Captain Dimitri said you were supposed to advise me." Singer's grin was shaky.

"Sorry, Lieutenant."

Logan hadn't told him the whole truth. He would have to learn for himself about bowel-emptying fear and the horror of seeing a friend blown to little red pieces. There were some things you had to live for yourself and could not describe for others. Sergeant Logan, D Company, and the entire division had been in Europe since January 1945, a mere four months. At least they had missed out on the big German attack in the Ardennes, but they and he had been involved in a number of minor skirmishes that could be as deadly as one of those major and climactic battles historians were going to discuss for generations.

Singer laughed quietly. "Captain Dimitri told me to stick with you because you were such a combat veteran."

Captain Dimitri chose that moment to stop by and squatted on the ground next to them. Singer remembered not to stand up and snap to attention like so many new men did. Dimitri, like most experienced officers, did not like actions that drew unnecessary attention to them in a combat zone. Dimitri also carried a rifle instead of the .45 automatic he was entitled to, again so he wouldn't stand out to a sniper. Snipers loved shooting officers.

"What's so funny?" Dimitri asked. "You people haven't decided that this monumental adventure we are about to depart on is a joke, now, have you?"

Before Lieutenant Singer could form a reply, Logan answered. "No, sir, we haven't gotten that far. We were just discussing why I am qualified as a combat instructor. But now that you mention it, this does have all the earmarks of a fiasco."

Dimitri half smiled. "Better a fiasco than a tragedy. But why, Sergeant Logan?"

"Captain, because we're sending one long column up one thin road toward Berlin. It can be blocked or ambushed at any place or at any time. Didn't the British get their asses all chewed up trying to do something similar near Arnhem a while ago? Worse, it looks like someone got armor and mounted infantry all mixed up together, although at least the lead infantry are in half-tracks, which will provide some protection against small arms if they're shot at. Unfortunately, the rest of us have to ride in trucks, and canvas sides won't stop a peashooter. Frankly, sir, I'd rather walk."

"Can't," said Dimitri. "We wouldn't be able to keep up with the high-speed convoy that will soon be racing down those excellent German roads toward Berlin."

Both Logan and Singer caught the note of sarcasm in the captain's voice. Nobody was going to race. The move forward would be slow and cautious. "At least," Singer said, "we won't be in the lead group, where the action will likely take place."

Captain Dimitri rose to leave and shouldered his carbine. "Tell him, Sergeant Logan," he said as he walked on.

"Tell me what?" Singer asked as the captain departed. He had the terrible feeling that the captain and the sergeant, who went back a ways together, were laughing at him. Somehow, he didn't really mind it. They were the experienced soldiers and not he, and, despite Logan's protestations, the sergeant was a solid and respected soldier.

"Sir," said Logan, "if you were a German unit setting up an ambush, which would you prefer to attack, the heavily armored and protected head of the column, or those soft, fat, and dumb trucks?"

Singer shook his head sadly. "You go for the trucks. Then the head of the column would have to hold up and wait until things got sorted out.