Love Letters to a Soldier

Growing up, my dad was a big fan of the old TV series: Combat.  I wanted to honor him with a special homage to that time and the quality productions this series produced.  Vic Morrow was the quintessential everyman in the form of Sgt. Chip Saunders. I remember many a fine night with Dad sitting up reliving his own father's war time experiences which this show showcased so well.  Good times...this one is from the heart.  I  hope Sgt. Sean McAroy  meets Vic Morrow's high standards. I did my best for the guys of K Company 361st Infantry Regiment              Elise C Davies

Sgt. Sean Patrick McAroy is a hard-bitten, no-nonsense war-weary veteran who is well accustomed to difficult assignments.  

This latest, given over by Lt. James Lafferty, is one for the record books, however.  

Charged with escorting a lovely red headed woman who just happens to be a brilliant scientist, is one he would rather his squad not have to undertake.  

Females in a war zone spells more than trouble…it could mean one of his men’s life, or maybe even his if something goes awry, which it invariably does where a woman is concerned, or at least, that is Sgt. McAroy’s belief from past experience.  

Only problem is, the Sgt did not expect to find himself somewhat attracted to this woman/child.  

He is certain he can control the annoying lapse, of course.  

She’s just a dame, like any other and the sooner he can get her back to HQ the sooner she is out of his hair, and everything will be back to normal.

 All Sean has to do Is keep it together, keep focused on the mission and make it back to his destination, everyone in one piece.  

How hard can it be…

HarryPotterLives    One Star Review

I didn't like this war story at all.  It was nothing like a real war story.  Women shouldn't be in war.  It was just a stupid romance story. I got this book in an ARC and I'm sorry I did.

Sgt. Wilson Mathers USMC   Five Star Review

I didn't watch the Combat series because it wasn't my era but my dad did and he loved the show. I wish he had lived long enough to read this story. He would have loved it.  You brought the guys home. Which is more than the series producers did.  Dad never forgave them for the fact.

Missy Carter-Tremble   Three Star Review

I got this book in an ARC.  I read it because of the romance and was pleasantly surprised by how human the men were.  I don't like war stories but this was more of a historical reliving of the atomic bomb development.  Very creative plot.

 CHAPTER EXCERPT:

The rain came down in buckets, the night sky streaked with slashes of vivid lightning between ominous rolling thunderclaps.

Sgt. Sean Patrick McAroy ducked his head, hunching his shoulders, making a dash for the relative dryness of the overhang across the street.

The building had been impressive in its heyday, he imagined, as he sought shelter beneath the weathered canvas canopy which stretched the length of the structure’s frontage.

A two-story monstrosity with all the trimmings, including a pair of evil looking gargoyles protruding off either cornice.

The bulging eyes stared down at him even now, their cold stare inciting a tiny shiver of apprehension inside the man’s over-active mind this night.

McAroy shook the irrational mood, adjusting his helmet automatically. He liked it to feel a certain way and looking up had set it off kilter. His palm met with cold wood as he shoved against the ornately carved entrance doors.

A cold blast of air hit his face, his eyes shifting to the source. A direct hit from a Kraut 88 had blasted a hole in the roof line up by the raised stage area.

A red velvet curtain was discolored from all the water damage it had sustained over the many long months this area had been under siege by both armies. A steady stream pooled in a dark liquid puddle at the end of the sloping aisle he walked.

The worn carpet with its faded fleur-de-lis pattern softened the muddy slosh of his boots.

Row after row of wooden seats fanned out on either side of the path he walked. Decorative wallpaper, stripped and hanging down in tattered sheets of faux eloquence echoed the fact, this place had seen better times.

McAroy turned to his right, his stocky frame barely fitting the cramped space between the seats. A makeshift HQ had been established a few days ago in one of the larger vacant office areas of the now defunct theater.

The French towns all begin to fade into one, each picturesque sitting marred by the violence of war.

Lt. James Lafferty looked up from his paperwork, which in this instance, had put the man in a very bad mood, judging from his forbidding expression. Moody, sullen eyes met McAroy’s oblique stare.

“McAroy...you’re back.” It was grumbled but then the other man tried to snap out of his doldrums, forcing a more welcoming attitude. “How’d it go?”

McAroy nodded minutely, his own mood not the best, in truth. “A lot of buildup out there, Lt.” The report was forthcoming, the man swinging his weapon to his side under the heavy poncho he wore, his weight shifted to his right foot, his hand curving to the stock of the Tommy.

