They had just reached a mountain stream when Daniel, who had gone ahead a bit, came hurrying back to them. He motioned them toward the trees that bordered the water, mouthing “Germans” as he slipped away into the darkness.
Noah’s mouth went dry. Quickly, he followed Wiley to a stand of trees and pulled his rifle from his rucksack, propping the bag down at his feet against the tree. He turned to look at Wiley, whose face was white in the blackness of the night. Wiley gave him a thumbs-up sign, grinned, and stepped behind another tree until Noah could no longer see him.
It was then that he heard voices, German voices. Noah pushed his back up against the hard wooden trunk. The uneven bark poked him, but he didn’t move. He tried to still his breathing, afraid that even that sound might give him away. The voices came closer. Noah could feel the blood coursing through his veins in hot, fast throbs.
The voices moved even closer and then, slowly, faded away. Noah let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a loud shot disrupted the quiet of the moment. Noah jumped. A few feet away, a German stepped out from the very tree Wiley had gone to hide behind.
Noah wanted to cry for help, but before he could open his mouth, a hand was pushed against it. Noah struggled against his captor, pushing and pulling to wrench himself free.
“For God’s sake, hold still!” Daniel’s voice hissed in Noah’s ear.
Noah went slack, and Daniel dropped his hand from Noah’s mouth. The two of them watched the German turn and walk swiftly away to join the others in his group. Noah heard laughter from a distance. His whole body shook as he held himself still and waited impatiently for the Germans to be gone. Then he could stand it no longer. Without consulting Daniel, he broke away and ran across the ground between him and Wiley.
Behind the tree, Wiley lay in a pool of blood. Noah bit hard down on his lip to stop from screaming out into the night and alerting the Germans that they were still there.
Daniel stepped up beside him. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
Noah kept shaking his head back and forth. “No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered over and over to himself. It didn’t matter how many times he said it, though. Noah knew the truth. Wiley, the very first of his friends, was dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Noah?” James Shelley sat down on the barn floor. “I know it doesn’t mean much for me to say this, but I’m sorry, boy.”
Noah just lay there, staring up at the rafters of the barn. He’d lain like that since he and Daniel had returned three days ago, not responding to anyone when they tried to talk to him.
He kept reliving the horror of having to carry Wiley back here, Wiley’s head lolling to one side, his red hair drooping into his unseeing eyes, his chest sticky with blood. Daniel had tried to convince Noah to come back for Wiley later, when the woods would be empty of Germans on patrol. But Noah had refused to leave Wiley there. He’d bent down to pick Wiley up and carry him home, and Daniel had complied by lending a hand. And not until Noah had gently laid Wiley on a clean white sheet at the hospital had he finally given in to his own pain. Then it was Daniel who had picked Noah up from where he had slumped to the floor and brought him to the barn.
“Noah,” his uncle continued, “please don’t tell me I’ve lost you in the clouds somewhere like Cam. Come on, boy. Speak to me. Let it out.”
Noah could hear the pain in his uncle’s voice. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. The hurt was too great.
His uncle bent over him. “Noah. Let me in. Let me help you.” His uncle’s voice cracked. “Please don’t leave me to believe that I’ve messed this all up.”
“Basta!”
Sofia’s voice was loud in the barn.
“Stop lying about like some beaten-up old dog!” she commanded, now standing above Noah, staring down at him.
“What are you thinking, girl,” James Shelley snapped, “speaking in that tone to my nephew? Do you not get it? Noah and Wiley were friends.”
“Not get it?” Sofia laughed, turning on Noah’s uncle. “Mio padre has no legs, and my grandmother was shot by the Wehrmacht last winter in retaliation for another German being shot. What exactly do you think I don’t get?”
Noah turned his eyes to watch her. His mind began to drift from the woods and focus on her angry face.
“We’ve all been through a lot, Sofia,” James Shelley said. “We all just handle loss differently.”
