If it looks like they are going to get overwhelmed by the Germans, they are to cut bait and run back to the Elbe as fast as their legs will carry them."

Smith shook his head. "Truman might not like that."

"Screw Truman," said Ike, and Bradley laughed. Eisenhower's carefully nurtured image as a fresh-faced country boy was not quite correct. Decades of military service had taught him to swear fluently.

Bradley teased. "Ike, you'd better not let the boys from Life magazine hear you talk like that."

Ike grinned the now famous cheerful smile. "Fuck Life."

* * *

THE RIPPING SCREECH and clang of bullets hitting metal jarred them from their trancelike state in the truck to one of total animal alert. "Out!" screamed Logan. "Out, out, out!"

The horrifying noise continued, only now it was joined with the sounds of men screaming and crying out in fear and pain. The soldiers in the truck needed no urging as they tumbled to the ground and rolled or crawled to any fold in the earth that might provide some cover from the bullets. As the German machine guns continued, there was still more screaming.

Where the hell was the firing coming from? Logan thought. A Sherman about a hundred yards ahead responded with its own machine gun and Logan saw the tracers arc toward a farmhouse on a low hill a quarter mile away and splatter on its stone walls. In a second, the Sherman's main gun fired and a section of the house blew away, followed by other pieces of the building as additional tank guns found the target. The machine guns inside responded with a quick burst and then fell silent as the building disintegrated into a pile of burning rubble.

Logan rolled over to where Singer lay staring wide-eyed at the house, or what was left of it. "Hey, Lieutenant, so how'd you like your first taste of battle?" Despite the apparent casualness of the question, Logan was shaking from the suddenness of the attack.

"Jesus, Logan. I was just looking at that particular house when I saw the krauts open fire from a window. God, it was so sudden!"

And so violent, Logan thought.

"And how the hell did they get inside our patrols?" Singer asked, his hands shaking too.

"Not difficult at all for a couple of Nazi fanatics who want to commit suicide. Our patrols can't be everywhere, so they probably just hid in a basement or a closet until our men passed by."

Logan checked his men and found them all unhurt except for a couple who complained about being trampled in the mad rush to get out of the truck. They were still alive and there was nervous joking about it. Logan looked forward a couple of trucks and grabbed Singer's arm.

"Come on."

Unceremoniously, he pulled the lieutenant to the truck that had recently passed them on the other side of the divided road. It had borne the brunt of the raking fire by the gunner in the house, and a half-dozen bodies lay sprawled about it, horribly torn and bleeding profusely. Medics had separated the dead and dying from those who might live, and were attempting to stop the blood that seemed to flow like thick red water from fire hydrants.

Singer paled at the sight and the stench of the smelly gore, which was already darkening and beginning to congeal. "It's awful, Logan," he said and tried not to gag.

"I know, Lieutenant, that's why I wanted you to see it. That's what could happen if you fuck up when you're in charge. In this case, no one did anything wrong and certainly these guys did nothing to deserve to be shot to pieces like this. Hell, it could have been us as easily as them."

Logan turned toward the now totally destroyed building. The actions of those few Nazi soldiers had slowed the entire column.

Dimitri's loud voice penetrated their thoughts. "Singer, Logan, take some men up there and check it out."

They gathered the platoon and moved up the hill, weapons at the ready. The farmhouse had been flattened and was smoking, but death could still be hiding in the ruins. They fanned out and approached it from three sides. Once close, it appeared that nothing was alive in the rubble.