Buster's Story Ch. 04

"Henry? Have you been drinking? Did you hit your head? Really love, we can go upstairs," she said as he undressed.

"No, I'll show you. Really. Just keep calm," he said as he pulled off the last of his clothing. He shifted.

Betty screamed and passed out.

Wolf sniffed the woman on the floor. All okay. Wolf sniffed her belly and between her legs. She smelled like pee and wolf cub. Wolf licked her face and then sat and waited.

Betty slowly woke up. A noise woke her. She was on the floor and she remembered fainting because somehow Henry had melted into a wolf. "It must have been a dream. No more Stilton cheese for dinner," she thought as she sat up. The large wolf in front of her didn't move. He just lay there as Betty gasped and tried to move away from the animal in her living room.

"Ma'am, it's alright. Henry won't hurt you said Brian Davy from the doorway.

Betty screamed and fainted again. This time Brian caught her.

Betty came to in her own bed. The strange man was sitting next to her and so was Henry. She looked from one man to the next and realized that the stranger must be Henry's father. She trembled in fear.

"Betty, it's okay," said Henry.

Betty, still wide eyed with fear didn't say a thing, but simply looked from one man to the other.

"Betty, please. There is nothing to be afraid of," said Brian.

"Dddid I see... really see you change into a wolf?" Betty asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes. I told you I'm a shifter Betty. I didn't lie. I had to tell you because you're pregnant and we tend to breed true," said Henry.

The two men could read Betty's thoughts as they raced across her face. Then her eyes rolled up in her head and she passed out again.

"Henry, what on earth have you bred with?" asked Brian.

"Hadn't intended to breed. She's just a sweet girl and well, she was nice," said Henry.

"Nice? Does she always act like this?" asked Brian. "Or am I just catching her at a bad time?" The sarcasm seeped into his words.

"Papa! Dammit! You are not makin' this easy," said Henry.

"No, easy is just kill you. You idiot," hissed Brian. He looked over at Betty and saw that she was waking up again.

Betty blinked and looked at both men. "Henry," she started.

"Yes Betty," said Henry.

"Am I... am I going to have puppies?" she asked in a worried tone.

Both me laughed.

A week later Betty was ready to ship off from Liverpool on the Queen Mary. She and Henry had gone to the Canadian Wives Bureau in London a few days before to get the papers ready for travel. Henry had written his mother and Maggie to let them know that Betty would be on her way. Henry and Brian had given Betty letters to hand deliver as well.

"Now, you understand that you'll arrive at Pier 21 in Halifax. From there, you'll have to take a train all the way to Calgary, Alberta. From Calgary, you take the train to Lethbridge. Maman and Maggie will meet you there and take you home," said Henry.

"I got it Henry. All written down. I...hope I do you proud," said Betty. She'd gotten over her fright, but still wasn't 100% sure of all of this.

"You'll do just fine. Take care and write when you can," said Henry. He kissed her and watched as she headed up the gang plank.

Betty waved from the deck rail as the Queen Mary pulled away from the docks. Henry waited until the ship was far off into the channel and then headed back to Aldershot.

*

July 10^th, 1943, Sicily.

"Operation Husky! Should have called it Operation Puke and Bake," said Jacques as he tried to clear his head. He and Henry were standing on the deck of the transport that was headed across the Mediterranean. In hours they would be storming a beach at Cape Passero. The men were trying to get ready amids seasick troops. Everyone was hot, nervous and relieved to finally be heading into battle.

Brian and the Major were looking over maps of the area their battalion was suppose to take. Notes were made and maps handed out. Brian gathered his men together and shared out the information. Less than thirty minutes later, the landing crafts hit the beach. The propaganda machines and bombings had done their job well. There was little to no fighting on the beaches. Some of the transports hit the wrong beaches and the heat was oppressive. As the men moved inland, Brian feared he would loose more men from heat exhaustion than enemy bullets.

By that evening, the British, Canadian and American forces had taken Syracuse. The Germans hadn't shown up in this area either. Some ships had been damaged by shelling, but for the most part the misinformation had worked in keeping the landing a secret. Brian and his men were panting in the shade trying to figure out just how much of their winter uniforms they could shed.