“By sulking?” Sofia asked, a smirk on her face. “By curling up and giving up? No disrespect meant here, signore, but if we all did that, we’d be speaking German right about now.”
“That’s enough!” James Shelley said. “I’ll not have another word from you about my nephew. Leave him be.”
“I can defend myself, Shelley,” Noah whispered.
“How about getting up and defending others, then?” Sofia challenged him. “Or maybe you’d prefer to wallow here in the barn until you feel better?”
“Sofia!” Noah’s uncle bellowed. He rose and pointed to the door. “Out!”
Noah sat up. “Wait!”
His uncle turned and looked at him questioningly.
“Leave us for a minute, would you, Shelley?” Noah asked.
“She shouldn’t be talking to you like this, Noah,” his uncle said. “We’re here defending her country. She has no right.”
“She has every right, Shelley.” Noah sighed. “She’s had every right since the day freedom was taken from her.” He looked up at his uncle. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
His uncle hesitated, then nodded. At the door, he turned. “If I hear any shouting from you,” he said, pointing a finger at Sofia, “I’ll be back here with a muzzle to shut you up. Understand?”
When James Shelley had left, Sofia pulled out a milking stool and sat down. “All right, GI. Why don’t you tell me about Wiley?”
Noah’s eyes rested on hers like a drowning man’s on a life preserver. To her, he would talk.
An hour later, Noah finished. He was exhausted, but all the stories of Wiley had been told, all the exploits, all the memories of his goofy face and red hair. He’d said everything there was to say, even describing Wiley’s death and the look of him on that white sheet. She had listened, and he had wept.
Sofia came over to him and knelt down. “No one’s ever really gone, Noah. They’ll always be here.”
Softly, she touched his chest, then she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Noah closed his eyes and let the feeling of life run through him.
“Now, GI,” Sofia said, moving briskly away, the moment of intimacy over, “would you like some good news? Skeeter is sitting up. And they could use your help at the hospital. So let’s get over there and get back to work.”
She reached out her hand and Noah took it, letting her pull him to his feet and back into the war.
For the next few days, the general assigned Noah to hospital duty. Noah was grateful to his uncle, for he knew it had been his doing. He welcomed the respite from the night patrols and any situation that might have made him choose between killing or being killed.
Skeeter was awake, talking a bit, even smiling once in a while. He still had a lot of healing to do, and he was badly scarred. But he would live. Noah gave thanks every day he saw Skeeter grow a bit stronger.
Noah found his work in the hospital strangely rewarding. He stayed there long past his assigned hours. He ran errands for the nurses, changed bedpans, and read to Skeeter when he grew bored and restless. He wished he were trained to do more. He constantly asked questions about what the doctors were doing and asked them to show him what they could. It was fascinating to him.
Sofia met him there every day, sometimes bringing bread and cheese for lunch and sitting with him while he ate. They never talked about Wiley or that night again, but Noah was comforted knowing that he could if he wanted to.
One day, Sofia breezed in while Noah was trying to hear Skeeter’s heart through the doctor’s stethoscope. James Shelley sat by Skeete
r’s bedside.
“No, no,” the doctor said, “move it a little lower.” He pushed Skeeter’s hospital gown aside.
“Hey! What do you think I am? Some kind of science experiment?” Skeeter mumbled.
“Right about there.” The doctor took Noah’s hand and moved the stethoscope down a bit. “Go ahead. Try now.”
The room was quiet as Noah listened, awed at hearing the pump, pump of Skeeter’s heart through his big chest.
“You should be a doctor someday, Noah,” Sofia said as she came toward them.
James Shelley laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one, girl. The boy can’t even find Skeeter’s heart properly!”
“I still say he’d make an excellent doctor,” Sofia asserted.
Noah grinned at her, bending over the basket she carried. “All I want to doctor now is whatever you’ve brought me to eat.”
“How about sharing a bit of the good stuff, Noah?” Skeeter begged.
