“We’re going to catch a train and let it carry us within four miles of our target. We’ll have a quick hike through a pass in the mountains and then down to the bridge. But if we’re going to get out of this with our lives, we’re going to need everything you men have, uh, collected, especially that Vickers.”
“Carrying the Vickers and all the ammunition is hard enough on flat ground,” LeRoi advised. “And you damn sure can’t be no mountain goat with it.”
Professor added, “The Vickers weighs over one hundred seventy-five pounds and you can shoot three hundred pounds of ammunition in twenty minutes. We’d have to carry that gun, plus over a thousand pounds of ammunition, and then we’d still have to fire the gun sparingly.”
“Talk that ‘white talk,’ Professor! Talk it!” Big Ed said with a big smile, clapping his hands together for emphasis. “Tell him why it’s a bad idea. I knows where this is goin’. If we takes it, I’ll be the one who carries that old, bulky sucker. Four miles is the lifetime of a cow with that thing on your shoulder. The Krauts put it on a cart to move it.”
“How long does a cow live anyway?” asked Slick.
Sergeant Williams said, “We’ve got forty men. Every man can take a share of the weight. We may have to disassemble the Vickers in order to take it with us—”
“You mean take it apart, sir?” Big Ed interrupted.
The sergeant nodded affirmatively and waited for Big Ed’s response.
“Well, I’m the handiest guy with a wrench in this group and if I had all day, I could easy figure this gun out. But I still wouldn’t want to try to put it back together again in the dark by flashlight.”
“If you men want to increase your chances of living, you’ll find a way to bring that damned machine gun and some mortars! I can’t order you ’cause technically I don’t know that you got this stuff, but if you expect to survive after we hit the bridge, it will be because we have covering fire from that big gun.” The sergeant stood up and walked over to the hanging canvas that served as a doorway. Before he walked out he turned and said, “In case you decide to get the gun, we’ll rendezvous on the other side of the lines, five miles east of Saint-Germain on the ridge above the railroad tracks at oh-four-thirty sharp. It’s below the ruins of an old chalet.”
Sergeant Williams paused and looked at the men and saw their resentful faces. He was silent for a moment before he continued speaking. “I know you men have been keeping and using enemy equipment to make up for shortages in supplies. It’s a violation of the code but as long as it wasn’t done in my face, I did my best to look the other way. I know that the Negro troops are at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to getting supplies and leave time, and the first to be called upon when there’s a dangerous mission or latrine duty. It ain’t no secret, we don’t get first crack at the ammunition and we don’t get issued the newest weapons. But it seems to me that you boys found the answer to that problem. I noticed that all four of you carry the German rapid-fire gun in addition to your army-issue Springfields. I have to say, I admire your ingenuity. Use that ingenuity to bring that Vickers.” Turning on his heel, he left the bunker.
Slick was the first to speak. “I swear I’m gon’ kill that motherfucker! He been ridin’ me ever since Fort Dodge. He’s just a Tom for Mr. Charlie! I can’t stand him!”
“It sounds to me like the sarge thinks that this time it may be our butts,” Professor said, putting away his diary. “I mean, it sounds like even he thinks it’s a suicide mission.”
“Who gives a shit what he thinks?” Slick declared angrily.
“I do,” answered LeRoi. “I think we better get out of here as soon as possible, get over to where we stashed the gun, and figure out how to take it apart.”
“I’m with you,” Professor agreed.
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Slick interjected. “You just gon’ bring the gun like he asked? Whatchoo thinking? I got that stuff sold. It’s like money in the bank.”
“I’m more interested in living than having money,” LeRoi answered.
“Me too,” Professor added.
“Now, it took all of us to get the gun and the ammo stored. How you plan to move it with just the two of you?” Slick asked with a smug look.
“Is it just the two of us?” LeRoi asked, looking at Big Ed.
“Nope,” Big Ed said. “I’m going with you, LT.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute, Big Ed. You and me supposed to be tight. If I don’t go, you don’t go. What’s going on here?”
“You been outvoted, Slick,” LeRoi interjected with a slight edge on his voice. “Make up your mind whether you coming with us or not, ’cause we got to get out of here now.”
