Buster's Story Ch. 04

"None of them are going to die. Brian won't let um, and Henry is too damn stubborn. So don't you think that. You've got a baby coming any time now and you need to think about that. Plus, it's supper time," said Natalie.

The two women went into the kitchen where Marie had set the table and Alice was serving up supper. Rabbit stew, biscuits and wild chokecherry jelly.

That night, Natalie lay in bed thinking about Brian. Wondering if he was okay, if he missed her or if he was dead and they just hadn't found her to tell her. The letters he'd sent with Betty had been the best she'd had in five years. She still read them at night when she wanted to howl. He'd written the sweetest letter.

Dear Natalie,

I miss the scent of mint in your hair after we've rolled in the meadow grass. I think about that meadow often when life is just too much. How we ran across it all these years on two legs or four. I dream that we're there. You are on your back naked and I run my tongue up your legs and across your pussy. I taste that sweet salty juice across my tongue and I want to lap at that well until I'm full.

I want to sink my cock deep and feel you moan and sigh under me. I want to hold your breasts in my hands and pinch the nipples until they are hard nubs. I want to bite your neck and take you rough until you cry out in pleasure.

I want to stroke in and out of your body until my own cries out in joy as I fill you with my seed. I want to lay with you in my arms as we catch our breath. Then I want to make you come again and again until you beg me to stop.

Most of all, I want to hold you in my arms and never leave again. Oh how I miss you my love!

Brian

She'd read it so many times it was taped to hold it together. She read it once more as she crawled under the covers and cried herself to sleep.

*

December 27^th, Ortona, Italy

Jacques slammed into the wall as the sniper round drove him back. Henry crawled over to him and pulled Jacques out of the line of fire. Blood was pouring out of Jacques' upper arm. Henry pulled his knife and cut the shirt to see how bad it was. Jacques looked down to see a crease in his arm where the bullet had just cut him.

"Better get you to the medic," said Henry.

"Aye. He stitch me up, I can fight some more," said Jacques. The two men worked their way out of the building and back to the Canadian line where the medics were stationed. Other men moved into the building to keep the attack going.

Brian saw his son and son-in-law head for the medics and then moved off to take men into another building. He no sooner got into position than he heard the rumble of tanks. The Germans were heading straight for the building Jacques and Henry had just left. He wasn't sure what was going on at first, but then it was clear. The German's were going to level the building. He tried to holler and get someone's attention. It didn't work, so he headed back down to let people know just as the building collapsed. Screams, falling masonry, and gun fire filled the air. Men rushed to the building to try and pull out survivors.

In the mean time, the Canadian tanks roared to life and started pounding the Germans. The battle intensified and with the help of spotters, two buildings full of Germans were leveled in retaliation for the deaths of the Canadians. One building housed officers and communications which was a major victory. Anyone with a gun was firing at the Germans. The air filled with the stench of cordite and the smoke from the guns made it difficult to see.

The intense fighting and the rescue operation went on all through the night. Brian ran out of grenades twice and smiled when he saw Jacques back in the battle. The Canadians captured the town square and drove the Germans to the end of Ortona. With nowhere to go and no reinforcements, the Germans began to evacuate Ortona. By 10am, the Canadian forces declared victory as no more Germans were to be found in Ortona who were not prisoners or dead.

"1375 of us dead," said Jacques as they rested in a quiet corner of a barn just outside of Ortona.

"Is that what you heard?" asked Henri.

"Aye. More wounded too," said Chester. "That be nearly a quarter of us gone."

The men shook their heads in shock and disbelief. They were just glad to be alive with minor wounds and hunger to deal with.

January 1944, Canada

"Maman! Maman!" shouted George and Quintus as they came into the cabin. They found Natalie cuddling Bertie.

"Shush! You wake this baby, I let you put him back to sleep," she whispered. Betty had a hard labor and even a month later was not in good health in spite of all of Natalie's help. Natalie had taken Bertie so that Betty could sleep a bit.

"Maman, at the cine we saw a Canadian Army Newsreel. It was all about Ortona! We think we saw Jacques and maybe Henri," said George as quietly as he could in spite of his excitement.

"Aye! And Jacques had a big bandage around his arm," added Quintus.

"Did you see your Papa?" she asked.

"Non," said both boys at once.

