“What’s the A for? Anne, Alice?” Taylor asked the brown-haired nurse between mouthfuls of the hot tea after she had swallowed two pills and pocketed the rest.
“It’s Alma, but not your concern. Take two more pills after your next bowel movement. They should start working right away.”
Taylor acknowledged Alma’s instructions with a nod of her head.
“Stay away from anything with milk for the next few days. Stick with rice to bind you up. And don’t forget purification pills in your drinking water. You’ll be fine now, Private Reid,” said Alma as she read Taylor’s nametag. With a quick nod of her head, she traversed the room, her ministrations complete. Taylor’s eyes followed her as she busied herself at the bed of a soldier with bloodied bandages. Taylor wished she could tell this young nurse, not much older than herself, about this trip back in time. Then they’d lock me up for sure.
Reluctantly, Taylor finished her tea, left the metal cup on the chair, and headed outside into a warm drizzle. Milling around were a couple of other privates.
“Looking for a lift back to the front?” asked one.
“Yeah. What are my chances of getting a ride?”
“Stick with us. Our sarge said he’d pick us up here in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks. That’d be great. I’ve got to get back to my unit,” said Taylor.
“A dedicated soldier, Gunny. He’s awfully anxious to get back to getting shot at.”
“Hold your horses, private. Enjoy this lovely rainy day out of a slit trench.”
“You’re right, buddy. I should, but I don’t want to lose my guys and get stuck somewhere else.”
“Know what you mean. Oh rats, here’s the sarge now.”
“Hop in, boys,” said the sergeant as he pulled up in the canvas-topped jeep.
“All right to give this soldier a ride, too? He’s trying to catch up to his unit.”
“Okay, private. In the back there with Gunny.”
The jeep shuddered forward and sped down a gravelly road at a fast clip. Taylor hung onto the open side door with one hand and placed the other on her stomach, which was gurgling.
“This isn’t the main road,” said Taylor, noticing their route for the first time.
“Sarge thinks this is faster, less travelled. Eh, sarge?” said Gunny. “We’ll meet up with the 1st Canadians, eighth army, down here a couple of miles. So, you’re a Highlander. Out of Seaforth? Know Reg Moore?”
“Name sounds familiar,” lied Taylor, “but I got sent over to G troop under Lieutenant Miles and Sergeant Taylor.”
“Oh, Sarge Taylor. Heard he can be a real s.o.b.”
“If you do your job he’s almost human,” Taylor said and meant it. They bumped their way along for a few miles when the jeep suddenly swerved to avoid something in the road. The sergeant pulled over.
“What the hell is that?” said the sergeant, pointing to a large mound almost in the middle of the path. “Take a closer look, Gunny.”
Gunny jumped out of the jeep and cautiously stepped around the pile. He returned to the others and grabbed a shovel. Carefully he tapped the mound and then slowly brushed away some of the dirt.
“I’ll be! It’s a dead mule. Some smartass has buried it right where the poor bugger died. I’d better cover him up again; he’s starting to smell pretty bad.”
The men all shook their heads. You never knew what you would find. Gunny jumped back into the jeep and they roared off again.
They had travelled about another mile when they saw a plume of smoke ahead. They approached slowly, rifles ready. It appeared to be an overturned jeep. A lone American soldier stood at the side of the road a few feet away from the burning vehicle. He called out, “Don’t come any closer. The whole area is booby-trapped. There’s nothing left of my captain. I jumped out to take a leak over here and the captain pulled in over there, and kaboom! he was gone.” The soldier, in his early twenties, was near tears.
Taylor wracked her brain for information. Hadn’t her grandfather told her about something like this? “Take the biggest step you can into the middle of the road,” she said.
“But that’s where the booby traps are,” bawled the distressed soldier.
“No, they plant them on the sides of the road but leave the middle clear for their own transports to get through. They count on us walking on either the right or left side, not down the middle. You can do it.” Taylor crossed her fingers.
“How do I know you’re right?” asked the soldier.
