Once in the tall grass, Scarlett sprung from one German corpse to another, grabbing the helmets off the lifeless heads. After he had five helmets, he lay on the ground and waited for the firing to commence.
The captain did his part. One would have thought they were back at Château-Thierry. In four minutes the firing stopped.
Scarlett rose and ran back to his company’s lines. As he appeared with the helmets in his hand, the men broke into spontaneous cheers. Even the captain, whose resentment disappeared with his newfound admiration, joined his men.
“God damn it to hell, Scarlett! That was the bravest act I’ve seen in the war!”
“Not so fast,” Scarlett demurred with a humility not in evidence before. “We’re clear in front and on the left flank, but a couple of Krauts ran off to the right. I’m going after them.”
“You don’t have to. Let ’em go. You’ve done enough.” Captain Jenkins revised his opinion of Ulster Scarlett. The young lieutenant had met his challenge.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I don’t think I have.”
“What do you mean?”
“My brother.… Rolly was his name. The Krauts got him eight months ago. Let me go after them and you take the ground.”
Ulster Scarlett disappeared back into the field.
He knew exactly where he was going.
A few minutes later the American Lieutenant crouched by a large rock in his tiny island of stone and weeds. He waited for B Company to start its assault on the forest of pines. He leaned against the hard surface and looked up at the sky.
Then it came.
The men shouted to give themselves a touch more courage in the conceivable event they met the retreating enemy. Sporadic shots rang out. Several fingers were nervous. As the company reached the forest, a shattering volley from a score of rifles could be heard.
They were firing at dead men, thought Ulster Scarlett.
He was safe now.
For him the war was over.
“Stay where you are, Amerikaner!” The voice was thickly Germanic. “Don’t move!”
Scarlett had reached for his pistol but the voice above him was emphatic. To touch his revolver meant death.
“You speak English.” It was all Lieutenant Scarlett could think of to say.
“Reasonably well. Don’t move! My gun is aimed at your skull.… The same area of the skull where you put a bullet into Corporal Kroeger.”
Ulster Scarlett froze.
There had been someone! He had heard something!… The corpse in the field!
But why hadn’t the German killed him?
“I did what I had to do.” Again it was the only thing Scarlett could think of to say.
“I’m sure of that. Just as I am sure you had no alternative but to fire on your own troops.… You have … very strange concepts of your calling in this war, do you not?”
Scarlett was beginning to understand.
“This war … is over.”
“I have a degree in military strategy from the Imperial Staff school in Berlin. I’m aware of our impending defeat.… Ludendorff will have no choice once the Mézières line is broken.”
“Then why kill me?”
The German officer came from behind the huge rock and faced Ulster Scarlett, his pistol pointed at the American’s head. Scarlett saw that he was a man not much older than himself, a young man with broad shoulders—like himself. Tall—like himself, with a confident look in his eyes, which were bright blue—like his own.
“We can be out of it, for Christ’s sake! We can be out of it! Why the hell should we sacrifice each other? Or even one of us.… I can help you, you know!”
“Can you really?”
Scarlett looked at his captor. He knew he could not plead, could not show weakness. He had to remain calm, logical. “Listen to me.… If you’re picked up, you’ll be put in a camp with thousands of others. That is, if you’re not shot. I wouldn’t count on any officers’ privileges if I were you. It’ll take weeks, months, maybe a year or longer before they get to you! Before they let you go!”
“And you can change all this?”
“You’re damned right I can!”
“But why would you?”
“Because I want to be out of it!… And so do you!… If you didn’t, you would have killed me by now.… We need each other.”
“What do you propose?”
“You’re my prisoner.…”
“You think me insane?”
“Keep your pistol! Take the bullets out of mine.… If anyone comes across us, I’m taking you back for interrogation … far back. Until we can get you some clothes.… If we can get to Paris, I’ll get you money.”