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IT TOOK ME FOUR DAYS to catch up with the 101st. They were heading southeast into the mountains of Bavaria toward Berchtesgaden when I finally tracked down their convoy. The trucks lined the road as they waited for the Army Corps to rebuild the bridge over the Bischofswiesen River, a little present left by the retreating SS. The mount I’d acquired in Prien am Chiemsee, a lovely chestnut thoroughbred named Solomon and nothing like the hulking Franziska, ambled lazily past soldiers relaxing along the riverside. I knew I’d found what I was looking for when, instead of catcalls and comments like, “look at the dame on the horse,” I heard my name.
“Lily Saint James! Can it be?”
I pulled Solomon to a halt. “Tank?”
“In the flesh.” He held a new tommy gun in his hand, and the ever-present stogie shifted upward as his lips curled.
“Heavens, it’s good to see you. Hold Solomon’s head so I can get down?” I slid off the horse’s back and was scooped, laughingly, into a bear hug the moment my feet hit the ground. When Tank let go, I found myself surrounded by soldiers. Some I recognized, Whiskey and Peterson, and there were a few new faces interested to find out who the lady on the horse could be.
“Looking stunning as ever.” Tank grinned.
“Look at you. None the worse for wear, I see.”
“What are you doing here?” Peterson asked.
“Why, I’ve been searching for you handsome fellows.”
“Are you on a mission?” Whiskey whispered.
I whispered back, “Yes, I’m on a mission to find the 101st. I’ve just accomplished my mission objective.”
The men whooped and Whiskey got a slap on the back.
“She wouldn’t tell you if she were on a mission,” Tank guffawed. “The boys scrounged up some fresh eggs this morning and are making helmet scramble. Would you like to join us?”
I wanted nothing more than to continue moving forward until I reached the battalion staff. However, the entreaties to remain for lunch ballooned into a rowdy chant of “stay, stay, stay,” and I gave in.
Whiskey dusted off a rock for me to sit on, and I searched the faces, looking for one in particular. “Where’s Feinberg? Didn’t he move out with you?”
The jovial voices went silent.
“What happened?”
Tank removed the cigar and shook his head. “Took a shot to the neck. He didn’t make it.”
No. My lips moved, but the denial turned into a simple gasp of disbelief. I pressed fingers against my temples and shook my head. After everything we went through to retrieve Nigel, and then at the hospital in Switzerland.
I cleared my throat and swallowed the lump that arose. “He was a good man who knew how to keep his wits about him.”
“Here, here,” a soldier behind me murmured.
Whiskey handed me a metal mess kit bowl with a small pile of scrambled eggs and what looked to be a charred slab of Spam.
“Thanks.” Feinberg’s death seemed to have turned my appetite, and I simply held the meal in my lap.
Tank patted my shoulder. “He had a great respect for the work you two did together.”
“I held him in high regard as well. His skills saved our butts more than once during the mission. Did he ever tell you how he got injured?”
Tank shook his head.
The men gathered closer as I told them about Nigel, the SS soldier, and our wild ride through the mountains of Germany. When I finished, I knew Feinberg’s reputation had increased tenfold and his story would become legendary among the men. It was the least I could do for him.
“Tell us what you’ve been doing since we saw you last.” Whiskey hunkered down at my feet, with his own meal in hand.
I told them the story of Jiri and Ludvik and soon had them laughing over the German who’d hightailed it across Czechoslovakia in his tank so he could surrender to the Americans.
“And then the Czechs took off in their ‘borrowed’ jeep without me, so I hopped a ride with some boys from the Twelfth Infantry.” I didn’t mention that it had been a good thing I’d hooked up with the Twelfth, because we soon ran into a ragtag group of Russians who looked rather savage. I don’t think it would have gone well for me had I been alone.
“Sounds kind of dangerous, traveling alone these days. You never know who you’ll come up against,” Tank drawled.
“True. It’s why I carry this”—I pulled a fully loaded Walther PPK out of my coat pocket—“wherever I go.”
“Very nice.” Whiskey whistled. “Can I see it?”
“I assume you know how to use that?”
I gave Tank an arch look, shook my head at Whiskey, and returned the weapon to its place.
“What were you doing with a couple of Czechs?” Whiskey asked.
“POWs at Buchenwald concentration camp. They had gotten a line on an SS guard and were pursuing him for execution.” My comments effectively shut down conversation.
The men shifted uncomfortably and wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“We came across one of those camps outside Landsberg,” Whiskey murmured.
“Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Tank’s cigar shifted and he glanced away.
“I heard Dachau was bigger. Worse.” Whiskey picked at a hangnail.
“What were you doing at Buchenwald?” another soldier asked.
“Freelance photography for a couple of newspapers. They estimated twenty-one thousand prisoners lived there.”
Someone from behind let out a low whistle.
“Patton forced the locals to march from miles away to witness the depravity.”
Tank nodded. “General Taylor made the locals dig graves for the dead at the camp we saw.”
“Buchenwald too.”
