By Lois Overton

aka Foxhole Filly

Copyright 1999 by Lois Overton

"Take that! and that!" the bad Kraut yelled,

His voice was full of fire,

But stoic Hanley held his ground

His situation dire.

"So tell me now, before it's too late

Just where your Komraden be.

Tell me how many, how heavily armed,

And then we'll set you free.

The lieutenant's eyes were all ablaze

As anger flared within.

He raised his head and defiantly

Threw the Kraut a grin.

The irate German rared back his fist,

Landing it on the GI's nose.

Hanley groaned loudly with the blow

He felt down to his toes.

"Don't play with me," the Kraut spat out;

His voice was low with hate,

"Or very soon as you will see

You'll meet your buddy's fate."

A heap of green and bloody red

In silent somberness;

Hanley saw his future unless he talked

Would be alongside that mess.

Hanley met the Kraut eye to eye;

With an attitude of defiance.

No one else could help him now;

On himself he must find reliance.

If he were a 90's kind of guy

He'd have said, "No way, Jose,"

But instead he carefully chose

An epithet of the day.

Enraged, the Kraut drew back his hand

Again to thwack Hanley hard

Several more he landed until

Hanley's vision was shaky and starred.

The German knocked the lieutenant around

Like a useless piece of drek

Once he had a fleeting thought of remorse

But figured what the heck.

A stream of blood ran down Hanley's lip

And pooled upon his chest

But still the dirty Kraut continued

To give the lieutenant no rest.

"I'll make you talk!" the Kraut's ire grew

He clubbed the reeling head

"When I am through you'll find yourself

Wishing you were dead."

How much more could Hanley take

Of this mad man's punishment

Before his body gave up,

Bruised and bloodied and bent.

His fingers twitched and worked the cord

That bound him to the chair.

Though bloody nails slowed him down

The bond was growing bare.

Until at last the tie grew loose

And fell onto the floor. 

The stupid Kraut, he did not see,

For his attention was on the door. 

A sound, a scratch was all there was

When suddenly sarge burst in

Tommy gun spitting deadly fire

It was ubvious who would win.

The punishing Kraut fell to his knees

And drew a bead on the sarge.

Hanley saw the time was ripe

And at the German charged.

Gil grabbed his enemy with his hands

Around the terrified man's throat.

He squeezed, then squeezed once more for luck;

For the German it was all she wrote.

Hanley spun and he fell to the floor,

His remaining energy flown.

The next time he opened his eyes again

The throbbing in his head had grown.

"Don't worry Lieutenant," Saunders said,

"You're gonna be just fine.

All your cuts and injuries will heal,

It's just gonna take some time."

Sarge put a canteen to Hanley's lips

The water tasted cool and wet;

It could not have tasted better if it were

The finest wine money could get.

Hanley lay there on the floor

And knew he'd almost croaked

But now he was safe back with his men

And glad that Kraut he'd choked.

Thus with a moan to ease the pain

He fell into blessed sleep,

And Saunders made everyone tiptoe around-

Hanley never heard a peep.