Natalie nodded. Jenny and Alice and some of the other women had gone into town and taken the boys to the cinema. She'd hear more from them later. "Go get some firewood. The box is low," she said softly.

As the boys left, she sat next to the stove and rocked her tiny grandson.

1944 Italy

The 1^st Canadian along with other British troops under General Montgomery took a break to regroup and heal after Ortona. From Ortona, they moved north to the Hitler Line. This was a defense line from Aquino to Piedimonte. By May the 1^st Canadian Division was in the thick of it.

"Damn line tactics! Just like the Great War. Kill you slow and stupid," complained Brian. He'd told the Major what he thought of this battle and no one listened. He worked his way back to his men, dodging from foxhole to gun position. He was almost there when he felt a searing pain in his side and then the world went dark.

"He breathing?" asked a voice.

"Aye. He growling. Get moving," said another.

"Damn! He sure heavy," said the first.

"Aye! Don' drop him, he kill you," said the second.

Brian drifted in and out of consciousness. His whole body hurt and the wolf within whined in pain. He couldn't move, but knew he was moving as his body bounced up and down.

The men carried him to the field hospital. They'd bandaged him as best they could, but blood was dripping everywhere. They ran. No one wanted to have to tell Natalie Davy her husband had died because they'd moved too slow. She'd rip their throats out.

The medics took the stretcher from the men and ran straight into the operating theater. Calls went out for doctors and one by one they filled the tent. Brian was moved to the operating table, and his clothes cut away as they prepped him for surgery.

"Dr. Abrams, I'm having trouble knocking him out. He keeps waking up," said a nurse.

"Give him more chloroform. Pain does weird things to men," he said and started to work on the man in front of him. A bullet had hit him on the side and glanced off of his rib, shattering it. He worked quickly and threw bits of rib bone off to one side as he debrided the area.

"Dr. Abrams, he's waking up again," said the nurse.

"Give him a shot of morphine! Hold him still!" cried Dr. Abrams as he tried to work on the patient who was doing his best to get up off of the table. Two orderlies grabbed arms and legs while the nurse injected him with morphine. Finally, the man relaxed and Dr. Abrams was able to finish surgery.

"Put this man in the ward at the back. I want to be able to keep an eye on him," said Dr. Abrams as he stripped off the bloody gown and gloves and got dressed again for the next patient.

Brian woke up in the dark. His mouth felt full of cotton and he hurt. He tried to get up, and before he could roll over, a hand gently settled on his chest.

"Lay still," said the voice quietly.

"Wah-t-her," Brian managed to gasp.

The man held a cup to his lips and let him sip just a bit of water. "Don't drink too much, I don't want to test my stitches. Can't have you drowning because you sprang a leak," said the voice.

Brian sipped slowly, letting the water soak into his dry mouth. His head hurt and even in the dark, he knew he was just a bit shifted. He tried to think human, but the pain wasn't helping.

"That's enough," said the man and took the water away.

Brian blinked and tried to see in the dark. Even with his eyes partially shifted, he could barely see. "Who... arhh youh?" he asked thickly.

"I'm Dr. Abrams. I put you back together a few hours ago. I should be sleeping before I have to put more men back together, but I thought it better to stay here and ask you some questions," he said.

"Huh?" asked Brian who was having trouble thinking two-legged thoughts.

"You sir, should be dead. A rather large caliber round went nearly through you from side to side. Some how it missed your stomach and liver, but clipped ribs and sent splinters into everything. You fought the anesthesia and the morphine. You nearly walked off of the table mid surgery and I swear that you were healing as I was trying to repair you. Just what are you?" Dr. Abrams asked.

"Cah-nah-dee-an," said Brian slowly while his mind raced in panic.

"Yes, I know that, but what are you? I'm not going to harm you. I just need to know. I'm curious. I've got you in isolation until we could talk, and to keep you safe. I know you don't want to trust me, but you must," Dr. Abrams said softly.

"Shoo-dn't," said Brian. "Bloody hell! Why couldn't I just die?"he thought.

"Sargent Davy, I could order you to tell me, but I'd rather you explain. If it is too complicated, the rest of this medical hobbiest group will want to dissect you. I'm trying to save you, but we have to talk. You're heavier than when you came in which isn't logical. You also have more hair and to be honest, it looks like your teeth are growing. What in the world are you?" pleaded the doctor.