“I heard the Russians found one even bigger. With gas chambers.” Peterson joined our group, sitting on a tuft of grass across from Tank.
“Miss Saint James.” My head rotated to find Lieutenant Glassman standing with hands on hips. “Your presence is requested up front.”
“Glass!” I hurried over, threw an arm across his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” I echoed the same sentiment from when he first found me.
He took a laughing step back and wrapped a hand around my waist to keep us from toppling over. “It’s good to see you too, ma’am.”
It took a few minutes for me to untether Solomon and say my farewells to the men. Glassman and I walked shoulder to shoulder along the roadside, passing DUKW boats, jeeps, and troop transports. Solomon snorted and shook his head.
“Nice horse,” Glassman said.
“Thanks. How did you know I was here?”
“Grapevine. Good news travels fast.”
“Do you think he’s angry that I’m here?”
“He doesn’t know. Captain Devlin overheard the men and sent me to find you. But if you ask me, I think he’ll be pleased to see you.”
“How much farther?”
“Just around the curve there.”
“Wait. Hold up a moment. Here, take Solomon’s reins for me.” My duffle bag lay slung across the front of the saddle; I unclasped the front pocket that held a comb and other toiletries.
Glassman watched in patient amusement as I primped. The brown slacks I wore were dusty and smelled of horse, and the jacket wasn’t in much better shape. I slapped away as much of the dirt as I could and plopped my hat between Solomon’s ears. “Lieutenant, do you have a sweetheart back home?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. A fiancée.”
“What’s her name?” I combed out a snarl.
“Melly, short for Melanie.”
A few swipes of lipstick and I smacked my lips together. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Well, ma’am—”
“Lily.”
“Lily, I’d have to argue with you there. I’m the lucky one.”
A smattering of purple wild flowers on side of the road caught my eye, and I plucked a few to place behind my ear. “Will I do?”
“As pretty as a picture.”
“Always the gentleman. That ... is precisely why your Melly is lucky to have you.” I tapped the brim of his hat. “Lead on, Lieutenant.”
We rounded the corner; the shade from the trees broke into shimmering sunlight. Its rays flooded the landscape and my heart. He stood with his back to me, but I would recognize that figure anywhere. One foot rested on the jeep’s running board, his elbow on the windscreen while the other hand held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. I only vaguely registered Jake sitting in the passenger seat of the jeep.
“Major,” Glassman called.
Charlie lowered the glasses and turned. His face initially registered surprise and then turned to delight. I surged forward into his embrace. I was home.
“How can this be?”
“I’ve been searching for you for days.”
“I don’t understand. You said you were going back to Switzerland.”
“You understood the message?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been with the press corps in Buchenwald and decided to take a vacation.”
He laughed. “A strange place to go on vacation.”
“Are you kidding me? Berchtesgaden is supposed to be one of the premier vacation resorts.”
“Lily”—he held me at arm’s length—“the war isn’t over. We don’t know what we’re going to find over this bridge.”
“I imagine you’ll find a bunch of empty houses. You must be a member of the Nazi Party to live here. They’d be fools to remain.”
He didn’t argue and his hand slipped from my upper arms down to my palms.
“Why did you come?”
“I thought I’d take Jake up on his offer to become his secretary.” I grinned at the captain, who unabashedly watched our reunion.
“You’re hired. It’s good to see you.”
“You too. Have you been staying out of trouble, or are you still losing your paychecks in poker games?”
“I only lose when you’re in the room. You’re the opposite of a good luck charm when it comes to poker.” His gaze slid past me. “Where did you find that fine specimen, Glass?”
“That is Solomon, and he’s mine.” Glassman passed the reins and I laid a cheek against his roan and white muzzle. “Isn’t he a beauty? I liberated him from an abandoned stable up the road. I think he belonged to an important Nazi or military officer.”
“An interesting choice of transportation.” Charlie ran a hand down the horse’s neck.
“How much longer before you can cross?”
“The engineers tell us another hour.”
“Are you expecting trouble?”
“Probably not. The district head of the local Volkssturm turned in his weapon and officially surrendered to Third Infantry yesterday in Winkl. But we can’t be too careful. We’re too close to the end to make mistakes.”
My predictions proved correct. An hour later the men entered the ghost town of Berchtesgaden. The sun had dipped below the mountains when Charlie tracked me down. I’d tethered Solomon to a tree and set about taking pictures of the town.
“I see you’re back to using your photography cover again. What’s the assignment this time?”
As usual, my body filled with a heightened sense of well-being whenever Charlie was around, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “Actually, I wasn’t joking when I said I was on vacation. I’m not on assignment. To be honest, I turned in my resignation. Although I’m not sure they accepted it.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t feel there was much more I could provide to the OSS. My last mission was abruptly cancelled and the opportunity to go to Buchenwald fell into my lap.”
His brows knit. “Are your press credentials phony?”
“No, they’re real enough. I thought I could get permission to stay and get some photographs for the papers.”
He grinned. “I’ll see what we can work out.”