- whatever the hell they called themselves - and were happy to see Abraham waiting to pick us up, not that I was looking forward to reporting to Mac for debriefing. It had been an amateur performance on my part, even though the others told me to forget it.
Mac surprised me. After listening to Rasmussen's report - which included my momentary lapse - he turned to me in front of the others and said, "The job got done, and very well, Eric. No one expects you to be a machine. You've learned a very valuable lesson and, under the circumstances, a relatively cheap one. It seems you recovered nicely and completed the job just the way you should have."
That made me feel a lot better until he turned to Daryl. "Daryl, on the other hand, seems to be suffering from tender, brotherly feelings for his fellow man. From what I understand, you had a nice clear shot at your target and, instead of taking that shot, decided to push Eric out of the way so you could then shoot while moving, getting shot yourself in the process. If you'd taken that first shot, possibly neither of you would have been shot. On the other hand, it was quite possible that you might have missed when you finally did shoot, and both you and Eric could have been killed. Do you need a refresher course in Rule One, Daryl?"
He had discipline. He flushed slightly, but managed to say, "No, sir," with a steady voice.
"Very well. Perhaps more than one lesson was learned this time. Daryl, report to the infirmary to have that wound looked at by a doctor. The rest of you can report back to base. Congratulations to all of you on an exceptional job." His glance obviously included Daryl and me. That's my kind of boss. Chew you out when you need it, and then forget it.
Outside the building, I burst out laughing at the incongruity of it, joined by Rasmussen and Fedder. "What's so damned funny," Daryl demanded, still smarting.
"I froze, forcing you to save my life, and got you shot in the process," I gasped, " and you ... you ..." I paused for a breath. "You get reamed out for it!"
His lips twitched as he saw the funny side of it, then he was laughing as loudly as the rest of us. I imagine part of it was simply the release of tension at the end of a mission. We stopped by the infirmary and waited while Daryl's shoulder was properly sterilized and re-bandaged. Then we drove back to the camp and got drunk, along with the rest of the group. After all, Daryl was our first casualty.
Two weeks later, Stella went out and didn't come back. Mac broke the news to us one night in the canteen. Even then, he didn't provide us with details, except for one. "I thought you'd all like to know - she did her job and made the touch. She just ran into some bad luck trying to get clear."
That night we all had a drink to Stella's memory. Nobody got drunk.
During the following year, the air war intensified, and our services were requested in the rescue of important prisoners - important in the sense of the information in their heads - as well as the capture of Germans with important information in their heads. After the success of the mission in which Daryl got injured, British Intelligence considered us their own private little information-retrieval service for a while, until Mac disabused them of the idea. There weren't many instances when someone was a sitting duck as our General had been, and Mac refused to accept suicide missions that had no chance of success. He didn't have so many agents that he was willing to expend one fruitlessly, and apparently his authority came from high enough up that he could make it stick - which didn't make us any more popular with the intelligence outfits.
After all, he explained to us on more than one occasion, we were trained for a specific purpose. We weren't the search and rescue boys, a commando outfit or an intelligence agency. Our unit was created to
Mac surprised me. After listening to Rasmussen's report - which included my momentary lapse - he turned to me in front of the others and said, "The job got done, and very well, Eric. No one expects you to be a machine. You've learned a very valuable lesson and, under the circumstances, a relatively cheap one. It seems you recovered nicely and completed the job just the way you should have."
That made me feel a lot better until he turned to Daryl. "Daryl, on the other hand, seems to be suffering from tender, brotherly feelings for his fellow man. From what I understand, you had a nice clear shot at your target and, instead of taking that shot, decided to push Eric out of the way so you could then shoot while moving, getting shot yourself in the process. If you'd taken that first shot, possibly neither of you would have been shot. On the other hand, it was quite possible that you might have missed when you finally did shoot, and both you and Eric could have been killed. Do you need a refresher course in Rule One, Daryl?"
He had discipline. He flushed slightly, but managed to say, "No, sir," with a steady voice.
"Very well. Perhaps more than one lesson was learned this time. Daryl, report to the infirmary to have that wound looked at by a doctor. The rest of you can report back to base. Congratulations to all of you on an exceptional job." His glance obviously included Daryl and me. That's my kind of boss. Chew you out when you need it, and then forget it.
Outside the building, I burst out laughing at the incongruity of it, joined by Rasmussen and Fedder. "What's so damned funny," Daryl demanded, still smarting.
"I froze, forcing you to save my life, and got you shot in the process," I gasped, " and you ... you ..." I paused for a breath. "You get reamed out for it!"
His lips twitched as he saw the funny side of it, then he was laughing as loudly as the rest of us. I imagine part of it was simply the release of tension at the end of a mission. We stopped by the infirmary and waited while Daryl's shoulder was properly sterilized and re-bandaged. Then we drove back to the camp and got drunk, along with the rest of the group. After all, Daryl was our first casualty.
Two weeks later, Stella went out and didn't come back. Mac broke the news to us one night in the canteen. Even then, he didn't provide us with details, except for one. "I thought you'd all like to know - she did her job and made the touch. She just ran into some bad luck trying to get clear."
That night we all had a drink to Stella's memory. Nobody got drunk.
During the following year, the air war intensified, and our services were requested in the rescue of important prisoners - important in the sense of the information in their heads - as well as the capture of Germans with important information in their heads. After the success of the mission in which Daryl got injured, British Intelligence considered us their own private little information-retrieval service for a while, until Mac disabused them of the idea. There weren't many instances when someone was a sitting duck as our General had been, and Mac refused to accept suicide missions that had no chance of success. He didn't have so many agents that he was willing to expend one fruitlessly, and apparently his authority came from high enough up that he could make it stick - which didn't make us any more popular with the intelligence outfits.
After all, he explained to us on more than one occasion, we were trained for a specific purpose. We weren't the search and rescue boys, a commando outfit or an intelligence agency. Our unit was created to
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