Back in her time by Patricia Corbett Bowman Page B

prison. No, I’m up on drinking charges. What the heck could it be?
    They blazed down the makeshift road for several miles, leaving the forward-moving infantry behind in their dust. Soon Taylor spotted a tent camp. She straightened her shoulders as the jeep ran up beside a tent. Might as well take it like a man, as Pops would say.
    â€œInside, soldier.” Sarge stayed outside while Taylor hesitated and then ducked under the canvas flap.
    â€œCome in, come in, Private Reid,” said the captain, who was sitting at a small work table with maps strewn about.
    â€œYes, sir.” Taylor saluted.
    â€œLet’s get right to it, private. It has come to my attention that you have been taking on responsibilities above your rank.”
    â€œYes, sir.” I knew I’d get blamed for that drinking at the monastery.
    â€œLet’s see.” The captain read from a notebook. “Your bravery at the church in Pontecorvo, taking the lead; talking an American soldier into the safety of a jeep in the midst of a minefield; overpowering a gun port and capturing German soldiers. The list seems to go on. You have shown true leadership, private. We need men with your bravery inspiring others. I’m promoting you to lance corporal, effective immediately.”
    â€œSir. I don’t know what to say.”
    â€œThat will be all, corporal. And try to stay out of the hooch. I understand, because of your [cough] age it’s a new experience. But we want the men looking up to you, corporal, not down in a ditch somewhere. Capiche?”
    â€œYes, sir, captain, sir.”
    The captain resumed shuffling his maps around and called for his batman, so Taylor saluted briskly and exited.
    Outside, Sarge was leaning against a tent pole talking to another man. He stood upright as Taylor marched over to him.
    â€œWell, Junior?”
    â€œPops — I mean Sarge — I guess, thanks. You must have recommended me to the captain. I can’t believe I made lance corporal!”
    â€œWell, don’t let it go to your head, corporal. Come on, we’ve got to catch up to our unit,” said Sarge, turning with a big smile as he hopped into the waiting jeep and took over for the driver, who departed. Sarge waved Taylor into the front seat beside him. As Taylor joined him, Sarge threw something into her lap. “There’s your chevrons, corporal. Get sewing. The sooner you wear ’em, the faster you’ll believe it’s real.”
    â€œYes, Sarge.” Taylor ripped open the package, revealing two stripes, one for each shoulder. Reaching into her kit, Taylor found a threaded needle. Having sewn on a few buttons in her time, she manipulated the needle with some skill and soon had the chevrons attached.
    Pops knew about this and never told me. What would he say now, back in my time? ‘Good job, Taylor. You deserved it’? More like, ‘ It’s about time. You should have made sergeant by now.’ Guess I’ll never know what the old Pops would say. Sarge isn’t saying much, but I saw that smile when I came out of the tent.
    The jeep sped and bumped over ruts and rocks on the uneven road. Taylor could see a cloud of dust far ahead, which she knew was the regiment. If I can see it, so can the enemy.
    A sound like a gunshot interrupted her thoughts. A blowout? The jeep swerved to the right. Sarge struggled to steer it away from the ditch it was screeching toward, rubber burning on the hot road. He managed to stop the jeep abruptly and yelled, “Take cover! Someone is shooting at us!”
    Taylor didn’t need to be told again. She too jumped out of the jeep, none too gracefully. Crawling on their stomachs, the soldiers moved away from the jeep just in time as more shots rang out, metal hitting metal. An explosion soon followed when a bullet hit the gas tank. The jeep became a fireball.
    The heat was searing, even in the ditch the soldiers had scrambled into. Taylor and Sarge