Brian sighed. He could feel the fur and his teeth. He knew the cot was creaking with his weight. He took another deep breath, and could smell something. Not all human. Not afraid. "Whhat arh youh?" he asked.

Dr. Abrams shook his head. "Complicated. So, your are able to tell I'm not your average man too. So, I am still waiting for your answer," he said.

"Shhif-tur," said Brian.

"Shifter?" asked the doctor not totally understanding.

"Youh'd ccahl meh a wwher-woof," Brian finally got out. He tensed, waiting for a bullet or lights to flash on or any sudden movement.

"Werewolf? Oh! I understand. Oh god," said Dr. Abrams. "Are you contagious? Will I need to clean the operating room more? Um.."

"Noh. Fam-ily. All fam-i-ly. Morh wahtur plez," Brian said trying to talk better and not let this man panic into calling the MP's.

Dr. Abrams gave Brian more water. Brian could see a thousand questions piling up behind the doctor's eyes. How he wished Natalie was here.

*

Brian and the doctor talked for an hour. By that point, Brian had shifted back enough to look just rough, and not wolfish. He'd also convinced the doctor to bring him some food. Dr. Abrams was nervous, as Brian had barely made it through surgery, but he watched Brian eat eggs, corned beef hash and drink nearly two full mugs of tea. He listened to his stomach and intestines and was amazed to hear normal digestion sounds.

"Brian, you astonish me. I still say you should be dead or at least in critical condition," said Dr. Abrams.

"I know, but we heal fast. Heal better if we can eat or sleep or both," said Brian. They'd already discussed the fact that Brian would probably sleep for a whole day once he did fall asleep. The fear of falling asleep and shifting had kept him awake. Now that Dr. Abrams understood what Brian was, they were arranging for Brian to stay in isolation. The cover story would be that they were afraid he'd have a relapse due to the bullet wound. Dr. Abrams had 'eaten' the food and thanked the orderly who brought it.

Both men were distracted by a knock on the tent pole. Dr. Abrams stood up ready to stop whoever it was from coming in while Brian moved to look like he was asleep.

"What do you want?" he asked as he poked his head through the curtain to see three men standing on the other side.

"We've come to see Sargent Davy," said the first man.

"Well, you have to go away. He's in serious condition and can't be disturbed," said Dr. Abrams.

"He's my Papa, and I will see him," said Henry. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to look as big as he could.

"Just a moment," said Dr. Abrams. He pulled himself back into the room and turned to Brian. "Do you have family here? A son?"

"Aye. Sons, son-in-laws. Henry, Henri, Jacques," said Brian. He tried to sniff the air, but could only smell hospital and the doctor.

Dr. Abrams stuck his head out the curtain again. "Are any of you Jacques or Henry?" he asked.

"Aye!" said all three.

"Come in quietly then," Dr. Abrams said.

The three men came in and started talking quietly in what seemed a mix of French, English and something else. Brian answered them in the same language. Dr. Abrams stood and observed the three men interact with Brian.

"Are... are you all shifters?" Dr. Abrams asked. "Might as well break the ice this way," he thought.

"Aye," said Henry. "Family. You? You what? Don' smell right."

"I'm um... complicated," said the doctor.

"That what he tell me. He ver' old. Smells dusty. Won' tell me, but at least he no damn fairy," said Brian.

That made the younger men laugh. Fairies did exist. Small nasty little creatures. This man was no fairy though. Not even mixed blood. Very different. He wasn't afraid of them either which was a bonus.

"Your father says he may shift in his sleep. Is it possible to stop that?" asked Dr. Abrams.

"Non. It is better if he does shift. He heal faster," said Jacques. The other two men nodded.

"Damn. I'm trying to figure out how to keep this from being found out, but I've got to sleep, even it it is only for a little while," said the doctor.

"Sleep in the chair. We watch over Papa and keep them damn orderlies away," said Henry. "Not the first time we do this."

The doctor looked from Brian to his family. "Okay," he said and got ready to take a nap. "Wake me if there is trouble."

"We will. Don' worry," said Henri.

The doctor fell asleep with the three men watching over Brian. Brian shifted soon after and curled up to sleep. Henri took first watch. Jacques the second and the doctor woke just as Henry took his turn. He was surprised to see the huge animal in the bed.

