Standing at the Scratch Line (6 page)

LeRoi had changed substantially since his induction into the army. His four and a half months on the front lines had had the biggest effect on him. Not only had he been trained to fight and kill efficiently, but he discovered that he liked it. There was a level of excitement in playing in the game of death that was thrilling to him. For the first time in his life, he woke up each morning with a sense of purpose. He had never told his bunk mates, but he preferred to be out on squad patrol, not because he liked to risk his life, but because he was in control and there was no one to order him about. He was left to his own ingenuity to kill the enemy any way possible, but sometimes he wished they were American whites.

The end of the alley led to a corner of the town square. From the edge of the building to his left he could see through the falling snow that the same six men were still standing in front of the truck, smoking and talking. LeRoi could even hear an occasional laugh. They did not appear to be concerned with the need for alertness. He settled himself and waited for Slick’s diversion. He felt fortunate that the truck’s lights were facing away from him and that the truck was close enough for him to cover the distance in ten good strides. He unslung his Springfield and leaned it against the building, then pulled his two throwing knives from his boots and stuck them in his belt. He strapped two heavy, studded leather bands on his wrists. Experience had taught him that his defense was vastly improved in hand-to-hand combat when he could use his lower forearm to both attack and block. The Bergmann was checked and then slung so that the gun hung in the small of his back. He pulled his .45 government-issue automatic pistol and tested the slide. He liked to feel the gun’s weight in his hand. He was ready. Leaning back against the wall, he took deep breaths, trying to relax. The only sounds he heard were the harsh consonants of German in the town square as the men talked and the snow continued to fall.

The Germans did not feel the need for caution because they were part of an augmented canine unit. They were in fact waiting for the return of four men and two dogs, who had been dropped at the edge of town to search the ruins for the local residents, known to fire upon German military units. Côte d’Saar was the last stop on their patrol route before returning to the garrison. No evidence of any resistance had ever been discovered in the region, so the soldiers had begun to take patrols lightly. When the loud metallic clattering began, emanating from the opposite side of town from which they had entered, the soldiers were momentarily confused. The headlights of the truck were turned off. After a few minutes of argument, four soldiers were sent out to investigate. Neither of the two remaining Germans saw LeRoi sprint across the square to the far side of the vehicle.

The sound of the four soldiers leaving the square had covered his approach, but once LeRoi reached the side of the truck all was quiet. After several seconds he could hear the two Germans whispering to each other. He was edging around the rear of the truck when he heard the door open and the sound of footsteps coming his way. Pulling a knife from his belt, he prepared to spring. The German soldier rounded the corner and didn’t get a chance to raise his arm or even speak. With one savage cut, LeRoi slit the man’s throat, then moved out of the way to let the body fall. There was a brief gurgling sound as the man writhed frantically in the reddening snow and died.

“Karl? Karl?” the other soldier called out.

The sound of gunfire rang out from the direction that the four soldiers had taken. LeRoi heard a rifle being cocked in the truck.

“Karl? Karl?” The soldier was now whispering from inside the truck.

LeRoi had ducked around the side and was grateful that the left rearview mirror was frosted over. Squatting by the driver’s door, he flung it open. Simultaneously, a rifle was discharged and a bullet whistled over his head. LeRoi reached up and fired his pistol several times into the truck and heard the man inside grunt and fall out the passenger-side door.

LeRoi started around the truck to make sure the other man was dead when he heard a shot ring out from the church tower. He did not get a chance to turn around before the dog hit him. The big German shepherd had sunk its teeth into the wristband of his gun arm. The weight of the dog’s lunge hurled him to the ground. The force of the animal’s attack caused him to drop his pistol and his Bergmann was underneath his body. LeRoi pulled his knife from his belt and stabbed the dog several times, but the animal kept attacking, aiming for a grip on his throat. Finally, LeRoi was able to sink his knife deep into the animal’s chest and push it off of him.

