Freewriting: A Story Told in Drabbles: Part 7

Fleming and Captain Kirkham had split up hours ago trying to search for the rest of the troops.
“I imagine they cut through the forest,” Captain Kirkham said. “There’s farms that way, but there’s a temporary camp that way. The General wanted us all to rendezvous after the battle. You take that path by the barbed wire. I’m cutting to the right. If I don’t see anything by dawn I’ll go back to the path. We should sight them by dawn.”
And if we don’t? seemed to be the unasked question. Fleming was ordered to make for the nearest held village approximately 25 miles away.
“God help you,” Captain Kirkham said, and shook Fleming’s hand.
He waited until the private was out of sight before bolting off to the left. He was going home even if branded a coward. He had to see his Sweet Rita one more time.
But by and by, that leg began to howl at him. Kirkham slowed to a limp, then a crawl.
Around 2 AM he cleared the woods and entered the rolling countryside, or what was left of it. There he caught sight of a fire and without regard to his safety, Kirkham made for it.
There upon the scorched earth were two German girls, a blonde and a brunette, and a boy child roasting guinea fowl.
Nothing smelled sweeter to his nostrils. He stepped into the light and the brunette saw him.
She must have alerted the other because the blonde stood up and passed the child to the other.
“Wer sind Sie?” She said.


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