The Rescue Party

(Source*)

"Nine men Nate, no more. You've got until tomorrow morning, if you don't make it back in time, you'll be walking back." Captain Tony Palminteri looked over at his company first sergeant, 1st Sgt. Mort Saeger who looked at his feet, then looked up again and nodded.

"We can give you one deuce and a half L.T., everything is going back to the rear with battalion. We're down three trucks already, can't spare anymore." 1st Sgt. Saeger looked at 1st Lt. Nathan Paddock.

"Should be more than enough, I've got 14 MIAs and with the nine of us, it'll be tight, but we'll all fit in one truck." Paddock finished, expecting to be sent out to find his missing men. But Cpt. Palminteri wasn't done with him just yet.

"What if they're all dead, Nate? Have you considered that possibility?"

"Yessir, much as I hate to say it, the only thing we're bringing back from the dead is their dog tags. I mean to save the living. The dead will still be there when we take the town. Whenever that might be." Paddock shrugged, it was a harsh thing, leaving one's dead behind, but war was harsh in and of itself. Sometimes the hard call had to be made.

"All right then," Palminteri checked his watch, "it's 1500 now, it'll be dark in about an hour. Get your guys ready and get going before I change my mind. The truck leaves tomorrow morning at 0700, whether you're on it or not."

"Understood sir."

"You taking a radio?" Palminteri asked.

"Negative sir, this is a no noise mission, if we take a radio, we'll be tempted to use it. We won't need it really, there is no arty on call, correct?"

"That's affirmative Nate. Regimental Cannon Company is on the road and all of the division's assets have already withdrawn. So yeah, I guess you won't need a radio. Anything else Nate?"

"No sir."

"Then go and God go with you man, be f**king careful out there."

"You pick out my team Jack?" Paddock looked at Sgt. Wilson, sensing that something was wrong.

"Yessir, but, I dunno sir... Stump pointed out that if you and I both go, and if neither of us makes it back, where does that leave the platoon?" Sgt. Wilson was obviously holding something back. Before Paddock could ask, Stump spoke up.

"With all due respect sir, you aren't going."

"I beg your pardon." Paddock was incredulous, what was happening here?

"Sir, you aren't real good in the woods, you make more noise than a team of horses goin' over a plank bridge when you're in the field. Ya just don't move well L.T., I figure we need guys who know how to move real silent like, ya know. Sorry sir, but ya asked." Pvt. Riley Taggert shifted from one foot to another after he said his piece.

"Really Taggert, am I that bad?" Paddock wasn't angry, it was just something he'd never considered before.

"Yes sir, you're pretty noisy, you're just not real graceful, bull in a china shop kinda thing." This time it was Sgt. Stump Gentile who spoke up.

"Damn, alright, who are you sending Jack?" Paddock was still a bit shaken at learning this, but then again, it wasn't something he'd ever thought about. Moving with the whole platoon, there was always some noise. It did strike him that some of the guys in his platoon moved like ghosts they were so quiet.

"Okay, L.T., it's myself, Gammell, Jennings, Jones, Taggert, Gonzales, Long, Ginter, and Pacheco. I know, I know, Brad and Homer are a little banged up, but all of us were hunters before the war, Gonzales and Ginter are two of our best guys in the woods. Trust me L.T., this is the right team."

Paddock thought for a moment, checked his watch, noticed it was getting dark, then he spoke, "Brad, Homer, you good to go? Doc check you out?" He turned to Doc Milbury as he said that.

"Yup, minor cuts and bruises. Of course the cuts were caused by shrapnel, so technically they are wounded, but nothing to keep them out of going out there." Doc said this with his arms folded, he obviously wasn't happy about this, but the men were fit for the mission.

"Alright Jack, go. Be f**king careful okay?"

"Yessir." Wilson and his team began to move off, the rest of the unwounded men, including Cpl. Judd Maxwell's machine gun team, began to follow them into the woods. Before the lieutenant could say anything, Sgt. Gentile asked him...

