Disclaimer: The characters in this story are owned by ABC
Television. I am not profiting from this story in any way. It is
written strictly for pleasure.  Copyright 1992, 1994 by Nancy Durgin.

[ I started this "Survival" sequel back in 1992 and never did finish
it.  Here's one of my favorite scenes from that unfinished story.  I
just pulled it out of the unfinished story with no edits or
polishing, but I think it should more-or-less stand alone, if you are
familiar with the episode. ]

         Hanley and Saunders at the aid station
      (A scene from an unfinished sequel to "Survival")
                  By Nancy Durgin

  The aid station was in a small building that had been a
cafe before the Germans and then the Americans had moved
into the village.  It was a small village -- barely a
crossroads -- but unfortunately for its former French
inhabitants, it happened to be strategically located
between the river to the east and the city of Orleans to
the west.
  Hanley motioned the other men around to the rear of the
building where the food was being served at the back door
of the cafe's kitchen.  Even Littlejohn, who had never
been known to miss a chance at a hot meal, had to be
steered reluctantly away from the front doorway that led
into the aid station proper -- where they'd left Saunders.
  "Go ahead and eat," Hanley told them.  "The doctor's not
going to want you all crowding in there, anyway.  I'll let
you know what he says."
  As the others disappeared around the corner of the
building, Hanley wearily climbed the two steps up to the
main entrance to the building.  As he opened the door, his
senses were assailed by the warm, brightly lit interior,
and the characteristic odor of antiseptic.
  Inside, the room was divided into two areas by green
canvas sheets suspended from the ceiling.  The outer area
served as an office and treatment area, with a ward area
containing a half-dozen cots set up behind the make-shift
  Hanley paused in the doorway, getting his bearings and
letting his eyes adjust to the light.  The doctor -- a
tall, thin man with graying temples, whom Hanley wasn't
acquainted with other than seeing him briefly when they'd
dropped Saunders off earlier -- was in the outer office,
putting the finishing touches on a bandage on the arm of a
young soldier.
  The doctor glanced up at his entrance.  "Be with you in
a minute, Lieutenant," he said.  When Hanley hesitated in
the doorway, he added, with a tone of impatience, "Close
the door -- you'll let all the heat out."
  "Sorry," Hanley muttered, stepping in and closing the
door. The doctor, satisfied, turned back to his task.
  Deciding that the doctor would be occupied for a few
more minutes, Hanley pulled the curtain aside and glanced
into the ward room beyond.  Only three of the six cots
were occupied -- Saunders lay near where Hanley stood,
while a G.I., armed with an M-1, sat on a chair by the
two farthest cots, which contained two injured German
prisoners.  A low fire burned in a fireplace against the
wall opposite the cots.
  Hanley nodded at the G.I. who had glanced up at his
entrance, and then moved over to where Saunders lay.  He
sat down on the edge of an adjacent cot, looking with
concern at the man who lay unmoving on the bed.  The
sergeant lay with his white bandage-covered hands on top
of a grey blanket.  His field jacket and shirt had been
removed, and his bare left arm was strapped to a wooden
board, an IV tube leading out of it to a suspended bottle 
containing a clear fluid.
  Saunders, cheeks flushed with fever, shivered as a chill
racked his body.  It seemed to Hanley that the fever was,
if anything, worse than it had been before.  Saunders
moved restlessly, muttering something that Hanley couldn't
make out.
  Hanley heard voices rise in the outer office as the
doctor finished with his patient and escorted him out. 
"Keep the bandage *clean* this time," Hanley heard the
doctor admonish him, in a not unkind voice.
  "Sorry, Doc....  That's not easy when you're crawling
around in a foxhole," the G.I. replied apologetically. 
"Thanks again!"  Then he was gone, accompanied by the
sound of the door opening and closing.
