James Shipman - Task Force Baum

Bullets scuffed up the dirt at their feet. The small unit returned the fire. Hall had nothing to fight with and wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to do so if he had. He wallowed in despair, wishing Stiller would just drop him so he could surrender.

One of the GIs was hit and fell backward. The men paused, a couple of them trying to help the wounded man. They worked away at him as another soldier sprayed the hill below with his Thompson, trying to keep the advancing Germans at bay. Another GI pulled the pins and threw his last two grenades in rapid succession. Twin flashes exploded down the hill thirty yards or so away.

The men moved back into position, firing their M1 Garands as rapidly as they could depress the trigger. The soldier with the Thompson paused to reload his clip. Stiller pulled Hall up against a tree. Their small group blazed away for a few moments, but one after another, they ran out of bullets. Hall could see the major yelling at the men, motioning as if telling them to run. A GI shook his head, then another. Stiller lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment, then nodded. Hall rose, struggling to his feet, wanting to see.

As one, they raised their hands to the heavens, dropping their weapons. They were surrendering. Thank God! But their battle wasn’t over. One of the men was hit and dropped backward to the ground, then another. The Germans were killing them. It wasn’t going to work. Hall was going to die after all. Oh, God help me.

The krauts closed in on them, a small group of enlisted men with an officer. The commander wore the black uniform of a tanker. They stormed up to the men, and while the officer held them at pistol point, the infantry quickly disarmed them, shoving them to their knees. At least the shooting had stopped. They were going to be dragged back to some godforsaken prison camp, but Hall knew their stay would be measured in weeks, months at worst. The war was over.

The officer stepped forward. He had a strange expression on his face. He raised his pistol, aiming the weapon at Hall’s head. The lieutenant couldn’t believe it. Why me? He was going to die anyway, here in the middle of nowhere. He would never see home, his family, his future. Why didn’t the bastard shoot Stiller? His time had come and gone.

The officer hesitated, looking Hall up and down. He started to lower the weapon and then seemed to gather new determination, and he raised the barrel again. He closed his eyes; he was going to die. A moment ticked by, then another. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see one of the German privates grappling with the officer. The pistol was pointed away from him, half raised to the heavens. The struggle continued for a few moments, then the officer released the weapon. He stumbled away from them and fell to the ground, sobbing. Hall lowered his head, his own tears falling freely down his cheeks. He was alive. He was going to make it after all!

They sat that way for a half hour or more, kneeling in the dirt, halfway down some forgotten hill in the middle of nowhere. They were the last remnants of a broken and useless task force that had gone nowhere, accomplished nothing. Eventually, more Germans arrived; they pulled the men up to a standing position and led them down the hill, Stiller continuing to help Hall as they limped down and out of the woods. They were met at the bottom by a convoy of large gray trucks, and Hall was pushed and pulled up into the canvas-covered back of one of them. Soon the trucks were rumbling and jolting down the road.

“Hall.” He heard the voice over the ringing in his ears. He knew the sound. He didn’t want to look up. “Hall,” the voice repeated. He turned to face the major.

“Can you hear me?”

He hesitated for a moment. Should he lie? What was the point? He nodded.

“You did okay up there. Don’t you worry; they’re going to patch things up. You’ll be all right.”

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Hall asked.

“Probably right back to the same damn place. At least if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?”

“Deep into Germany. But don’t fret none. In a few weeks, this whole show will be over. Hall…”

“What?”

“I want you to reconsider. Do the right thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want your word that you’ll keep the secret.”

“I gave it already.”

“Yes,” said Stiller, turning toward him. “But you want something in return. There’s no honor in that, son. You violated my direct order. That’s not worthy of a medal. But I’ll do you a favor in return. You’ve done well on this mission. I will agree not to bring up your actions to Patton. There will be no court-martial, no dishonor. You go your way, I’ll go mine. You’ve earned that.”

Hall couldn’t believe his ears. The major wanted him to keep Patton’s secret in exchange for nothing? “Why would I do that?”

Stiller leaned in, looking intently at Hall. “Because, son, there is a hell of a lot more out there at stake than a promotion and a medal. There’s honor, integrity. I gave you my word that if you conducted yourself correctly on this mission, I would give you the things you seek. But you broke the rules. I can give you one more chance to do the right thing.” He put his hand on Hall’s arm. “Please, Lieutenant. For your sake, not for mine, do the honorable thing. It will carry you through the rest of your life, a hell of a lot further than some useless ribbons.”

“I don’t understand what you want from me. I told you to take care of me, and I’ll take care of you. I meant it. I won’t reveal Patton’s secret. But if you’re offering me nothing in return, well then…”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you, kid.” Stiller’s eyes were filled with sadness. “You’ll get what you want, and you’d better keep your end of the deal as well. After we are done with this ride, I don’t want to talk to you or see you again. When we get out, I’ll take care of things on my end. I wish you the best, Hall, but I won’t have any part of it. I hope someday you learn what I’m talking about.”

Hall nodded, turning away. He was on his own? Fine. Why did he need this old bastard’s help anyway? He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. How stupid did Stiller think he was? He turned his head, smiling a little to himself. He’d keep the stupid secret. Who cared about it anyway? At least for now. He’d talk to his dad about it and see if they could wring any more profit out of things later. For now, he was going home a hero. Sure, he’d face a little pain while in the camp, but then he would get everything he’d ever wanted.

Strangely, he felt a little knot in his stomach. He’d experienced it before, now and again. Weakness, he realized. His dad had told him about it. Most people were sheep. They were afraid to do what they needed to get what they wanted in the world. He wasn’t. He wasn’t going to let some sentimental crap dictate his future. That was for saps and simpletons. Like that poor imbecile sitting next to him. He could go back to being Patton’s lapdog for all Hall cared, or he could go to hell. As the truck jounced along, the lieutenant imagined what the accolades would be, and how far he could stretch that capital when he got home. He couldn’t wait to get out of this stupid war. Back to his future, his family, his father. He chuckled to himself as he thought of Stiller, heading home to nobody and nothing.

The truck bounced onward, carrying them to the Oflag and beyond, to his destiny.

Oflag XIII

March 28, 1945, 0700 hours

Curtis woke with a terrible thudding in his head. He couldn’t remember where he was or what he’d been doing. Then it came to him. The hospital, Knorr. He opened his eyes slowly, just a crease at first, trying to gauge if it was safe to look around. Finally, he risked it and opened them wide, darting his head to the left and right.