Free Back in her time by Patricia Corbett Bowman

hear me?”
    â€œYes, sir.” Taylor lowered her head and marched on by rote as the sergeant fell back toward the rear. He’ll never believe me. He’s as stubborn here as he is back home. Will I ever get a chance to tell him who I really am?
    * * *
    The top of the mountain was in sight. A castle-like building loomed above them in the darkening sky.
    â€œHow come the enemy didn’t establish a fortification here?” Taylor asked Whitey.
    â€œIt’s probably too easy to get to. Look how easy we climbed up here. The Krauts only dig in when they know it’s hard for us to get to them, like at Monte Cassino.”
    â€œIt’s getting dark. Hope we make camp here. It would be nice to have a real roof over our heads for a change,” Taylor yawned.
    Two scouts were sent ahead to check for occupancy while the rest of the soldiers sat around the steep path, waiting.
    The captain appeared. “Forward, men.”
    The soldiers entered the gates under the silent, watchful eyes of several monks. An older one standing to the side in his hooded brown robe nodded to the first men to follow him into the main building. Here, in a cavernous, high-ceilinged room with rows of tables, the monk indicated they were to stay.
    â€œIt’s no palace, but it’s nice to get away from the mosquitoes and bugs,” Red said, settling in.
    â€œNow, if there was a nice feather bed, it’d be perfect,” said Mac, laying out his blankets.
    â€œWe’re lucky they let us in here. Nice billet,” said Taylor.
    A door at the side of the room banged shut, and the monks disappeared.
    â€œWhat say we check out this old place? It looks to be a hundrit years old,” said Red.
    â€œSure, but don’t let Sarge catch us scouting around or he’ll give us what for,” said Whitey.
    â€œComing, Junior?”
    â€œNah. I’m going to catch some sleep.”
    â€œWhat about you, Mac?”
    â€œNo, thanks, I have to check the stock market in this old paper Cook gave me.”
    â€œStock market? Is that like the stockade?” asked Red.
    â€œGo, you guys.” Mac threw the newspaper at Red.
    Red and Whitey disappeared quietly through the door at the rear of the room while Sarge was engaged in a conversation with some other NCOs.
    Mac retrieved his dated newspaper while Taylor settled down peacefully on the floor nearby. Whitey appeared about twenty minutes later, peeked through the door to see if all was clear, and crept up to Mac and Taylor.
    â€œWake Junior up. We’ve got something to show you,” Whitey said.
    â€œYeah, what’s up?” asked Mac, laying his newspaper down while he gently shook Taylor awake.
    â€œHuh?” Taylor said, squinting her eyes. “What?”
    â€œGet up, sleepyhead. Follow me.”
    Mac pulled Taylor up and pushed her toward the door through which Whitey had disappeared. Mac looked around the large room as he shoved the door open. Sarge had his back to him, writing a letter, it appeared, and most of the men seemed to be sleeping, paying them no attention.
    Once through the door, Whitey led the way down a dark hallway, retrieving a single flaming torch.
    â€œWatch your step,” he said as he led them toward a staircase of steep, slippery, stone steps lacking a railing.
    Down they went, stepping cautiously. The air was pungent with mildew and dust. The wet walls were useless as supports, so they used their open arms to balance themselves.
    Reaching the bottom, Whitey whispered, “This way.”
    They followed, wondering where Red was. A bright light appeared before them and they made their way toward it. And there was Red, grinning lopsidedly, sitting on a large barrel.
    â€œBeer?” asked Taylor.
    â€œHow lowbrow, my boy. Only the best for you. Brandy!” Whitey waved his hands like a magician and held his torch closer to the walls to reveal rows upon rows of dark bluish bottles.
    â€œBrandy?