The next morning, the army moved inland. The Allies knew that the Italian 6^th Army and Panzer Division Herman Goring and the 15^th Panzergrenadier Division with 150 tanks was in Sicily. The 1^st Canadian along with the XXX Corp was working to take over the Pachino Airfield. Battles were brief but intense and the heat was devastating.

"Major, two more of my men have succumbed to heat stroke. Can't you get us lighter uniforms? Anything? Let us strip off?" said Brian. He was dripping wet and trying not to pant in front of the Major.

"Staff Sargent, we are doing the best we can. Do whatever you need to keep cool. As it is, they want to delay the Canadian regiments until we've figure out how to deal with this heat. At the same time, we have Italians and Germans attacking. Worse yet, we have Italians surrendering in record numbers. I just don't know what to do with all of them!" cried the Major. He too was having trouble with the heat, and didn't dare complain.

"Yes Sir!" said Brian. He saluted and left. He headed out to where his men were quartered. Everyone was trying to stay out of the sun.

"Any luck?" asked Chester.

"No. Drink your water and stay out of the sun. Heard that we have a long march coming up. 120 miles from here to Simeto. Oh, and lots of Germans to shoot," said Brian.

The men shook their heads and wondered what on Earth General Montgomery was thinking.

Leonforte, Ragusa, Catania Road, Vizzini... The names of towns melted together with the sounds of bullets, bombs, tanks and the cries of the wounded. The Hermann Goring Division was waiting for them in Catania. At a bridgehead north of the river Simeto, the Allies managed a foothold against the Germans. It didn't last long.

"Staff Sargent Davy!" called the Major.

"Sir!" Brian answered with a salute.

"We've been ordered to head north to Leonforte. From there we head east to Adrano near Mt. Etna. You think you can get our men there?" asked the Major.

"Aye Sir!" Brian said and headed out to lead his men. They'd worked out a tactical plan. Two or three of the shifters would head out before and clear the way. They'd shift and report back and then the main body of troops would move out. It was slow and dangerous work.

Henri had been out two days earlier and before killing the two German officers, he listened to them chatter about how clever and sneaky the Canadian divisions were to fight. He smiled as he shifted and then killed them.

By August, there were 19,000 prisoners. Patton's tanks were chewing up the ground and driving the Germans north and east. The battles became more intense. 1^st Canadian and XXX Corps were pushing towards Adrano. It fell on August 5^th and the Canadian Division was merged with the Army Reserve. It didn't give any of the men much rest as five days later, they were scheduled to cross to mainland Italy.

"Damn! We lost two more men last night," said Henry.

"Shifters?" asked Chester.

"Non. Just other Canadians. Heat stroke and bullets kill just about the same here," said Henry. And those tanks! Who taught them how to drive? Nearly ran over me last night!"

"I know. More people die from tanks running over them than bullets lately," said Jacques. He sat down heavily. He drank from his canteen and ate some biscuits out of his rations. The rest of the men around him were doing the same.

Brian and his troops moved north and east with the Allies. The 29th Panzergrenadier Division gave Patton fits along the coast near Santa Agata and San Fratello. Meanwhile the Canadians moved up to the New Hube Line. Randazzo fell on August 13^th. As the Italians and Germans pulled back, the Allied Forces took the opportunity to enter Messina.

"How we doin' Papa?" Henry asked Brian as the men sat eating their first hot meal in weeks as they 'relaxed' on the Italian mainline.

"Not too bad. 562 dead. 28 of those family. 1664 wounded and 34 of them family. 84 were captured, and none of them family. I think maybe we survive this," said Brian.

*

December 20^th, 1943. Ortona, Italy

"Henri! You okay?" asked Jacques.

"Yah, Damn those Germans can shoot," said Heni.

"You think?" said Chester.

Henri shook his head to clear the ringing and the men moved on to the next house. The fighting had been fierce and this was only the first day.

The 1^st Canadian and the rest of the Allied Forces had been working their way up the Italian countryside all summer and autumn. Now with winter settling in, the men found themselves heading into the deep water port of Ortona off the Adriatic Sea. They'd been told that Ortona was vital and must be taken at all costs. Crossing the Moro earlier in the month had just about done in the British forces, and so it was left to the 1^st Canadian Infantry Division to take up the slack. It was cold and muddy, which perversely suited the Canadians much better than the heat of July.

