One Man's War

by P. M. Kippert

  “What happened, Dash?” Carter said.

  Kafak told them the story. They were all laughing when Cole arrived. They all shut up quickly then and moved away from the fire. Kafak stood to attention, saluted. Cole left him at attention as he spoke.

  He said, “Well, I had to go over that major’s head, but the general saw things my way. When he heard that a major who’d never seen a lick of combat and had just got over here from the States wanted to send a combat vet to prison, he had a conniption. I think he’s ready to bust that major, tell you the truth.”

  “That sounds like it might cause you some trouble, sir,” Kafak said.

  “To hell with it,” Cole said. “That son of a bitch has no right acting like that. Not here a week and he’s acting that way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re still a private, though,” Cole said. “I didn’t ask the general to fight about that part of it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Kafak said. “I appreciate that.”

  “Wipe that grin off your face, Private,” Cole said. “This war lasts long enough, you’ll be a sergeant again, I’m sure, like it or not.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kafak said. “I’m afraid you’re right, sir.”

  Cole left then, and soon after a new sergeant came in. None of the guys knew him. He said he’d been with the Seventh but they had transferred him over because the Fifteenth didn’t have enough NCOs around to cover the spot. He’d only just been promoted himself, so he tried to get along with the squad. That seemed all right to Kafak. He felt the situation was improved all the way around. He slept well that night.

  The next day they ran into a German rearguard action. The firefight was short but intense. Machine guns, small arms, mortar fire. The company was momentarily pinned down, but then half a dozen tanks came up and broke the German resistance. The Krauts retreated. They lobbed a few more mortar shells as they were leaving. One of them landed near Andover. Took off his legs, one mid-thigh, the other just below the knee. He was shrieking from the pain. Kafak ran over to him shouting for a medic.

  “Oh, mama! Oh, mama!” Andover said.

  He tried to sit up and look down at his legs, but Kafak pressed him back to the ground.

  “Don’t move,” Kafak told him.

  He jabbed Andover with his syrette of morphine. Carter ran up. Andover was still screaming for his mother.

  “Fuck,” Carter said. “Oh my shit, fuck.”

  “Give him your morphine,” Kafak told Carter.

  Carter did.

  Andover was still crying and screaming for his mother. Then he said, “Where are my legs? What the fuck, Dash? Where are my fucking legs?”

  “You’re gonna be all right, Stu,” Kafak told Andover. “Just hang on. You’re gonna be OK.”

  A few more mortar shells exploded, but nothing too close by. Then the Germans were silent, retreating. The American tanks rolled after them. Most of the company with them. Kafak, Carter, and a couple other guys stood around with Andover. They’d put tourniquets on his legs. Shot him with streptomycin. Some of the others added their morphine to what Kafak and Carter had already given Andover. They didn’t figure it much mattered since none of them figured Andover was going to live anyway, but Andover settled a little. He was no longer screaming. He was crying and murmuring now. “Mama, help me,” he said. Over and over again. “Mama, help me find my legs.” Kafak held his hand. Two medics arrived and took over. Kafak stood up and began walking away. The others all walked alongside of him, forward, to join the company.

  “Oh my shit,” Carter said.

  “Motherfuck,” Kafak said. His chest hurt. It made him angry. “Motherfuck.”

  “Son of a bitching Krauts,” Waszinsky said.

  “Andover,” Kafak said. “Son of a bitch.”

  They joined up with the rest of Love Company. The fight was over. The German rearguard was all either dead, wounded, captured, or gone. That night, over chow, the lieutenant who had ordered Kafak to destroy the tank came by. Kafak stood up. Before he could slug the guy, the lieutenant told them all, “Captain Cole has been captured.”

  “What?” Kafak said.

  The other men rose up and crowded forward, asking the same question. The lieutenant patted the air to quiet them. Then he explained.

  “Captain Cole was scouting for a place where we could cross the river. His jeep hit a mine. His driver was killed, but he was tossed out. Wounded. The Germans found him there and took him prisoner. A forward observer saw the whole thing.”

  “Why didn’t he do something?” Carter asked.