  "Now, Lieutenant," the doctor said, as he came through
the curtain while drying his hands on a towel.  "Come on
out here and I'll take a look at you.  What's the
  Hanley looked at the doctor in confusion.  "Huh?  Oh,
I'm fine, Doc.  I came to check on Sergeant Saunders
here," Hanley explained, gesturing towards his restive
  The doctor looked at him sharply, an expression of
disbelief crossing his face briefly.  It occurred to
Hanley that, since he hadn't had a chance to clean up yet,
he probably looked pretty bad himself.  But then the
doctor nodded, "Oh yes, you brought him in earlier."
  Satisfied, the doctor turned his attention to his real
patients, moving past Hanley to glance at the two Germans
who had been laying quietly since Hanley entered.  He
tsked at the soldier who was guarding them.  "These two
aren't going to cause any trouble, Private," he said
firmly.  "Why don't you go get some dinner?"
  "I'm really supposed to stay here, sir," the G.I.
replied uncertainly.  He glanced at Hanley for
  Hanley shrugged, in no mood to interfere with the doctor
who, although he wasn't a combat officer, still outranked
  "Go on," the doctor repeated.  "And if you run into my
orderly, send him back here.  He can watch them."
  "All right, sir," the soldier agreed.  He got up, taking
his rifle, and moved past them.
  Satisfied, the doctor turned back to Saunders, checking
his pulse with two fingers at the side of his neck. 
Saunders shuddered again and groaned, muttering
  "How is he?" Hanley asked, as the doctor continued with
his examination.
  "He's running a high fever," the doctor explained.  "He
must have picked up some kind of a virus or an infection. 
And he has 2nd and 3rd degree burns on his hands and
wrists -- they're badly burned, but I don't think there
will be any permanent damage.  I'll be sending him back
to the evac hospital in Orleans tomorrow."
  "Did he come around at all?  Did he say anything?"
  The doctor shook his head.  "No -- nothing that made any
  They were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor's
orderly, whose entrance was announced by a noisy clatter
from the outer room and a burst of cold air which billowed
the hanging divider-sheets.
  "Hey, Doc!"  The medic pulled the canvas aside and looked
in.  "I brought you some dinner.  Better hurry before it
gets cold!"  He paused as he noticed Hanley sitting there.
"Oh, sorry, Sir!  I hope I didn't interrupt anything!"
  "Alright...alright, Jimmy," the doctor said, with the
manner of one who was accustomed to such outbursts.  "In a
minute.  Meanwhile, come on in here and keep an eye on
those two."  He gestured with his chin toward the two
  "Sure, Doc."  The tall, lanky youngster moved past them
into the room.
  Hanley was distracted by a cough and a groan from
Saunders, who'd been roused by the young medic's
boisterous entrance.  Hanley leaned forward hopefully, 
seeing Saunders' eyes briefly flicker open. 
  "C'mon, Joey...." Hanley heard him mutter.  Whatever the
restive sergeant was looking at, it wasn't in *this* room.
He sank back down on the cot in disappointment.
  "Geez, it's getting *cold* in here," the medic declared
loudly from the other end of the room.
  "Well, stoke up the fire, then," the doctor said.  He
looked at Hanley, "You look like you could use a cup of
coffee, Lieutenant.  Come on -- Dawkins there will keep an
eye on the Sergeant.  He's not likely to come around
tonight, anyway."
  Hanley nodded, reminded by the grumbling in his stomach
they he didn't really want to miss his first real meal in
two days, either.  He stood up and followed the doctor
towards the outer office.
  Behind them, the medic had moved over to the fireplace,
where he was checking out the dying embers with a metal
poker.  There was a loud clatter of shifting wood, and
Hanley turned at the noise to see the medic flip one of the
logs and bring a burst of flame out of its freshly exposed
underside.  The medic tossed a new log onto the pile with
another loud crash.  Then he stood back to survey his
  While Hanley was sure the task could have been
accomplished with more subtlety, he couldn't argue with the
result.  He could already feel the warmth from the
rejuvenated fire spreading across the room as the crackling
flames licked hungrily at the fresh dry wood.