“Hospital food only for you, soldier,” the doctor commanded. “You chew on that rich food, and you won’t live to fight another day. So eat your oatmeal and get your sleep.”
Turning to Noah’s uncle, Skeeter complained, “Hey, Shelley, come on now. I helped you out when you were sick. How about a little assistance for me? Tell that rascal nephew of yours to start sharing the wealth.”
But James Shelley didn’t respond. He was lost in thought.
“Shelley?” Noah said, waving a hand in front of his uncle’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” James Shelley responded. But without another word, he stood and walked away, and Noah was left wondering what was wrong with his uncle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Pack ’em up, boys. We’re heading out.” Noah’s uncle stood in the doorway of the barn.
“Where’re we going, Shelley?” Bill asked.
“Town by the name of Lucca, about sixty miles from here,” he said. “And bring everything you have. We won’t be coming back to the barn.”
“What are we going for?” Roger asked.
“To refresh your climbing skills,” Shelley answered.
Roger grinned with pleasure. Noah turned away. He didn’t need to be told what this signified. Brushing up on training could only mean one thing. The assault on Riva and Belvedere was inching closer. Quietly, he rolled up his sleeping bag and began to pack his gear.
Before they left, he tried to find Sofia. But she was nowhere to be found. From the back of the truck, Noah watched the town of Vidiciatico grow smaller and smaller. He wished he could have said good-bye to her.
The first few weeks of February had been unseasonably warm, and the town of Lucca was filled with muddy ruts as the Tenth Mountain Division made their way to the marble quarries on the outskirts of town. The truck bounced and jostled the boys riding in the back as they sang and Roger waved to the girls of the town, who stood along the side of the road to watch them pass.
Once at the quarry, though, they were put straight to work. For a few days, they were reminded of their time at Camp Hale as each of them rappelled down the sides of the high quarry walls and then scrambled back up them. In spite of his sore shoulder, Roger was ecstatic, pushing off and flying out on his descent with an enthusiasm that hadn’t been seen in many weeks. Bill worked hard to improve his skills, asking questions and practicing over and over with a calmness and steadiness that Noah admired.
Noah wished he could capture some of Roger’s excitement and Bill’s strength. But every jump and every handhold reminded him of Wiley and of Cam, one dead and the other sent back stateside when he hadn’t come out of the craziness that now clouded his head. Noah’s heart went out to Cam’s parents and his little brother, and he prayed that their presence again in his life would bring Cam back from the edge.
Noah felt as gloomy as Dour Dan Stultz. But for once, he understood Daniel’s dedication and commitment. Working hard and practicing hard meant fewer mistakes and fewer lives lost when the time to attack finally came. Still, Noah was envious of Roger and Bill, and he longed for the innocence of his first rappel with Olaf.
On February 17, they were ordered to pack their things again and prepare to hike out. The Tenth Mountain Division had been divided once more into their three infantry regiments of the 85th, 86th, and 87th for the attack. Several hours later and under cover of darkness, Noah and the boys of the 86th regiment slipped into the small towns that lay at the base of Riva Ridge not far from Vidiciatico. Groups of them were housed in various cottages and barns in the area.
Around midnight, Noah’s uncle came to the cottage where Bill, Roger, and Noah were staying. Behind him were Daniel, Olaf, and the general. James Shelley did not look at Noah.
“Boys,” the general said in a low voice, “tomorrow’s the night. You three, along with the rest of the 86th, will be heading up Riva Ridge.”
“At last,” Roger crowed, “we’re really going after those Germans!”
“So, how’s it all going to work?” Bill asked.
Olaf spread out a map and used his finger to point out the way. “Bill and Roger, you vill go out vith Shelley and take this path up Riva, along vith about thirty others from the 86th. Shelley vill lead, and Roger, you vill be in the rear as you have practiced.” He traced a path on the map. “Noah, you vill climb a few hundred yards away from them vith your group of thirty. Skeeter vill lead and Daniel vill bring up the rear just as in exercises. The rest of the boys vill be divided into other companies and encircle the mountain, each company taking a different vay up. I vill go with the 85th and 87th up Belvedere the next night. But ve can only take Belvedere if you are —”
“Skeeter?” Noah interrupted him. “Skeeter will lead? He can’t make that climb!”
