"Where Valor Lies is the type of book that gets under your skin. Taking the story that her husband, Gary, began, Carol Varner has woven history into the fabric of each page, bringing us a compelling tale of faith, war, love and redemption. You won't want to put it down." -Kelli Stuart, novelist and author of Like a River From Its Course It is August 1944 and World War II is far from over. As battles, blood, and death continue to engulf 101st Airborne Division paratrooper Lieutenant Samuel Henry, he knows there is only one person capable of taking his mind off his troubles: the beautiful English schoolteacher, Maggie Elliott. But as they fall quickly in love, Maggie and Sam have no idea an unexpected horror awaits. In the midst of an overly ambitious military debacle, tragedy puts Sam and Maggie's young love to the ultimate test. Meanwhile within the Reich's borders, German soldier Helmut Behr has just been released from the hospital. But as he embraces a self-imposed penance for his failure in Normandy, he discovers unprecedented horrors of both Allied and Nazi origin. Whether seeking shelter in a hastily dug foxhole in the Ardennes Forest or London's Underground, survival of war's maelstrom becomes more than physical. As Sam, Maggie, and Helmut face shocking events that test sanity and define valor, now only time will tell if the brutalities of war will change their fates forever. Where Valor Lies continues the historical saga of an American paratrooper, his young his British sweetheart, and a German soldier as love, courage, and inner-strength are put to the test during the chaos of World War II.
Where Valor Lies
On Eagles' Wings: Part Two
By Gary Varner, Carol VarneriUniverse
Copyright © 2016 Gary Varner and Carol Varner
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-9674-0Contents
Acknowledgments, xiii,
Foreword, xv,
Prologue, 1,
PART 1 And after the fire, a soft gentle voice.,
Chapter 1 The Dance, 7,
Chapter 2 The Disclosure, 13,
Chapter 3 Faux Lili, 30,
Chapter 4 The Train, 36,
Chapter 5 The Escapee, 50,
Chapter 6 A Homecoming, 54,
Chapter 7 Fence Logic, 67,
Chapter 8 Demoted, 75,
Chapter 9 The Ensuing, 79,
Chapter 10 Not Like the Normandy Jump, 88,
Chapter 11 The Kitchen Fight, 95,
Chapter 12 The Liberation, 104,
Chapter 13 The Straight-Leg, 111,
Chapter 14 The Missed Lesson, 118,
Chapter 15 A Step of Faith, 129,
Chapter 16 The Dunes, 134,
Chapter 17 The Devil Is Loose, 151,
Chapter 18 The Counterattack, 160,
Chapter 19 Diversionary Tactics, 171,
PART 2 A sound of battle is in the land, and of great destruction.,
Chapter 20 The Destruction, 177,
Chapter 21 The Residue, 182,
Chapter 22 The Hospital Search, 192,
Chapter 23 The Devastation, 199,
Chapter 24 The Reunion, 212,
Chapter 25 The Tapestry, 218,
Chapter 26 The Question, 231,
Chapter 27 The Surgeon, 237,
Chapter 28 After the Surgery, 248,
Chapter 29 The Relocation, 251,
Chapter 30 A New Mission, 260,
Chapter 31 The Festival, 271,
Chapter 32 Back from the Dead, 280,
Chapter 33 Marlene, 288,
PART 3 If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales!,
Chapter 34 The Dogs of War, 297,
Chapter 35 The Change in Plans, 306,
Chapter 36 The Interrogation, 309,
Chapter 37 Dancing Scarecrows, 312,
Chapter 38 Rally, Boys!, 316,
Chapter 39 The Sound of Victory, 319,
Chapter 40 Fancy That, 322,
Epilogue, 325,
CHAPTER 1
The Dance
Newbury, England August 1944
The 501st Parachute Infantry regimental band launched into a decent rendition of Glenn Miller's "American Patrol." Paratroopers and English girls surged onto the dance floor. A homely English lass afflicted with buckteeth and a bad complexion had two paratroopers rush to her and simultaneously ask for a dance.
Taking it all in, Second Lieutenant Samuel Henry smiled as he watched the men of the 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment enjoy the night. They were taking full advantage of the fact that most of the other troops — all the infantry and armored divisions involved in D-Day — had received a one-way ticket back to Normandy. That meant that the 101st and Eighty-Second Airborne Divisions, now back on British turf, had no competition. Whoever had arranged the dance deserved a medal for boosting morale with the ultimate morale booster: young, available females.
