kirby stuffed his cigarettes back into his pocket, grabbed his BAR and set off in the direction the Sarge had gone, flashing a grin to the rest of the squad as he passed them.

Doc grinned back knowing Kirby was using his habitual nonchalant attitude to cover his nervousness. He was relieved to see that Saunders seemed to have shaken off whatever was bothering him and that his mind was totally on the mission at hand.

Saunders and Kirby, in a half crouch, ran toward the location of the farm house on the hill. As they reached the clearing they fell on their bellies. Saunders pushed his helmet up and blew a puff of air from between his lips. “Well, Kirby, there it is. A perfect place for an OP.”

“Sure is, Sarge, I figure we have to find out if there are any Krauts in there.”

“You figured right.” Saunders replied as he signaled Kirby to cover him as he advanced toward the house. As he got closer to the house he ducked behind some cover and motioned for Kirby to join him. He pulled out his field glasses, took a look, sighed and wordlessly handed them to Kirby.

“Geeze, Sarge, the place is crawlin’ with Krauts.” was his comment after taking a quick look.

“Let’s get back to the squad and head for home. When we get close enough to use the radio we’ll let Hanley know what we found.”

“Well, let’s get to gettin’. This is turning out to be a pretty easy mission if ya don’t count the extra mileage my feet are rackin’ up!” Kirby, a slight grin on his face, sneaked a look at his sergeant in time to see Saunders try to hold back a smile and shake his head.

Kirby stayed put to cover Saunders and watched as he ran in a low crouch. Just as Saunders turned to signal Kirby to follow a German squad appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and began shooting. Saunders ran for cover releasing a hot trail of bullets toward the enemy. The deep echo of Kirby’s BAR was heard as two of the Germans dropped in their tracks. Saunders quickly realized that they were outnumbered and the only chance for at least one of them to make it out was to get a couple of grenades into the middle of the German squad. Aware that every Kraut in the area was already alerted to their presence, Saunders knew that they didn’t have much time.

“Kirby!” Saunders shouted, “Pull back and try to go around them! Get to the squad and get this information to the lieutenant.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Kirby shouted back.

“That’s an order, Kirby! We have no choice, that information needs to get to Hanley right away.” Saunders shouted, his steely blue eyes boring into Kirby’s brown ones, hot lead spewing from his weapon.

Kirby dropped his head in defeat, “Okay, Sarge, but I don’t like this one little bit,” he muttered under his breath as he took one last look at the sergeant and began to make his way through the undergrowth toward the squad.

Saunders fired sporadically, watching where the answering shots were coming from and carefully calculating the best spot to plant his grenades. He placed his Thompson on the ground, grabbed two grenades from inside his jacket, pulled the pins and stood to throw them. As the grenades left his hands he felt a burning sensation deep in his left side. His body twisted and fell as the explosion of grenades rocked the earth and rendered the enemy silent. He started to get to his feet but was strangely weak, a white hot pain was burning in his side and radiating throughout his body. Not yet willing to give up, he tried to drag his suddenly non-cooperating body in the direction of his men, a low moan escaped from between his lips. He felt the strength pour from his body into the soil of France.

Scenes he had fought so hard to erase from his mind played out in a hideous, lifelike exhibit. Faces of Germans he had killed with great distaste, in hand to hand combat, flashed across his vision. The carnage of a town blown to bits by the enemy leaving little children lying dead in the streets, their tiny hands clutching a doll or homemade toy brought tears to his eyes. A detestable image of the lifeless body of a young nurse, who had reminded him of his sister and had saved his life, was seared into his mind. The stench of decaying bodies and the metallic odor of blood assailed his senses. Battlefields, which were strewn with bodies of young men who would never return home, lay before him in a nightmarish panorama. Panic stricken faces of the three replacements blown to bits a few short days ago stared at him accusingly. Unable to confront these atrocities any longer he surrendered his mind to oblivion and watched with detached interest as the bright sunlight faded into darkness. With a great sigh of relief he yielded himself to the safe, comforting darkness which freed him from pain and responsibility.

Out of breath, Kirby burst through the thicket which was hiding the squad, “C’mon guys, we gotta’ go help Sarge. A whole squad of Krauts is on him with a bunch more up on that hill in the farm house.” He bent over, grabbing his knees trying, to draw deep breaths of air into his burning lungs. He knew he was disobeying Sarge’s orders but he couldn’t leave him out there alone. Besides, he had knowingly disregarded direct orders before for less important reasons.