Noah turned to look at his uncle, and at last, Shelley met his gaze. Noah caught his breath at the misery he saw reflected there.
“Skeeter insists on coming along,” the general told them. “I know he’s not up to full strength yet, Noah, but we just don’t have anyone else to lead your company up Riva Ridge. We need him. We have to have two leaders for each company, one out front, one behind.”
“The climb up Riva could kill him,” Bill blurted out.
“Yes, it could, but Skeeter knows that,” Daniel spoke up. “And the success of this climb could save thousands of lives — Italian lives, British lives, other American lives.”
“But it’s Skeeter,” Noah protested, turning to his uncle. “Can’t you stop him from taking this chance? It’s his life you’re talking about.”
Noah’s uncle shook his head. “Skeeter wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m sorry. Skeeter feels he can make the climb, and we’ve decided to let him go.”
“Don’t think it doesn’t break our hearts to put such a good man like that at risk,” the general said.
“Every man’s going to be at risk that night, General,” Daniel reminded him, “and every man who’s willing to go and try is a good man.”
The general sighed. “Of course, Daniel, of course. Still, when this war’s over, I think I’m going to retire and open a bait and tackle shop.”
“Aw, General,” Noah’s uncle said, grinning, “then you’ll just be moaning about how unfair fishing is for the fish.”
“You’re probably right, Shelley,” the general said, laughing. “You’re probably right.”
A year ago, Noah would have been angry about the way they were joking about something so serious. But he knew them all too well now. Joking was just their way of dealing with the fear.
The next day, Noah stood uncertainly outside the makeshift office that had been set up for the general. He looked at the closed door, feeling shaky inside. Quietly, he knocked.
“Who’s there?” the general’s voice boomed out.
“It’s Noah Garrett, sir,” Noah responded.
He entered the general’s office. The general stood surrounded by maps.
“What is it, Noah?” the general asked. He looked impatient.
“Request per
mission to assume Skeeter’s position for the assault, sir,” Noah said.
The general looked up from his maps. He eyed Noah sharply. Then he laughed. “I can’t do that, Noah. Your uncle would kill me, and I don’t intend to be a casualty of war before we’ve even begun to fight.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but he doesn’t need to know,” Noah said.
The general’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Noah?”
Noah took a deep breath. “Skeeter can’t make that climb, General. I’ve patrolled those mountains, too. I request permission to lead my company, sir.”
The general stared at him. “Are you crazy? You’re too young, and we’re talking about war here, son. You didn’t even want to join up in the first place.”
“Actually, sir, I’m talking about Skeeter,” Noah said. “You know he won’t make it. Even if he survives the climb, he’ll die afterward from exhaustion.” Noah paused. “I admit I still don’t know if war is right or wrong, General. But I … I … I want Skeeter to live. I want to do this for him.”
“And if you should die being out front like that?” the general asked sternly. “What if tonight’s climb puts you in the position of having to kill? What then, Noah?”
Noah shrugged. “If I have to save the lives of the boys behind me, then I’ll do it, General. And I’ll just remind myself of the lives I’m saving, not the lives I’m taking.
“I do know it’s right to protect the ones you care about, no matter the cost,” Noah said, though his voice wavered as he spoke. “Isn’t that what this war is about?”
The general sighed. “I wish I knew, Noah. All I do know is that war’s darn ugly.”
Noah nodded.
The general remained silent for a minute. “What makes you so sure you can do Skeeter’s job?”
“Because of all the times I patrolled with him,” Noah said. “Look, General, I know I’m not Skeeter. I know I can’t do as good a job as he could. But do you really think he could do his usual job feeling the way he does? With Skeeter not a hundred percent, we’re all on equal footing here.”
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