  “He was alone. He said he’d started down toward the captain but then about a dozen Krauts arrived. They got to Cole first.”

  “Fuck,” Kafak said.

  “The guy shoulda done something,” Billings said.

  “Yeah,” Waszinsky said.

  “He couldn’t,” the lieutenant said. “I’m telling you.”

  “Fucking piece of shit,” Billings said.

  “Leave off that,” Kafak told Billings. “Them FO’s are damned brave guys. He says he couldn’t do nothing, then there wasn’t nothing to be done.” Kafak looked at the lieutenant. “Anybody getting up a search party for the captain?”

  The lieutenant said nothing; he only shrugged.

  “I’ll go,” Kafak said.

  “Enemy lines are close by, Dash,” Carter said.

  “Cole’s a good officer.” Kafak glanced at the lieutenant. “Ain’t a lot of them around. It’s worth trying to get him back.”

  “He could be dead already, you know,” the lieutenant said. “We don’t know.”

  “We oughtta try,” Kafak said.

  “I can’t order anyone to go on a mission like this,” the lieutenant said. And Kafak thought how he could, though, order Kafak to stay behind to blow up a fucking tank. “But I won’t stop anyone from going either.”

  Kafak turned to the others.

  “Any other volunteers?” he asked.

  “Oh my shit,” Carter said. “You serious, Dash?”

  “Yeah,” Kafak said. “I’m serious.”

  Carter paused, frowned hard, then sighed.

  “Well, hell,” he said. “If you’re goin’, I reckon I am, too.”

  “Thanks, Bama.”

  Four others stepped forward. One of them, Anzini, said, “Cole’s a good guy, like you said, Dash. He deserves whatever chance we can give him.”

  “Let’s go then.” They got their gear together and started off. Kafak stopped in front of the lieutenant. “One more thing,” he said.

  “What’s that, Private?”

  And Carter said, “Let’s go, Dash. We ain’t got the time for any of that shit.”

  Kafak took a deep breath, then he shook himself.

  He said, “Nothing, Lieutenant. Nothing at all.”

  “If you’re not back before dawn,” the lieutenant said, “I’ll figure you have all been killed or captured. No one will be sent after you.”

  “You’re a regular sweetheart,” one of the men said but nobody knew who for sure.

  The group moved off into the dark. They had only their weapons and ammunition. Nothing that could make noise. Kafak carried a knife and .45 on his belt. His tommy in his hands. Plenty of ammunition and half a dozen grenades.

  Carter said, “Any idea where we goin’, Dash?”

  “Other side of the river,” Kafak said. That drew a couple of gasps from the others.

  Carter said, “Oh my shit, Dash, that’s German territory right now. They got heavy men over there.”

  “If they got prisoners,” Kafak said, “where else you figure them to be?”

  Murmurs shot around the other guys. Kafak ignored them. They could turn back if they wanted to, he figured. He figured he ought to turn back himself. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Carter said, “OK, OK, then, Dash. That still leaves the question of how we gonna get cross that river. We ain’t got a boat or nothin’.”

  “There’s a town, ju
st this side of the river. Not too big. Saw it from a distance on my last scout. I figure somebody there got to have a boat.”

  “So that’s where we goin’?”

  “Good a place as any, I suppose.”

  Everyone fell quiet for a time, considering what they were getting themselves into.

  Then Anzini said, “You really gonna belt that looey, Dash?”

  “I was about an inch away from it,” Kafak said.

  Carter laughed, said, “Oh my shit, boy, I could tell you was.”

  “You’ll be in some big trouble, Dash,” Jacobson said.

  “Fuck,” Kafak said. “What they gonna do to me? Send me to the fucking front?”

  They all laughed at that until Kafak told them to quiet down as they approached the town. It was a small town and near completely dark. No lights to give either side a target to bomb. A single lamp barely burned in the town square. The moon and the stars supplied the only illumination they really needed. Kafak led them down one of the town’s main streets. They stuck close to the buildings. They hadn’t gone too far in when they heard voices. German voices. They all froze.

  “Shit,” Jacobson said.

