One Man's War

by P. M. Kippert

  “I was, only now I ain’t.”

  Kafak grunted. He put away the picture and sighed as he nestled down into his bag.

  “That your girl back home?”

  Kafak didn’t answer for a time, and then he did. “Naw,” he said. “Just some girl I met in Naples.”

  “What was she like?” Carter asked.

  Again it took Kafak a long time to answer and then he did and he said, “Do you know, it’s been so fucking long that I can’t even hardly remember anymore.”

  16

  They moved so quickly through so many places that it took something special for Kafak to remark a place any longer.

  One village stuck because he and his squad were traveling through a cemetery to look for Krauts, and then he found one. A dead one. The guy’s boots were missing, and his corpse had been abandoned there. Flies were congregating all over it. The corpse already stank.

  “That boy needs a bath,” Carter said.

  “Guess the FFI’s been here,” Kafak told Carter.

  “How’s that?”

  “They always take the fucking boots. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Oh my shit, yeah,” Carter said. “Now you mention it.”

  Another place that made an impression on Kafak was a small farming village they had entered and found abandoned by the Germans. The French came out to greet them in the streets. All of that was the normal course. But at one house, they heard a woman screaming. Sounded like she was being tortured. Cole sent Kafak and a couple of guys to investigate with his squad. Kafak returned to the captain, smiling.

  “What’s it all about, Dash?” Cole asked.

  Kafak tossed a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Woman in there just gave birth to a baby boy. Fine-looking little guy.”

  Cole grinned back at the squad.

  “Well, there’s a hell of a thing.”

  “The priest was in there baptizin’ the tyke,” Carter said, “and that old boy could speak a lick of English. Better’n me, tell you true.”

  “That ain’t saying much,” Andover said.

  A bunch of them laughed, and Carter said, “Well, he couldn’t curse near half as well as me you fuckin’ motherfucker, so there’s always that.”

  “Whoo, boy!” Andover said, and laughed.

  “Get on with it, Carter,” Cole said.

  “Anyhow, that priest fella, he thanked us for comin’ since when the Krauts saw us headin’ this way, they done hightailed it outta here. So the kid’s parents were happier than hell that their son got borned in a free village instead of one conquered by the fuckin’ Germans. Can you imagine that?”

  “I can,” Cole said. “I can completely understand that.”

  Kafak hadn’t said anything else. He just kept grinning. Word spread through the troops about what had happened, and suddenly Kafak heard the French national anthem, “La Marseillaise,” being played by the division band, who’d been tagging along the last few days. Kafak saw how a lot of the French people milling about the streets started crying. Tears were in most of their eyes. A couple of pretty girls came up to him and kissed him, telling him thanks. Thanks for something. He couldn’t figure out what. He only recognized the words for “thank you very much.” He didn’t know too much of the other French they were speaking. But it was good enough. He felt fine. And then they marched on.

  Two days later they came upon some French farmers in a field. The Frenchmen were elderly fellows, and they shouted with joy and raised their arms to the sky when they saw the Americans. Kafak and his squad were ahead of the main body of troops, scouting. They hugged the old Frenchmen and offered them cigarettes and then prepared to move on, but the farmers stopped them. In broken English, one of the Frenchmen told them they shouldn’t go forward.

  “Why’s that?” Kafak asked.

  “There are les Allemands là! There. Over there.” The farmer waved in the direction he meant.

  “How many?” Kafak asked, looking where the farmer had indicated. He didn’t see anything. That only meant they were farther away than he could see just then. He looked back to the old Frenchman. “About how many, sir?” he asked again.

  The farmer shrugged with his mouth in that way the French had. Then he looked to his friends and they held a quick discussion. Kafak couldn’t follow the rapid French. Afterward, the farmers faced back to Kafak, and the one said, “Quatre, cinq, maybe four? Yes, four or five.” He held up fingers in case he’d translated the numbers wrong. He hadn’t.

  “Oh my shit,” Carter said. “There’s eighta us, Dash. We can take them motherfuckers. Maybe get some prisoners. Captain likes his prisoners. Where they at? Ask ’im that.”