“Trust me,” said Taylor with more confidence than she felt. “Besides, you don’t have any choice. You can’t stay here forever.”
“Listen to the private. We’re going to drive into the middle beside you. Take a big jump and we’ll pull you in,” ordered the sergeant.
They all held their breath as the jeep crept into the middle of the road opposite the lone soldier as he gathered his nerve. With a big, “Mary, mother of God,” he leaped into the middle of the road with arms outstretched like Superman. Gunny and Taylor grabbed his arms and swung him into the jeep, head first, legs kicking. They were all in one piece. So far.
The jeep continued slowly forward like a ballplayer trying to steal a base. It seemed liked hours to the soldiers but was closer to ten minutes when they saw another road to their right and a line of infantrymen, tanks, and artillery. Once on the new road, the five let out a group sigh.
“How did you know where the Nazis planted those booby traps, private?” said the sergeant.
“My sixth sense. I’m lucky at guessing things,” said Taylor. The sergeant turned in his seat to stare at Taylor.
“You mean we all could have been blown to bits, back there?” said the sergeant.
“Not a chance. I just knew.” Taylor smiled.
“Well, keep your eyes open. These are 8th Army and 1st Canadian troops along this road. You see your guys, just holler,” said the sarge from the front seat, anxious to get away from this strange soldier and put the incident behind him.
“Thanks, sarge,” said Taylor. The shell-shocked American squished in the seat beside her, not moving, just staring straight ahead.
It was difficult to make out familiar faces. Taylor thought she saw Pops ahead, but when they came abreast, it was another soldier, no one she knew. The soldiers all looked alike: tired, with dirty uniforms, dragging their feet, some smoking. Some stopped to check blisters on their swollen feet until they were yelled at by an officer.
Taylor was daydreaming when something thunked her on the back. She turned to look and saw the grinning face of Whitey. “Stop, sarge. There’s one of my guys.”
The sergeant slowed the jeep to a crawl and Taylor leaped out, grabbing her pack all in one motion. “Thanks a lot, fellows,” she yelled as she turned, smiling, to face Whitey, and Mac, who was coming up beside him.
“Well, here’s a sight for sore eyes,” said Mac.
“Couldn’t stay away from us, eh, Junior?” Whitey pounded her on the back once again. Ouch!
“Did you take the cure, Junior?” Mac asked.
“Yeah. I’m feeling much better, thanks. But what’d you hit me with? My back is sore as hell.” Taylor laughed as she rubbed her back.
“I’m glad it was you and not just some Yank, or I’d be up for court martial.”
“I’ll get you for that, Whitey.”
“See any women?” asked Mac.
“Saw some nursing sisters, yeah.”
“Well, what were they like?”
“You mean, good-looking? This one nurse, named Alma, was really pretty. Looked like a girl I know back home. She treated me and brought me tea and everything.
“Hey, she packed something in my bag, too.” The two men watched as Taylor dug into her pack and came up with a dainty hand-embroidered handkerchief. Slowly, Taylor unwrapped the package, revealing four white
biscuits. “She gave me one for each of us. I told her I had a few good buddies,” said Taylor, white fibbing. She passed a white biscuit to each and carefully rewrapped the third and fourth for herself and Red.
Whitey sniffed his biscuit and gave it a small squeeze, then carefully placed it into his pack to savour with tea later. Mac tore his biscuit apart. “It’s so fresh. That angel must of just baked it. What was her name, again?” Mac asked as he jammed the biscuit into his mouth.
“Alma. She was an angel … Just like that nurse, Florence Nightingale, I guess.”
“Bet you’d like to see her again,” said Whitey, winking.
“See her again, and you’ll be sick or full of shrapnel. Don’t wish for that,” said Mac.
“You’re right,” said Taylor as they trudged along the muddy road. The drizzle had stopped.
Chapter Ten
“The prime minister isn’t into that mystic stuff?” Mac said unbelievably.
“Yeah, he’s supposed to be trying to get in touch with his mother. Goin’ to those spiritual meetins’,” said Whitey.