Slick said nothing. He merely stood watching as his three companions continued packing their equipment and readying their kits for light travel. As guns were being checked, Slick blurted out, “I got an idea. How about if we go ahead and leave camp as if we’re going to pick up the Vickers, but we get delayed by a German patrol and never show up? We miss the suicide mission. Ain’t that an idea?”
“I mean to be on that ridge at four-thirty sharp,” answered LeRoi. “With or without the gun. I ain’t got no family now but my squad and my platoon and I ain’t ever gon’ let down family who’s depending on me! I know what it feels like! So believe me, if I don’t bring the Vickers with me, there’ll be a damn good reason and it won’t be something I made up.” He stood up. “You ready to hit it?” he asked Big Ed and Professor.
“Alright! Alright, I’m coming,” Slick said reluctantly. “I don’t see how come you all so patriotic all of a sudden.” He began packing his equipment.
“This isn’t patriotism, man,” Professor answered. “This is standing with one’s own people. If we figure out a way to bring that gun, we’re going to save colored men’s lives. Nobody else is worrying about it, so I think it’s up to us.”
“Shit, we don’t even know half these niggers!”
“It don’t matter,” LeRoi said. “They’re our people. They got our color skin or something close to it. We know a little about what they been through, ’cause we been through it. They are family! The only family we got is the colored soldiers fightin’ next to us.”
“What family?” Slick scoffed. “You been niggers together?
LeRoi pulled a knife from his boot and threw it with his left hand in one motion. The knife stuck in a log beam and quivered about four inches from Slick’s face. “Don’t forget who you talkin’ to,” LeRoi advised. “I’ve told you before that I don’t like the word
nigger
!” Slick edged away from the knife as LeRoi came over to collect it.
“Let’s pull out,” LeRoi said, lifting his pack on his back and picking up his guns.
The men left the bunker and headed uphill, straight for the trees. The snow continued to fall. Beyond the valley, the distant mountains’ jagged outlines dominated the landscape with dark uneven shapes and snowcapped peaks. There was no breeze, but there was a slight chill in the air. They trudged single file in silence, hearing only the crunching sounds of their boots. There was ten feet or more between each man. The trees of the forest closed in around them like silent mourners at a funeral. They were headed for an old riverbed that was covered by brush and scrub trees. The riverbed was a deep, long-running scar down the face of the hillside, yet it could not be seen for any distance due to the density of the surrounding trees. The men descended into it and followed the defile down the hill toward the German lines.
At the bottom of the hill two hundred yards of snow-covered barbed wire extended in circular rolls across an uneven, bombed-out meadow to the first line of the German trenches. Halfway down the hill, the riverbed was joined by another creek. The men had to be careful because the footing was extremely slippery. There were two or three inches of water now flowing at the bottom of the bed underneath the snow and the men sought to stay out of it if they could.
LeRoi was in the lead and signaled a halt. He began pulling away several large pieces of brush on the uphill side of the riverbed and exposed a culvert that was four and a half feet in diameter. After taking a careful look at the surrounding landscape with his German binoculars, he quickly entered the darkness of the culvert on his hands and knees. He was followed one by one by his companions. The last man had the responsibility of pulling the covering brush back in place.
The culvert was part of an old reservoir drainage system that had been bombarded into disrepair. There were several places along its length where the walls had been totally ruptured by bombs through which the snow-covered hillsides could be seen. For the most part, the interior of the culvert was dark and was only occasionally illuminated by LeRoi’s flashlight. The length of the culvert extended from where LeRoi and his companions had entered it to Saint Die Reservoir, high above the town that was its namesake.
The men did not leave the culvert until they had traveled nearly a mile within it. When they did exit, they were surrounded once more by a dense evergreen forest. From their previous forays in the area, they knew that there was a small German patrol station above them, guarding the road that entered Saint Die from Luneville. Below them were the lights of the German trench lines spread out like an endless maze. Their objective was a partially destroyed small town named Côte d’Saar, two miles on the other side of Saint Die. The trail was rocky and steep and the men made poor time because stealth was important. They knew that the Germans patrolled the area frequently. Much time was lost while the men sat quietly and surveyed their surroundings prior to moving.
