Captain Jim knew this was going to be close.  Three German stormtroopers were patrolling the road ahead, and earlier that morning he spotted a sniper in the grain silo and another in a tree on the other side of the field.  He knew there must be more, as snipers always worked with spotters.  So that meant at least seven Nazis, and he only had his trusty 1911 and one extra magazine. “Sixteen bullets,” he thought, “and no gun for Private Numbnuts.”

He was, of course, referring to the shivering, cowering mess next to him in the ditch.  Private William S. Wilkes, originally from North Forks, Iowa, but more recently rescued from a German detention center in town.  In the mad scramble out of the jail, Private Wilkes dropped the gun Jim brought for him, and so they sit, sisteen rounds and a possible firefight between them and freedom.

“Wilkes” Jim barked, “Stop whimpering.  Do you want to die here today, 4000 miles from home and crying like a dame on a bad date?”

“N-n-no s-s-s-sir” Wilkes sniffled.  “I sure don’t.  I wanna go home and have my mom wash my socks and eat pie and see my girl Daisy and I...”

“Shut the hell up, Private” Captain Jim growled.  “They’ll hear you.” He lowered his voice to an intense whisper, grabbed Wilkes by the shirt and pulled him in close.  “Now listen up.  This is the plan: we sneak a hundred yards down this ditch to that drain pipe.  We shimmy through to the other side and wait for that fat one to cross.  See, I’ve been watching.  Every time the other two pass him, they never look back.  He’s all alone.  The two snipers are pointed east, looking for Allied company movement.  If we’re fast, and damn lucky, we can grab that fat one, pull him into this ditch and silience him for good before anyone notices.  Then we pop up, I shoot the other two and you run like hell.  You run west, toward the river, and you don’t stop for anything.  You hear me, Wilkes?  You run like the devil himself is chasing you.  You run like your girl Daisy is waiting at that river bank with a slice of your mom’s best apple pie and a fresh pair of socks just off the line on a warm summer’s day.  You run, you hear me?  You run and you keep running and you don’t look back.”

Wilkes swallowed hard, and some color came back to his very young face. “But sir, what about you?  Why didn’t you say you;d be right behin...”

“No time for that, soldier!  You worry about getting yourself to that river.  I have another job to do.” Jim looked longingly off into the distance.  “Those god-damned weights aren’t going to lift themselves.  They never do.  War is hell, boy, I think General Patton said that.  What he didn’t say is that so is going to the gym, and that’s where I have to go.  The god-damned gym.  I know what will be waiting for me there.  German-made machines designed to torture and break down my body.  I have to go anyway, kid.  It’s my job.  It’s what I do.”

“B-b-but sir” Wilkes stammered.

“No buts, kid!  You get out of here because you want to live.  You get out because you want to see your mother and your best girl and Iowa again.  Most of all, kid, you get the hell out of here because I gave you an order, and you are damned well gonna follow it or I’ll shoot you myself.” Jim looked deep into the young privates eyes, eyes that were now alive with an energy the boy did not have just a moment ago.

“Wait, sir!” Wilkes said.  “Is there any way I can...I mean I know I’m lousy in a fight sir, but if I could help you, I really wanna try.  I feel like this war just got on top of me after what the Germans did to me in that jail, but being here, with you, listening to you talk about it, sir, I think I can do this.  I wanna help!”

Captain Jim looked at the boy, his uniform torn and bloody, his face covered in dirt and bruises from the beatings the Germans gave him, and Jim smiled.  He felt a little proud at that moment, like maybe some of his backbone had found its way into the boy.  “You just get the hell out of here, son.  You get out and you get back with Charlie Company and you tell them Captain Jim Kenefick sent you, and you tell them I said to give you a job.  You tell them I said you are going to be one hell of a soldier someday.  And see if you can’t get a message back home for me.  Would you do that?  Would you send a message back home to my best girl?

“Of course, sir.  Anything. You just name it.”

“You get word to my girl Donna.  Tell her I went to that damned gym, and that I left around 4:30.  You tell her I’m coming back, and that I love her.” Jim choked back the lump in his throat.  “You do that for me, kid, and we’ll call it even for getting you out of that stinking German jail.  Deal?” Captain Jim stuck out his hand toward the young private.

“Deal, sir.  I’ll be honored to pass along your message.  But sir?  Please, please be careful.  Don’t make a liar out of me.  make sure you do come back for her, and when we both get back home, we’ll get together and have some of my mom’s apple pie.  me, Daisy, you and Donna, we’ll have a swell time, sipping lemonade and watching the grass grow.”

“Nothing in the world I would like better, Wilkes.  Nothing I’d like better.  Now, on my mark, count of three, we go.  You ready?  OK.  1...2...3...GO!”

