Who Won The Series?

"Click!"

The sound of a pistol being cocked, or a bullet being chambered. From behind me. Not good.

Shouldn't have tried to cross this strange field. But when the wheel came off the Jeep, there weren't any good alternatives.

Landed far from the drop zone; got lost. Headed South, the direction for the advance.

Maybe a quick move; then I could bring my own rifle to bear.

Jumped into the tall grass to the left, rolled and flattened out with my M-1 pointed back toward the sound. No shot; nothing moving immediately.

Minutes ticked off. Had to get out of this field, or I'd be a sitting duck come daylight.

Made like a snake, hopefully a quiet snake. Unfortunately, a big snake that moved the grass.

"Dorthin," came a loud whisper. Sounded German. Boots started moving toward me. Three or four. Not trying to hide. Had me outnumbered.

On the other hand...

Took the extra pack I'd carried from the Jeep and threw it to the left. Three guns blazed. Sure shot the hell out of that pack. The rifle flashes were easy to spot.

Three shots in return from the M-1, and I was moving South again. Out of the field, and into some woods. A trail heading my way made for faster progress.

Until...

"Arrêt!"

Not German this time. Better. Better yet, sounded female.

Laid my rifle down carefully, and turned around. Sure enough. A tall girl, probably a little younger than me. With what looked like a shot gun leveled at my mid-section.

"American, American," hoping she'd understand. "Do you speak any English?"

"A little," she whispered, "but you could still be a fake. We were told you'd know who won the World Series last year. Who?"

"The Dam Yankees," was my answer. "I'm from Boston."