Hacking on her cigarette, Taylor strolled over to see what the guys were talking about.
“Are you guys talking about MacKenzie King?” asked Taylor.
“He’s the prime minister, ain’t he?” said Red.
“Right. You say he goes to séances?” said Taylor. How do I steer this conversation my way?
“He’s playing politics with the army, and now he’s ready for the loony bin with this séance malarkey,” said Whitey.
“Maybe it’s not all foolishness,” said Taylor. “Maybe there’s something to it, this talking to spirits or getting messages from them.” Look at their faces. They think I’ve lost it. “For example, remember at that town, I just knew there was one more sniper left in the church and that he was unarmed?”
“That was a lucky guess. You said so yourself.” Mac snickered.
“What’s up, men?” asked Sarge as he came up to the group.
“Junior, here, is telling us he talks to spirits,” said Whitey.
“Not talk to them. Sometimes I just know things. Sarge, you remember how I knew your wife’s name and what you did to earn a living?” Have I gone too far?
“I thought that was just a game. You really believe you have some sort of power?”
“Not power, just a gift. Okay, Sarge, think about how many brothers and sisters you have. Got a number?” said Taylor.
The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. Mac, standing to Taylor’s left, made a hand twirling sign, pointing to his own head.
“Okay, Sarge. You’re the oldest of nine children. You have three brothers, the rest sisters. Their names are …”
“How the hell did you know that? You worked in records at headquarters? That’s it.” Lips pressed together, Sarge smiled knowingly.
“Faker. Of course that’s how he done it,” said Red, laughing.
“No, no. I’ve never worked at headquarters. Let me prove it. We broke the Gustav Line and are headed toward the Hitler Line. The way is heavily booby-trapped and barbwired. The Germans have really dug in trying to keep us out. Three infantry from Able Company will be killed, but our group will get by with just some minor shrapnel injuries. I can’t remember the exact date. Pops said it happened right after the celebrations of the tank takeover. They’re looking at me like I’m a geek. This was stupid.
“Ha. You really had us going there, Junior. Everyone knows the enemy is trying to keep us from breaking the Hitler Line and reaching Rome. Of course they’ve put out a protective screen all around. You don’t have to be a mystic for that. Sure, some men will be hurt and die.” Sarge walked away chuckling.
Taylor shrugged and walked away to sit by herself and think.
“But how did Junior know about Sarge’s family? That was an awfully good guess,” said Whitey, scratching his head under his helmet.
* * *
I’ve blown it. They think I’m nuts. I’ll just have to wait for that skirmish and I’ll prove it to them. Soon, Pops will know the truth about who I am. Taylor found her pack, rolled out her ground sheet and one of her two blankets, lay down, rested her head on her kit, and fell into a fitful sleep.
“Wake up, oh mighty mystic,” someone whispered in her ear. Taylor sat up abruptly to see Mac leaning over her. “Hit the road, Junior. We’re on to our next battle. You know. The one where we get hit by shrapnel.”
Chapter Eleven
The late May sun was warm on Taylor’s back by mid-morning, but she kept her khaki jacket on over her tee shirt to hide her small breasts. So far, it had worked. Taylor lifted her face to the sun to soak in the rays. An abandoned farmhouse could be seen topping a hill about half a mile away. Its tiled roof glimmered reddish orange on this brilliant day. Taylor sat apart from the others. She wasn’t in the mood for their ribbing. How can the day be so beautiful when I feel like shit? I’m right back where I was at home. Shooting off my big mouth. The kids at school were right. I’m a geek, even here in the past.
“We wait here for awhile. Able is patrolling the farmhouse up the road. We wait for an all-clear before we move forward.” Sarge passed the word around. “Junior and Mac go with Padre across those fields for some intelligence work.”
