“Dick, my boy!” he shouted. “What a sight for sore eyes! You made it back! And from the looks of you, by swimming, too!”
Dick smiled back weakly. “Yes, sir, we took to the water,” he said wearily. Suddenly he felt as if he could not move another step. As long as the responsibility for the detachment had been on his shoulders, he kept his spirits up, encouraged the men to keep going. But now he could relax, and he did. He just wanted to sit down where he was and go to sleep.
Without a word, Lieutenant Jerry Scotti slipped one of Dick’s arms over his shoulder and helped him the rest of the way up the hill. Other men had taken Bert in their arms and still others helped the weary Donnelly gang over these last steps.
Over the crest of the hill, they went down to the ledge, where they were surrounded at once by their friends. Dick went with Scotti to report to Captain Marker, who beamed at him.
“To be perfectly honest, Sergeant Donnelly, I didn’t expect to see you and your men again,” he said. “Yours was almost a suicide mission. Did you bring all your men back with you?”
“Yes, sir,” Dick said. “Private O’Leary got a slug in his right leg and Latham one through the left hand. No other casualties, unless you count sore feet. We had to abandon all of our equipment, though.”
“Of course, of course,” the Captain said. “You’ve done a fine job, Donnelly, a particularly fine job. And I know you’ll be glad to learn that the battle of Wadizam Pass is over. A complete victory! About fourteen hundred Germans dead, two thousand captured. Some few got away into the hills.”
“That’s wonderful, sir,” Dick replied. “How did it go here?”
“Lieutenant Scotti will give you the details, I know,” the Captain said. “Now there are trucks waiting on the road below to take us back to the Pass. You men need some rest.”