“That he is. Any sign of the Krauts yet?”
“Nothing. I thought I picked up some movement up in the hills, but it could have been anything.” Flint turned his clear blue eyes on me, as if registering my presence for the first time. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Just paying a visit to Danny. Nothing much else happening. We had a joyride to Rome yesterday, but since then it’s been quiet.”
“Rome? Why don’t we all go?”
“Good question. General Lucas wasn’t impressed.”
“You met the old man?”
“Yeah. We’re temporarily attached to his headquarters. He thinks it was a fluke that we got through. May have been, since we’d gotten totally lost.”
“Did I hear Rome?” Stump said as he joined us.
“Billy drove to Rome yesterday, nearly liberated it himself,” Flint said.
“Well, there were three of us, so I have to share the glory. Kaz and Phil Einsmann were with me.”
“Phil’s here? I thought he was on his way back to London,” Flint said.
“Yeah, looking for a story. I doubt the censors will let this one out though. If we get bogged down and it turns out that a reporter and two lieutenants made it to Rome on the first day of the invasion, heads will roll.”
“Next time you see Grandpa, tell him we could use some tanks up front,” Flint said. “Or at least some antitank guns.”
“Is that what you call him?”
“Some guys call him Foxy Grandpa,” Stump said.
“Wishful thinking,” Flint said. “Listen, Billy, you could do us and Danny a big favor. Talk to Lucas, let him know how exposed we are. We oughta get up in those hills ourselves, or pull back. This is Indian country, and we ain’t got a fort.”
“I don’t talk to him on a regular basis, but I will pass on the sentiment if I bump into him again.”
“He’s in Anzio?” Stump asked.
“Nettuno, in a nice waterfront villa. No mud.”
“Ain’t that the way of the world,” Flint said, and they all went back to their shovels.
Fifty yards back I found Lieutenant Evans and Father Dare walking in from the village. The padre had a first- aid kit slung over his shoulder and carried a canvas sack full of wool socks. I tried to see him as the killer, dispensing dry socks and then strangling officers. Could a priest forgive himself?
“Lieutenant Boyle,” Father Dare said. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Still chasing that Red Heart Killer?”
“I wish I was close enough to give chase,” I said. “I dropped by to see my kid brother. He’s in Louie’s squad.”
“Yes, I’ve met him. I try to get to know all the replacements. Sometimes the men ignore them at first.” What he was too kind to say was the experienced GIs waited to see if a new kid would live through the first few days. “He certainly looks up to you, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
“You should,” Evans put in. “You’re all he’s talked about since he joined up.”
“How’d you make the connection? Boyle isn’t an uncommon name.”
“I don’t know,” Father Dare said. “The same name, same Boston accent, someone probably just mentioned you.”
“That was all Danny needed to hear,” Evans said. “I think we all know your family story by now. Good thing Louie partnered him up with Charlie. He doesn’t talk much, so they’re a perfect pair.”
“Is he really an Apache?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Father Dare. “Private Charlie Colorado is a genuine White Mountain Apache. Interesting fellow. I asked him if he wanted any spiritual guidance, and he told me his shaman had taken care of that before he left. Apparently he’s protected by Usen, which is what they call their God. The Giver of Life.”
“Well, I hope he digs in deep anyway. Usen might be busy elsewhere,” I said. “Are you the giver of socks?”
“I am,” Father Dare said. “Lieutenant Evans asked me to scrounge some up. There’s going to be a lot of wet feet soon, and we have to watch out for trench foot. Clean socks are worth their weight in gold out here.”
“Far as I can see, it’s our biggest threat so far,” Evans said, watching Father Dare as he distributed socks to the men. “After losing Sergeant Gates, we can use a break.”
“Yeah, I saw his body by the road yesterday. What happened?”
“Kraut officer got the drop on him. I guess he thought he was surrendering, but the bastard pulled a pistol and shot him in the heart.”
“I didn’t take Rusty for the careless type, did you?”
“No,” Evans said. “I depended on him, he was an old hand, know what I mean?”
“I do. Did you see it happen?”
“No. He had point, and all of a sudden there was a lot of shooting. The car crashed, and by the time I got there, Gates was dead.”
“The German was still alive when I got there,” I said. “Barely.”
“Yeah, well, everyone was upset about Rusty. The Kraut was bawling about something, and no one really gave a damn. I told them to go on, that I was going to put him out of his misery. But I couldn’t do it. I fired my pistol into the ground. I didn’t want the men to know. I’ve never killed anyone, and I didn’t want the first one to be some poor defenseless bastard. But now I wish I had. I can still hear him talking to me, crying and blubbering.”
“You understand German?”
“No. Did he talk to you?”
“No, just curious about what he had to say,” I said. No reason to let on that the Kraut was blaming someone else for killing Rusty. Maybe Evans had killed someone before, who knew?
“He did say Amerikaner over and over,” Evans said. “Maybe he was saying he was sorry. All I know is that I can’t get him out of my head.”
As Evans spoke, I heard the sound of distant thunder, or at least what always sounded like thunder. Father Dare and I hit the ground. The shrill whistling sound of falling shells came next, and even a rookie like Evans knew what that meant. He went flat as the shells burst, bombarding the village of Le Ferriere. The artillery fire kept up, striking the village over and over. A fireball blossomed up, probably a hit on a fuel truck. Then the shelling widened, explosions reaching the fields all around Le Ferriere, churning up the freshly plowed dirt, sending mud skyward. The barrage crept toward us, and I prayed that Danny would keep his wits about him, dive into a trench and stay put.
The ground shuddered with each hit. I looked across the field to where the squads had been digging in. Shells fell around them, leaving smoking craters as the firing slackened, then stopped.
“Wait,” I said as Evans began to get up. He looked at me quizzically until the whine of one last salvo announced itself, hitting Le Ferriere. It was an old trick, waiting to send the last shells over when everyone began sticking their heads out.
I was up, sprinting to the forward position, eyes peeled for Danny and Kaz. I spotted them, and thanked God, Usen, and all the saints I could remember. Next I saw Louie, then Flint and Stump checking on their men as they rose from the ground, wet and muddy.
Something was wrong. Kaz had Danny by the arm, helping him out of the trench. Danny’s eyes were wide with terror, and I searched his mud-splattered uniform for signs of blood.
“Danny?” I spoke his name but looked to Kaz.
“He is not hurt, Billy. It is Malcomb, the other ASTP boy. He ran.” Kaz pointed to a lifeless body twenty yards out, clothing, skin, blood, and bone shredded by the shrapnel-laced blast.
“I tried to stop him,” Danny said. “I tried.”
“You would have been killed too,” I said. “He panicked. You were smart to stay put.”
“I didn’t. Charlie grabbed me and held me down,” Danny said, his voice shaky as he glanced toward Charlie Colorado, sitting on the edge of the trench. A big guy, bronzed skinned, and quiet.