“Sure, Sarge.” Mac headed across the fields with the Padre. Taylor followed behind, picking up her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. What is this? A night patrol? In daytime? The Padre plodded slowly through the bushy land as if to a funeral, and Taylor soon discovered why. German bodies, and those of a few civilians, were strewn across the landscape, partially hidden by the thick underbrush. Taylor tried to avoid looking at the dead, but her eyes were drawn to them. One was a young woman in her twenties, lying face-up with a large congealed blood spot in the middle of her bosom. Her arms were open wide as if to say, “Why me?” Another was a young boy lying in the fetal position. A black dog, of unknown breed, lay dead next to the boy, one paw stretched out protectively. Too late.
Taylor started as an arm encircled her shoulders.
“Leave them for now. We’ll bury them later. Check the soldiers for personal belongings — a letter home, anything that might indicate what they were planning next or where they were going.”
Taylor nodded and knelt down beside a German soldier who had a bullet hole through the middle of his forehead. Taylor avoided the open, staring eyes and reached into the dead man’s tunic pocket. She fingered a package of cigarettes but couldn’t read the German labelling. Awkwardly, she reached into the man’s hip pockets and came up with a picture. On the back were some numbers and lettering, probably a date and a name, blurred from much fingering. Taylor turned the picture over to see the black and white shot of a fair-haired girl of about sixteen or seventeen. She returned the picture to the pocket and moved on to the next body.
Mac yelled, “Cripes! I’ve got Jerry blood all over me! He jumped up, flinging one hand away. Some of the red gooey stuff flew off and hit him in the face. Mac brushed his hands over his head as if he were hit by a barrage of bullets. Taylor rushed over and pulled out the handkerchief Nurse Alma had wrapped the biscuits in and wiped Mac’s face. Gawd, I hope the blood washes off so I can return this to her someday. Taylor took a closer look at the handkerchief and started to laugh.
Mac shoved Taylor, “You wouldn’t think it so funny if you had Jerry blood all over you.”
Taylor couldn’t help laughing. She struggled to talk as tears coursed down her face. The Padre rushed over. He too started to laugh when Taylor showed him the handkerchief.
Mac stood with feet spread apart, staring at them. How could they both laugh at his situation? Taylor finally blurted out, “It’s not blood. It’s a jam ration.”
Mac lifted his right hand and stared. He stuck a finger in his mouth. “Yummy, strawberry.” The three soldiers bent with laughter. The cleric was first to somberly order the others
to get on with the task at hand.
“Are you going to tell the guys when we get back, Junior?”
Taylor smirked and bent over another body.
When all the bodies had been inspected, with one letter and one official-looking paper found, the Canadians got their shovels and started the job of burying the bodies in pebbly, shallow graves. It was hot, sweaty work, but they found a rhythm to the digging and finished as long shadows played across the ground. Taylor was surprised she could work alongside the others, her muscles not complaining any more than Mac’s. Must be all that ditch-digging I’ve done.
Mac and Taylor bid goodbye to the Padre and picked up their pace to catch up to their unit, which had moved ahead almost to the farmhouse Taylor had observed earlier. Dropping down beside Whitey, who was lying prostrate in a long, deep ditch, Taylor whispered, “What’s up?”
“Able sent some scouts up to the farmhouse, and they haven’t returned. We think there’s a gun emplacement up there, and somehow the scouts were overpowered without a shot being fired. Sarge says we wait until dark to scope it out.”
“Psst!” A hushed voice teeming with anger said, “Whitey, Junior! Get out of that ditch this minute. A mortar hits there, it will run the length and take you two with it. Haven’t you boys learned anything yet?” Sarge’s face was mottled a dark red.
Meekly, the soldiers vacated the gully and found a nearby depression. Now that’s the Pops I know. Always yelling if you don’t do things the right way. I suppose it will save our lives. Guess he’s justified.
The soldiers settled down for another long wait. Taylor took advantage and slept. She was tired after all the digging and hadn’t eaten anything since that morning when she’d had some black Italian bread harder than the rock she sat on to chew it. Dipping it in tea hadn’t helped much.
Taylor awoke feeling tired, with stones embedded in her side. What I’d give for a nice hot shower. These clothes haven’t been changed in weeks by the smell of them. At least everyone else smells just as bad. No one will be calling me names over these clothes!
Back in her time Page 4