He was shivering with cold. December in the Ardennes isn't a place to be without the right equipment, but he didn't have a choice. He had jumped into France in June with his unit, the 2nd Ranger Battalion and had fought since. They were now in the Ardennes forest. They had been bivouacked in a grove of trees when the Germans hit them. It was in the early morning hours of the 19th of December and most of the company had been asleep.
The attack had come as a surprise. A battalion-sized unit of Germans had crept up on his company, taken out the sentries and killed many of his company before they even got out of their tents. He had been lucky. His tent was tucked into some bushes on the side opposite from where the fighting began. He made it out of his tent with his boots, rifle and rucksack but had to leave his coat, sleeping bag and gloves behind.
He ran into the trees and hid in a small hollow as he put on his boots. He stashed his rucksack, then headed back to the company area to join the fight. By the time he made it to the edge of the camp, the German Infantry had either killed or captured the majority of his unit.
He didn't want to surrender, so he decided to slip away and try to find another unit. Unfortunately, his map and compass were in his coat pocket, which was in his flattened tent. From memory, he dredged up a picture of his map and thought the closest Allied units were west of his position. He decided the best thing was to head in that direction and try to find them.
He trudged through the dark forest all that day. He had put on all his extra clothes but was still cold. Heavy, dark, snow-laden clouds covered the sky keeping the forest floor in twilight-like conditions. There were no roads in the direction he traveled. Because of that lack, after a while he realized he was lost. He had no idea if he was still going in the right direction. That night he made an emergency shelter out of branches. He didn't build a fire for fear of giving away his position to the enemy, so he spent a miserable night balled up under the pile of limbs shivering, trying to stay warm.
The next morning at first light he ate the only can of C-rations he had cold, then started moving again, hoping it was West. He was in a very heavily forested area without a road or path to be seen except for game trails cutting through the dark gloom under the trees. As he walked he tried to be very quiet so as to hear if anyone was close. It was gloomy and silent in the forest, eerily so. By noon the only thing he had heard, other than the crunch of his own steps on the frozen white carpet, was the 'plop' of snow falling from the trees or an occasional branch breaking from the weight of the snow.
He saw a lighter area ahead between the trees and approached it cautiously, not wanting to blunder into a German encampment. He saw that it was a clearing and crept to the edge to scout it out. 50 yards to his left a stone cottage sat at the edge of the trees. A ramshackle wooden barn was close by as well as the distinctive round casement of a well. A few feet on the other side of the house was another stone building and at the edge of the trees he could see the small distinctive silhouette of what he was sure was an outhouse. As he stood looking over the idyllic scene the cottage door slammed open and a figure stumbled out, falling to the ground after a few steps.
A moment later a figure in a German uniform stepped from the door. He kicked the figure on the ground hard, then said something in French. Jack's interest peaked as he heard the words. He had spent what little spare time he had since landing working at learning the French language. He wasn't greatly proficient at it yet, but he could make out what was said, most of the time, as well as get across what he wanted to say, most of the time. The German soldier had asked the man on the ground where his money was and that he knew they had some because all zigeuner (a word Jack didn't recognize) had money hidden.
Jack heard the man on the ground reply in French, "Just because we are Romani does not mean we have gold."
Jack had to think about that and it came to him; he had heard the word Romani used before, it referred to gypsies. The man on the ground said something that Jack couldn't make out.
The German's lips lifted in a cold menacing smile as he said ominously, "I know how to get the answer from you."
He turned and motioned at the door. A moment later another soldier stepped out dragging a young woman with him.
The first German soldier told the man on the ground, "If you don't tell where you hid your gold, we will rape your woman in front of you and then make you watch us kill her before we kill you."
The man on the ground said something else Jack couldn't make out, but which seemed to anger the German. He nodded at his companion, who stepped over, grabbed the top of the young woman's dress, jerked at it, tearing the front of her blouse open. For an instant Jack took note of the young woman's firm breasts, her nipples crinkled and standing up in the cold air.