“We heard the shooting,” Caje was already on his feet readying his M-1 and turning toward the sounds of the battle. A muffled explosion reached their ears. “Sounds like Sarge took care of that squad. We better get to him and give him some cover.”

“Caje,” Jackson piped up, a tremor in his voice, “you said yourself it sounds like the Sarge took care of the German squad that was after him. Why don’t we wait here for him to get back like he told us to?”

“Aww, Jackson, Sarge could be in trouble out there,” Kirby gave a disgusted look at the frightened replacement. “You and Lewis should head on home and tell Lt. Hanley that the Krauts are using that farmhouse as an OP.”

Caje gave Kirby a quizzical look but did not question him. “Yeah, you two head back. When you get within radio range call Lt. Hanley and fill him in. We’ll head back as soon as we meet up with Sarge.”

Lewis and Jackson nodded in unison, took the radio and cautiously headed back in the direction of headquarters and safety. Both were feeling guilty at leaving the rest of the squad behind to face the unknown number of Germans who were looking for them. Yet, they were comforted with the thought that they were doing their part to complete the mission, albeit at a safe distance. They squared their shoulders with determination and resolved not to let Sarge or the squad down.

The rest of the squad, Caje, Doc and Littlejohn took off at a dead run following Kirby. The lack of gunfire reassured the men, yet they were apprehensive. Saunders could be on his way back to the squad, he could be wounded or worse yet, he could be dead. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they prepared themselves for the unknown.

Kirby stopped abruptly, staring at the scene in front of him. There were dead Germans everywhere. Smoke and dust from the exploding grenades were drifting slowly over the scene in the light breeze. Kirby’s eyes darted from body to body looking for Saunders. They landed on the man lying face down on the ground, blond hair standing in tufts over his helmetless head. Kirby rushed to his side, “Doc, over here!” he called, trying to keep his voice down.

Doc dropped down beside Kirby, rolled Saunders onto his back, ripped open his shirt to examine the wound. “He’s hit pretty bad, Kirby. We need to get him back as soon as we can. I’ll do what I can for him here but if we don’t get him help soon he might not make it.”

“One thing for sure,” Littlejohn spoke solemnly, “if we don’t get him out of here before the Krauts up on the hill get here none of us will make it back alive. I’ll carry him ‘till we can find a safe spot to stay and the Krauts quit looking for us.”

“Ok, Littlejohn you’re right, we need to make tracks right now,” Caje agreed. “You carry Sarge, Doc, help Littlejohn, Kirby and I will cover you. Now, take off!”

Kirby reached down to grab Saunders’ weapon and helmet as Littlejohn scooped Saunders into his big arms. Littlejohn moved as quickly and as safely as he could in the direction of home. Doc stayed close, steadying the big man over the rough terrain. Caje and Kirby brought up the rear watching and listening for any sounds of the approaching enemy. They moved as fast and as silently as possible through the woodsy area. Sounds of the approaching enemy could be heard in the distance. Caje thought about making a stand but knew that they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Luck was with the men of 1^st Squad as they came upon a shelter of rocks. Caje ducked into the formation and deemed it to be the perfect place to hide and wait for the frantically-searching Germans to pass. He waved the men into the shelter which resembled a small cave. Sunlight poured through the top allowing the men to see and providing a comforting warmth. Caje hurriedly went to the entrance and erased all signs of their presence, then sank to the ground breathing a sigh of relief.

“Kirby, take the first watch. We should probably stay here until it gets dark, then we can head for home.” Caje spoke, his eyes on Saunders. “Doc, how is he?”

Doc was crouched beside the wounded man, a worried frown on his face. “I don’t know, Caje, he hasn’t stirred or made a sound. I think he must be hurt pretty bad. I’ll give him some morphine and try to stop the bleedin’ but that’s about all I can do for him here.”

“OK, Doc, do what you can.”

Littlejohn began taking off his field jacket and pointed to some sturdy tree limbs that were in the shelter, “I’ll get started on making a stretcher for him.”

“Good idea. Here, take my jacket. Caje, could we have yours too?”

“Sure, Doc.” Caje began peeling off his jacket, “Kirby, see anything out there?”

“Yea, I think a whole platoon of Krauts just passed us by! We sure was lucky you spotted this, Caje.”

“I almost missed it, I’m not sure what made me take a second look at this pile of rocks.” Caje gave a half smile. “It should be dark in about an hour, go ahead and break out rations and try to get a little rest. We’re not out of this yet.”