For the moment, these GIs, recently returned from Normandy, ceased complaining about England's confusing money, dank weather, and warm beer. Indeed, the combat-jump veterans possessed a particular appreciation entirely foreign to any stateside dance hall packed with young men — be it a high school prom or a Greek fraternity shindig. Those sporting the Combat Infantryman Badge appreciated life. Mere life. A beating heart. Intact limbs. Undisrupted organs. Another breath.
The dancers moved under billowing canopies of white silk parachutes suspended from the ceiling and backlit with hanging lamps. On the wall behind the band hung an eight-foot emblem of the 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment — an Indian head in full war bonnet under a parachute canopy. The Indian brandished a lightning bolt like a spear over the regimental battle cry: "Geronimo." A butcher-paper banner declared, "Congratulations on Your Distinguished Unit Citation." Each band member performed from behind a plywood cutout of the 101st's Screaming Eagle patch.
A curly-topped, Italian-featured private brushed past Sam. Sam's smile vanished. He took a deep breath and exhaled hard, glad he'd caught himself as his lips had formed the words from his brain. Hey, Pinball, good to see you! He closed his eyes, only to see Private Vincenzo "Pinball" Vigiano buried beneath Norman soil. A stitching of bullet holes across his broad chest. Forever nineteen. Sam opened his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, letting the pain prevent further horrendous flashbacks of the Boscage country surrounding Carentan.
A giggling English girl — appearing closer to fifteen than twenty years old — traced her finger around the Screaming Eagle shoulder patch on a teenaged sergeant with his arms latched to her waist. "Got an extra patch I'll give you for your kid brother, lil' darlin'," the sergeant said.
Returning to the moment, Sam grinned. He could hardly fault a trooper for taking advantage of the good press the British papers had heaped on the 101st's Normandy exploits. Since arriving back in England, he'd even witnessed English girls ditch Eighth Air Force pilots to hang on the arms of enlisted men — if those arms bore that Screaming Eagle patch.
Yet the knot remained in Sam's stomach. He glanced again toward the entrance. Still no sign of the one English girl Sam cared about. Maybe it's for the best. He rotated his left shoulder. Dancing might just aggravate my wounds.
Nevertheless, Sam kept a lookout on the elevated hall entrance as he worked his way around the writhing mass on the dance floor and grabbed another donut from a Red Cross donut dolly.
A corporal all but shouted to the nearest donut dolly, "Well, I declare, but if you ain't the most beautiful girl in the room. You must be from Georgia." It was the fifth time Sam had heard a variation of the line in the past fifteen minutes.
Sam took a bite of his sugar donut and struggled against the shifting tide of class A dark olive-drab uniforms. He needed to establish a better OP on the hall entrance. Passing the punch bowl, he noted a vigilant MP detachment guarding the pineapple punch from spiking.
"American Patrol" played on. The upbeat tempo reminded him of Maggie's temperament. Maybe her headmaster had gone back on his word. That pig-eyed jerk's still making Maggie suffer for going AWOL to visit me in the hospital.
He spotted Private Joseph Silva with a new dance partner — this one a redhead. He was holding her much closer than the music called for. Sam grinned. Silva seemed to be the only GI in the room not sitting out any dances.
The song ended, and a new one began. Despite a botched piano opening, Sam recognized "My Guy's Come Back," a new hit by Joe Loss. Fifteen minutes earlier, the band had covered Artie Shaw's "It Had to Be You." These particular songs redoubled his vigil on the entrance. He longed to move with Maggie across the dance floor and softly whisper the lyrics into her ear.
An English girl stepped onto the bandstand and sang "When the Lights Go On Again All Over the World." Her soprano voice hit the chorus, and the knot in Sam's stomach tightened. He doubted he could follow the song's advice and delay the time for wedding rings until after the war. What's keeping Maggie? He ran his fingers back through his fine brown hair. The evening was shot. Time to abandon any sense of personal celebration.
A peroxide blonde sidled up to him and batted her eyelashes. "Care for a dance, Lef'tenant?"
"Uh ... I'm sorry, miss, but I'm wait —"
A hand landed jovially on...