"Coming L.T.? We're going to set up just inside the tree line facing the town, near that knocked out Sherman. If they need covering fire on the way back..."

"Yup, let's go." Paddock was angry with himself for not thinking of that himself, he had been so focused on leading the mission, he hadn't thought of anything else, it's a good thing, he thought, that I've got some damned good sergeants taking care of my ass!

It was dark now, the scouts had left behind anything which would make noise. Dog tags, equipment, canteens, and helmets, all they carried were their weapons and their ammunition. Gentile had gone down the line and made sure that everyone carried their weapon with an empty chamber, there would be no accidental discharges on this night.

Three of the men, Taggert, Gonzales, and Pacheco all carried combat knives, they were the only ones with edged weapons. As Gonzales had said, the bayonets they all carried were too shiny and the metal scabbards were a noise maker. The men's knives had blackened blades and were in leather sheaths sewn into their field jackets.

Gammell had had the idea for the men to blacken their faces with ashes and mud. Which provoked a laugh from Gonzales, "I dunno Sgt. Wilson, I'm pretty dark as it is..."

"Paint yourself Brad, just so you don't feel left out."

There was no noise from the town. The Kraut tank that Hernandez, Jones, and Wells had destroyed was still burning, fitfully. A few houses near the edge of town were also burning, but much more fiercely. The fire provided some light and the smoke provided lots of shadow, so the men got across the field without much problem.

As they were passing the tank, the team froze, there was a noise.

"Sssssss."

"What the f**K?" Wilson muttered.

"It's me hermano, Hernandez. I'm kinda banged up, but I'm okay. What the f**k are you guys doing out here?" Hernandez had spoken all of that in a low voice which could barely be heard above the flames from a nearby house.

"We're here to rescue your sorry ass, Staff Sergeant." Wilson whispered back.

"Okay, I think I know where some of our guys are. I saw Jenkins take what was left of his squad into that low building across the way. Just past that burning shed."

The team was huddled beside the wrecked tank, on the side away from the village. "What do you mean, what was left of them?" Wilson hissed.

"Right, well, there was a lull right after those paratroopers came boiling out of the town, screaming and waving their rifles around. Jenkins made his move while those Krauts were dying. He led his guys into the town in the confusion. Unfortunately Rizzo and Lopez were killed by a Kraut with an MP 40, Johnston and Phillips killed that guy, next thing I know a mortar round drops into the hole they were sheltering in. Killed both of them and Roberts too, I think so anyway, he was with them, then there was nobody left." Hernandez took a deep breath.

"Later, as it started to get dark, I snuck over there. Found Johnston and Phillips, almost no sign of Roberts..."

"Almost no sign, what does that mean?" Wilson asked.

"Found one of his boots, well, it was a GI boot anyway, the top of it was all charred."

"Why do you think..."

"Johnston and Phillips still had their boots on."

"Damn. Okay, Top, make your way back to the lines, Stump and the L.T. are by the knocked out Sherman just inside the tree line."

"F**k that, I'm going with you guys. I know the lay of the land so to speak as I've had nothing to do all day but watch. The Krauts had a f**king Tiger roaming around in the town earlier. But I stopped hearing that about three hours ago. Tell ya the truth, I think the Krauts pulled out."

"Okay, Taggert, take point, Top, are you up for this?"

"Yup, I'll watch Taggert's back, you gonna take drag?" Hernandez asked Wilson.

"Yeah, good idea Top, I'll bring up the rear. Let's move out."

The team slipped into the town and slowly made their way to the building Hernandez thought Jenkins' squad was in, along the way Taggert had stumbled over a wounded German. The man had moaned, "Bitte..." before Taggert quickly silenced him. Everyone's nerves were on edge now, Hernandez was worried it could all go to shit at any minute if the Germans were still around.

"Hey, shithead. Is that you out there Taggert? You ugly hillbilly." The voice came from the building just ahead.