It was dark and cloudy as the men gently lifted their unresponsive sergeant onto the crude stretcher and carefully left the safety of their shelter. Caje took the point, Littlejohn and Doc carried the stretcher and Kirby brought up the rear. They moved swiftly, anxious to get Saunders back to their lines and the lifesaving medical unit.

They made it back through their own lines without incident. Jackson, Lewis and Lt. Hanley were anxiously waiting when they arrived back at headquarters. Hanley reached out and gently touched the shoulder of the unconscious man, “How bad is he, Doc?”

“I don’t rightly know, sir,” Doc replied, “the bullet went clean through him and I got the bleeding stopped. Even before I gave him the morphine, he wasn’t reacting to anything. I tried to rouse him but he didn’t respond. I could see the pain on his face but he never made a sound. I’m real puzzled by all this, let’s just hope the docs can patch him up and bring him out of this.”

“Ok, Doc, you and Littlejohn get him over to the medical tent. The rest of you men stay here and finish reporting on the mission.”

“Yessir,” all of the men responded in unison as Saunders was hastily dispatched by Doc and Littlejohn to the much needed medical help.

Looking after the wounded sergeant Hanley addressed the remaining squad members, “Guess it got a bit rough out there. What happened?”

Kirby hastily filled the lieutenant in on what had transpired once he and Saunders had observed the activity in the farm house. He purposely glossed over the fact that he had once again disobeyed a direct order refusing to leave Saunders. After all, the information did get back to Hanley and the rest of the squad made it home all in one piece. What did it hurt that it wasn’t done exactly the way Sarge had intended? When Saunders was on the mend and up to it he could chew Kirby out all he wanted. In fact, it was one chewing out Kirby couldn’t wait to receive.

The men regrouped outside of the hospital tent, worriedly pacing back and forth waiting for word on Saunders’ condition. After Doc came out and told them that he was safely out of surgery and would survive the injury, they began to relax. Lt. Hanley joined the men and insisted that they go get showers and hot chow, promising to keep watch while they were gone. The men returned to their self-appointed post much sooner than the lieutenant had expected. To a man, the squad was anxious to see Saunders awake and talking. The silent, still form on that cot, even though the doctors had assured them he would be fine, caused them great distress.

“Hey, Doc,” Kirby broke a long silence, “shouldn’t the Sarge be wakin’ up pretty soon? It just don’t seem right, him bein’ so quiet and all. Not natural, no sir, not natural at all.”

“I don’t know, Kirby, the doctors say he’ll be okay but for some reason he’s bein’ really slow waking up.” Doc adjusted the blanket covering Saunders. “It’s almost like he doesn’t want to wake up.”

*****************************

P. P. T.

Saunders swam slowly, reluctantly up out of the darkness. He didn’t want to come to the surface and face the pain he knew was waiting for him once he reached the light. He was tired, so very tired of it all. The physical pain of his wounds were excruciating but the emotional pain was worse He just didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore. He was going to stay in the soft, warm, quiet cocoon of the of the darkness.

His men were standing around him, willing him to wake up, to acknowledge their presence. Doc had told them that there didn’t seem to be any reason why the Sarge didn’t wake up. They tried talking to him, patting his shoulder, Hanley even lit a cigarette and tried to put it between his lips. He did not respond.

Saunders heard his men talking quietly, felt their touch, but instead of reaching out to them he retreated deeper into the darkness where he didn’t have to think about all the men who had died because of his orders or the men who had been wounded and would never be the same again. The bullet he took in his side had been blessing, sending him into the safe darkness where he didn’t have to make any more decisions about another man’s life.

“Darling,“ Saunders heard the sweet voice from his past, “you need to wake up and start to heal. What chance do we have if you don’t? What will happen to your mother and Louise?”

Saunders wanted the voice to be quiet, to leave him alone. Couldn’t he just once in his life do nothing? Did he always have to be responsible and do the right thing? He loved the voice and the woman behind it but he just wanted peace. He was too tired to care about anything anymore, it was much easier to lie there and rest.

“Darling,” the voice came to him again, “I have been waiting for you for so very long. I need you to come home to me so that we can begin the life together we have always talked about. Your strength has been my strength, don’t give up!”

As much as he loved her he just wanted her to stop – to let him rest – to leave him alone. That was what he wanted, to be alone in the quiet, safe recesses of his mind. He wanted to float weightless and mindless with no responsibilities.