The piercing blue eyes met and held Lafferty’s brown creamy ones, which often changed to a green hue when the man was angry. Both men were suddenly most business oriented.

“Something’s up. We dodged four Kraut patrols. A convoy of six trucks headed north.” The Sergeant leaned over Lafferty’s spread-out map, pointing the route. “We already suspected the Krauts had a depot somewhere in that area though, right? What’da ya think?”

“Yeah.” The officer agreed with the assumption. “We’ll have to knock it out sooner or later.”

“Do we go?”

“No.”  Lafferty offered a cigarette. A Chesterfield. It was getting harder and harder to find his Lucky Strikes these days. “I’ll assign another squad.”

McAroy dug in his inner jacket pocket, waving the cigarette aside. He pulled out his Luckys, handing the pack over to a happier James Lafferty.

“Have a seat.” The jerk of the Lt’s. head pointed out a questionable cane back chair over by the far wall.

McAroy grabbed the not-too-stout object noting a faded poster hanging above on the plaster wall. ‘Smythe and Haddock’, Vaudeville act from the Twenties, headlined a star-studded ensemble of tawdry show people, promising thrills...chills and laughs for all.

He had never heard of any of the performers listed. Glenn Miller, he would have gone to see...but these guys?

He dragged the chair over, straddling it from behind, his powerful thighs hugging the rounded frame of the bottom, his free arm resting on the curved back. He held his weapon aside, out of the way, turning his attention back to his Commanding Officer.

“I have another mission in mind for you.” Lafferty offered his lighter, holding the flame cupped with his palm. It was a little breezy in this place. “Not sure you’ll want it.”

“Do I have a choice?” Such a statement surprised the sergeant.

“On this one, yes.” Lafferty replaced his lighter in his coat pocket, inhaling his first drag, exhaling pent up tension with the white puff from his lungs. “There’s a special adjacent tagged on this file.” He held a slender package up. “I’m not supposed to let anyone see it but...I figure, what the hell.”

He tossed the envelope over. “I wouldn’t have believed it had it not been down in black and white, so...” He shrugged.

McAroy took the offer, extracting the sheets inside absently.

“There’s some hush-hush crap going down in the States. A bunch of egghead scientists are heading a project for Uncle Sam.” Lafferty nut-shelled the contents, motioning to the papers McAroy was glancing through. “The head guy, one Enrico Fermi, pulls some weight evidently. Note the signature attached to the bottom down there.”

McAroy read it. “Brig. Gen Leslie R. Groves.” His brow furrowed slightly. “The Pentagon guy?”

“Not to mention, General Bradshaw and our own illustrious Company Commanders.”

“We’ve handled V.I.Ps before, Sir.”

“Yeah, well...that’s all fine but, wait,” He insisted. “Seems simple enough at the outset. There is a scientist type the French Resistance are holding in an undisclosed location. We’re to rendezvous and retrieve. She’s a special package, according to the file.”

“She?”McAroy’s mood went from bad to morbid. “A woman?”

“No law says a scientist has to be a male, Sergeant.” Laffety reminded, but he could well sympathize. “But I don’t know if that adjective applies to this particular female. The term most frequently used in the file there is... ‘whiz kid.’”

“Kid?” It was going from bad to worse, the hairs on the back of McAroy’s head stood up and he sat a little straighter in the wobbly chair. “How old are we talking, Lt.?”

“Doesn’t say.” Lafferty broke the news. “There is a little background included.” The man sat back, his hands braced on the edge of the study table used for his desk.

“The parents were in Munich in Forty-One when the crap hit the fan and couldn’t make it out of Germany. They are both in the same field. Physicists. Which made them smart enough, I guess...to go underground. This woman.. ‘Whiz Kid’.. person...was in the States studying at the University of Chicago under Fermi.”

McAroy paid close attention, having forgotten about his own cigarette which burned down between his fingers.

“So, the dummy immediately flies over to the Fatherland, presumably in search of dear old Mom and Pop The whole story is sketchy from there.” Lafferty stopped for a breath, motioning with his cigarette.

“Everyone disappeared off the grid for a couple months...switch to present day. Dad is in England working for our side, the French somehow located the girl, and no one is saying about the Mother.”

“Sounds routine so far.” McAroy wanted the other shoe to drop, holding up the papers. “What else does it say in here? That I’m not going to like.”