"My god. How on earth do you stay hidden?" he asked Henry.

"We work in the forests. Lots of us go into the military though. Work as special forces. Snipers, scouts, dog handlers. That is the best. Then we can 'be the dog'. My Papa has two sets of medals from the Great War. Some for Brian Davy, some for Buster. That is what we call him when he shifts," said Henry.

Dr. Abrams nodded and wondered how many other field medics got rude surprises. He went off for breakfast and brought enough back for two. When 'Buster' smelled breakfast, he growled until Henry shared the plate. They put some water in it for him to lap up and then he went back to sleep.

"How long will he stay like this?" asked Dr. Abrams. "I don't know how much longer I can keep orderlies and nurses out of here."

"If we can let him sleep a little more, I can maybe get him to shift. Otherwise, we take the 'dog' that you fixed up out to the lines and let him sleep until he wakes," said Henry.

"How do you keep from being found out?" asked the doctor.

"Easy. You go out, tell some general that a sargent turned into a wolf. You won't even get back to this tent. They lock you up, call you crazy. Say you have the battle fatigue. If they do believe you, I got papers for one Private Buster, canine troop. He got shot, you fix him up. Same time that Sargent Davy nearly die. You so tired you mix them up in your sleep. I walk out with the dog. You get sent to some nice little hospital," said Henry.

Dr. Abrams sat and thought about it. Henry was right. No one would believe him. They'd chalk it up to stress and ship him home. Then he thought about all the Canadian troops. "Just how many of you are there in the Division?" he asked at last.

"There were 145 of us to start with. Three have died. Six went home. Discharged. The rest, here," said Henry.

"And no one has figured out anything?" Dr. Abrams asked.

"Non. The ones that go crazy, we send home. Some just can't take the noises. We fix, they go home," said Henry.

Wolf stretched. He was hungry. Needed meat. Wolf sniffed the air. His cub, that other still in the cage. Wolf try to stand. Hurt! Wolf whined.

The doctor and Henry both turned as the wolf behind them whined. He watched as Henry went over and bumped noses with the huge animal and then ruffled the fur between his ears. Henry was trying to settle the wolf down.

"Should we get him to shift?" asked the doctor. "Or does he need more to eat?"

"Meat would be good. Not too cooked. Or, I take him back to the tents," said Henry.

"Let me see what I can get. If anyone comes in, you... oh hell. You know what to say," said Dr. Abrams as he headed out the door.

Henry smiled.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Abrams came back with a large bone with a hunk of meat attached. He almost had it near the wolf when the wolf snatched it from him and began to chew the meat off of the bone.

"Damn!" said the doctor.

"Papa, he is ver' fast," said Henry. "Donkey or horse?"

"Horse. Said one of our dogs needed meat," said the doctor. He watched as the bone was soon clean. Then he watched the wolf begin to crack the bone in pieces. Within ten minutes, it was gone.

"You want me to see if I can get him to shift?" asked Henry.

"Please. It will make it much easier," said the doctor.

Henry walked back over to his Papa. "Papa, you need to shift. I know it hurts, but you must. Come on. You don' want shot for bein' a dog in the hospital," he said. "I don' have no leash!"

Wolf heard his cub making noises. His belly was full and he wanted to sleep. It took a minute, but Wolf knew that the cub wanted him to be a two-leg. Wolf stretched again, bones popping, scars aching and then he shifted.

"If I hadn't seen it happen, I... I wouldn't believe it," said Dr. Abrams.

"You got that willow bark?" asked Brian. He hurt all over and all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Willow... oh. Aspirin. Yes. Just a minute," said the doctor. He left the room and came back with pills and water. Brian took them quickly.

"Thanks," said Brian. "An fore you ask, it work better than that damn morphine. I won' shift, but I need to sleep."

Dr. Abrams nodded. Jacques was sitting next to Brian and he nodded in agreement. Dr. Abrams left to change clothes and see if there were any casualties.

Two days later, Henry brought his Papa clean clothes. Dr. Abrams wanted him to stay longer, but Brian refused. He promised to take it easy. Dr. Abrams gave him a large bottle of aspirin and asked Brian to check in with him in a few days. Both men knew that wasn't likely. The Hitler line had fallen and the men were on the move.