  Hanley turned and continued through the gap in the
sheets into the other room, where the doctor was already
pouring coffee from a pot that had been warming on a small
  "Here you go," the doctor held out the steaming mug, but
before Hanley could take it, they were both distracted by
a commotion from the other room -- a raised voice,
followed by the sounds of shattering glass.
  Hanley grabbed reflexively for the automatic that
should have been at his side, but he came up empty-handed
-- he hadn't gotten a chance to scrounge up an equipment
belt and weapon to replace the ones taken by the Germans
when he was captured.  Cursing under his breath, Hanley
turned and moved quickly back into the other room.  
  "Sergeant!  Get me out of here!" Hanley was surprised to
see that the two German prisoners were still laying
quietly on their cots, and that it was Saunders who was
doing the yelling.  The source of the disturbance was now
struggling wildly on the cot -- held down, with difficulty,
by the young medic.  The shattered remains of the glass IV
bottle lay in a pool of liquid on the floor beside the cot.
  Hanley stopped short, taken aback by the unexpected
scene. The medic held Saunders down by the shoulders as the
panicked sergeant struggled to get up, hampered more by his
inability to use his bandage-covered hands effectively,
than by any lack of strength or determination.  
  "Get me loose!" Saunders begged.
  "Try to keep him down," said the doctor, who had entered
the room behind Hanley.  "I'll get a sedative."  He
disappeared back into the outer room, the canvas sheets
closing behind him.
  Hanley, energized by the doctor's calm instructions,
moved over to help the medic, whose attempts to control
Saunders only seemed to make him more frantic.
  "What happened?" Hanley asked as he grabbed Saunders'
right shoulder and tried to apply enough pressure to hold
the struggling man down without hurting him.
  "I don't know.  All of a sudden he sat up and started
yelling...."  the medic said.  He shifted to make room for
Hanley to get a better grip.  "Somehow he knocked down
the... oof!"
  The explanation was cut off abruptly when Saunders,
swinging his left arm -- which was tied to the
immobilizing wooden board -- like a club, managed to land a
solid blow in the medic's stomach.
  The startled medic pulled back, inadvertantly stepping 
into the puddle left by the broken IV bottle.  He lost his
footing -- and his grip on Saunders -- and fell back
against the next cot, which collapsed under him with a
  Hanley was almost as surprised by the turn of events as
the medic.  Saunders took the opportunity to slip out of
his grasp and scramble to his feet on the opposite side of
the cot, next to the fallen medic.
  The IV needle was still taped to Saunders' arm, and the
tubing connected to the shattered bottle trailed along
after him as he backed towards the center of the room. 
Hanley took a step forward, then stopped when Saunders
suddenly came to a halt and whirled around, eyes
frantically searching around the room.
  Hanley took another step towards him.  "Take it easy,
  Saunders ignored him.  He stopped with his gaze fixed on
the fireplace, where the freshly stoked blaze was still
burning brightly.  Then he started backing up rapidly,
still ignoring Hanley as he moved past him towards the
right.  His retreat was halted when he ran into the stone
wall.  Saunders looked wildly around the room again, and
then stopped with his gaze on Hanley -- but there was no
recognition in his terrified expression.  "Let me out of
here!" he pleaded hoarsely.
  Behind him, Hanley could hear the medic struggling to his
feet.  He turned and gestured for him to stay where he was.
When he turned back, Saunders was staring back at the fire
again, his body shaking, his eyes wide with horror.
  Hanley followed Saunders' gaze to the fireplace and
then suddenly the situation became clear to him.  Saunders
was just trying to get away from the fire, he realized. 
The terrified sergeant thought he was trapped in the
burning barn again.  He had no way of knowing that the
exit he was looking for was just a few feet away -- hidden
behind the wall of sheets.
  "Okay, Sergeant," Hanley said calmly.  "Come on, let's
get out of here."  He took a careful step towards where
the opening in the sheets was.
  Saunders, still staring at the fire, didn't respond.