The Germans didn't want to give up Ortona and were literally fighting for ever stone, tree and road in the town. The fighting was happening in narrow streets. Snipers, mines and more tanks and troops than anyone could imagine were packed into the area. The 1^st Fallschimjager Division was holding their ground.

Brian was leading a team of men, mostly shifters in to take positions as snipers. Their task was to try and flank the Germans and cut off communications. It was slow hard work. While they picked off Germans with bullets and 'dogs', the Three Rivers Canadian Tank division began to route through Corso Vittorio Emanuele. The Germans had mined the area and what should have been an easy battle became a standstill filled with deadly traps.

Brian and Jacques were trapped in a building with no way to get out. The house to house fighting was becoming impossible.

"Jacques, shift and see if you can get through that hole," said Brian pointing to some bomb damage in a far wall.

"What? You think I am some mouse?" asked Jacques.

"Yes! You get your skinny furry ass through that damn hole now before that German tank comes this way," Brian shouted. He kept firing on the Germans while Jacques shifted and scurried through the hole. He dug it a bit bigger from the other side and then yipped at Brian. Brian saw that the hole was now man sized and shoved Jacques' gear thought. He fired a few more times and then dived through the hole himself. When they joined up with the rest of the men, they explained what they had done. No more sticking their necks out when they could 'mouse-hole'. They used anti-tank guns to breach holes through the houses or use grenades where that didn't work. They went room by room through the houses killing Germans as they went. The battles were fierce and bloody. Brian and his fellow shifters used their wolfish senses to try and keep losses to a minimum. The close-quarters combat sometimes meant that they surprised enemy soldiers. It also meant that some times they ran into Italian families attempting to hide from both groups of soldiers. One small unit of Canadians took turns holding frightened children while others picked off Germans.

"You know the Germans are going to get pissed at us and start running tanks through the buildings," said Jacques.

"Aye. Just keep an ear cocked for the rumble," said Brian. He was crawling through a mouse-hole and stopped to lob a grenade through the next stairwell. Clearing houses and streets room by room had never been done before, but the hunting tactics of the Canadians was providing an unexpected boon.

December 25^th, 1943. Ortona Italy.

"Damn! Brian! You okay?" called one of the men from the room above. They'd been clearing the building and trying to stay clear of the German snipers.

Brian shook the rubble that had fallen off of him and then glanced out the window. "Aye! But that German, he kill two of our tanks. No getting to them either. I'm coming down," hollered Brian.

He knew that his men were do to rotate out to eat. It was Christmas day and they'd been promised food that didn't come out of cans. He got down to where the small band of men were waiting. "Let's go!"

The men enjoyed a brief but good Christmas dinner. Roast pork with all the trimmings, chocolate bars, beer, cigarettes and that particular dish, Christmas pudding were handed out to the men a few at a time.

"You know, five years I get this stuff. I know it is suppose to be edible," said Henri as he tried a bite of the Christmas pudding.

"It better than my Aunt Marie's fruit cake," said Chester. That made the men laugh. A year before the war, they'd taken the young boys out to shoot and it was one of Aunt Marie's fruit cakes they'd used as a target. It had been so dense that the little .22 rounds only dented it.

"Maybe those Germans, they use this stuff for armor on them tanks," said Jacques. "Them some damn tanks." The men nodded in agreement. They all finished and then headed back out to the fighting.

*

Natalie's Cabin, Canada

"Maman! Maman! I know where Papa is!" shouted Quintus.

Natalie came into the room to find Quintus listening to the radio. She looked puzzled as he had an old map of Europe on his lap as well.

"What do you mean Quintus? Did we get a letter? Did someone call?" she asked.

"Non! The radio. That man on the CBC, Matthew Halton. He say he reporting from the Battle of Ortona, Little Stalingrad he call it. Says that the 1^st Canadian Battalion and Three Rivers Tanks is there. That is Papa!" said Quintus. He pointed to the map.

Natalie sat down as if the air had been let out of her. She'd been listening to the war news and knew how desperate this battle really was and had hoped that her mate and sons were not there. Now she had no way to fool herself.

"Maman, what does 'Little Stalingrad' mean?" asked Quintus.

"Stalingrad is a city in the Soviet Union where the Soviets and Germans fought a horrid battle that lasted for six months. Whole sections of the city were leveled. People ate rats," was as far as Natalie got before Quintus interrupted her.