Taggert recognized the voice of his buddy John Kilpatrick. "Izzat you, John? You stupid city asshole. Show yourself Johnny, it's just me and some of the boys come to save you, any Krauts around?"

"Nope, they pulled back a couple of hours ago, except the guy you tripped over. He got left behind, his buddies probably thought he was dead. Is he?"

"He is now. Where's the rest of your squad?" Hernandez had moved up and had directed the rescue party to take positions to cover the approaches to the building.

"Sgt. Jenkins took Genovese, Mitchell, Hudson, and McTeague a bit further into town, to make sure the Krauts were really gone. It's just me and Cantwell. We got two dead, Rizzo and Lopez. Cantwell is hurt pretty bad, can't walk, keeps drifting in and out, he's really f**ked up."

"Hey Top, we got guys coming down the street, sneaking from house to house." Taggert had his Garand trained in that direction.

"Hold your fire, it might be Jenkins. Gammell, Jennings cover those guys, the rest of you get inside, let's get our guys and get going."

"Top, it's Jenkins, looks like they got a Kraut prisoner."

"Okay, Jack you handle the wounded guys, leave the dead..."

"You ain't leaving my guys Top." Sgt. Greg Jenkins shoved a wounded German paratrooper in front of him, then kicked the back of his legs to put him on his knees.

"Bitte, nicht schiessen." The German moaned. The paratrooper was just a boy, he looked to be about 16-years-old.

"Shut the f**k up you Kraut f**k." Jenkins kicked the kid.

"Greg..." Hernandez began, only to be interrupted by Jenkins getting real close to him.

"These Kraut bastards killed a bunch of my guys, I have no sympathy for 'em. Now let's get my dead and wounded and we can go." Jenkins was on the edge of madness. It was obvious that he was ready to kill anybody or anything which got in his way.

"Right, do it." Hernandez knew that arguing or ordering wouldn't work. The town did seem deserted and his wounds were starting to bother him, a lot.

He had been hit by a number of fragments from a mortar round which detonated nearby, by all rights it should have killed him, but it didn't. But two of the fragments in his lower back had moved a bit, he was having some sharp pains in his left thigh which really bothered him, he wondered if something had hit nerves back there, it sure felt like it.

"Sarge, I got movement out here." Cpl. Maxwell was manning the .30 cal himself. He'd seen a shadow which looked out of place in the flickering flames from the village. Then he'd seen it again, with at least two more man-shaped shadows.

Gentile slid in next to Maxwell, "Yup, I see 'em, hold your fire."

"LITTLE!" Sgt. Gentile yelled the challenge.

"ORPHAN ANNIE!" The countersign came back, he thought he recognized Wilson's voice. He wondered if they'd found everyone.

"Top, you're alive!" Paddock exclaimed as he came up.

"Yeah, L.T., don't suppose you brought Doc Milbury with ya?"

Paddock could see that Hernandez was in a lot of pain, so he called for a stretcher. He also got a stretcher for Pfc. Mike Cantwell, who was badly hurt. Doc checked him out, then looked at the lieutenant and said, "He'll live, if we can get him to an aid station within the next couple of hours."

Paddock nodded and ordered, "Let's get up the hill to the castle, we have a truck waiting. Sgt. Jenkins glad you made it, who's the Kraut?"

"Dunno L.T., I figured the S2 would like to talk with him."

"Yup, I'll bet he would, Cat talk to this kid, tell him if he runs, we'll kill him. If he behaves, then his war is over. Now move it guys, let's get out of here."

Paddock looked back towards the burning town of Merode. He watched as the men carried the bodies of five of his men. According to Wilson, there was no sign of Pfc. Adam Roberts, except maybe the boot Hernandez had found.

Roberts would remain one of the over 72,000 men who are still listed as Missing In Action.

Paddock sighed and began the long walk back up to Burg Laufenburg. It was all he could do to maintain his composure. He had a lot of letters to write.

* With apologies to the Rangers in the photo. I removed three of the men's ranger tabs as I know you alert readers would jump all over that.

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