  He whispered. They all whispered. They were all scared shitless. Kafak was, anyway, so he figured the others were, too.

  “What the Germans doin’ here?” Carter said.

  “They’re supposed to be the other side of the river,” Anzini said.

  “Shut up,” Pintarello said.

  They listened some more. The voices were drawing closer, moving toward them. All of them flattened against the wall of the building they stood next to. Kafak was first in the column, so he drew his knife and slung his Thompson. He waited. Two men popped out of the nearby alley, still talking in hushed tones but not actually whispering. They were portly, middle-aged. They wore civilian clothes. They startled when they saw the Americans. They stopped in their tracks, their eyes gone wide in their pudgy faces.

  Kafak put away his knife.

  “Fuck,” he said, “we must be in Alsace-Lorraine.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Anzini said.

  “It’s French territory, but they speak German here,” Kafak said.

  He walked toward the two men and the others covered him, still suspecting some sort of trap from the German-speaking townspeople. Kafak spoke with them.

  “You know English?” he asked.

  “A leetle,” one of them said. The other hung back, observing. Still looking frightened. The burgher said, “I am a française. Citizen of France. Yes?”

  “This is Alsace-Lorraine we’re in?” Kafak asked.

  The burgher nodded, smiled merrily.

  “Welcome,” he said. “When you came, the Germans left. So danke and merci beaucoup.”

  “Sure,” Kafak said. “Are there any Germans left here? In this town?”

  The man shook his head.

  “They are all gone. They left days ago. Sometimes, though, they send patrols. Like you.” He waved toward the American soldiers. He smiled. “But they are mostly gone.”

  “Have you seen any patrols tonight?” Kafak asked.

  “Tonight?” The man frowned, thinking. Then he said something to his friend. In German. He turned back to Kafak and translated for him. “I haven’t seen any Germans today, but he says he saw a few earlier, down near the river. In a drainage ditch there. About a mile south of the town.”

  “OK,” Kafak said. “OK. Thanks.”

  He returned to the others and told them what he’d learned.

  “So we goin’ there first?” Carter asked. “Before we cross the river, I mean?”

  “I figure it’s a better bet, don’t you?”

  “Oh my shit yes,” Carter said. “I don’t wanna cross no river tonight.”

  “Well, let’s go see, then.”

  They moved off toward the south end of town. They didn’t see or run into any other citizens. Everyone was locked up behind closed doors and shutters. That was a good thing, Kafak figured. He didn’t need another fright like that one. Though now he understood the situation, he didn’t suppose he would be so startled again by hearing German voices where he didn’t expect them to be.

  At the edge of town they continued south. They moved carefully through woods and some dying undergrowth. They kept as quiet as they knew how to be. All the patrols and scouts helped them. They’d learned a few things. But then, so had the Germans. You never knew what might happen. Or when it might happen. Kafak tried never to think beyond just what he was doing. Focus on that. Leave tomorrow to focus on tomorrow. Focus on the here and now. Keep your senses alert and be ready to eat the ground. That was his philosophy.

  They could make out the end of the ditch as they approached. It let out into the river, and a boat was moored there. A small rowboat, was all it was, but good enough to get a small party across the river. They didn’t see anyone or hear anything. Kafak motioned them down onto the ground because that boat seemed out of place, tied there where they saw it. They crawled the last fifty yards or so to the ditch. At the point they reached it, the ditch was empty.

  “What now?” Anzini said. Kafak was about to stand up when he heard something and dropped back down flat on the ground. “What?” Anzini said.

  He put his hand on Anzini’s arm for silence. All of them tensed; Kafak could feel it run down the line. Then he heard it again. The smoosh of a boot through mud. Someone was coming. Kafak didn’t figure it to be townfolk. Not out here. Not at this hour. He motioned to all of them to be ready. He saw them then. Five Germans. Three of them carried burp guns, and the other two had their rifles slung and were carrying someone between them. It could have been a wounded comrade of their own; it was too dark to tell for sure. But Kafak would’ve bet his pay that the man they carted along was Captain Cole. He glanced down the line at all the others. They all nodded. Kafak put down his tommy and pulled out his knife again. The others followed the action.