  Kafak glanced at Carter, looked down the road again, then put his attention back on the old man.

  “Four or five,” Kafak said. “Guys?” He frowned and then waved at his own men.

  The Frenchman made a face showing he didn’t understand. Then light dawned. His face brightened, and he smiled and shook his head. He paused, thinking of the word, Kafak could tell, and then he said, “Hundreds. Four or five hundreds.”

  “Well, hell,” Carter said.

  “And this many tanks,” the farmer added flashing fingers for thirteen.

  “Shit, Dash,” Andover said. “We’d best get back and report to the captain.”

  “Yeah,” Kafak said. Then he said to the farmer, “These Germans, les soldats Allemands, how do they travel? They on foot with the tanks?”

  “Uhmmm, the trucks? Trucks, yes. The trucks come. They pick up the soldiers. Take them away.” The farmer nodded. “They wait for the trucks to come now.”

  “Well,” Waszinsky said, “let’s hope those fucking trucks get here soon, then.”

  Kafak laughed. The others laughed. He led them back to the company to report to Cole. The German trucks didn’t get there quickly enough, and they had to fight. A pitched battle, more than a firefight, in a field and woods. Kafak took his squad around the flank with about thirty other guys. A machine gun nest pinned them down. Kafak, Carter, Andover, and Jenkins crawled forward while the rest of the guys covered them, drew the machine gun’s fire. When they were close enough, they hurled grenades. Kafak felt something bite at his thigh, and he dropped back down into the underbrush, cursing. The grenades took out the nest, and they moved forward. Kafak checked his leg. It bled heavily. He didn’t figure it for much, though, since he could walk OK. They got behind the German lines. They had maybe twenty guys left. They put down a withering fire from the rear of the Kraut position. The Germans began surrendering in droves. Then a Panzer arrived. The Germans took a second wind.

  “That ain’t fair,” Carter said. “Them boys done surrendered already.”

  “Report it to the Geneva Convention,” Andover told him.

  “It just ain’t right, all I’m saying.”

  The tank gave them trouble. Forced a short retreat. A lieutenant in charge of the group told Kafak, “We’re going to retreat again in a second or so. I want you to lay low. Stay right where you’re at. Once that fucking Panzer passes you by, you slip this underneath it.” He passed over a satchel charge. “You know how to use it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kafak said.

  “Good. Here’s a couple extra grenades, case that charge doesn’t blow it all the way.”

  “Sure,” Kafak said. “That oughtta help.”

  “Just do it,” the lieutenant said.

  “Sure,” Kafak said. “Why the fuck not?”

  The lieutenant led the second retreat through the trees. In Italy, they’d been taught to dig a small slit trench and lay in it until the tank passed over you. Then you would pop up and fire at the infantry following the vehicle. That wasn’t the plan here. Here, the lieutenant wanted them to take out the tank itself. Fucking lieutenant, Kafak thought. Carter and Waszinsky stayed behind with him. They all lay flat in fallen leaves of the woods. The leaves smelled pretty good, Kafak thought, lying there. Like mulch. Not decayed yet. Crisp and colorful still beneath h
im. They crackled with every move. Kafak called out the play to Carter and Waszinsky. Then he lay quiet, still; played dead. They all did. Kafak figured that soon enough they might not be playing at it anymore. He held as still as he could as a group of six or seven Germans walked through where he had been ordered to remain. The satchel charge was beneath him, covered by his body. Just my luck it will blow now, he thought to himself. He cursed the lieutenant again for sticking him with this assignment. He figured if he ever saw the guy again, he’d knock his teeth out. Let him give orders with a mouthful of gums from now on. That thought pleased Kafak, and he wondered if he could actually do it. He wondered if he’d ever see that lieutenant again so that he’d have that decision to even make. And then the Krauts were past him, and he heard the tank rolling forward. He figured there would be more guys walking alongside of it, or behind it. Protecting the tank from an action just such as this. Besides, a lot of guys liked to keep close to a tank. Made them feel more secure themselves. Kafak never did it anymore, not after that time near Cisterna. He waited until the tank was parallel to him. Then he shouted. “Now!” he said to Carter and Waszinsky. The two men rose up to their knees and laid down a withering fire at the infantry on either side of the tank. Even while they fired, Kafak rolled to the side of the tank and shoved the satchel charge in between its treads. The German soldiers were either dead, wounded, or too busy to bother with him. Kafak rolled away from the tank just as quickly and shouted again at Carter and Waszinsky. All three curled into the fetal position and covered their heads with their arms. Another quick tick and Kafak heard a tremendous explosion. He thought the charge might have somehow got lucky and caught the tank’s fuel. Or a shell. He looked up. The tank had turned into a fireball. A couple of guys jumped out of the lid. Flames ate them. They shrieked. He thought he heard the German word for mother. Maybe some cursing. He couldn’t be sure. “Fuck,” he said. He fired his tommy gun. Carter fired as well. The slugs silenced the two guys who were burning. Kafak figured they’d done those boys a favor. Put them out of that misery. The stench of their fried corpses made him retch. He was vomiting when three Kraut infantrymen came running back through his position. They ignored him, running like hell. His own guys led by the lieutenant raced after them. Kafak thought how he could belt that lieutenant right now, only the lieutenant was already gone, ran past. Besides, Kafak was in no fit state to fight with anyone right then. He finished puking and looked up. Carter stood beside him.