Saunders tried to go deeper into the darkness but she wouldn’t let him. “Darling, what about your men? Sure, they could manage without you but they depend on you, look up to you, count on you to keep them alive. What will happen to them?”

Wearily, Saunders tried to push the voice away. He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. He was happy right where he was.

“Saunders!” her voice was now strident, angry and disappointed, “okay, go ahead and give up. Just spend the rest of the war on that cot while your men go out and fight. You just run away from everything and hide there in the safe little world you created for yourself. But remember this, you have to face reality sometime. When the war is over you will have to live with the fact that you deserted, yes deserted, your men. Will you be able to live with yourself? You just better think about that long and hard, soldier.”

That little speech, one he had delivered many times to many soldiers, struck a chord in Saunders. He knew he had no choice, knew what he had to do as he brought himself back to the surface, to his men and to the war.

“Hey, look,” Littlejohn pointed to the sergeant on the cot “Sarge is awake!!!”

The men were ecstatic to see their leader awake and alert.

“Sarge, where ya been?” Kirby asked “We were afraid ya weren’t coming back.”

“I almost didn’t, Kirby, “Saunders replied.

“Well, what brought ya back, Sarge?” Doc questioned.

“A little Pixie brought me back.” Saunders said with an affectionate smile on his face.

The squad members looked at each other with quizzical expressions. “Must still have a little morphine in his system” was the only explanation Doc could give for the strange statement made by their sergeant.

Saunders smiled knowingly and drifted into a healing sleep.

****************************************

The unexpected braking of the jeep brought Saunders to the present with a start. “Here we are, Sarge, safe and sound as I promised. Hope the trip wasn’t too rough!” Hanley’s runner was grinning as he spoke.

“Naw,” Saunders returned the grin and rubbed his side as he extricated himself from the jeep, “always a smooth ride when I’m with you.”

“I’ll take this jeep back to the motor pool, go on in, the lieutenant is expecting you,” he started off in the jeep barely giving Saunders time to retrieve his gear.

Saunders gave the man a wave as he scrambled to hold on to his hastily gathered equipment. Taking a moment to get himself organized he took a deep breath and walked into Hanley’s office. “I see you’re still working on that same stack of paperwork you were the last time I was in here.”

“Saunders! Welcome back, we’ve missed you around here! How are you feeling?” Lt. Hanley grinned as he motioned for Saunders to sit down on the upended wooden box across from his makeshift desk.

“No thanks, lieutenant, I’ve just had the ride of my life. I think that runner of yours hit every rut and pothole between here and the hospital.” Saunders grinned. “I was feeling pretty good until I got into that jeep!”

Hanley laughed as he had a mental picture of Saunders hanging on for dear life so he wouldn’t be pitched out of the careening jeep. “Sorry about that. He was the only person I could spare to come get you. I told him to take it easy.”

Saunders chuckled shaking his head at the lieutenant, “What’s so important that I had to stop in here before stowing my gear with the men? Another mission?”

“No, Saunders,” the lieutenant was suddenly sober, “I have a letter for you from your mother. It has been here for a few days and I wanted you to have it as soon as you got back.” Hanley leaned over his desk, a white envelope in his hand.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Saunders reached over and took the letter from Hanley’s hand and started to stuff it into the pocket of his new field jacket.

“Saunders, I think you ought to read that letter now.” There was sadness in Hanley’s eyes as he spoke.

“Sure, Lieutenant,” Saunders’ mouth went dry as he felt an unwelcome fear crawl into his belly. He carefully opened the envelope. The sight of his mother’s handwriting was comforting but he knew the news would not be good. He noticed that the date his mother had written the letter was the same day he had been wounded.

Dear Son,

I pray that this letter finds you well and safe. Louise and I are doing well. We received letters from both of your brothers recently, they are fine and asked about you.

Son, this letter is so hard to write, I have some very bad news for you. Mary Anne was helping the new family down the street take care of their little boy who was sick with the influenza. Mary Anne came down with it about a week ago. She was so very sick, the doctor did everything he could but her heart was too weak. She died earlier today. I am so sorry.

Her parents, Louise and I were with her, she went peacefully and without pain. Please allow this to comfort you. Most of her final thoughts were of you, she seemed deeply troubled. It was as though you were here and she was talking to you, pleading with you not to give up and to remember the future you two were planning. Shortly before she died she looked at me, smiled and said, “He heard me, he’s going to be alright. He will live.” Those were the last words she spoke, she slipped into a coma and within a few hours was gone.