  When the Germans came abreast of them, crouching below them in the bottom of the muddy ditch, the Americans attacked. Kafak was on the end of the line, so he went after the lead German. Kafak leaped onto the man’s back, trying to stab his body at the same time. The Kraut ducked when he caught a glimpse of something suddenly flying at him. Kafak nearly slid right over him but managed to grab onto the man’s helmet. It was fastened on by a strap and the strap held and Kafak’s tugging on the rim of the helmet brought the German tumbling down atop him. Kafak squirmed underneath the enemy soldier who was jerking around on top of him, trying to escape Kafak’s grip. Kafak tried to clasp his legs around the German’s legs to keep him from slipping away. While the two men grappled this way in the mud, Kafak struck downward with his knife. The blade bit into flesh. Kafak felt it. He didn’t know where he’d stabbed the German, but he knew he’d hit flesh from the way it sank in. Kafak pulled it out and plunged it down again. And again. Three more times. Then more times after that. He lost count of how many times he pounded the knife down into the German’s body, and he couldn’t stop stabbing even when the man on top of him ceased moving. Kafak didn’t even notice the man had stopped slipping about until well after the German was dead. “Shit,” Kafak said under his breath, spitting out mud. He shoved the body off him as quick as he could and rolled away, coming up onto his knees and looking at the rest of the fight. Anzini was on his back, on the ground, looked to be in trouble. Kafak leaped on the back of the German attacking him, yanked back on the guy’s helmet, and moved to slice the Kraut’s neck wide open, but Anzini’s knife was already shooting upward, sticking deep into the enemy’s throat. “Die, you cocksucking motherfucker!” Anzini said as he plunged the knife into the German. It was an ugly cry, the growl of an animal. Fierce and amoral and without forgiveness or care except for survival. That was how it seemed to Kafak, anyway. The enemy soldier uttered a short, small cry, then a gurgle, and then he collapsed. It was a bitter-sounding thing in Kafak’s ears. Kafak stood up. Anzini stood up. He was sprayed with the dead
German’s blood. Kafak looked away from Anzini and glanced around and saw all the Germans were dead. Jacobson was dead, his own knife sticking up from his chest.

  “Shit,” Kafak said.

  “We got Captain Cole,” Carter said.

  Carter knelt beside the man the Germans had been carrying along, and Kafak rushed over to his side, genuflected in the mud next to the captain.

  “Cap,” Kafak said. “Cap, you hear me?”

  A pause, then, “Kafak? Kafak, that you?”

  “It’s me, Cap. And Carter, and Anzini, and—”

  “What the fuck you doing here?”

  “We came to bring you back, Cap.”

  “Who allowed that? You guys shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, you got that much right, Cap,” Kafak said. “So we need to get the fuck outta here right now. Shut up so we can leave, why don’t you?”

  Kafak grabbed the captain and drew him over his shoulder. He carried Cole over one shoulder and his Thompson in his other hand and started along the drainage ditch, back toward the American lines. Carter was right beside him, keeping him covered. Anzini grabbed Jacobson’s body in the same fireman’s carry with which Kafak was carting Cole. The others followed, watching their backs. They returned to their lines without any other problems, and Kafak turned Cole over to the medics. Kafak returned to the cottage in which he was bivouacked and he collapsed, covered in wet mud, and it didn’t bother him at all. He fell straight into an exhausted sleep.

  The next morning, after breakfast, Kafak went to the field hospital to look in on the captain and found him being loaded onto a truck.

  “I’m being evacced to Naples,” Cole told Kafak. “They say I’m too banged up to fight for now. But I’ll be back.”

  “Take your time. Maybe we can knock this thing off before you get back here.”

  “Don’t you dare do it. I want to see Berlin.”

  “All right, Cap. We’ll save some fight for you.”

  “You do that. And by the way, Kafak.”

  “What’s that, Cap?”

  “Thank you, Bob. Tell the other men, too. Will you?”

  “No need, Cap. You’da done it for us.”

  “Still. Pass it along, will you, please?”