  “You OK, Dash?” he asked.

  Kafak’s ears still thundered from the explosion, but he could make out Carter’s words as if through water. He nodded. “Ain’t nothing,” he said. “Just that smell.”

  Carter looked at the burned Germans. “Yeah,” he said. “I know how much you love that odor.” He tugged on Kafak’s arm. “Come on, boy. We gotta get outta here and join up with the other fellas.”

  “Sure,” Kafak said.

  They caught up, but the battle was over. The lieutenant had disappeared. A corpsman treated Kafak’s wound. Just a gash along the side of his thigh that bled a lot worse than it was. That’s what the corpsman said, anyhow.

  “Not so bad as it probably looked,” he told Kafak.

  “Sure,” Kafak said, “but it ain’t your fucking leg, is it?”

  He laughed and Kafak smiled, and Cole walked up. The medic finished and hurried off to the next case, and Cole said, “You OK, Dash?”

  “I’m right as rain, sir.”

  “Good, good. You did a hell of a job today.”

  “Yeah,” Kafak said. “I guess we all did.”

  “Every day, every fight,” Cole said, “we get closer to the end.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Some lieutenant,” Cole said then, “guy named Kravits, I think, something like that, anyhow, he’s putting you in for a medal.”

  “Medal?”

  “Yeah. For taking out that tank. Said you remained behind and took out a tank when everyone else retreated.”

  “Hell,” Kafak said, “I only did that on account of he ordered me to. Besides, Carter and Waszinsky were with me. Give them the fucking medal.”

  “He named you, specifically.”

  “Shit, Cap. Tell you the truth, I’d much prefer socking him in the jaw than getting any goddamned medal. That would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

  “Well,” Cole said, grinning, “I guess you’ll have to settle for the medal.”

  Kafak frowned. He remembered the guys on fire. Two of them.

  He asked Cole, “How many guys in a Panzer, anyway, Cap?”

  Cole shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Like ours, I suppose. Say, five, maybe. Why?”

  “Because,” Kafak said. “I don’t want no fucking medal.”

  The next night, Kafak walked with Cole to attend a briefing. When it was over, Cole remained behind to socialize with a few of the other junior officers. Kafak walked away. He headed back to rejoin his men. On the way he came to a crossroads where troops were moving. He saw guys from his company as well as all the other companies heading west. They were coming down a long road to where the road T’d east and west, and a soldier there was waving them all west. Away from the enemy.

  “What the fuck is this?” Kafak said to himself. He approached the GI who was directing traffic. He wanted to find out where this guy had gotten his orders, what was going on. According to the briefing he’d just attended, the entire army was pushing eastward, toward Austria and Germany, so Kafak couldn’t figure out where this soldier got his directions. Going west made no sense at all. Kafak strode right up to the guy and said, “Who the fuck told you to send these guys that way?”

