Lonely

War Widows

a novel

 

© 2021 by S.W. Blayde

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

BOOKS by S.W. Blayde

Sexual Awakening

erotic romance murder-mystery

Steele Justice

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 1)

High School Massacre

erotic thriller/mystery (Lincoln Steele book 2)

Death of a Hero

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 3)

The Breeder

erotic western/romance

Conflicted Nun

erotic romance

Last Kiss

romance mystery

Lonely War Widows

erotic historical fiction/romance

 

CHAPTER 1

The Third Platoon of Charlie Company trudged toward the small Italian town from the south. Spread out on the road with their heads hung and their backs slumped more from the weight of the endless war than their backpacks, the war wary American soldiers dragged their feet on the dirt road.

A burst of machine gun bullets sent them scurrying in all directions. A mortar round exploded fifty feet from Corporal Boyd Harken with a thunderous BOOM that shook the earth. The sting of shrapnel ripped his Army fatigue sleeve below his left shoulder and tore through the flesh. It also felt like someone had kicked him in the back of his thigh.

The members of his platoon dashed for cover, all except the two forward soldiers. Kincaid and Johnston lay dead, their bodies riddled with bullets from Hitler's Buzzsaw, the name the American soldiers had given the dreaded German MG 42 machine gun. It fired so fast that it could literally saw a person in half.

Boyd dived behind a mangled jeep lying on its side, the remains of a previous effort by their fellow Allied soldiers to take the small Italian town. The jeep had been shoved out of the way to the edge of the road. That attempt had failed. Now it was Charlie Company's turn, specifically the Third Platoon. It was supposed to have been easy. A walk in the park. Army Intelligence had said the Germans had pulled back to consolidate their forces for a stronger stand farther north where there was a strategic bridge. Nothing in this damn World War was easy. The intel was wrong. Kincaid's and Johnston's ripped apart lifeless bodies were a testament to that.

The Third Platoon had been careless. The Germans were there.

Boyd looked over his shoulder. More bodies lay on the ground. At 1,200 rounds per minute, you couldn't outrun the fast shooting machine gun. Sometimes you simply had to be lucky. Bullets whizzed over Boyd's head and ricocheted off the jeep.

Boyd shucked his backpack and checked his arm. Only a flesh wound. Had he also been hit in the leg? He twisted around to look. Then patted the area for blood. Confused at finding nothing, he wondered what had hit him and quickly scanned the area. He spotted a severed hand lying on the ground not far from him. The wedding band was silver with turquoise inlays. He recognized PFC Oliver Gilbert's ring and glanced back to where the mortar shell had exploded to see if Ollie needed help. Whatever was left of his friend was beyond help. He turned his attention back to the enemy, crawling on his belly to the corner of the jeep.

Boyd peeked around the jeep.

At the edge of town, sandbags were stacked waist high in the shape of horseshoes on both sides of the road. The flashes of a machine gun came from the one nearest Boyd. The distinctive sound of a mortar being fired came from the other one, followed by an explosion behind him. He covered the back of his neck with his arms as he was showered with bits of rocks. Another burst of machine gun fire caused Boyd to look across the road. One of his fellow soldiers had been knocked backward and lay sprawled on the ground. He couldn't make out who he was, but he also was beyond help.

Boyd lay on his belly under the corner of the jeep with his legs straight out behind him and his toes pointing outward, heels together. He waited.

One shortcoming of the fast shooting machine gun was that it overheated. The German machine gunners were equipped with spare barrels that could be replaced in around twenty seconds, giving its prey the briefest of reprieves. Seasoned Allied soldiers had learned to count as they rushed from one cover to another. That must have been what the German machine gunner was doing. Changing the barrel.

Boyd waited, breathing evenly, staring at the sandbags over his M1 rifle's sight. Ignoring the sound of mortar rounds being fired, whistling through the air, and exploding behind him, he kept the meaty part of his index finger steady on the trigger. He waited. Continued to wait. The twenty seconds felt like a lifetime with the explosions all around him. At any time, his fate could be the same as Ollie's. Breathing evenly with the rifle pressed to his cheek, his eye was fixed on the top of the sandbags.

The machine gun muzzle appeared and then the head of the German soldier. Boyd fired. The bullet tore through the enemy's left eye and blasted out the back of his head. The MG 42 machine gun now pointed toward the sky with the slumped over dead German soldier's hand still clutching it. Boyd waited for another German to man the weapon. None appeared. That was odd. Machine gunners typically worked in pairs.

Boyd jumped to his feet and charged the machine gun nest, clutching his M1 rifle in a tight fist, zigzagging, running as fast as his legs would carry him like he had during his high school track meets. Bullets whizzed around him, leaving dust explosions at his feet. The shooter had an elevated position. Probably from a second story window or rooftop on the edge of town. Boyd couldn't take the time to look. He needed cover. His heart raced as his arms and legs pumped as fast as they could.

Another twenty yards to go. Ten. Five. A bullet whizzed by his ear. He dived behind the sandbags surrounding the machine gun nest. Not taking the time to catch his breath, he pulled the pin on a frag grenade and lobbed it across the road at where the mortar was. It sailed over those sandbags and an instant later exploded with bits of flesh and blood spraying the air.

Boyd looked over his shoulder. Now that he had neutralized the two nests, his fellow soldiers were running toward town. But the sniper was still there. He peeked over the sandbags to make sure there was no danger waiting on the other side and instantly ducked back down. Hunkering behind the sandbags, he laid the barrel of his M1 rifle on the top row of sandbags and raised up. Just as the dead machine gunner had. But Boyd was luckier. The sniper was busy firing at the charging American soldiers.

Just like shooting rabbits back home, Boyd thought as he aimed his M1 rifle at the flashes coming from a second story window. It seemed like it had been ages since he was last in Texas. Boyd fired. The German soldier slumped forward and hung out of the window. His rifle fell from his lifeless fingers, sailed down, and rattled on the sidewalk below.

There was pounding of combat boots behind him. Boyd spun around.

"Nice work," Sgt. Murphy said between gasps in his heavy Alabama drawl. "Hey, you're hit."

"Just a flesh wound. I'll live. Sarge, what's so important about this town?"

"Ask the generals, not me. All I know is we took Northern Africa and then Sicily. Now we need to take Italy, then liberate France, and then Germany. That's when this fucking war will be over and I can go home and see my kids. One town at a time. And right now it's this fucking town."

The unmistakable clanking of a tank came from behind them. Both Boyd and Sgt. Murphy turned.

"About time those fuckers showed up," Sgt. Murphy said. He motioned for the tank to lead them into town.

The tank clanked past them. Some Germans fired at the tank. Most ran. Sometimes a burst of fire came from the .50mm machine gun on the top. Occasionally, a larger blast from the cannon on the constantly moving turret, followed by part of a building exploding with pieces of stone and glass falling like hail.

The sergeant gathered the remaining troops and gave them instructions. With the tank leading the way, they scattered in pairs like a swarm of bees, ducking into one house after the other, hunting down the enemy, ridding the town of the cancer. Every once in a while shots were fired and then there was silence again.

Thankfully, it was a small town. And there weren't many Germans. Maybe Army Intelligence was sort of correct. Maybe the main force had moved north leaving a small contingent to ambush the Americans to slow them down, giving their comrades more time to dig in farther north. To prepare for a major battle. That would explain the single machine gunner. Either that or most had fled from the other side of town, not choosing this nothing of a town to make a stand.

When the town was scoured, the sergeant set up sentries on both sides of town with extra men on the north side where the Germans might have fled. They had to be ready for a counterattack. It wouldn't be the first time both sides played ping pong with a town. In addition to stationing sentries on both sides of town, the sergeant assigned tasks to several soldiers. A few were told to retrieve the backpacks some of the soldiers like Boyd had shed.

The sergeant stared at Boyd's shrapnel wound. "Corporal, have Benson take care of that arm and then find a quiet hole somewhere. You earned a rest. Come see me tomorrow."

Boyd didn't complain. Now that the rush of adrenaline had passed, an exhausted and dazed Boyd wandered through town carrying the M1 rifle in his right hand while his wounded left arm hung at his side. He didn't bother having the medic treat his arm. It was only a flesh wound.

Boyd leaned against a wall and slid down. Sitting on the sidewalk with his legs straight out in front of him, he stared at his scuffed and worn size-eleven combat boots wondering how many miles he had walked in them. This wasn't how he had planned to see the world.

The wall he was leaning against was pot marked with large holes from German tank shells. And probably some American ones as well. Inside the building, stone and wood and electrical wires and copper pipes and clothing and everything else that had once made it a loving home littered the dusty floor. Pieces of children's toys were buried in the rubble, along with the family's dreams. Had they gotten out safely? Boyd didn't dwell on that. Only the living mattered. Was the wall sturdy enough not to collapse on top of him? Wherever he sat was dangerous. At least the wall provided shade from the bright sun beating down on the Southern Italian town with ancient cobblestone streets. He wondered if Roman chariots had ridden over them two thousand years ago.

