blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After our Roman adventure, we decided to wait until the morning to try for Le Ferriere again. The sun was about to set, and I didn’t want a repeat performance with the added bonus of being fired on by our own guys in the dark. So we drew gear and bedrolls from the beachhead supply depot, found a deserted house, and got ourselves a good night’s sleep. At first light, we were drinking scalding hot coffee and eating powdered eggs, thanks to the cooks who’d set up their feeding operation overnight. Say whatever you want to say about army food, but when you’ve got no other choices and the chow is hot, it’s a miracle of American ingenuity.
We followed a supply truck headed in our direction, and this time found Le Ferriere. It wasn’t much of a place. The ground sloped up slightly from the farmland all around it, and a small church, a factory building, and a few scattered homes made up the whole town. No civilians were in sight, but a battalion headquarters was set up in the factory, and they showed us the Third Platoon position, set up on the right flank, on the low ground a couple of hundred yards out.
We left the jeep and walked, not wanting to draw any attention in case the Germans had gotten observers up in the hills. As we walked over plowed earth already tamped down into a path by GI boots, I grew nervous about seeing Danny. I was worried about him being at the front, but it was the possibility that he was in the same unit as a murderer that really troubled me.
Just as driving a jeep and sending up a cloud of dust could forewarn the Germans and point out our position, my questioning anyone in this platoon could give away too much of a warning. It hit me that this visit was a lousy idea; if the killer thought we were onto him, he might take it out on Danny.
“Kaz,” I said as we neared the position. “We’re not here to question anyone. It’s just a visit, for me to see Danny. Follow my lead, okay?”
“You’re the boss.”
I scanned the group of men ahead, most of them busy with entrenching tools. I saw Stump and Flint first, and gave them a wave.
“Hey, kid!” Flint yelled, beckoning to a figure knee-deep in a trench. “You got a visitor.”
It was a face I’d recognize anywhere, even wearing a helmet that looked twice the size of his head, steel- rimmed army-issue spectacles, and holding a shovel instead of a book.
“Billy!” Danny ran up to me and looked like he was going to jump into my arms. Then he skidded to a halt, a confused look on his face. He started to raise his right hand in salute, but Flint grabbed him by the wrist.
“Remember what Rusty told you, kid? No salutes up here. Unless you want to point out an officer to a Kraut sniper.”
“Sorry, Sarge. I just got confused. It’s been so long since I saw my big brother, I forgot he was an officer.”
“Let’s keep him a live one, Danny boy. No salutes.”
“Got it, Sarge,” Danny said as Flint grinned and left us to our reunion. “Jeez, Billy, it’s good to see you.”
“Same here, Danny.” I gave him a quick hug, nothing that would embarrass him, followed by a manly clap on the shoulder. “You doing okay?”
“Sure. Don’t worry about me. I really lucked out, this platoon is a swell bunch of guys. They told me they’d met you back in Caserta, investigating some officers getting bumped off. What are you doing here?”
“General Lucas couldn’t get by without me, so he dragged me along. I heard you were out here, so I decided to pay a social call.” I introduced Kaz around, giving his full title and lineage to impress Danny.
“So you’re Kaz,” he said. “Billy wrote us all about you. I never thought I’d get a chance to meet you in person. What are the odds, huh?”
“Indeed,” Kaz said. “A long shot, yes?” Kaz gave me a look and drifted off, chatting with Flint and Stump.
“Danny,” I said, draping my arm over his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here. I just heard about the ASTP program being broken up a few days ago.”
“It all happened pretty fast,” he said. “Mom wasn’t too happy about it.”
“What about Dad and Uncle Dan?”
“They wanted to cook something up like they did for you, but Mom told them to leave it alone, since it didn’t keep you out of trouble. She said I should take my chances, that maybe I’d end up a clerk since I was a college kid. So here I am, in a rifle squad, which is what I wanted in the first place.”
“Listen, Danny. You’ve got to get your head out of the clouds before it gets shot off. This is for real. Keep your head down out here. It’s not just a saying. Stay low. And don’t panic.”
“I won’t,” he said, moving out from under my grip. “I haven’t yet, have I?”
“Okay, simmer down. Just some advice, don’t blow a gasket.”
“Sorry, big brother. I know you’re trying to look out for me, but I’m not ten years old. I’ve been to college and I’ve made it through basic training, all without your help.”
“This isn’t the time to play grown-up, Danny. When the Krauts hit you, it’s going to be with a ton of bricks, and they won’t care how smart you are. They’ll only care about killing you.”
“What Krauts?” Danny gestured to the empty fields all around us. It was smart-alecky, the way only a kid brother can be. Half right and totally wrong.
“If you’re so smart, tell me the last time in this war when the Germans retreated without a fight? It didn’t happen in North Africa, Sicily, or anywhere else in Italy. It won’t happen here. They’re going to come down out of those hills with heavy stuff, dollars to doughnuts.”
“Now you’re the one blowing a gasket, Billy,” Danny said, with a grin to show he didn’t want to argue anymore. Which he often did when he started to lose an argument, but I let that pass. He was only a kid, after all. “I’ll take any tips you can give me on digging foxholes. Take a look at this.” He’d been digging a trench, and about two feet down, it was filled with water. “Did you know this used to be the Pontine Marshes, Billy? The water table is only a couple of feet deep.”
“Yeah, Mussolini drained them after he made the trains run on time. Kaz told me all about it. Now I have two geniuses on my hands.”
“How’s them trenches coming along, kid?” Louie ambled over, cigar clenched in his mouth and Thompson at the ready.
“Louie Walla,” I said. “Now where is it you’re from? Can’t recall.”
“Funny, Lieutenant,” Louie said. “Having a family reunion?” Louie seemed more serious out here. Wary.
“Yeah, came by to check on Danny. He in your squad?”
“Yep, him, Sticks, Wally, and Charlie over there, and a couple of other replacements. I partnered the ASTP boys up with guys who’ve been around. A little while, at least.”
“I’m with Charlie,” Danny said. “He’s an Apache, can you believe that? And Wally is with Sticks. He’s got long legs, that’s why they call him that.”
“Listen, kid, this gabfest is swell, but get on that shovel. You’ll be glad of a hole in the ground soon enough.”
“Okay, Sarge,” Danny said, frowning and halfheartedly digging into the muddy soil. “You coming back soon, Billy?”
“If I can. And Louie knows what he’s talking about, so listen up. You’re exposed out here, you need to dig deep, and sit knee-deep in mud if you have to. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Listen, come back soon, we’ll catch up, okay?”
“I will.” I wanted to hug him again. I wanted to take him with me and find a nice safe job for him in Nettuno. But I didn’t. I stuck out my hand, and we shook. I felt like my father, silent and full of knowledge that I wanted to share, but knowing that only experience could pass this lesson on. I turned away, leaving Danny to learn what he had to learn alone, or from strangers. I knew that the more I hung around, the more stubborn he’d get. And that the killer might start playing a new game, if he hadn’t already.
“Seems like a good kid,” Flint said as I passed his squad, all engaged in the same futile digging.
