Purple Hearts (Front Lines 3)

Frangie looks up at her. “But why? Who are these people?”

Rainy looks back at her from a million miles away. “Jews.”

Rainy leaves Frangie to care for the few who still live. They would almost certainly die within days. Tuberculosis and starvation and beatings and unending terror are not easily cured with fresh water and C rations.

Ahead, down the length of the train, Rainy sees a commotion. A group of GIs has found some Germans.

The GIs, all enlisted, turn hard, solemn faces to Rainy. One, a staff sergeant, says, “Nazi bastards want to surrender.”

They have four Germans, three enlisted men, one an officer, though he has evidently torn off his insignia of rank, as well as the twin lightning flashes of the SS, from his uniform.

“Get them into the woods,” Rainy says.

The sergeant nods. “You heard the captain.”

The GIs march the prisoners into the woods, being none too gentle as they encourage speed with kicks and blows from the butts of their M1s.

“This will do,” Rainy says. “Line them up. I’m going to question them.”

The four Germans are shoved into a line. Some are terrified, others belligerent. They are all men, and all SS. Rainy passes around cigarettes for them. She speaks to them in German.

“I have some questions,” she says.

“We do not answer—” a belligerent, pig-eyed sergeant says.

BANG!

The Walther in Rainy’s hand bucks. The bullet goes through the man’s left eye, and he drops.

She goes to the next man, who has stained his trousers. “Where are you based?”

“Konzentrationslager Dachau,” he says. Concentration Camp Dachau.

“Where you murder people.”

“I . . . I . . . I follow orders. I am nobody. I am just a soldier.”

“No,” Rainy says in her dangerous singsong. “I know soldiers. You are no soldier.”

“A soldier follows orders!” This outburst from the officer, who, judging by age and arrogance, Rainy guesses is at least the equivalent of a major.

“Orders to murder innocent men and women and children.”

“But they are only Jews!” the officer protests.

One of the enlisted men bolts, running through the woods. The GI sergeant looks quizzically at Rainy, who says, “Prisoners attempting to escape . . .”

The sergeant grins, takes the M1 from one of his men, aims carefully, and fires a bullet into the German’s back. He falls.

“Only Jews,” Rainy repeats.

“Yes, of course, only Jews. And some Poles and homosexuals and other antisocial elements, but mostly Jews.”

Rainy forms a ghastly smile. She steps very close to the officer. “Any of you boys have a smoke grenade?”

There is an intake of breath as the GIs realize what she’s asking. A smoke grenade is handed to her.

“Only Jews,” she says. “Only Jews.” She unbuttons the fly on his trousers. She stuffs the smoke grenade in, without pulling the pin, and then carefully rebuttons his trousers.