The breeze felt good on his face so, with his M1 rifle lying across his lap, he used his thumb to tilt his helmet back to let some air into the mop of brown hair needing to be cut. But like the thick stubble on his face, there was no time for such luxuries. Not an hour earlier, Boyd had been ducking for cover wherever he could find it as he stormed the town, weaving, crouched over, shooting when he spotted the enemy. He hadn't expected to be in Italy. The day after Pearl Harbor had been attacked, the then nineteen-year-old enlisted with the expectation of paying the sneaky Japs back, but he was shipped to Northern Africa and then Sicily and now Italy.

Looking at the damaged buildings, Boyd wondered how the towns would be rebuilt when the war ended. If the war ever ended. No matter how many Germans they killed, more were sent. The Italians had surrendered, but the Germans dug in. The Italians got rid of Mussolini, now it was the Allies' job to rid the world of the Nazis.

With his right hand, Boyd pulled a chocolate bar from his shirt pocket. It was slightly melted, but he was hooked on them. Most people smoked cigarettes to relax. Boyd had puffed on a Camel cigarette when he was thirteen back home in West Texas. After having coughed and felt like he would puke, he never touched one again. He traded his ration of cigarettes to the others for their chocolate.

Boyd took a bite and savored the taste. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly. When he reopened his eyes, a young girl was staring at him. Her dirty and tangled long black hair hung over her shoulders, arms, and down her back. Her face was smudged with dirt. Her dress was filthy and tattered. She must have been around six years old. Maybe younger. Everyone aged in a war, even the children. Especially the children.

"Do you speak English?" Boyd asked.

The girl stared at him with her big brown eyes.

"Inglese?"

It was one of the few Italian words Boyd knew. At least he hoped it meant English. The way the unmoving girl stared at him he wasn't so sure.

Boyd smiled at the girl and held the bar of chocolate out in front of him. Her eyes locked on it. He waved it and then motioned for her to come closer. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the bar of chocolate. A little pink tongue swiped her thin lips.

Boyd brought the chocolate to his mouth and made believe he was going to take a bite. He held the bar of chocolate in the cavity of his open mouth but didn't bite down. He pulled it out and again motioned with the chocolate bar for the girl to take it.

The girl took a step forward and stopped. Boyd waited and then held it out as far in front of him as his stretched arm would allow. The girl took another step and then another. She stopped for only an instant and then dashed to him, snatched the chocolate bar from his hand, and ran away. She stopped in the middle of the street and turned back around, staring at him.

Boyd pointed to his open mouth and then jabbed his finger at her. He nodded.

The girl placed the corner of the chocolate bar between her lips and broke off a piece. She chewed slowly. Her eyes lidded like a woman having an orgasm. And then her little pink tongue reemerged.

"Angelica!" a woman shouted while running toward the girl.

The woman had the same dark hair as the girl, except hers came to her shoulders. She had high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her olive skin was flawless. Her brown dress with yellow daisies swished around her calves. Coming up to the girl from behind, the woman reached for the girl, pulled her to her body, and wrapped her arms around her. The woman glared at Boyd and then spewed something in Italian at a speed that would make an auctioneer back home envious.

"I'm sorry," Boyd said, "I didn't mean any harm."

"What you want?"

Boyd sat up straight. "You speak English?"

"Un po. A little."

"The way she was watching me eat the chocolate, I had to give it to her."

"We not beggars."

"She wasn't begging. She just looked so sweet. I hope I didn't get her in any trouble."

"No trouble."

Boyd took another bar out of his pocket and held it out in front of him. "Do you want one?"

The young girl broke away from her mother and ran toward Boyd. Well, toward the chocolate bar. Her mother rushed after her. She grabbed the girl's skinny arm and pulled her against her once again. The distance between them and Boyd was now halved. Boyd noticed the woman was barelegged, not that that was a surprise. Stockings were an expensive luxury during the war.

"Do you want it?" Boyd asked as he waved the chocolate bar.

"No grazie."

Boyd slid it back into his shirt pocket. He looked around. "Is your house damaged?"

"Sì."

"I'm sorry. Us or the Germans?"

"Everyone."

"Can your husband fix it?"

The woman covered the girl's ears with her hands. "He is dead."

The girl's lips, chin, and cheeks now had splotches of chocolate on them. When the mother removed her hands from her daughter's ears, the girl tilted her head back, digging her head into her mother's belly, and stared up at her with her big brown eyes and a huge smile. The mother smiled back down at her.

The woman looked back at Boyd. Her eyes got bigger as she pointed at his left arm. "Mamma Mia! You bleeding."

He looked at his arm. The wound was worse than he had thought. His shirt sleeve was soaked red from his shoulder to his elbow. Two trails of blood showed on the outside of his hand.

"I'll be fine," he said.

"I can make better."

"You don't have to. We have a medic who—"

"I can make better. Come." She held her hand out.

Boyd scrambled to his feet and slung his M1 rifle over his good shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Rosa."

"I'm Boyd. Lead the way, Rosa."

 

CHAPTER 2

Boyd followed Rosa to the other side of the street. Blood trickled down the back of his left hand and dripped to the ground like a leaking faucet. The young girl, Angelica, held onto her mother's hand but kept glancing back over her shoulder at Boyd, sometimes while chewing a new bite from the chocolate bar. Her eyes looked bigger each time he saw them.

Rosa entered a building that looked like it had been spared the fighting. No holes in the walls and no broken glass in the windows. Except for the lower floor. The large window was boarded up. But when Boyd stepped through the doorway he stopped dead in his tracks. It was as if a tornado had ripped through the room. Large equipment was overturned. Papers littered everywhere. Lights were smashed. Graffiti, written in Italian, covered the walls.

"Where are we?" Boyd asked.

Rosa stopped and turned. She scanned the destroyed room with sad eyes. "It was my husband's. He ran a newspaper."

"What happened?"

Rosa looked around again with pained eyes. She glanced down at her daughter. "We live upstairs. Follow me."

Rosa continued to a staircase that led to a door on the second floor. She climbed to the top, gripping Angelica's hand firmly. Boyd watched Rosa's ass sway and her calves bulge with each step. It was slow going because she had to wait for her young daughter at each step. Angelica's short legs took one step at a time. She stepped up and brought her other foot onto that step before climbing onto the next step.

Not knowing what to expect when reaching the top, Boyd was surprised to see the clean, living quarters. There was a small kitchen with a square table that sat four, a living room, an open door to a bathroom in the hallway, and two open bedroom doors at the end of the hallway. The living room had a bookcase overstuffed with books, a couch, and a radio. What was missing from the room was toys.

Rosa said something to her daughter in Italian. The girl crossed her arms and replied. Boyd didn't understand the language, but the pout in the girl's voice was unmistakable. Rosa said something more firmly and swatted the girl's backside. Angelica glanced at Boyd and then dashed to one of the bedrooms and slammed the door.

Rosa turned to Boyd. "I am sorry. She can be…" Rosa's brow creased as she tried to find the correct English word.

"Stubborn?"

Rosa smiled and nodded.

"It's all right," Boyd said, "you don't have to do this."

Rosa looked at Boyd's arm and then at the blood dripping off his fingers. She rushed to the sink, grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his hand. Boyd stared at the drops of blood on the wood floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said. Then he looked at his arm as if noticing the blood-soaked material for the first time.

"Take you shirt off," Rosa said.

"I should go."

"No! Do it!" she said with the same tone she had used on her daughter.

Boyd leaned his M1 rifle against the kitchen cabinet and fumbled with the shirt buttons using one hand. Rosa lost her patience and closed the gap. She took his helmet off and laid it on the counter where his rifle was and then quickly unfastened all the shirt buttons. She leaned in close to push his shirt off his shoulders. Her warm breath caressed his cheek. When she dragged the shirt over the wound, Boyd grimaced. Rosa paused for a moment before being more careful as she pulled it down his arms and off. The tips of her breasts pushed against his chest and her breath tickled the side of his neck.

Rosa examined the wound while Boyd checked it out as well. It was deeper than he had thought. He wondered if he needed sutures. He probably should have the medic attend to it. But Cpl. Benson wasn't a doctor. Not even a nurse. And the medic didn't smell as good as Rosa.

Rosa stepped back. She tossed the blood-soaked shirt into the sink and pulled a kitchen chair out from under the table. "Sit."

When Boyd sat down, she went into the bathroom and came out with cotton balls, bandages, tape, and a bottle of something. The label was in Italian. Rosa again studied the wound and then held a cotton ball underneath the gash as she poured the liquid on it. Boyd gritted his teeth to hold back the scream when it stung. Rosa put the bottle on the table and, with a fresh cotton ball pressed on the wound, she wrapped the bandage around his arm, making it tight enough to stop the bleeding but not too tight so the blood would continue to flow through his veins. Boyd stared at her face as she worked. It was serious. And beautiful.

When Boyd's arm was wrapped, Rosa placed her mouth near the wound and ripped the bandage with her teeth. Boyd smelled her scented shampoo. Then she pulled Boyd's hand to the bandage and pressed his finger on the loose end to hold it from unraveling. Rosa secured it with tape and then took the dishtowel off his hand and wiped the blood off his hand and arm. She wet the dishtowel in the sink, returned, and washed the remaining blood off Boyd's arm and hand, and then she got onto her hands and knees and scrubbed the blood off the floor, following the drops to the door. His eyes were once again drawn to her backside wiggling beneath the thin dress as she worked.