“Down at the bottom of page three...second to the last paragraph.”

McAroy searched the section out, reading it carefully.

The blue eyes were lifted finally, their depths carefully guarded. McAroy didn’t say anything but then he didn’t have to. His expressions often said much and after all, he had always been a man of few words.

Lafferty sighed heavily, clearly of a mutual mind on the matter. “Whatever these guys are working on,” He sought the words, weighing them carefully. “The Big Brass is watching us closely, McAroy, but that aside. I’m getting the drift that it’s important. Real important.”

The hazel eyes allowed the gravity of the situation. “I was told to choose my best man. One who could be trusted implicitly.”

“Sanchez still out on patrol?”

Lafferty grinned slightly, downing his head. “Yeah, that left you.”

“This shit, Lt...this addendum.” McAroy showed his disdain. “Is this some G-2 paranoia? You know how they get. They can’t be serious.”

“They’re serious, McAroy.”

“This is a woman, for God’s sake.” It was summarily reminded. “Are we getting as bad as the Krauts?”

Lafferty quieted, his own moral ethics tested on this one. “The lines begin to blur sometimes.”

He had made difficult decisions before but, “Look at it from their viewpoint. If this woman holds valuable information, stands to reason, the Krauts know about her. What if she falls into their hands. Think, damnit! What are our options?”

McAroy was given food for thought but the command issued in that file turned his stomach. “What kind of men ask that, Lt? What is in their heads?”

“I don’t know.” The Lieutenant told the truth. “My question to you is...can you carry out the orders if it becomes necessary?”

“It won’t become necess..”

“That’s not what I asked.” Lafferty hardened his manner. “If you can’t do the job then I’m to choose someone who can.”

McAroy shook his head with a jerk, his body language saying all he thought of such policy.

“I won’t do that.” It was a sacred vow, the roughhewn voice filled with emotion. “Even I draw the line at something…” His head jerked a snap with his mounting anger, a coldness filtering into his eyes. “...like that.”

Lafferty nodded curtly, accepting the decision. “Your guys have earned some down time. You’re on a 72 hour ‘watch’.” He glanced up. “Oh and...good job tonight. Pass it on, will ya?”

McAroy was thrown off course by the easy dismissal. “You’re assigning someone else?”

“Yes, Sergeant, I am.” Lafferty dared him to go further, with a look. “But that is my decision, not yours. Get some rest. If the Krauts are building up and reinforcing, you know it will hit the fan sooner than later. I want you fresh.”

Lafferty returned to his paperwork.

McAroy was left with no recourse but to take his leave. He retraced his steps, his mind occupied, heavy with apprehension and doubts.

He stepped out the heavy doors, absently glancing about the night. Down the street, sheets of rainwater flowed into ever expanding puddles washing the pebbled street slick and clear of debris and mud. It almost looked clean.

The air was cold on his exposed cheeks. He pulled on his green cotton gloves, his gaze drawn to the windows of a dress shop across the road.

A mannequin held her eternal pose, wearing a dusty, torn summer dress of yellow print. She looked cold. The fabric hanging in the blown-out window flapped merrily in the stiff breeze coming down the hills to the South.

An eatery was next door, missing its tables and chairs but the checker-board pattern on the walls was unmistakable. A wrought iron chair lay blocking the doorway, which hung off its hinges. The back leg of the chair was bent at an odd angle, sticking out to the side.

French words bespoke of street names McAroy could not pronounce, let alone read. Mec had been trying to teach him some of the local language, but he had forgotten more than he had retained.

McAroy pulled his collar closer to his neckline, momentarily shutting out the brisk coolness of the wind which whipped his poncho about the wet material of his splattered fatigues.

He stood, braced against the elements, needing a few minutes to analyze Lafferty’s actions. He knew his guys were holed up down the way, a warm fire ablaze in an old potbellied stove.

Stockman had repaired the flue pipe that had been pulled away from the wall and the damned thing had fired right up with some gentle persuasion from the large giant of a man. Mec had broken some furniture up for fuel. The chill of the room lessened drastically.

The better places to bivouac had been staked out so Logan had to scrounge for a dry spot for the Squad. Everyone had overlooked the small room thankfully. There was a doctor’s office above the rooms, so McAroy assumed the area beneath was used for personal space by the town’s physician before everyone was evacuated from the area.