My heart breaks for her parents and aches for you. It grieves me that we are so far apart at this time. I long to be there to hold you in my arms and comfort you.

Son, she was a good woman who loved you very much. You know that she would want you live your life to the fullest, as she always did. You are in my prayers. I know what a blow this is for you. God bless you and remember that you are in my prayers all day every day.

Love,

Mom

Saunders felt the blood drain from his face; his whole body felt numb. Unable to stand, he sat heavily on the upended wooden box. Disbelief, shock and then sorrow came rushing over him in a huge wave. His face crumpled in anguish and pain as he bent his head into his hands. How can I bear this pain? I should have died that day not her. He felt as if he were suffocating and stumbled out of Hanley’s office. He heard Hanley calling after him but couldn‘t respond.

Hanley hesitated, wanting to give the man a chance to absorb the news and time to grieve in private. He was grateful that Saunders’ mother had sent the packet of letters to him and had enclosed a letter which was addressed to him revealing the sad news. She hadn’t wanted the sergeant to be alone when he read her devastating letter. Finally, Hanley decided that he had given his friend enough time and went to seek him out.

Saunders wandered aimlessly trying escape the reality that his beloved little Pixie was gone. Why? Why her and not me? his anguish was unbearable as he collapsed under a tree just outside of the town where he freely gave in to the tears until there were no more. He sat against the tree, staring into space, limp and defeated. Then, as if in a fog, he heard Hanley’s soft voice and felt his hand gripping him by the shoulder.

“Saunders, I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what to say. How can I help you?” when Saunders didn’t respond he went on, “Your mother sent me a packet of letters. Two of them were for you and the other one your mother wrote to me. She wanted to make sure you had a friend on hand when you read the news. I brought you the third letter, thought you might want to read it.” He brought the letter out of his jacket pocket and extended it toward Saunders.

Saunders recognized the writing, it was from his little Pixie, he reached out with a trembling hand to take the letter from the lieutenant and wordlessly began to open it.

“I’ll leave you here alone with the letter, Saunders, you know where to find me.” With that Hanley turned his back on the brokenhearted man and walked away.

Saunders’ eyes brimmed as he looked at the familiar handwriting. Angrily he brushed the tears from his eyes and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, steeling himself to read the contents of the letter.

My Darling,

My thoughts are with you as I face the fact that my heart isn’t strong enough to fight this illness. I am not afraid, the power of your love has filled me with a strength and courage I never dreamed possible. My only regret is that we will never have our life together. You must continue to life your life to it’s fullest, that will be the best way to honor my memory.

Darling, your mother, Louise and your brothers need you. You must be careful and come home safe and sound to them when this war has ended. They count on you, you mustn’t disappoint them. Whenever you feel overwhelmed, think of me, I will be there in your heart cheering you on.

Your men count on you to keep them safe. They need your strong, capable leadership to give them the courage to face horrors I can’t even begin to imagine. Don’t let them down, Darling, encourage them. When you feel the responsibility is too much, think of me, I’ll be in your heart giving you the courage to face what you must and continue what you started.

You are a brave, loyal man of strong principles, you believe in getting the job done no matter how difficult. These are the traits I have loved in you, the traits that made me strong enough to believe that I might have a chance for a life with you. Don’t ever lose those principles. If you are feeling weak and don’t think you can face another day, think of me, I will be in your heart filling you with the strength you need.

Darling, I love you very much and take with me the precious knowledge that you love me too. I will live on in your memory, so Darling, think of me ,often.

Love,

Your Little Pixie

Saunders scrubbed his hands over his face and stared off into the distance allowing memories to flow through his mind. A gentle smile played along his lips as he replayed the scenes their time together. She was right, she will live on in my memory, no one can take that from me. He thought about the day he was wounded, ready to give up, wanting to die. He sat up abruptly as he was struck by the realization that she had come to him at his lowest point, She was there with me refusing to let me give up even as she was dying. She knew I was giving up so she gave me the pep talk I had given her so many times. With her dying breath she told Mom she had gotten through to me and that I was going to be alright. Oh, little Pixie, I owe you my very life. You fought for me with your dying breath. I must honor your memory and go on no matter how hard it will be. I love you and will think of you often. He pulled himself upright, stuffed the letters into his jacket and headed back to Hanley’s office , his men and the war.