Carrying the soiled dishtowel to the sink, Rosa turned the water on to fill it. Boyd ran to the sink and yanked his shirt out. A stunned Rosa stared at him, but she smiled when he removed two chocolate bars from the shirt pocket. Boyd placed the chocolate bars next to his helmet while Rosa filled the sink with water, added a little soap, and scrubbed the dish towel and Boyd's shirt. She then opened a door Boyd hadn't noticed and pulled out something used to hang clothing on to dry. She opened it and spread his shirt and the dishtowel on it.

Boyd checked out the bandage. "I'm impressed. Very professional."

Rosa gave him a half smile. She pointed to herself. "Nurse."

"Thank you. Grazie. I should be leaving."

"Shirt is wet."

Boyd chuckled. "I'm in the Army. We sleep in the rain. It gets wet a lot while I'm wearing it."

"Bandage will get wet. Let shirt dry."

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Rosa hesitated with her eyes lowered. She looked up. "You nice to Angelica. You made her smile. She does not smile in long time."

Boyd glanced at the closed door to Angelica's bedroom before asking, "So what happened downstairs?"

Rosa also looked at the bedroom door before whispering, "Organizzazione per la Vigilanza e la Repressione dell'Antifascismo. Mussolini's secret police. They did it and took my husband. They tortured him and then brought him to the town square and shot him."

"Why?"

"He wrote in newspaper about Mussolini. Il Duce did not like what he wrote."

"What did he write?"

"Mussolini controlled what newspapers wrote about him so my husband had to be careful. He was warned, like when he wrote how wrong it was what they did to Jews. When he did that they broke windows and beat him up, but that was all. But when Italy entered the war with Hitler, my husband got so angry that he was not so careful. That is when they came for him."

"So you've been living alone for a long time?"

"I have Angelica."

"But it must get lonely."

The sadness in Rosa's eyes returned. "Sometimes." Her eyes got brighter. "Stay for dinner?"

"I don't want to be a bother. You've done enough already."

She pressed her palms together in front of her. "Per favore. For Angelica." Her eyes were pleading.

Boyd smiled and nodded. "My shirt is wet anyway."

Rosa returned the smile. She left Boyd sitting at the kitchen table and prepared dinner. Lasagna. It smelled delicious. When it was ready, Rosa called out in Italian. Angelica's bedroom door swung open and the girl bounded into the room. Seeing Boyd, she smiled. Rosa said something to her in Italian and the girl dashed to the bathroom. Leaving the door open, the little girl climbed onto a box in front of the sink and washed her face and hands. She returned to the kitchen and took a seat that Boyd assumed was her usual one.

Boyd and Rosa chatted throughout dinner in English. Angelica's eyes were on Boyd when she wasn't stuffing food into her mouth. Sometimes even when putting food into her mouth which caused her to miss. Her big brown eyes were locked on him. The lower portion of her face was covered in red marinara sauce. So it wasn't only chocolate that she found difficult to eat neatly. From time to time, Angelica and Rosa exchanged words in Italian, but most of the time the young girl ate in silence and watched Boyd.

Shortly after dinner, Angelica got ready for bed. Wearing a long nightgown, pink with a bow at the collar, her mother led Angelica to her bedroom by her hand. Boyd stood up planning to leave now that dinner was over. The girl broke free from her mother's grasp and ran to Boyd. She tugged on his pants leg until he bent forward. She got onto her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek before running back to her mother who was gawking. Her mouth open. Aghast.

Boyd waited in the living room while Rosa attended to her daughter. Rosa came out of Angelica's bedroom and quietly closed the door. Boyd watched her from the sofa. She walked up to the sofa and sat on the other end.

"I cannot believe she did that," Rosa said.

"Did what?"

"Kiss you."

"Why, am I so ugly?"

Rosa bounced a little closer and brushed his cheek. "You are not ugly. It is just that she… she has been afraid of men. "Especially men in uniform."

Boyd looked down at his shirtless torso. "Well, maybe I don't look like I'm in a uniform right now."

Rosa shifted closer. Her hips bumped Boyd's. Their thighs touched. She twisted partway around to face him and ran her fingertips over his chest. When she looked up, their eyes met.

"It has been a long time," Rosa said. "My husband is gone a long time."

"You have Angelica."

She laid her hand flat on his chest and stared into his eyes. "I get lonely."

Rosa leaned in and pressed her lips to Boyd's. He allowed her lips to linger until her tongue poked his lips. When he parted them, her tongue entered his mouth. She grabbed the back of his head with her free hand and crushed her lips to his while her tongue flicked against his.

Boyd pulled away from the kiss and looked at Angelica's bedroom door. "What about—?"

Rosa pressed two fingertips on his lips. "She is asleep."

"But—"

"Do not worry. She is sound sleeper. Do you not want me?"

"I will be leaving soon."

"You are here now."

Boyd clasped the hand Rosa had on his chest within his two. "Why me?"

"You are a good man. Angelica like you. You remind me…"

Rosa looked down. Boyd waited. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. Her watery eyes stared into his. Boyd cupped the side of her face. She leaned into his hand.

"You are like my husband," Rosa said. "You are good man. Kind man."

"But—"

"Stop saying that. It is a long time for me. I want you."

Rosa stood and held her hand out. Boyd stared up at her longing eyes and then took her hand and stood. Rosa started walking to her bedroom. Boyd pulled his hand free and rushed to the kitchen where he retrieved his M1 rifle.

"Can't leave this here with Angelica around," he said.

Rosa smiled and grasped his hand. She led him to her bedroom as she had her young daughter to her bedroom a short while before. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. Boyd leaned the M1 rifle against the wall next to the door.

With her eyes fixed on Boyd's, Rosa stepped away from him and reached behind her back. She lowered the dress zipper all the way to her waist. She slipped her arms out of the short sleeves one at a time, slowly, seductively pinching her lower lip between her teeth, and let the top half of the dress fall. It hung from her hips, leaving only her bra to cover her breasts. Rosa bent forward to grab the bottom of her dress. The bra hung away from her breasts, showing them almost to the nipples. She pulled the dress straight up, not stopping until it was over her head. She let it slip through her fingers and shook out her hair.

Rosa stood before Boyd in bra and panties. Her breasts were not large, but bulged over the top of the bra. Her waist was narrow, stomach flat, and hips full. She had a prominent pubic bone and meaty labia that formed a nice mound in the panties. Her legs were model's legs, long and curvy and as smooth as a baby's backside. Many women Boyd had been with in Sicily didn't shave their legs or underarms. Rosa did both. Showing no sign of embarrassment, Rosa stood with her arms at her sides waiting for Boyd to make the next move.

Boyd sat on the side of the bed and unlaced his combat boots, pulling them off one at a time. He then removed his socks before standing up and unfastening his belt and opening the buttons on his pants. Gravity dropped them to his feet. Sitting back down, Boyd removed his pants. When he stood up, only his green, Army issued boxers provided any modesty. And not much with his dick hardening.

Rosa slithered up to Boyd, her hips swaying with each step. When they were toe-to-toe, she waited with eyes downcast. Boyd cupped her face in both hands and tilted it up as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A low moan escaped from deep within her. Followed by a purr and her arms being whipped around his neck.

The kiss set Rosa off. Her tongue was like a loose firehose. Her fingers clawed his hair. She flung a leg around his and humped his thigh.

Boyd kissed her back just as passionately. His hands slid up and down the soft skin on her lower back, from the bra strap to the top of her panties, sometimes sliding inside the waistband of the panties to get to her buttocks. Firm but soft. Those times caused her to hump harder and moan louder.

Boyd attacked the clasps on her bra. Unhooking them, he dragged the straps off her shoulders. They looped over her upper arms, but the bra was held up by her tits being squished against his body. Boyd snaked both hands between their bodies and slid them up under the bra and cupped both breasts. Rosa's tongue stopped momentarily as she gasped. And then she humped his thigh even harder.

Boyd gently squeezed Rosa's breasts. Like her buttocks, they were both firm and soft. He needed to see them. Taste them. Boyd gently pushed with both hands. Rosa backed away from him. The bra fell onto the backs of his hands. When Boyd let go of her breasts, the bra dropped to their feet.

Her bare breasts were in front of him. Round. Standing out from her body with long, hard nipples. He leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth. Rosa's hand returned to the back of his head, her fingers clutching his longer than normal hair, holding it tightly, pulling his mouth to her breast. Boyd sucked and chewed and licked the warm flesh and hard nipple.

Rosa's hand dived into the front of his boxers. She grabbed his hard dick and squeezed it. Her thumb ran over the cock-head and her fingers curled around the shaft. She pulled and squeezed with urgency.

Without relinquishing her breast from his sucking mouth, Boyd reached for her panties and pushed them down. With them stretched around the lower portion of her globes, he grabbed her bare buttocks with both hands and massaged them. Mauled them. His fingers sank into the flesh as he pulled, lifting her onto her toes. He squeezed, pushed the two cheeks together, stroked them. All the while he was sucking her breast and she was squeezing his dick.

Rosa mumbled words in Italian between moans. She was panting, moaning. Boyd finally backed away from her breast. He looked down at her twisted panties bisecting her pubic hair. He placed his hand on her belly and slid it downward, through the soft curls, inside the panties, and cupped her mound. He squeezed.