Shots rang out from the far corner of the square and bullets ricocheted off the cobblestones and whizzed above him. He rolled over and pulled the Bergmann free and fired a burst in return. Scrambling to his feet, he took refuge behind the truck. The shots were coming from the shelter of a stone staircase in the corner of the square. Keeping the truck between him and the source of the gunfire, LeRoi circled the vehicle. He wanted to get clear of the truck because he knew it could easily be blown sky high. He saw the German soldier he shot, lying on his back in the snow, struggling to turn over. The man was bleeding from several different wounds. LeRoi stooped down quickly and removed the man’s Luger from his holster and shot him. The dead man also had four hand grenades strapped to his belt. They were called “potato mashers” by the American troops because of their unique shape, but they worked extremely well, better in fact than army issue. LeRoi removed them, pulling the pins out of two and heaved them toward the staircase. He took off running before the grenades detonated.

LeRoi reached the alleyway just after the explosions occurred. From the safety of the alley, he watched as the whole building collapsed forward onto the staircase. There were screams as men were crushed by the falling structure. In a few minutes all was still again. LeRoi walked out into the square, keeping an eye on the rubble at the far end. He saw Big Ed limping forward from a side street. His pants were torn and there was blood trickling from an open wound on his thigh. From the far side of the square, Slick could be seen clambering over the rubble. He waved his Bergmann over his head. LeRoi turned and signaled to the church tower with his flashlight, telling the Professor to stay alert.

Inside the truck, the keys were still in the ignition. LeRoi pushed the igniter button, and the engine sputtered, then began to purr. He backed up to where Big Ed was waiting.

“Goddamned dog attacked me! It caught me by surprise,” Big Ed explained as he clambered in the back of the truck. “I had to beat it off with the butt of my rifle. Goddamned thing came flying out of the falling snow like some kind of ghost! Still, I got three of them boys!”

“You need a tourniquet?” LeRoi asked.

“Naw, it ain’t spurtin’! I can wait till we get out of here,” Big Ed said as he made himself comfortable between the benches. “All the noise we made, this whole town will be crawling with Germans in no time! We best pick up and get out! I never liked this town no way. Can’t grow nothing here, the soil’s too rocky.”

“Where’s your buddy?” LeRoi inquired as he swung the truck around and drove over to where he had last seen Slick. He slid down the window, then called out, “Slick! Slick! We got to head out, man! You better get your ass over here or you gon’ get left!”

Slick appeared, scrambling over the rubble of the fallen building. He beckoned to the truck, indicating he wanted them to follow him. He turned to go back the way he had come when LeRoi shouted, “We gon’ leave your grave-robbin’ ass!”

Slick turned and shouted back, “I found a box of gold! A real box of gold! It’s too heavy for one man to carry. I can use some help!”

“Leave it!” LeRoi ordered. “We need to get out of here! We gon’ have Germans down on our necks any minute!”

“This is a real box of gold! It’s right here! All we got to do is lift up and carry it away! We can’t walk away from this! Our money problems will be over!”

LeRoi left the truck idling with the brake on and scrambled up the mountain of debris. “If you’re lying, yo’ ass is mine!”

Slick led him to the back side of the destroyed building and there in the snow where Slick had dragged it was a squat metal box. “Open it,” Slick urged. LeRoi flipped back the lid and saw that the box was filled with coins and jewelry made of gold. Slick was excited. “There’s two more boxes like this! This buildin’ was some kind of bank! There’s a big crack in the vault showin’ paper money and everythin’. With a little diggin’ we gon’ be rich!”

“Sorry, Slick, this is all we got time for.” LeRoi closed the box. “I wants that gun mor’n I wants gold! I’s ready to carry this one, but no mo’!”

Slick was aghast. The prospect of unlimited wealth was being turned down. “Nigger, you must be stupid! We got a treasure for the takin’ and you gon’ leave it for some damn gun? Nigger, please!”

LeRoi growled, “Pick up the box! We’ll take this one back to the truck!”

Slick saw something in LeRoi’s eyes that made him swallow any more words of contempt. He bent down and grasped the handle and lifted it in unison with LeRoi. The two men struggled and staggered with the weight of the box, but finally wrestled it back to the truck. Big Ed slid over so that they could push the box onto the truck bed.

“We best get on and pick up that Vickers,” Big Ed suggested. “Them Germans got to come and investigate!”