Côte d’Saar was an old fort city that presided over a particularly calm stretch of the Saar River, which meandered slowly through a broad valley. After repeated air strikes by both German forces and the Allies, most of the town had been abandoned, its buildings in ruins. There was still a group of residents who had refused to leave their homes, but they generally hid from soldiers and were rarely seen. The onset of winter and the lack of food had forced even these hardy mountain people to take shelter in Saint Die.
There were no lights, nor was there any discernible movement. Nonetheless, LeRoi spent half an hour watching the town and the surrounding area before he signaled that it was alright to move forward. Their destination was a roofless stone warehouse set on a small hill on the edge of town. Once the men were inside the building, they had Professor serve as a lookout and they checked the structure for booby traps. After assuring themselves that all was safe, LeRoi, Slick, and Big Ed turned their attention to moving a large metal plate along a section of wall. Once the plate had been moved, it exposed a staircase leading down into the depths of the building. LeRoi and Big Ed descended into the darkness with their guns at the ready, but they were only met with the scurrying sound of rodents. Big Ed came back up the stairs with a large tarp, which he hung over the entrance leading to the stairs.
Once the tarp was up, Slick lit an oil lantern and hooked it to an overhead beam. The basement was filled with all sorts of supplies, gear, weapons, and ammunition. It looked like an armory. Once the men had decided to keep their own storehouse, they had been very industrious. The Vickers was perched on its tripod in the far corner. It was just after midnight when they started working on the big machine gun and nearly two in the morning when they had it disassembled and packed into three bundles. It was clear to everyone that the four of them could not possibly carry the gun and ammunition. It was decided that the gun would be brought along and then ammunition would have to be stolen from somewhere near Kastledorf.
A hissed warning from Professor had the men dousing their lights and scrambling up the staircase in darkness. As they joined Professor, he pointed out a lone German military vehicle with its lights on, parked in the town square. It was a small troop carrier capable of holding eight to ten men. There were six soldiers standing around the vehicle talking.
“There’s our transportation,” whispered Professor. “We’ll even be able to carry some ammunition, won’t we?”
“How many soldiers you seen?” asked LeRoi, forming a plan in his mind.
“Just those men in front of that truck.”
“Whoa, you ain’t thinking what I think you’s thinking, is you?” Slick questioned LeRoi.
“Yeah, we gon’ get that truck.” LeRoi turned and looked at Slick. “You got a problem with that?”
“We taking racehorse chances here, for what? It’s gon’ be the same when we get home: a nigger is still a nigger. Ain’t nothin’ gon’ change. Uncle Sam ain’t my uncle, he’s just Mr. Charlie to me.”
LeRoi poked Slick in the chest. “The Three hundred Fifty-first is family! I don’t give two shits about Uncle Sam or patriotism, but I’ll kill and die for family! You in or not?”
Slick sighed. “I’m gon’ help. You’s the boss.”
LeRoi quickly outlined a plan and sent Big Ed and Slick off in different directions. He figured that he and his companions had the advantage because they knew the town very well. He had Professor climb the only church tower still standing and prepare for covering fire in case things went wrong. He slipped out of the building and headed toward the vehicle. His plan was quite simple. Slick would create noisy diversion, which would force the soldiers to investigate. The soldiers would be picked off one by one. It was his intention to get as close to the vehicle as possible before firing his weapon. He preferred to kill quietly, with his knife if possible.
As LeRoi picked his way through the debris and destruction of the demolished town, he was surprised at how things could be so different yet remain the same. Here he was a colored man from Louisiana, stalking white men in a little town in France. And yet it had a sameness about it, like when he was out on a raid against the DuMonts. If someone was to have told him a year and a half ago that he would be trained to kill and then ordered to go out and kill white men, he would have called the remark insane. But here he was. An alley between two roofless stone houses loomed ahead of him. LeRoi had to be careful moving about in the snow. It had been snowing for several hours without a break and the snow was now building into small drifts, making footing among the rubble very slippery. He slid the safety off his Bergmann and crouched down as he slowly continued forward.