Rosa let out a long moan. Her breath was warm against his ear. He extended a finger. It found its mark and sank into her depths. She was warm and wet. Very wet. Her fingers tightened around his cock.

Boyd pulled his hand out and shoved her panties down to her knees. Then he did the same with his boxers which fell to his ankles. He stepped out of them and then scooped Rosa up in his arms and laid her down lengthwise in the middle of the bed. Then he dragged her panties down her legs and off one foot at a time. She stared at him with dreamy eyes as she spread her legs.

Boyd climbed onto the bed between her legs and guided his hard cock into her. Rosa's eyes lidded and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. And then the air came out as a sigh. Boyd rocked his hips, slowly sliding in and out of her. Her wetness coated his dick, making it slick. Rosa pushed back, humping each time his cock sank into her. Her pussy squeezed his cock as if to show that it was welcome, or maybe to tell it not to leave. The two got into a slow rhythm which increased speed with each minute.

Supporting his upper body on straight arms, Boyd gazed down at Rosa's face. Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted. Her face flushed. She looked heavenly. And beautiful. Rosa had the features of a Roman goddess. He noticed for the first time how long her eyelashes were. And thick. He rocked his hips, driving his dick in and out of her clenching pussy. If anything, it was even wetter.

And then Rosa planted her feet flat on the mattress with her knees raised and spread. Using her feet for leverage, she humped harder. Faster. Boyd couldn't time his strokes to match her erratic thrusts so he stayed still. He allowed her to fuck his cock. And then her legs flew into the air and flung around his waist with ankles locked. He rocked his hips fast, fucking her hard as her body went along for the ride. First her pussy clamped his cock. Then her eyes scrunched. Then her jaw clenched. Then the tendons on her neck bulged and her face reddened. She grabbed his forearms, dug her fingers into them, and shuddered.

Boyd waited with his dick buried to the hilt inside her. The shuddering continued and then, with a long sigh, suddenly stopped. Her legs slid off his body and crashed to the mattress. As did her arms. Boyd's hips started again, slamming his dick in and out of her moist, warm sheath. The tingling in his loins was his signal. He pulled out and laid the length of his hard, slimy dick on Rosa's pubic bone, buried in the curly hairs. He humped twice and then clamped his own jaw and squeezed his eyes as he spurted onto her belly.

 

CHAPTER 3

Boyd awoke to an empty bed. The side of the mattress where Rosa had slept next to him was not warm. She was sitting in front of a mirror brushing her hair, wearing only her bra and panties. When he stirred, she turned to look at him and smiled.

Boyd held out his outstretched arms.

"No, no," Rosa said, shaking her head, "not now. Angelica."

Boyd rolled out of bed and came up behind her. Lifting her hair, he kissed the back of her neck. Then the two dressed.

Boyd grabbed his M1 rifle and followed Rosa out of the bedroom. Both stopped and burst out laughing. Angelica was still in her nightgown, but it was hard to tell. She was wearing Boyd's shirt which almost came to her ankles. It was unbuttoned and the ends of the sleeves would have reached her calves if her arms hadn't been raised. Instead, the sleeves folded over and hung from her two little hands buried halfway into them. She was trying to balance the large, heavy helmet on her small head.

Angelica noticed them and held her arms out to be picked up. The steel helmet slid to the side, bounced off her shoulder, clanked on the floor, and spun upside down until coming to rest. Rosa walked up to her daughter with her hands out. But Angelica sidestepped her and ran to Boyd with her arms raised.

Stunned, Rosa gawked at her daughter and then at Boyd who was staring down at the little girl wearing his shirt with raised arms, the ends of the shirtsleeves folded over her hidden hands.

"She wants you pick her up," Rosa said.

Boyd stared at Rosa and then at her daughter. He leaned the M1 rifle against the wall, bent forward, and lifted the girl up with hands under her armpits. She flung her legs around his waist like young children always do and held him around the neck. She rested her head under his chin. Boyd placed one hand under her butt and the other on her back.

Tears welled up in Rosa's eyes watching the display of affection.

"What now?" Boyd asked.

"Just hold her," Rosa said. "I can not believe it." Happy tears rolled down her cheeks.

Later, after Angelica had washed up and got dressed and Boyd put his shirt on, the three ate breakfast. Angelica's eyes were constantly on Boyd. When he looked at her, she smiled. Rosa also gazed at him with a dreamy look and the corners of her mouth slightly curled up in a smile.

When breakfast was done, Boyd put his helmet on. It fit him better than it had Angelica, and with his M1 rifle slung over his shoulder, he said goodbye. Rosa kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand. Angelica just stared up at him. When he reached the door to the stairs leading to the newspaper office, Angelica ran to him and latched onto his leg, hugging it.

Boyd and Rosa stared at one another and then Rosa walked up to her daughter and pried her skinny arms off Boyd's leg. Boyd gave her a half smile and trotted down the stairs. Outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air and then marched to the southern end of town where they had entered. He stopped at the sentries.

"I'll be right back," Boyd said.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" one sentry asked.

"I dropped something out there." He pointed. "Just past that jeep."

"Is it that important?"

"It is."

"Then we'll cover you. But hurry."

The sentry and another soldier propped their rifles on the top sandbag and pointed them at the open area. Boyd walked briskly to the jeep and stopped to get his bearings. He walked around, searching the ground, and then he spotted it. Boyd dropped to a knee and picked up PFC Oliver Gilbert's severed hand. It had turned black. He twisted the wedding ring off as carefully as he could. After pocketing the ring, he found a piece of metal blown off the jeep and used it to dig a small hole that he buried the hand in.

He knew that Ollie had never been to Europe before the war, or anywhere outside of the United States. Now a part of him would always be in Italy.

Boyd returned to town and searched for Sgt. Murphy. He found him giving some soldiers instructions. He waited for the sergeant to finish.

"What now, Sarge?"

"We got some R&R. Not much recreation here, but we need the rest. We were careless yesterday. Cost us some lives."

"How long?"

"Until they send a replacement for the lieutenant."

"You've been running the platoon ever since he got killed. Don't they think you can handle us?"

"It's the Army. An officer is in charge, not a sergeant. Get used to it. I have."

"Why don't they just make you a lieutenant?"

"Don't even think that! No fucking way will I be an officer."

Boyd held back his smile. Sgt. Murphy was a lifer. And the way he drank and got into bar brawls, he wouldn't last a month as an officer. At least not back in the States.

"So what do I do now?" Boyd asked.

"Whatever you want. Get some rest. When the new lieutenant gets here we'll be moving out. Plenty of Germans to kill. Hopefully he'll have intel on the next town. Hopefully better intel than this one."

Boyd wandered through town, chatting occasionally with other soldiers as bored as him. They all asked the same questions. Anyone hear anything? Where were they going next? When were they leaving? No one knew anything. That was the norm. It was always hurry up and wait.

Boyd came upon two soldiers having a catch with a doll. They had found it in the rubble of an apartment. He traded a chocolate bar to each of the soldiers for it and headed to Rosa's place. He peeked into the smashed-up newspaper office before going in. He leaned his M1 rifle against the wall with his helmet on top of it like a makeshift marker for a dead soldier in the field except it was muzzle up. He laid the doll next to the rifle's butt.

Boyd didn't know where to begin so he started at one end. He picked up papers and turned furniture that wasn't busted right side up. He tossed all the junk into one corner.

The door to the upstairs apartment opened and Rosa's head leaned out. The fear in her eyes vanished when she recognized Boyd.

"Boyd!" she shouted.

He looked up and wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a softer voice.

"Thought I'd clean up a bit. Maybe you can start up the newspaper again. Do you know how?"

"I used to help my husband. I know how, but…" Rosa lowered her eyes.

"The war will be over someday. You will need a way to earn money to live."

"You do not have to do this."

"I want to."

"Then I will help."

Rosa climbed down the stairs. Boyd once again admired her figure in the thin dress. She wore no slip so the dress clung to her shapely thighs with each step. He took note of where the dress molded her vulva, forming a sexy vee. As soon as she was at the bottom, Angelica appeared on the top landing.

Boyd rushed to his M1 rifle and snatched the doll off the floor. Bent over with his back to the staircase, he hid it under the front of his shirt. He flew past Rosa and climbed the stairs two at a time.

Boyd looked back down at Rosa. "Tell her to sit on the top step."

A confused Rosa relayed the message to her daughter in Italian. Angelica plopped down with her feet on the next to top step. Boyd pulled the doll out from underneath his shirt and held it out to the young girl. Her eyes widened. A huge smile spread across her face. Seeing that was worth the two chocolate bars he had exchanged for the doll. She grabbed the doll and hugged it to her chest.

Boyd skipped down the stairs. "Tell her to stay there and play," he told Rosa.

Rosa did, but Angelica's attention was already on the doll. She held it by its arms and bounced it on her knees, talking to it in Italian.

Boyd went back to work. Rosa kissed his cheek before helping. Soon they were left with heavy equipment they weren't strong enough to turn right side up. Boyd tried, straining with all his might to lift a large piece of equipment off its side. Sweat poured from his face and soaked through his already sweaty shirt, but he couldn't stand it up. He told Rosa to wait and ran out of the newspaper office. That's what it was now, not just a dilapidated room filled with junk.