That lasted only a second before the first German soldier said something in German to the one next to the girl. He nodded, grabbed her arm and began to drag her back into the cottage as the other one pulled the man to his feet, then began to drag him toward the cottage.
Over his time in the war Jack had discovered that when things got bad he was good at blocking out fear, for a short time anyway. He would go into an emotionally devoid state. He could see and hear what was going on. He could analyze it, then take actions that would be hard for him in any normal circumstance. Before the war the thought of killing people, even when they were trying to kill him would have sent him into a deep funk. Now though, after what he had seen and done, it only caused him to switch off his emotions and do what he needed to do.
Jack knew he couldn't just hide and let the two Germans ravage the woman and kill her and the man. He didn't stop to think as he raised his M1 Garand, resting it against the tree he was hiding behind. At a little over 50 yards it was a comparatively easy shot. He knew he was going to have to kill both of them quickly, so he placed the sights on the chest of the one holding the girl, took a breath and squeezed off the shot. As soon as he felt the recoil he swung his rifle to the second soldier and fired. The two shots came within a second of each other. The two Germans never knew what hit them.
Jack stepped out from behind the tree and walked over to the cottage. As he stopped next to one of the Germans the two Gypsies looked at him shocked. He nudged first one then the other with his foot. His mind told him they were dead. His experience said not to trust it. He pulled out the .45 pistol he carried and with a dead calm fired a 230-grain slug into each of them.
He holstered his pistol, then turned to the couple. The man appeared to be old, in his late sixties or seventies, the woman was much younger, in her early twenties. Both looked terrified as they stared back at him.
"American." He said pointing at himself.
The couple looked confused and very frightened so Jack tried some of his not so good French and stumbled through an explanation, telling them that he wasn't going to hurt them, that he was an American fighting the Germans and got separated from his unit. His explanation appeared to calm the couple, at least a bit. He then asked why these two were asking for gold. The man had gotten up off the ground and was standing holding his ribs as he replied that the Germans hated the Romani and thought all of them had much gold.
Jack dragged the German bodies to the edge of the woods and then returned. He told the couple he was very cold and asked if he could warm himself in their cottage before he continued on to find his unit.
The man smiled and replied, "You have saved us. Please be welcome in our house.".
The woman helped the man into the house and Jack followed. He propped his rifle against the wall next to the door, dropped his rucksack next to it, then walked over and stood close to the fireplace where a small fire was burning. As he warmed himself he noticed that the woman had disappeared into another room. Jack checked tp make sure the flap on the holster for his .45 was unsnapped, just in case. She returned in a few moments after changing her torn blouse.
She began to take the man's shirt off. When she had it off Jack could see the dark purple bruises where the soldier had kicked him. As Jack watched the man breathe he suspected he had one or two broken ribs from the beating. The woman touched the man's side, which caused him to wince and grunt in pain. When he saw that Jack was sure the ribs were broken.
He walked to his rucksack and rummaged around until he found his first aid kit. He pulled out a roll of heavy medical tape, turned and in his rudimentary French told the woman that the man had some broken ribs and they were going to have to tape his chest tightly to allow them to heal. The woman looked cautious but allowed Jack to tape the man's chest. When he was done the woman helped the man put on his shirt.
She turned to Jack and for the first time he took full stock of her. She stood slightly over 5" tall with black hair falling to the middle of her back. Her eyes were large and brown and filled with defiance. Her face was beautiful in a dark exotic way.
"You have been good to us." She said in French, "You saved us from the soldiers and now have fixed Vano's injuries. If you will stay for a while I will make you some food and something to drink."
"Thank you I would be honored," Jack said in his terrible French which brought an unexpected smile from her.
She said in heavily French-accented English, "You do not need to use our language. We both speak your language."
"Thank you. I'm not yet very good with French yet."