Private William S. Wilkes made it out that day, and he sent the message back home via a letter, but he never knew if Captain Jim’s girl got it, or if that amazing, brave soldier made it out of the gym that day.  Wilkes never forgot him, though, and he and Daisy named their first son “James.”

Yes, I came to realize there is no North Forks, Iowa.  Still, you know what I meant. ;)

Less

.
.
.

(Ambien poetry...don’t blame me.  Blame Sanofi-Aventis)

Less

The man holding her was big, a huge, massive brute, but that wasn’t going to work in his favor tonight.  You see, the problem with big huge brutes grabbing tiny women for hostages is, the shield doesn’t cover the meat, so to speak. 

Adam brought the 1911 up to his face and mustering his most commanding voice, said “OK, let me explain it to you, moron.  You’re about what, three-fifty?  I’ll bet you go even higher.  Maybe four hundred.  You look about seventeen feet tall from here, but I bet you’re probably about six five.  That little lady you got in front of you, as sweet and delicious as her form may be, don’t go more than a buck-oh-five.  She’s all of five feet two.  This means I got a clear shot at your neck.  Or your eyes.  Hell, I can put this entire magazine in your chest and not singe a hair on that beautiful woman’s head.  Last week, I was at the shooting range and I put 37 bullets into a hole half the size of your massive nose.  With this gun.  Do you think I’m gonna let you walk outta here with her?  Do you think I’m gonna miss?  Well, think again, Andre the Giant.  So whattya say you let her go, drop that knife and live to tell the police just why you decided to break into my house tonight?

The mountain posing as a man didn’t answer, but Adam could see his desperation.

“Buddy,” Adam continued, “I can appreciate your hesitation.  You aren’t sure if I’m talking nonsense of if I can plug your nostrils with lead from across the room.  If you’ll allow me to demonstrate, I can show you I am not kidding.  You willin’ to trust me for just ten seconds?” He knew if he could get the dirtbag to go with him, just for a moment, it would be all the distraction he needed.  “C’mon, listen, you have her, you don’t know what I am, so let’s lay all our cards on the table.”

“Uhh…” It was the first sound the intruder had uttered since Adam first came into the room.  “Yeah, well, what do I have to do to trust you?  You gonna try somethin’?

“No, not at all.  I just want to prove to you that you have very little chance of making it out of this room alive unless you let her go and drop your weapon.”

“Whatta you gonna do?”

Adam knew the moment was his.  Curiosity kills people more often than cats.

“I’m going to turn to my left and shoot three holes in that wall over there.  All of them in a perfect line, one inch apart.  All three bullets will be inside one of those flowers in the wallpaper.  I hate those flowers.  She picked this stuff out.  Now I get to shoot this ugly wallpaper.  So I guess I should thank you.”

“Uhh, are you serious?” The thug was getting confused.  This simply was not the way men acted when you held a knife to the throat of their wife.

“I’m very serious, Andre.”

“My name’s not Andre.”

Adam smiled.  “Whatever.  Just keep your eye on the flower, the one right next to the knob on that mirror frame.  You see it?  About halfway up the wall.”

“I see it.”

“Good.” Time slowed down.  Adam took in a breath that seemed to last forever.  He turned toward the wall, watching the big thug the whole time.  Adam let half the breath out, and his finger crept toward the trigger.  He held the breath and squeezed the trigger.  A small hole appeared in the flower on the wall.  He checked on the thug.  He was still watching the wall.  Adam sighted the hole, made the smallest adjustment, and at the same time squeezed the trigger for the second time.  Another hole, precisely aligned with the first and spaced no more than one inch away.  The thug was staring intently at the wall with a look of astonishment on his face.

Adam swung back on the thug.  He locked eyes with her, and she knew immediately that her job was to go limp and fall.  He hesitated for what felt like an eternity but was really just enough time for the slide to move forward and slam another round into the chamber while she went limp in the thug’s arms.  Adam sighted down to the tritium night sight at the end of the five inch barrel.  It was just about glued onto the intruder’s right eye.  From here the eye looked as big as a dinner plate.

He fired.

When the police finally arrived, Adam had a hard time explaining the two shots in the wall, but none of that mattered.  She was safe and that was all that he cared about.  After what seemed like hours, the cops finally left them alone.  She moved to the side of the bed where Adam sat with his head in his hands.

“Honey, you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Just a little shaken.”

“Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really hate the wallpaper?”

He looked up at her to see a wounded look in her eyes.  “No, baby, I was just talking smack to keep that guy’s attention.  You know I love everything you’ve done with the house!”

She smiled, and Adam knew right then that the lie he had just told was worth it.  Even if she finds out later, and someday she will, he can’t ever hide anything from her, seeing that smile tonight of all nights was worth it all.

Less