Boyd returned with a couple of soldiers who eyed Rosa lewdly. He ignored their looks and told them what help he needed. With the three of them working, they soon had all the heavy equipment upright. Boyd thanked the soldiers and made it clear they were no longer needed. They left with one last lewd glance at Rosa.

It had taken a few hours, but everything was now in its place. Rosa wrapped her arms around Boyd and hugged him. She sobbed softly.

"Come back later?" Rosa said into his chest.

"If you want."

She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. "I want. I will make dinner."

"What should we do now?"

Rosa tilted her head to the side, confusion in her face. "We are done."

"I don't have to be anywhere. Can you show me the town?"

Rosa was quiet for a while and then said, "I no can leave Angelica."

"I meant with her. The three of us."

Rosa smiled. She looked up the stairs and said something to her daughter in Italian. Angelica rattled off something in Italian. She sounded like she was arguing with her mother. But when Rosa said something else, the girl tossed the doll to the side, jumped to her feet, and hurried down the stairs. Well, as fast as her short legs would carry her, stepping down and then bringing her other foot to that step before venturing to the next step.

They left the building with Rosa in the middle holding Angelica's hand. When Boyd grasped Rosa's other hand, Angelica wrenched hers free from her mother's grasp and shoved between the two adults. She held up both hands. Rosa took one and Boyd took the other.

The three walked through the battered town with Rosa pointing out places of interest. Houses of friends. Her favorite shoe store. Where she bought meat. Angelica kept looking up at Boyd with the curiosity of a young child. From time to time she would say something to her mother in Italian. Rosa would relay the messages to Boyd in English about where her best friend had lived and her favorite place to get Gelato ice cream.

Angelica looked up at her mother and said something. Rosa translated. Boyd nodded to Rosa and tightened his grip on the girl's hand as he lifted his side of the girl off the sidewalk while her mother lifted her other side. With Angelica's feet in the air, the two adults swung her between them.

They were a few blocks from Rosa's home when Angelica yanked her hands free. She excitedly screamed something in Italian and bolted. Rosa raced after her and so did Boyd. Rosa latched onto the girl's arm and scolded her in Italian while holding her still. Angelica pointed with her free hand. Rosa looked at where she was pointing.

"She want go park," Rosa said.

Boyd smiled and scooped up the little girl. He carried her across the street and deposited her in the park. It must have been grass at one time, but it was now dirt and weeds. A merry-go-round was partly blown apart, but the swings looked intact. Boyd took Angelica's hand and led her to the swings. When he pointed, she smiled and nodded. He lifted her onto the swing, went behind her, and pushed. Angelica pumped with her legs, but Boyd did most of the work. Soon she was swinging back and forth. Giggling.

Rosa stood to the side with a huge smile on her face.

When Angelica got bored, they went back to Rosa's with Boyd carrying the tired girl. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. When they were at the foot of the stairs inside the newspaper office, Boyd handed the girl to her mother.

"I make dinner," Rosa said. "Come back at seven."

Boyd agreed to return and left.

 

CHAPTER 4

Boyd strolled to the house his sergeant had commandeered for their headquarters. Whistling with a smile plastered on his face that was constant since meeting Rosa and Angelica. Unlike many others, the house was intact. But the owners were nowhere to be found so Sgt. Murphy had decided to set up headquarters there. The platoon's backpacks were piled in one corner of the living room. Next to the living room was the dining room with a rectangle table and eight high-back chairs. There was plenty of dust, but even the chandelier hanging above the dining room table wasn't damaged.

Sgt. Murphy sat on the middle chair on one side of the large dining room table, hunched over a map spread on the table. He didn't bother to look up when Boyd entered. Members of the platoon came and went at their leisure when they weren't assigned a task. The sentry outside made sure no unknown person entered unannounced. The house was mostly used for the weary to rest. The beds on the second floor were often used, but sometimes men simply sprawled out on the floor in whatever room had space.

Boyd moseyed over to the sergeant and looked over his shoulder. "When do you think we'll be moving out?" he asked.

"Damned if I know. I assume the lieutenant will when he gets here. They're bringing more supplies and some replacements. At least I hope we get replacements. We're getting damn thin. Good thing there weren't many Krauts here."

"At least the tank is working again."

"Wish we had it when we first got here. Damn hell of a time to break down. We should have waited for them to fix it before moving on."

"You had your orders."

"Fuck orders. We lost some good men that maybe we wouldn't have."

Sgt. Murphy was getting upset with himself. It was best to change the subject. "So we're getting supplies?" Boyd asked.

The sergeant twisted around and smiled up at Boyd. "What's the matter, running out of chocolate bars?"

"More ammo would be good, too."

"But you were thinking about the chocolate, weren't you?"

"You can't have enough chocolate."

Sgt. Murphy slapped his thigh. "I knew it. You and your damn chocolate. I guess there are worse things."

"Not many better," Boyd said.

"Well, my wife and kids are a damn better. What about you? Have a sweetheart waiting for you back home?"

All of a sudden, Boyd felt empty. If he died in the war, who would mourn him? His parents of course. But he didn't have anyone else. And then he thought about Rosa and a warmth spread over him.

"Hey, Sarge, am I having duty tonight?"

"I told you, just rest up. You earned it taking out the buzzsaw and mortar. You saved a lot of lives, boy. I'm gonna put you up for a medal."

"I did what anyone would have done."

"But it was you who did it. Until the lieutenant gets here, you are free to do whatever you want." He hung his head and shook it. "Not that there's a baseball game to go to here. Damn I miss baseball."

You miss baseball, Boyd thought. I should be playing for the Cardinals right now.

Boyd left the sergeant studying the map and chatted with fellow soldiers until it was time to go to Rosa's. He entered the newspaper office and looked around. He smiled. It felt good to build something for a change rather than blow it up. He climbed the stairs, leaned his M1 rifle in the corner with his helmet perched on the muzzle, and knocked on the door.

Rosa was wiping her hands with a dishtowel as she opened the door. She wore a white apron that looped around her neck and tied around her waist over a green dress. Her hair was pinned back to keep it off her face.

"Am I early?" Boyd asked.

"No, no, time good. Come in."

As soon as Boyd stepped into the apartment, Angelica ran up to him and latched onto his pants leg. She tugged on it until he followed her to the kitchen table and then she pointed to the chair he had sat on the day before. Boyd sat down.

"What's up?" Boyd asked Rosa.

Rosa smiled and shrugged. Her eyes twinkled as they looked back and forth between Boyd and her daughter.

Angelica's blue dress swished above her knees as she rushed to her bedroom. She returned with the doll Boyd had given her. She slapped it down on the table across from where her normal seat was and, without taking the time to catch her breath, dashed to the bathroom. She returned lugging the box that she stood on to reach the sink. Clutching it in her two small hands while leaning back for leverage, it looked like she could barely handle the weight. It bounced on her thighs as she carted it to where the doll was. Then she hoisted it onto the chair and sat her doll on the box so that it faced the table.

After adjusting the doll one more time, Angelica sprinted to her bedroom again. Boyd and Rosa shared glances. Neither knew what was going on, but Rosa's eyes smiled. And then Angelica returned carrying a wicker basket.

"Oh, I know," Rosa said.

"What? Know what?"

Rosa's smile broadened. "You will see."

Angelica placed the basket on the floor between where Boyd and the doll were sitting and took out a tiny teacup and saucer. They were a cream color with blue trim and little yellow flowers. She placed the saucer in front of the doll and the teacup on top of it. Then she put a cup and saucer on the table in front of Boyd. He noticed a chip in the saucer. Carrying a third teacup and saucer, Angelica ran around the table and placed them on the table in front of her chair. Then, like the wind, she was back at the basket and took out a teapot.

Angelica rose onto her toes and held the teapot's spout over Boyd's teacup and made believe she was filling it with tea. After doing the same to the teacup in front of the doll, she rushed to hers and "filled" it. Then she climbed onto her chair and sat on her knees.

Angelica stared at Boyd and waited. When he didn't move, she said, "Bevanda."

When Boyd didn't move, she held her teacup to her lips and tilted it.

"Drink," Rosa said with a smile.

Boyd picked up his teacup and brought it to his lips. His hands looked massive holding the tiny teacup. With his pinky in the air, he tilted the teacup and made a slurping noise. The smile that spread across Angelica's face was brighter than the one on her mother's. Just barely.

Angelica feigned a drink from her teacup with the same slurping noise, although hers was louder. Then she jumped off her chair and ran around the table to the chair her doll was sitting on. She picked up that teacup and gave her doll a drink before rushing back to her chair.

Boyd looked up at Rosa who was gazing at him. "I think she likes the doll," he said.

"Yes, she like. And she like you."

"I don't know whose doll it was."

"Does not matter." Rosa's eyes turned sad and dropped before springing back up. "It is different now. Nothing is same."

"Whose house is next to the bakery?" Boyd asked. That was the house they had commandeered.

Her eyes turned sadder. "Jews."

"Were they taken away?"

"No, ran away. Left."

"Are they safe?"

Rosa's shoulders slumped and her eyes got watery. She shrugged.

"Bevanda, bevanda," Angelica shouted while pouting.