  The soldier looked at Kafak. Glanced at his Thompson. The gun was slung, but Kafak held the handle and trigger in his hand ready to swing it up in a second. He always carried it that way, walked that way, when he was anywhere near the front. It had become a habit. Immediately, the soldier threw down his rifle and jerked his arms straight up into the air.

  “Kamerad! Kamerad!” he said. He dropped onto his knees and hollered. “No shoot! No shoot!” he said.

  “What the fuck,” Kafak said. “You’re a German.”

  “Surrender!” the guy said. “Surrender.”

  Kafak swung up his gun to point it at the guy. He still held it in just the one hand. He was laughing. The movement west had stopped as the nearest guys had halted to see what was going on. A major came forward in a jeep, his driver raising dust as he braked.

  “What’s the holdup here? What’s all this about, soldier?” he asked.

  “You guys are going the wrong fucking way, sir,” Kafak said. He was still laughing.

  “What are you talking about?” the major said. He didn’t sound in any mood to join in the joke. Kafak didn’t think the major liked him laughing about it either.

  “This guy’s a Kraut,” Kafak said. “He must’ve gotten left behind during the last battle. He took a GI uniform. He was directing you all west when you should be going east.”

  The major looked at the captured trooper. The German demonstrated the picture of fear and submission. He was still begging not to be shot, and claiming surrender.

  The major shook his head. His face was going red. Kafak couldn’t stop laughing, though it wasn’t loud.

  “What a regular mess this is,” the major said.

  “Sure,” Kafak said. “It’s the fucking army, ain’t it?”

  The major scowled.

  “I don’t think your sense of humor is well placed, Sergeant,” he said.

  “I don’t think your sense of direction is,” Kafak said. “Sir.”

  The major went ballistic, but despite how hard he tried, Kafak couldn’t keep himself from chuckling over the situation. Cole came rushing up. Kafak figured he must have heard the major’s raised voice reaming someone. Then he found out it was Kafak getting reamed. And clearly not giving a shit about it. Cole tried to intervene, but the major wasn’t having it. He told Cole, “I want this man br
oken, Captain. Take his stripes away.”

  “You can have ’em,” Kafak said.

  “Shut the fuck up, Kafak,” Cole said. He snapped at Kafak, then turned back to the major. “Sergeant Kafak has been through some very harrowing experiences in battle recently, sir. He’s not himself.”

  “I don’t care if he fought with Hitler himself. He’s a private now. You understand that, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cole said.

  “And I intend to see about having him court-martialed and sent to prison as well.”

  “Sir, really, I—”

  “That will be all, Captain,” the major said, and ordered his driver to take off.

  Cole turned to Kafak. He was burning with rage. Kafak was still grinning.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “That guy was an asshole,” Kafak said.

  “He’s a major, Kafak.”

  “OK,” Kafak said. “A major asshole.”

  “Goddamnit! You want to go to prison, Kafak?”

  “What?” Kafak said. “It’s gonna be worse than here?”

  Cole shook his head and bit off his next words. He was too angry to speak, Kafak figured. Cole told him to get back to his squad; then the captain swung away from him and marched off.

  “That fella’s pissed,” one of the soldiers standing on the road said.

  “Sure he is,” Kafak said. “But that’s OK. Cuz I ain’t no sergeant no more.”

  17

  Kafak returned to where his men were bivouacked in the barn of a small cottage. They had a nice little fire going and were warming themselves near it. Kafak sat down nearby and took off his field jacket and removed the stripes.

  Carter smiled at him.

  “Your papers come in?” he asked. “They givin’ you the real thing, Dash?”

  “Naw,” Kafak said. “I been busted.”

  “What?”

  “Yep. I’m just a lowly old private like you bastards now.”

  “Hey,” Waszinsky said, “I’m a private first class, I’ll have you know.”

  “Fuck off,” somebody else said.