Chapter Seventy

"This don't look good," Sandy muttered, glancing warily at Dan, who lay motionless. "I dunno if he's gonna make it."

Ronnie sighed.

"We've gotta try. Thank the Lord it's dark now... no moon tonight... never been so glad to see such a dark night." He sighed again, turning to the door. He wasn't sure where exactly they were... just that they were much too far from where they needed to be. He was worried. With a wounded man and a woman and baby along, the stakes seemed so much h higher than before. And having lost so many men only hours ago, he had lost confidence in his ability to get the few left safely out of enemy territory. 

Rachel scrambled to her feet as the men prepared to leave, setting Benjie down carefully in the hay before pulling the coat from her shoulders. She held it out to Ronnie with shaking hands but he shook his head.

"No... you keep it. You need it more than I do." 

She didn't move, just stood there, holding the coat out as if she didn't comprehend his words. Her big black eyes were brimming with tears and Ronnie realized she was frightened. Terrified... frozen with fear. He took the coat from her hands and slipped her arms through the sleeves. Picking up the baby and pressing the little one against the mother's heart, he buttoned the coat snugly around the both of them. She moved then, only to clutch the baby close. She was staring fixedly at Ronnie, her tears threatening to spill over.

"Ready to go?" Ronnie glanced at the others and Sandy nodded as he lifted Dan to his feet.

"Ready when you are, Chief."

Dan's face was ashen and his teeth clenched in pain. But he made no protest at being moved, limping weakly forward with the help of his comrades.

"Easy now, buddy," Sam grinned as he wrapped an arm around Dan's waist. "We'll make it yet."

"Alright then," Ronnie spoke quietly, looking at each face in turn, sizing them up. "I guess we're moving out."

Rachel shrank back a step, glancing at the hay as if longing to hide in it again. Without a word, Ronnie scooped her up and she buried her face in his shoulder with a muffled sob, her arms tightening around her still-sleeping baby. She was murmuring foreign words, her voice trembling.

"What's she saying?" Sam whispered.

"She's praying, " Ronnie leaned his head against the wall, trying to see through the barely-opened door. "That's what we all should be doing."

"I'm praying hard as I can," Dan's voice was barely audible.

"Don't worry, " Ronnie assured him, although he hadn't much faith in his promise. "we'll get you home to Janie and that little girl." 

The mention of his family seemed to give Dan strength and he lifted his head, something like a spark of determination in his eyes. But at the same time, a tear slipped and fell.

The wind had mercifully died down and the tiny group of fugitives moved noiselessly into a silent night. Snow still fell and the cold was bitingly fierce. But without the wind, it was much more bearable than before. Silently thanking God for the cover of darkness, they moved cautiously through the fields and onto what looked like a country road, although it was mostly hidden by the snow.

They made slow progress, their pace impeded by the wounded man. He seemed to be losing consciousness, his head falling limply to his chest before he snapped it back up again, fighting as hard as he could to press himself on. But after an hour of struggling through the snow, it became evident that he could go on no longer. Sandy picked him up moments before he fell, swinging him across his shoulders.

Another hour passed. Sandy was wearing out and so Sam took charge of Dan to carry him for the next stretch. The baby slept on and Rachel barely moved, except for her constant trembling and whispered prayers.

They stopped a few moments as Ronnie checked his compass and scanned his map, only half-knowing where he was going and desperately afraid they wouldn't make it. But he didn't dare voice his fears. The others were terrified enough already. And they all depended on him.

As they moved on again, thr tramp of distant boots in the snow and shouts up ahead made Ronnie's heart sink. He guided the others off the road and into the trees, hoping to confuse the approaching enemy long enough to buy some time.

"Our men?" Sandy whispered hopefully. 

"Germans," Ronnie answered and he handed Rachel and the baby to Sandy with a look of warning. "They've seen us."

"Then let's run," Sam suggested wildly, as if he wasn't bearing the weight of a wounded man on his shoulders. Ronnie shook his head, speaking rapidly as he shoved both map and compass into Sam's pocket.