Boyd smiled at her, brought his teacup to his lips, and pretended to drink. Angelica crossed her arms and scowled. Boyd's eyebrows furrowed. He asked Rosa to ask her daughter what he had done wrong. When she did, Angelica made a loud slurping noise, not even bothering to use the teacup. Boyd took another drink, this time slurping. The smile reappeared on Angelica's face. A smile that warmed Boyd's heart.

This time, Angelica dominated the conversation during dinner with her mother translating. The young girl bubbled with questions for Boyd. Where did he live? What was it like there? Was he married? Did he like children? Rosa paid more attention to some of the answers than others. Like the last two. And when Boyd and Rosa spoke, Angelica wanted to know what was said.

After dinner, Boyd offered to help with the dishes. Angelica wouldn't have anything to do with that. She wanted Boyd all to herself. When Rosa relented with a smile and twinkling eyes, Angelica dragged him into her bedroom where she set up all her dolls. Without her mother there to translate, the two communicated with gestures. At such a young age, Angelica didn't have patience and often ran out of the bedroom to shout something at her mother. She would return with a word or two in English that she butchered, but Boyd understood most of what she wanted. He would have preferred having a baseball catch, but sitting through a tea party and playing with dolls was enjoyable because Angelica was so sweet.

Later, Rosa peeked into the bedroom and watched the two playing with that same smile on her face. She told Angelica it was time for bed. The young girl crossed her arms and stamped her foot but, after a brief argument and Boyd leaving the bedroom, she gave up.

Boyd was sitting on the living room couch when Angelica burst from her bedroom wearing the same nightgown as the night before. When she got into the bathroom, she realized her box wasn't there so she ran to the kitchen and lifted it off the chair. Boyd leapt from the couch and rushed to the young girl. He took the box from her and carried it to the bathroom. He placed it on the floor in front of the sink.

Angelica tugged on the bottom of Boyd's shirt until he bent over. She kissed him on the cheek. "Grazie."

"Prego," Boyd said, and then he said very slowly while exaggerating the movement of his lips and tongue, "You are welcome."

Angelica stared up at him and said in English, "You-uh welcome."

Boyd mussed her hair and returned to the couch. Rosa was watching him with a strange expression on her face.

"Should I leave?" Boyd asked Rosa.

"No, stay."

When Angelica finished washing up, her mother put her to bed. Rosa came out of the bedroom without closing the door. She looked at Boyd with the same strange expression. "Angelica want give you something."

Boyd jumped from the couch and went into the bedroom. Angelica was lying in bed on her back with the bedcover pulled up to her chin. He walked to the side of the bed. Rosa watched while leaning against the door jamb.

Angelica motioned for Boyd to get closer. He placed his hands flat on the mattress and leaned forward. Angelica's arms shot out from underneath the bedcover and wrapped around his neck. She pulled him down and kissed his cheek.

Rosa gasped behind him.

When Angelica's arms dropped down, Boyd said, "Good night, princess." He kissed the young girl's forehead.

Rosa gasped again.

When Boyd turned to leave, Rosa was standing with her hand pressed to her chest and her eyes wide and mouth gaping. He walked out of the bedroom and returned to the couch from where he heard Rosa and Angelica talking in Italian.

This time when Rosa came out of the bedroom, she closed the door. She sat next to Boyd, tucked her legs under her, smoothed out her dress, and stared at him.

"Did she go to sleep?" Boyd asked.

"Sì."

"It must be hard on her. Does she have friends?"

Rosa stared at Boyd as if she were looking through him. A faraway look. She didn't answer. And then she seemed to focus and said, "She used to."

"Should I leave?"

"No. Please stay. Per favore."

Rosa continued to stare at Boyd. He shifted and then said, "Angelica is sweet."

"She like you."

"I like her too."

"She called you Papa."

"When?"

"When we talk in bedroom."

"She must have meant man. She was confused."

"Maybe." Rosa had that faraway look again, and then she said, "Thank you for fix office. You fix up good."

"No thanks necessary."

"You work hard."

"It wasn't bad."

Rosa pinched her nose. "You work hard. Sweat."

"Oh my! Did Angelica say I smelled?"

"No."

"I should leave."

"Wash up."

"I will."

"Wash up here. I wash shirt. Smells."

Rosa swung her legs off the couch and stood. She held out her hand. "Give shirt."

"I should—"

"Give shirt!"

Boyd unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to Rosa. It would be washed more times in the last couple of days than the previous month. Being clean was a luxury one didn't have in the middle of a war. Boyd hoped the new lieutenant took his time getting there. He was clean. Eating well. And enjoyed Rosa and Angelica's company. He couldn't believe how much. It was as if he had known them for a year rather than just two days. He thought Rosa was a little older than him and she had a child, but there was something about her. Something that made his heart flutter. Something that filled his body with warmth. Something that made him smile.

"You wash now," Rosa said.

With his smelly shirt dangling from her left hand, Rosa took Boyd's hand in her right one and led him to her bedroom. Boyd was surprised when they passed the bathroom. When they stepped inside the bedroom, she pointed to a closed door he had thought was a closet.

"Go wash up," Rosa said. "My husband put it in."

She left to wash his shirt. He assumed in the kitchen sink like the day before.

Boyd assumed there was a sink behind the closed door. In the field, he washed from his helmet. If he was lucky, in a lake. Sometimes, the Army built makeshift showers consisting of buckets of cold water fixed above his head with a string attached.

As soon as Boyd opened the door, he saw it. A shower. That was a luxury. Back home all he had was a bathtub. He stripped, leaving his boots and clothes on the floor just outside the door. He pulled the shower curtain to the side and stared at the small tiled compartment.

Boyd pulled the curtain closed and stuck his arm into the shower to turn on the water. He waited for it to heat up before stepping inside and closing the curtain behind him. He stood under the showerhead, letting the water spray on his face and all over his body. It was like getting a massage.

He stepped out from under the water and looked around. He located a bar of soap and lathered up his hands. When he rubbed the bar of soap on his body, a thought filled his mind. The last body the soap had touched was Rosa's. His dick stirred. Putting that image out of his mind, he soaped up his body quickly, scrubbing his underarms extra vigorously.

A burst of cool air hit him when the curtain opened. Rosa was naked. Her skin was silky smooth, her breasts firm, her nipples hard. The patch of dark hair at her crotch was trimmed into a neat vee. She stepped into the shower and closed the curtain behind her.

Boyd gasped. "What are you—?"

Rosa placed two fingers on his mouth. "Shh. I want you."

She cupped his face in her two hands and rose onto her toes. Their lips were barely touching as she stared into his eyes, and then she pulled his face down and crushed his lips against hers. Rosa let out a soft moan as her tongue found its way into Boyd's mouth.

Boyd grabbed the back of Rosa's head and held her mouth to his, not that hers was going anywhere, but he felt the urgency to do it. His other hand went to her back, the soft skin now slick with water that was spraying her. He stroked her back from the neck to the top of her buttocks.

Boyd's tongue was now inside Rosa's mouth, sparring with her wildly flapping tongue. Her arms were around him, her hands on his back, her nails leaving red streaks on his skin. She hooked a leg around his as she pulled his body against hers. Boyd latched onto her buttocks and lifted her. She swung her other leg around him and, clinging to his neck, locked her legs around his waist, squeezing him tightly. As Angelica had, but Rosa was not a little girl, and they were naked.

Rosa tilted her head back, pulling away from the kiss. "Make love to me."

Boyd lifted Rosa higher, her breasts now even with his face. He leaned in and covered one breast with his open mouth and sucked. Rosa rested her chin on the top of his head and moaned. Boyd tried to suck the entire breast into his mouth. He got a lot of it. Then he flicked his tongue over the nipple before capturing it between his lips. He sucked like Angelica had when she was a nursing baby. But Boyd was not seeking milk. And Rosa wasn't reacting the same way she had all those years ago. She moaned and ground her spread pussy on his belly.

Rosa whispered between pants, "I…need…you."

Boyd lowered Rosa until his upright hard dick poked her vulva. Holding her up with one arm, his other hand snaked between them. It found his hard cock. He angled it into position. As soon as Rosa felt it hit its mark, she loosened her legs and slid down. Boyd's eyes snapped shut as his cock sank into her warm, moist pussy.

Holding Rosa up with both hands under her butt, Boyd's fingers sank into the spongy flesh. Rosa's arms were wrapped around his neck, her chin digging into the back of his shoulder. She tightened her legs around him as she bounced on his cock. Moaning and grunting.

"Oomph, oomph, oomph."

Rosa had Boyd in a bear grip. Her arms clutched around his neck, her legs tight around his waist. Her fingernails left dents in his skin. And scratches. She held him even tighter as she bounced up and down with more urgency. Grunting louder. Boyd felt the tingling in his loins.

"Rosa, I'm going to—" He clenched his eyes and clamped his teeth to stop his climax.

Boyd slid one hand from Rosa's buttocks to grab his dick. To pull it out. It was slick with her juices and, in his panicky haste and her bouncing up and down, it slipped from his fingers. Just when he got a grip on it, Rosa dropped down further, swallowing his cock, knocking his hand away. His entire cock was buried inside her. Nothing was left to latch on to.

Boyd panicked. He needed to get her off his cock. He tried lifting her, but she squeezed her legs around him tighter. He frantically clawed between her legs. Searching for his dick. There was nothing to grab. Only his testicles were outside of her. He was in the middle of one last attempt to lift her up when he couldn't hold back. Instead of pulling her off him, he pulled her down and thrust his hips up.