Slick looked back toward the building’s ruins and then into LeRoi’s eyes. He decided on the wiser course and got into the back with Big Ed. LeRoi jumped in the cab and drove the truck without lights back to their storage site.

Professor met them at the door. “I saw lights coming this way down the road from Saint Die. Looks like a couple of squads coming right for us.”

“Let’s get the gun loaded,” LeRoi urged.

“Damn! What about my supplies, my cigarettes, my uniforms?” Slick groused.

“We’s only taking ammunition and mortars. Everything else got to stay! We ain’t dyin’ over no cigarettes and uniforms!” LeRoi barked as he headed down to the basement to get the Vickers.

With Big Ed keeping lookout, it took them twenty minutes to load the ammunition and the guns onto the truck. LeRoi was directing as he worked. Professor and Slick were sweating from exertion when the last box was loaded. Big Ed gave a warning whistle, indicating that the German trucks were within a mile of the town. LeRoi disappeared in the darkened building one last time. He emerged after a couple of minutes, climbed into the cab, and gunned the truck’s engines as he sped out onto the darkened highway.

The two-lane road was a tortuous, twisting ribbon that followed the contours of the mountainside as it slowly climbed above the placid Saar. In the dark, with no lights, it was sometimes difficult to determine where the road actually lay beneath the snow. LeRoi did not let up on his speed and he barely kept the skidding, careening vehicle on track. Several times the truck actually scraped against the railings built to prevent vehicles from hurtling down the steep mountainside. The road dropped and curved into a pass between two peaks that turned into a straightaway with a half-mile visibility. LeRoi could see the lights of a small roadblock in the distance. He did not decrease his speed, but kept barreling down the highway with the accelerator pushed to the floor.

As the truck neared the roadblock, they saw lights being waved back and forth by the men staffing the checkpoint, but LeRoi ignored the signal and veered partially off the road in order to knock down the shelter upon which the telephone line was connected. There were shouts and curses as the German soldiers leapt out of the way. One fired two shots at point-blank range. None of the occupants was hit but two windows were shattered and flying glass was everywhere. The truck slammed into the post that served as support for the wooden pole that swung down and blocked passage. The post snapped and flew off to the right, and then the truck hit the wooden shelter and splintered the whole front of it. As it collapsed, the truck continued down the highway. More shots were fired by the Germans, but the bullets went astray.

The ride was rough and bumpy as the truck sped around a sharp curve that led out of the pass and down along the side of the mountain. By now, the snow had stopped falling and the sky appeared to be lighter. For the first time, they could see, high above them, the glow from the lights of Saint Die in the surrounding darkness. Each time the truck hit a bump in the road, everything in it was momentarily airborne. Professor, who was occupying the front passenger seat, had one foot braced against the dashboard. He looked across at LeRoi and saw him smiling. “What are you smiling about?” he asked as he cleaned his glasses. “We nearly got our asses shot off back there! And I can’t figure out how you’re planning to get to the ridge.”

“You remember that old logging road that was a couple of valleys south of Saint Die? If I can find it, it’s got to end up somewhere near Saint-Germain. How you doing back there, Big Ed?” LeRoi called over his shoulder.

“He’ll make it,” Slick answered. “It ain’t deep, but it’s a long gash. He can’t talk right now ’cause he’s biting down on leather. I poured some schnapps on it and gon’ pour some more as soon you stop bumpin’ around.”

“You gon’ have to wait a minute. I want to get off this roadway first,” LeRoi answered. He drove on for several more miles, then took the first large dirt road leading off into the trees. The road curved around the mountain and began to climb sharply. LeRoi followed it until it forked. He killed the engine and said, “We got to scout from here on. I don’t want to drive into no German patrols. The ridge can’t be but three, four miles from here.”

“I’ll stay here with Big Ed, if you don’t mind,” Slick offered.

LeRoi got out of the truck and walked around to the back. He pulled the canvas back and saw that the metal box was open. “You want to bury the gold now and split it between the four of us? Or do you want to wait and share it with the whole platoon?”

Slick sputtered, “How you get four? They’s only three people in on this.”

“What about Professor, or don’t he count?”