There was a remnant of an office, a very small nook housing a two-burner stove which required gas to operate and one small sink which hung off the wall now, its pipes still attached. The main water line had been hit in previous shelling though.

Still, the place was dry and room enough for each guy to find a bed-down spot.

A stove was an added benefit, one greatly appreciated by his road weary soldiers. Were he honest with himself, McAroy enjoyed the small luxury as well. That first cup of hot, steamy coffee tasted just great tonight.

He had taken a few minutes to scope out the place as well, even to the extent of laying claim to a rolled-up section of rug he had found lying on the floor directly behind the pot belly.

The space was warm and comfortable if you put it up against the hard, wet ground they all had been utilizing of late.

Four hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded phenomenal. Anything over? Amazing. He would take what Lafferty could give them and gladly but...his conscience was bothering him. He felt he had let the Lieutenant down.

The order he had read, what the hell was in G-2′s collective head to issue something like...that.

The Nazi’s, yes...you would expect it but, his own military leaders?

He could never condone something so heinous. Not and live with himself afterwards. He knew there were men who would have no qualms with the concept though.

He hoped to God, he never found himself becoming one.

But they existed. It was an axiom of war...of what it did to a guy’s mind and soul.

McAroy didn’t judge or condemn such men. He just sorta pitied them.

Lafferty had the tough decisions to make. The Sergeant realized the weight of Command. Still, it didn’t sit right...none of it. There had to be boundaries. Even in war.

It was a crappy war and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse? You were knocked for the proverbial loop.

McAroy needed sleep...desperately. Maybe things would be clearer when the brain fog lifted. He didn’t know.

He held tight to the sides of his collar, bracing himself into the wind. He would feel better after some food and rest.

It would fall into place then. It always had before.

He quickened his steps, anxious to be out of the elements and back where he felt somewhat in control of matters. As it was, the world seemed to be spinning out of whack these days.

He had experienced a lot of losses of late. The ‘green’ kids they were sending just didn’t listen. One mistake out in the field and ...it was over. He didn’t know how to instill common sense into them. He had to find a way though. He had to.

And So It Begins...

“Sanchez back?” McAroy had approached the Officer, uncertain as to his plan of action. He needed to clear the air between them. It hadn’t sat well, leaving it like he did last night, and he hadn’t slept well because of the stress.

“Sanchez turned me down too.” Lafferty was glad for the chance offered, taking it gladly. He shrugged a wane smile. “I don’t blame him...and I don’t blame you, McAroy.” He was quick to add. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. From either of you men but my problem still remains. Who do I send on the mission.”

Lafferty was also glad to talk the problem out. McAroy had proven an invaluable sounding board in the past.

The Sergeant nursed his third cup of java, stretching his aching muscles this way and that. It felt good to have some down time. He searched for a cigarette.

“I was thinking maybe Arnolds. He has the ability.” Lafferty, in actuality, hated the solution upon which he had arrived.

“Arnolds can get the job down.” McAroy had no doubt. He lit his cigarette, handing it over to his C.O. He knew the guy was out of Luckys. “He wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“Oh yeah?” Lafferty took heart. Had he missed someone? He changed positions, moving a little closer to the other man. “Who did you have in mind?”

McAroy leaned over a convenient support, his arm dangling from the windshield of an Army jeep. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say, half shaking his head, grunting derisively for his own folly. “... ...Me.”

Lafferty’s smile broke through. “Are you sure you can complete the mission? If worse comes to...”

“I can.” It still didn’t click with McAroy, though. “But I’m telling you here and now, Sir...I’ll do everything in my power to see that it doesn’t come to that.”

“I know you will, McAroy.” Lafferty put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “That’s exactly why I wanted you.”

The day had cleared up, the depressing haze of the early morning melting into a bright, sunshine filled afternoon.

The men had taken the news of yet another mission in their stride, which made it easier on McAroy’s conscience for having technically ‘volunteered’ them.

Logan griped a bit but then settled down to the established routine which in itself, was a ‘routine’. If John G. could not find anything to bitch about...well, usually? The man was near death and it just wasn’t a good day all around...for anybody.

McAroy had grown accustomed to the other G.I’s ways and even missed the bitching and moaning if Logan was absent for any length of time.

Of course, Logan would never hear that from the Sergeant’s lips. That was a given, but secretly, the perennial eight-ball had turned into a valued member of his squad and ‘Sarge’ was grateful to have Logan around to depend on...not to say the man still could not get under his skin.

