Back in her time by Patricia Corbett Bowman Page A

I remember correctly, the Pats will soon report fifty-nine killed, over one hundred wounded, and a couple dozen taken prisoner. The Second Brigade will have about 150 killed, hundreds wounded, and lots taken prisoner, too. It will be the worst single-day loss for a brigade in the Italian campaign,” said Taylor.
    â€œYou sound like a news report. Where do you get this stuff?” Mac smiled.
    â€œThere’s more. I see a couple from our unit getting captured by the enemy nearby. One of us will escape and go get help.”
    Mac tossed his head back and laughed. “Junior. What an imagination.” With a play poke at Taylor’s sore face, he exited the farmhouse, still chuckling.
    At least he’s laughing now. When Pops and I go missing, he won’t be laughing then.
    * * *
    The river was icy cold, but the men didn’t care. Stripping off their uniforms, down to underwear for some, others buck naked, they toed the water and bravely submerged their sweat-soaked and dust-covered bodies in the cleansing current. Someone had a sliver of soap, and it was tossed about like a hot potato as they took turns lathering themselves quickly and racing to rinse so as not to turn into icicles. Whitey was the first finished and ran up to Taylor, splashing her where she was standing on the shoreline, fully clothed and looking as if she would like to be anywhere but here. Taylor, in turn, stepped into the water and splashed Whitey’s retreating back, and soon all the men were jumping, avoiding, whipping torrents at their comrades, having a good time despite the air and water temperature.
    Taylor and Whitey finally quit and collapsed on the sand. At least Taylor’s clothes had had a quick wash. Whitey put his dirty clothes back on. They’d all have to wait until new ones arrived. Wouldn’t Dieter have had a fit wearing clothes this wet and dirty? Dieter was always meticulous with his cleanliness. Why am I thinking about Dieter now? I can see him clearly in his black clothes, jeans pressed. Was it this morning or days ago that I saw him last?
    â€œJunior, you collectin’ mothballs up there in that chicken brain of yours?” Red asked as he sauntered by. “Keep movin’ so your clothes have a chance to dry. Cook has some vittles on. Let’s go and chow down.”
    Taylor laughed and caught up to Red, cuffing him on the back of his head. “At least my head isn’t stuffed with hay from wrangling horses.” At school, if he called me names, I would have sworn at him or tried to punch him out.
    Legs crossed, seated in a circle, eating breakfast, Mac spoke. “Has anyone heard Junior’s latest prophecy?”
    I can’t tell if he’s starting to believe me or not.
    â€œIf Junior said it, it will come true.” Whitey crossed his heart with the hand not shoving grub into his mouth.
    â€œWhat’s this one, Junior?” Red asked, talking with his full mouth open.
    â€œIf you’re just going to make fun of me, then forget it.” Taylor put her spoon down.
    â€œNah. Come on, they want to hear it.” Mac said.
    Taylor explained again her feeling that there would be lots of deaths and a couple of them would get captured. But one would escape and go for help.
    A new voice joined the group. It was Sarge. “We’ve captured our share of the enemy; it’s not inconceivable that they should take a prisoner or two. Now, tell me who exactly gets captured? And, who is the person who goes for help? Tell me that, and if it comes true, maybe I’ll start believing you have this ‘sixth sense,’ as you call it.”
    This is it. I’ll get Pops to believe me after this. “It’s you and me, Pops — I mean, Sarge. We get sidetracked away from the others, and the enemy catches up to us.”
    â€œAnd who gets away? You the hero, Junior?”
    â€œIs it so hard to believe? Trust me on this.”
    â€œWhy don’t I make