That set Rosa off. Her pussy spasmed, clenching his spurting cock. She moaned as her body shuddered. Both were in the throws of powerful orgasms.

When their breathing returned to normal, Rosa released her hold on Boyd and slid down his body. His slimy cock popped out. She grabbed his forearms when her rubbery legs wouldn’t support her. She leaned her face against Boyd's chest and sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Boyd said, "I tried to pull out."

"It is not that."

"Then what?"

She tilted her head back and stared up at Boyd. "I do not know."

Rosa jumped back and spun to face the spraying water. She scrubbed her pussy, scooped semen out with her finger, and then washed her groin with soap. She turned back to Boyd and, with a soapy fist, cleaned his cock.

After they rinsed off and dried, Rosa led Boyd by his hand to her bed. She climbed onto the bed and pulled him with her. They lay in each other's arms without speaking.

"Why did you cry?" Boyd asked.

"I felt good. I have not felt like that in long time."

"I'm sorry I didn't pull out."

"Not sorry. It is okay. Make love to me again."

This time, their lovemaking was slower. It lasted a long time and Rosa climaxed two times before he did. And he finished on her belly.

 

CHAPTER 5

Boyd awoke spooning Rosa, her nude body soft and warm in his arms. Both lying on their sides facing the same direction, her back against his chest and her butt snuggled into his groin. His arm was draped over her body with his forearm resting on her right hip and his hand on her tummy.

He brushed the back of her hair away and kissed the side of her neck. Rosa's shoulder lifted into the kiss with a purr and she rolled over to face him. She smiled. He could wake up to that smile every day the rest of his life. When she kissed his lips, he placed a hand between her legs.

Rosa shoved his hand away and scooted backward.

"Angelica, she awake," Rosa whispered and nodded at the bedroom door.

"How do you know?"

"I know."

The two dressed and left the bedroom. Rosa immediately went to Angelica's bedroom and cracked the door open. She peeked inside. Angelica's sweet voice was heard followed by Rosa responding, also in Italian. She closed the door and shrugged her shoulders at Boyd who was buttoning the fatigue shirt Rosa had washed.

After breakfast, Boyd gave Rosa a peck on the lips like any husband would leaving the house for the day to go to work, and then kissed Angelica on the forehead like a dad. Exiting the apartment, he retrieved his rifle that was leaning against the wall in the corner, slung it over his shoulder, and skipped down the stairs. He paused at the bottom, glancing around the newspaper office that now looked like a newspaper office rather than the aftermath of a tornado. After checking in with the sergeant, he would ask Rosa to show him how to use the equipment.

Boyd whistled as he strolled to the house commandeered as their headquarters. To report in.

Inside the headquarters house, soldiers were bustling. Scurrying in every direction. Boyd stood near the front entrance and watched the chaos. Something was up. It took a soldier bumping into Boyd as he charged into the house to snap him out of his frozen state.

Boyd spotted Sgt. Murphy barking orders at a private. Boyd strolled up to him.

"Sarge, what's going on?" Boyd asked.

The sergeant turned around. "Where the hell have you been?"

"You said I had time off."

"No more. Get your things and be ready to move out."

"When?"

"Now!"

"Do I have time to—?"

"Corporal!" someone shouted from behind Boyd. He spun around. "What part of 'now' don't you understand, soldier?"

Boyd stared at the lieutenant. He snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir."

Lt. Gruff returned the salute with a flick of his hand near his temple. About to say something, his eyes darted over Boyd's shoulder and he snapped his mouth shut. The lieutenant dashed off to handle something he had seen.

They had a new lieutenant.

Back to war.

The platoon, now at full strength with the replacements that had arrived with the lieutenant, trudged down the main street with all their gear on their backs, helmets on their heads, and rifle straps slung on their shoulders. A few had the strap looped around the back of their neck with their forearms resting on the rifle hanging horizontally in front of their chest. They were spread out, with scouts leading the way and the tank bringing up the rear. The new lieutenant was being driven in the jeep he had arrived in. The back seat was filled with rations, ammunition, and other equipment. Needed supplies that he had brought.

Townspeople leaned out their windows and waved. Some tossed flowers that floated down like light snow. As Boyd passed Rosa's house, he looked up hopefully at the second floor window. It was closed and vacant. An empty feeling filled his gut. He never got to say goodbye. And unless the Germans pushed them back with a counteroffensive, he would never see her again. His heart ached.

As the soldiers exited the small town, one by one they turned to gaze in somber silence at the two women hanging by their necks from a tree. Their hair was cropped almost to the scalp like sheared sheep. To shame them. Their hands were bound behind their backs. One of the women wore a single bright red shoe. Boyd spotted the other one lying on its side on the ground beneath her. One woman's head was tilted to the side, her swollen tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth. The other one's head had fallen back, the one who had kicked her slutty shoe off in her struggle to breathe.

Collaborators. Italian women who had taken up with German soldiers.

The mayor's fate had been different. As the American soldiers had looked on, he was dragged to the town's plaza by an angry mob and kicked and spat on until a man yanked him up by his collar. The mayor, on his knees, face bloodied, head bowed, sobbed and whimpered. The man holding the mayor up by his collar had placed a pistol at the top of his head and pulled the trigger.

It wasn't the soldiers' duty to stop the executions. They were soldiers fighting a war, not policemen. Civil matters were left to civilians. It was their town. Their laws. Their justice.

The Jewish family whose house they had commandeered for their headquarters had been forced to flee. Who knew if they were still alive? At a minimum, their lives had been shattered. Rosa's husband was dead. Murdered by the fascist dictator Mussolini, a Hitler ally. People chose sides. Depending on which side won determined their fate. The two women and the mayor had chosen wrong.

With the town long behind them, some soldiers walked side by side, talking to kill the time. They spoke about girls back home. Some talked about a woman they had met in town. Or women. For some, their fish stories were more believable than their women exploits. Boyd walked alone deep in his own thoughts. He already missed Rosa. And the bubbly Angelica with her big brown eyes.

Sgt. Murphy trotted up to Boyd and fell in stride with him. "I told the lieutenant you should get a medal."

Boyd looked at him without skipping a step. "For what?"

"Taking out that machine gun and mortar. I told you, you saved a lot of lives."

"Anyone would have done it."

"But you did it."

"I was lucky."

"That you were. What the hell were you thinking charging it?"

Boyd shrugged. "Someone had to." He hated talking about medals. He was just doing his job to end the war. "Sarge, what do you know about the new lieutenant?"

"Getting to know him. He seems like he knows what he's doing." The sergeant turned to the side and spat. "For an officer."

"Are the replacements raw?"

"Some are. As raw as they can be. Went through training, put on a boat, and here they are. Right in the middle of hell. But some are battle seasoned."

"The raw ones will learn fast," Boyd said.

"If they live long enough."

"So what's waiting for us?" Boyd asked.

"Another town. Intel says the Krauts will be waiting. That's why we got so many replacements."

The jeep pulled up alongside Sgt. Murphy. The lieutenant was holding an unfolded map spread out in front of him. He stopped studying it and looked past the jeep driver at the sergeant.

"Sergeant, we need to talk."

The jeep stopped and Sgt. Murphy dashed around the front to the passenger side where Lt. Gruff was waiting. Boyd continued walking alone. When the damn war was over, he'd drive everywhere. He had walked enough for two lifetimes.

Boyd took out a chocolate bar and munched on it as one foot after the other carried him through the Italian countryside. He should have left the chocolate bar for Angelica. He would have if he had known he was leaving. He would have said goodbye, too. She and her mother would soon forget him. Angelica was young. She'd forget him in no time. Maybe it would take Rosa longer. How long would it take him to forget them?

 

CHAPTER 6

Sgt. Murphy and the tank sergeant, a burly man with a scruffy black beard wearing a leather helmet, flanked Lt. Gruff as they huddled over the hood of the jeep. The tank sergeant's unclasped chin strap dangled loosely as he leaned forward and chewed on the stub of a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Sgt. Murphy's Thompson submachine gun lay on the hood next to the spread out map. The lieutenant's finger constantly jabbed the map as he spoke.

Sgt. Murphy stared, listening to every word, absorbing everything that was said. His and his men's lives depended on it. From time to time he looked up, scanned the area, nodded, and returned his gaze to the map. PFC Peck, the redheaded boy with freckles from Nebraska known as "The Kid" because he looked like he should still be in high school, stood to the side. He had filled them in on his reconnaissance and now was answering questions. He too sometimes leaned over the jeep to point to a spot on the map. The private first class had returned from scouting the area ahead.

The rest of the platoon sat on the ground in a wooded area, leaning on the thick trunks of Italian Stone Pine trees, enjoying the shade from their wide umbrella canopies. A few took the reprieve from walking to open a K-ration and fill their growling stomachs. Some relished the simple pleasure of a drink of water. All enjoyed getting off their feet. Boyd munched on a chocolate bar. With a new supply of K-rations that came with the other supplies, Boyd had his shirt pockets full of chocolate bars, having traded his cigarettes for them. But even when relaxing, the soldiers' eyes were peeled on the surroundings, their rifles in their hands or resting on their laps for easy access. Ready for an instant change from the luxury of peace to the hell of war.