"Rats aren't so bad," he said.

"Not for us. Wolves eat rats. These were people who were so hungry, they had no choice. It was also ver' cold. Worse than here. So people froze. People died. If they are saying Ortono is like Stalingrad, then this is ver' bad.

Quintus put down his map and hugged his maman. Life hadn't been easy. The men were gone for so long. Then the women and children began to show up. Not shifters and some didn't do well. Natalie, her daughters and the other women in the area tried to be nice. They tried to help them understand what life was like here. So many of them were city girls. They didn't cope with having to chop wood or cut up game animals. Worse yet were those who really didn't understand what their husbands had been trying to tell them when it came to shifting.

Some of the women had settled in nicely. Others had already left their children and headed home to England or off to one of the big cities. The baby boom had caught Natalie by surprise. Now she was dealing with fifteen children between the ages of one month and four years old and no parents or families that would take them. There were eight pregnant women and she didn't have a good feeling about them being able to cope either.

One such was Henry's Betty. She'd arrived in late July and and was now heavy with child. Jenny and Alice had a bet that she'd abandon the baby. Natalie had tried and tried to make her understand that life could be good here, but Betty was terribly homesick for her little corner of England.

Natalie went back towards the kitchen to check on dinner.

"Maman, what we do with that Betty?" asked Alice. She was knitting baby booties. Next to her sat Mary, a very quiet three year old.

"I don' know. We see how she do when the baby comes. Some women get better. Others,..." Natalie trailed off. It had gotten bad enough that Kent and some of the other men who had stayed had begun to write up an agreement to be signed by non-shifter spouses. One that would give the shifter custody of any child born of such a marriage. Twice already they'd had women go, come back, go and leave a second-third-fourth time, and each time make a different choice about the children. One poor little girl wouldn't leave Alice's side she was so traumatized by it all.

"I think we best make all those crazy Brits sign that paper," said Marie coming in the back door. She'd had the talk with her husband, and there hadn't been a problem, but Marie wondered if it was different for men.

"Maybe. I wish that Grandma Davy were here. She'd know what to do," said Natalie. She certainly would never ask her maman. Celia had already expressed her opinion. The two women who turned up at the door saying they were wives of grandsons of Nathan and Luc's had been turned away. Natalie had taken them in and so far both had held to their agreements. Tilly and Georgina were helpful and took many of the abandoned children into their cabins. Both were Yorkshire farm lasses and Natalie often wondered if that made a difference. Almost all the women that had real issues with the shifters were city bred.

"Aye. Grand-mere Celia, she is so mean! Talks about purity and all that shit, but she is part Nez Pierce! Why it so bad to be part English?" said Marie.

"Her problem is all wolf, not part wolf. She think it makes them less which is stupid. Some of those 'pure wolves" is crazy. Bear shit crazy," said Alice. She finished a bootie and started on another. All of the women in the room nodded. While they may not have a grasp of science, there were family records. Life was too complicated not to know who married who and which marriages made for good babies and bad babies. Grandma Davy had a long list and Natalie had kept it current. Families with a bit of non-shifter were often healthier than shifter only relationships.

"Just don' say that where Grand-mere Celia can hear you. She box your ears till they ring," said Quintus. He'd been the victim of Celia's wrath more than once.

Natalie nodded and her daughters agreed. Dinner was nearly ready and she went to wake up Betty. She found the woman sitting on her bed, tears streaming down her face. In her hands was a wadded up shirt. Henry's.

"Oh Betty, you be okay," said Natalie.

Betty looked up at her mother-in-law. She sniffed and tried to dry her tears. "I guess so, but I miss my mum and..." she said as she hiccuped.

Natalie sat down beside her. Maggie had tried to house Betty, but the two of them were such weepers that it hadn't worked. Plus, Maggie spent most of her time in wolf form, leaving her son George with her mom or Natalie. It wasn't that either woman disliked the other either. They were just not handling the fact that Henry was gone. "I know you miss your mum. Did you write her?" Natalie asked.

"Yes, but that was weeks ago and I haven't heard back. I worry the house got bombed or ..." Betty trailed off. "An I just heard what Quintus said. That... that battle is a bad one and what if..."