He could and on a regular basis.

There weren’t too many ‘regular’ days out here in the field though. So far, this had proven a relatively good outing.

The German patrols of the night before had dissipated, which meant the Krauts were already in place going to spring their trap soon, or...God willing, they had found this sector unimportant, having moved on to other more productive territory.

McAroy didn’t hold out much hope on the latter. He kept a quiet, constant vigil, his eyes always moving, scanning... ‘clearing’ a section of wooded area at a time as they marched, single file, through open country.

‘Don’t bunch up’. The standing order of any day or mission. Give the enemy the least number of targets to take down.

He felt most comfortable with Mec on point, Logan bringing up the rear. He glanced around, checking on both men’s positions, keeping the steady rhythm of the stride he had established.

They had covered a lot of ground already. The men were rested and fed. They seemed in a good mood although quiet and alert.

Maybe they hadn’t awakened fully as yet. The Sarge could empathize. He had not wanted to roll out of his warm blanket today. He had forgotten what it was like to ‘sleep in’.

The small luxuries one missed in life! He mused over the fact, his thoughts turning to his mom and sister, Lorraine.

He hoped that damned antiquated furnace would last through this winter. He had been saving up for a replacement when the call had come in.

So many things which needed his attention at home. There had been no time between working the ten-hour days and his side job on the weekends.

Never enough time. He hadn’t minded the hours, or the work but it seemed he was constantly spinning his wheels. Get some cash saved up and some big emergency would loom suddenly on the horizon.

The last time, right before he had shipped off to boot camp, had been Lorraine’s appendectomy.

McAroy had been scared as hell. That kid was everything to his mom...and to himself. But they had gotten his sister to the hospital, and everything had turned out fine.

‘Thank the Lord.’ As his mom reminded everyone to do afterwards. Which he had.

In his own way.

While McAroy was not a religious man, he was a spiritual one. Seeing all he had seen...out here, a guy had to have some lifeline to cling to. Something.

His thoughts were interrupted...Mec was coming back.

The young French man had disappeared over the upcoming rise a few minutes back, scouting ahead, making certain the squad didn’t run into an unpleasant ‘surprise’.

“Sarge! They’re up ahead.” The young soldier motioned with his head, his weapon held, as ever...at the ready, should its services be required. Even though he had run the last two hundred yards, Mec was not even breathing hard. The men were in top physical condition and McAroy was constantly on their case insisting they remain so. “Two men. One woman.”

“Woman?” Logan had come up with the others finally and heard the only word that really mattered. “Where?”

He had looked about superficially, his grin coming instantly. “I call ‘shotgun’, Sarge! First dibs!”

“Only two guys?” McAroy brought the matter under hand quickly with one ‘Sarge look’ to his B.A.R. man. “Why only two? I thought this was a priority mission.”

“There originally were six. They split up. Safer for the girl that way.” Mec stated. “That’s what they said, anyway.”

“What’s up, Sarge?” Logan was often the ‘spokesman’ for the group, voicing what each man thought on a matter usually.

“...The Resistance is ahead.” Sarge cut his head to the side, speaking to his men who waited about him. “They have our package.”

“She’s a cute little package, Sarge.” Mec grinned. “Little loopy though.”

“What?” McAroy hadn’t expected that statement.

“What’d ya mean, ‘loopy’..is she crazy or something?” Logan was disappointed already. “Wouldn’t you know it, Sarge? They send us out to get a dame and she turns out to be loony tunes.”

“No.” Mec laughed easily. “She just seems...distracted. Big time.”

“Well, no never mind, beggars can’t be choosers. I get first shot at her.” Logan informed the others.

“I saw her first.” Mec reminded.

“Alright, shut-up. Both of you!” McAroy clicked into his ‘I’m in charge’ mode which elicited complete and utter attention from his men. “That’s enough of that shit. You will conduct yourselves like soldiers. Step out of line and I’ll have your asses...you got that?”

They didn’t seem all that terrified. Logan was still grinning.

“This woman is off limits in every sense of the word. That’s not me talking. It’s Capt. Richards.” He searched all the interested faces. “If you want to take it up with him when we get back...be my guest.”

“Aww, Sarge.” Logan grumbled his discord. “Geesh...you never let us slack off, where’s the harm in a little ogling.”

“Ogle all you want. Just keep your distance.” McAroy tone was sharp and precise. “Let’s get this damned mission behind us...”