The lieutenant folded the map and dismissed the two sergeants. The tank sergeant rushed back to his tank and Sgt. Murphy gathered his squad leaders together deeper into the woods.

"The town is two miles ahead," Sgt. Murphy said. "Unlike the last town, this one is heavily fortified."

"Can we get air support?" Boyd asked.

Sgt. Murphy turned to the side and spat. "This ain't Berlin. The Italians are on our side now. We can't just level the town."

"The tank?"

"The lieutenant wants to hold it back until the fighting starts. It makes too much noise and the lieutenant wants to surprise the Krauts."

The squad leaders talked amongst themselves. Sgt. Murphy waited for them to be quiet.

"The Kid," Sgt. Murphy said, "did the recon. This is what we're going to do."

All four squad leaders inched closer as the sergeant explained the plan. When done, they gathered their squads and explained their roles to them.

Always aware of their surroundings, the soldiers were now more vigilant as they walked the last two miles to the next town. A town where Germans would be waiting. Ready to kill them. It was going to be much more dangerous than their last skirmish. Even then they had lost friends.

Boyd led his squad through the tall trees. Every snap of a twig sounded like a cannon. Every suppressed grunt or cough caused them to pause for an instant and tighten their fingers on their weapons. It was more difficult walking on the uneven ground, but the cover was worth it. The Kid had laid out what he had seen. But what about the unknown, what he hadn't seen? What was waiting for them?

Boyd wished the tank was leading the way. But Lt. Gruff was right. The Germans would hear it and be alerted. Any advantage of surprise would be lost. And a waiting bazooka would disable the tank. The stranded tank had joined up with the platoon to help fight in open territory. There was no room for a tank to maneuver in town. The tank would be a sitting duck.

Boyd spotted the edge of town and held up his hand. His squad stopped behind him, all crouching. Their breathing paused for a moment. He checked his watch. They still had five minutes for the rest of the platoon to get where they needed to be. He motioned for his men to spread out and take their positions. If there were a lot of Germans in the town it was going to be nasty. The enemy would be waiting in windows and alleys. Hopefully the German's didn't have a tank.

Boyd's squad had been assigned the right flank, giving the town's main entrance a wide berth. Another squad did the same on the left side of town. When the rest of the platoon made its frontal assault, those two squads, hopefully, would catch the Germans from the rear. That was the plan. But one thing was certain in war. Things hardly went as planned.

Boyd checked his watch again. His heart pounded with each movement of the secondhand. He took a few deep breaths to slow it down. His heart, not the second hand.

When the second hand hit the twelve, Boyd twirled his hand above his head with the index finger pointing at the sky and then thrust that finger forward to tell his men to move. Running in a crouch, they scurried out of the trees and each stopped in front of one of the houses on that block. They peeked into windows to check for lurking danger. Boyd looked from one of his men to the other for the thumbs-up.

So far so good.

Boyd checked his watch. The frontal attack would start soon. He motioned for his men to enter the houses. He turned the doorknob on his house's front door and opened it. He snuck inside. As did his men in the other houses. The plan was to get to the main street, clearing out the houses they went through. If they came upon German soldiers they would kill them. Quietly. With a knife. At least until the shooting started. Bayonets were mounted on their rifles. The other squad would do the same from the opposite side of town. The frontal attack was a diversion to keep the Germans occupied while Boyd's men, and the ones on the other side of town, came up behind them. What waited for them as they got further into town they did not know. But the entrance to the town from the south was well fortified. That's where the Germans expected the Allied soldiers to come after having taken the previous town. They needed to take it out first.

Boyd crept through the house he had entered. He heard a noise and peeked into the next room. A chunky woman was baking in the kitchen. Her sleeves were rolled up and she wiped the sweat off her forehead with her thick forearm. Boyd stepped into the kitchen and rushed up to the woman from behind and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her muffled shriek felt warm on his palm. Boyd spun her around and held a vertical finger to his lips and waited. The woman gawked at him with wide eyes and then nodded.

"Americana," Boyd said.

When the woman nodded again, he slid his hand off her mouth. She stood there staring at him.

"Nascondere," he said.

The woman made the sign of the cross and dashed off into her bedroom to do what Boyd had told her to do. To hide. What else could she do but hide? And pray.

There was no one else in the house so Boyd walked out the back door, sprinted across the two backyards, and entered the rear door of the next house. That one was empty. He moved to the next house, the one on the main street. He heard men talking in German.

Boyd tiptoed to the doorway leading to the room the voices came from. He peeked. There were four German soldiers. Three were standing and one sitting. Their rifles were leaning against the wall. They were talking to an Italian woman in her early thirties who was giggling, going from one to the other and kissing them on the mouth. Her blue skirt came below her knees. She was nude from the waist up. No blouse and no bra. Her large tits were squeezed by all of the Germans. One lifted the front of her skirt and found what he was looking for beneath it. The woman didn't mind. She giggled harder and pointed her knees outward while squatting. Her kiss became more passionate as she grabbed the back of the German's head and crushed his mouth to hers. The other Germans cheered their comrade on.

The sitting German opened his pants and lifted his butt off the chair as he shoved them and his underwear down to his knees. He barked something in German and the woman broke the kiss and turned his way. A smile spread over her face when she saw his limp dick. She grabbed the arm of the German soldier she had been kissing and yanked his hand out from under her skirt. She held his wet finger under his nose before pushing it against his lips. He sucked it into his mouth and then the woman kissed him passionately again.

The woman broke the kiss and rushed over to the seated German. She dropped to her knees in front of him and shoved his knees apart. She knee-walked between them, lifted his dick, and fed it into her mouth. The other three Germans gathered around and cheered the woman on.

Boyd wondered what the woman's fate would be after they took the town. If they took the town. That was a big if. Would she be the next collaborator to have her hair sheared and be hanged?

The woman's mouth was sliding up and down the German's now hard dick. Another German stepped behind her and flipped the back of her skirt onto her back. She wasn't wearing underwear or stockings. Her round butt was the same olive color as her breasts. The German behind her was opening his pants when the first explosion from the street rang out.

The sitting German let out a howl. The woman must have clamped her teeth around his cock when the noise startled her. With a hand on her forehead, he shoved hard. She tumbled onto the floor with her skirt bunched at her waist, on her back with her knees up and spread. The mass of hair between her legs was dark. The three standing Germans ran for their rifles.

Boyd aimed his M1 rifle and fired three times. Three Germans fell to the floor. The sitting German was halfway up when Boyd fired again. He dropped back onto the chair and sat with his chin on his chest and arms dangling at his sides, blood oozing from his chest and mouth.

The woman stared at Boyd with both hands over her mouth. She shrieked. And then she jumped to her feet and fled the house. She ran into the street screaming with her bare breasts flopping. A volley of bullets riddled her body and she crumbled to the ground.

Boyd stared at her through the open door. I guess she won't be hung.

Boyd's men were firing from houses. So were men across the street from the other squad. The rest of the platoon was firing and charging the town. The Germans were being attacked from all sides. Boyd tried to spot Germans firing at them. When he did, he shot them.

The American soldiers charging the town were now even with the house Boyd was in. Now was the hard part. He left the safety of the house and joined his men as they emerged from houses as well. So did the men on the other side of the street.

The battle was fierce. Bullets flew everywhere. Men fell, wounded or dead. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Hand grenades exploded. Bits of stone buildings and glass showered the street.

The Americans ducked into houses, searching for the enemy, killing them when found, or being killed.

Boyd entered the next house. A floorboard creaked behind him.

About to spin around, a hand came from behind Boyd and latched onto the lower half of his face and pulled his head back. A split second later, a knife clasped in the German's other hand came over Boyd's shoulder on a downward trajectory toward his chest. Boyd dropped his M1 rifle and his hands shot up, grabbing the German soldier's forearm with both hands. The knife stopped coming closer. The two struggled. The German grunted behind Boyd as his hand shook trying to thrust the knife into Boyd's chest. Boyd strained to keep it from doing that.

As hard as he tried, Boyd couldn't push the German's arm back, so he shoved it to the side and dipped, flipping the German over his hip. The two crashed to the floor with Boyd holding onto the German's forearm for dear life. They rolled over and over. When they stopped, Boyd was on his back with the German straddling him. The German still clutched the knife and Boyd had never let go of the German's forearm. On his knees above Boyd, the German now used both hands to force the knife into Boyd's chest. As it came down, Boyd mustered all his strength to shove the forearm to the side. The blade came crashing down next to his ear, the point imbedding in the wood floor. Boyd pushed again. The blade snapped.

The two wrestled on the floor, throwing punches, clawing at each other. Boyd ended up on top with a hand pressing down on the German's face, punching him in the side with his other hand. The German gave Boyd a knee to the groin. The pain shot up through his gut. Thankfully the German hadn't had much leverage so it wasn't too bad. Boyd jumped to his feet to get his M1 rifle. The German slammed the heel of his boot into the side of Boyd's left kneecap. Boyd screamed and crumbled to the floor.

The German pounced on him with his hands around Boyd's neck. Strangling him. Boyd stared at the German soldier's face. It was red, strained, his teeth clenched, eyes filled with hatred. And victory. He knew he had won.

That was a preview of Lonely War Widows. To read the rest purchase the book.

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