  Hanley reached the curtain and pulled it aside,
nearly colliding with the doctor, who was about to open
the curtain from the other side.
  "Doc -- Wait a minute," Hanley said.
  The doctor, hypodermic needle in hand, stopped and
looked at him quizzically.
  Hanley held out the canvas flap.  "Hold this open --
I think he'll calm down if I bring him out here."
  The doctor nodded and stepped aside, grabbing the flap
from Hanley.
  Hanley turned back and moved slowly over towards where
Saunders was standing.  He touched Saunder's arm gently,
distracting him from his hypnotic focus on the fire. 
"Let's go, Sergeant," Hanley said firmly.  He pointed to
the opening.  "I got the door open. Let's get out of here."
  Saunders started to break away from Hanley's grip, but
then he noticed the opening Hanley pointed out to him, and
he abruptly stopped struggling.  "Gotta get out of here,"
he agreed.  He started toward the opening, breaking into a
stumbling run for the few paces it took him to actually get
  Hanley managed to keep a grip on Saunders' arm as he
followed him through into the other room.
  This part of the room had two real doors -- one leading
outside, and one leading into the rest of the building. 
Saunders paused uncertainly, trying to decide which door
would get him out.
  But Hanley had no intention of letting the shirtless,
shoeless, Saunders go outside.  Just getting him away from
the fire might be enough -- in addition to the metal
cookstove in the corner of this room, there were two
covered lanterns providing light -- but no open flames.
Hanley hoped that the change in surroundings would bring
Saunders out of his waking nightmare. With that in mind,
he took advantage of Saunders' momentary indecision, and
steered him firmly towards the nearest chair.
  "Okay, Saunders," he said soothingly.  "We're out now --
you're safe.  Why don't you just sit down over here and
rest for a minute?"
  "No...." Saunders tried to pull away from him.  "Gotta
get out of here...."  But the panic-induced strength was
fading even as he spoke.  Hanley found he had little
trouble overcoming the man's feeble attempts to get away
from him.
  He could easily have forced Saunders into the chair, but
when he realized that Saunders was no longer capable of
putting up any real physical resistance, Hanley didn't
want to upset him even more by forcing the issue.
  "You're safe," Hanley repeated.  "It's okay, Saunders. 
We got away."
  "Gotta get out of here...." Saunders croaked hoarsely,
repeating the mindless litany again.
  Hanley grabbed Saunders by the shoulders and shook him,
willing the still-frightened eyes to focus on reality. 
"Sergeant!  Look at me!" he ordered.
  The fever-bright blue eyes suddenly locked onto
Hanley's and stayed there.  After a moment, Saunders'
frightened expression changed to one of bewilderment.  He
cocked his head to one side and looked around the room, as
if seeing it for the first time.  Then the gaze swung
back to Hanley.  "Lieutenant?"
  Hanley took a breath -- and realized he'd been holding
it. He smiled reassuringly.  "Yeah."
  "The Krauts...captured...." Saunders raised his left arm
and looked curiously at the mass of wood, bandages, tape,
and IV tubing.  Then he looked over at the white-coated
doctor and the bedraggled young orderly, both of whom
were standing back by the ward-room opening -- watching,
but not interfering.  Finally he turned back to Hanley and
tried to formulate the question that summed up his
obvious confusion.  "Where...?"
  "We got away.  We made it back," Hanley explained. 
"We're at the aid station -- back at the company CP."
  Saunders nodded, visibly relaxing at the explanation. 
  "And," Hanley continued as he adjusted his grip on
Saunders' shoulders to provide support as he felt the
sergeant start to sag. , "*You've* been giving the poor
doctor a hard time, Sergeant."   
  The doctor stepped over on cue.  "Now, Sergeant," he
said cheerfully.  "If you're through wrecking my ward
room, then how about we get you over to that examination
table there, so I can inspect the damages."
  "Okay..."  Saunders came up with the most cooperative
gesture he could muster under the circumstances -- he
passed out.