"Listen Sam, Sandy, your duty, your only concern is this: get the others to safety. I'll stay and distract them. If anything happens to me, don't stop, just keep going. Understand? "

They nodded in unison, their faces grim. They didn't dare protest. Orders were orders and they obeyed without question. But Rachel... she lifted her head, her eyes pleading, white to the lips with terror.

"No..." she whispered. "Please no. Isaac was killed that way.... you remind me....can't... lose you..." her voice broke, tears sliding down her face. "Please don't do it..."

Ronnie nodded at Sam who had turned to go but Sandy was standing still, reluctant to leave his friend behind. After all they had been through together, it felt like betrayal. And Rachel was still pleading.

"Go with them, Rachel," Ronnie whispered back. His expression was unreadable and in the darkness, it was impossible to see that his eyes were grayer than ever before. "Don't worry about me." He bent and kissed her cheek, rested his hand a moment on Benjie's head, and stepped back. 

A warning shot rang out, echoing over their heads. The shouts were louder now.

"Go, Sandy," Ronnie hissed, shoving at his friend. "Get!"

As his comrades vanished into the trees, Ronnie dropped to his stomach in the ditch and waited. He didn't have long to wait for, seeing their quarry disappear into the trees, the Germans picked up their pace. Ronnie took careful aim, measuring up his enemy as they approached. Around ten or twelve of tyem... more than he could manage alone.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when it hangs in the balance. Ronnie had seen this before. But now... he only saw the faces of those whose lives depended on him. And in the few moments before he pulled the trigger, he smiled, remembering the trust in Rachel's eyes. Man, she was pretty. The kind of woman any man would be willing to die for.

He set his jaw in grim determination, not faltering even when he felt a bullet tear through his sleeve and another brush against his shoulder. Strange how he felt no fear of death... no regret at making it this far through the war only to be cut down now. He felt only a serious and deadly calm...like he had felt the morning they charged Omaha. This battle, though smaller and fought alone... was just as important to him.

He managed to take out five when he realized his ammunition was gone. They were very close now and he hadn't held them off as long as he had hoped. Without thinking, he rose to his feet amidst the hail of bullets and threw both rifle and empty cartridge bag to the ground before taking off across the fields in the opposite direction his comrades had taken.

Seeing him drop his weapons, the Germans stopped shooting and ran after him, yelling jumbled sentences he couldn't understand. He slackened his pace, letting them catch up. Better to let them take him than run the risk of losing them and putting his comrades in danger again.

They surrounded him instantly, snarling angry words in mixed German and English. He heard the word "sniper" among many others as they twisted his arms behind his back,tearing off his pack and going viciously through his pockets.

"Amerikanisch?" One snapped, jabbing at him with a bayonet-tipped rifle. Ronnie nodded wearily, resisting the overwhelming urge to glance in the direction the fugitives had taken. They were arguing amongst themselves, obviously trying to decide whether to kill him there or take him as prisoner. The officer insignia on his uniform seemed to make their decision, even though he was only a second lieutenant and those came a dime a dozen. The Germans still had respect for rank, even in the enemy.

"For you the war is over, jah?" This was sneered in broken English as the soldier jabbed again with the bayonet. Ronnie didn't flinch, even when he felt the tip of the bayonet pierce his arm.

Within moments, they had confiscated everything... his food, his letters from home... everything but the Bible and his precious family photographs tucked carefully into his shirt pocket. Somehow they never found them.

They pocketed the most valuable of his belongings and scattered the rest in the snow. He fought within himself to keep from struggling as they yanked his glasses away and bound a tattered strip of fabric tightly over his eyes. He felt the glasses shoved into his jacket pocket and the next moment he was being shoved roughly forward.

His first thought was sudden relief that he was alive, his second, fear of whatever lay ahead. The loss of freedom suddenly seemed almost worse than the loss of life.