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“For what that’s worth,” Stick says.

Rio knows what he means: the Germans put a thin line up front, the real heavy-duty line farther back, so they are likely between two lines of Germans. The question is whether the Germans have their own patrols out. The answer is certainly yes, but are they patrolling the gap between their lines?

They move quickly after that, and in the early morning hours long before sunrise they find the road and then the engineers. Both of them. They had started out as a squad and been ambushed.

“FUBAR,” Cat says in a whispered conference.

“FUBAR,” Stick agrees. “Krauts’ll be—”

The night erupts in machine gun fire.

“Down, down!” Rio yells as a mortar explodes nearby.

Jenny Dial panics and starts to run. She is cut down by machine gun fire.

The experienced Germans are not using tracer rounds, so in the darkness it is not possible to see where they are, only hear them. “That way!” Rio yells, chopping her hand toward tall, looming trees.

Jack and Jenou are firing from the ditch, Geer and Pang are setting up their BAR; Chester is flat on the road, hands over his head. Milkmaid Molina is firing her rifle. Dial is wounded, yelling in pain, but it’s a grazing wound, not fatal. Ostrowiz is missing half his head and dead.

Rio fights down her panic, ignores the insane pounding in her chest, tries to read the terrain, tries to make sense of where they are, but it is pitch-black and there are machine gun bullets pinging madly.

The Germans have two MGs and a mortar. At least.

Ahead, the German machine guns and the secondary German line. Behind, only the relatively thin German front line.

“Chester! Crawl over here to the ditch!” Rio yells.

Where is Dial? Rio can hear her, but where is she? And where is Beebee?

The heavens choose this moment to begin dropping hailstones the size of peas, ice bullets bouncing everywhere making a clattering noise as counterpoint to the chattering machine guns.

Stick’s BAR gunner opens up, but he’s firing blind, spraying the woods in the vain hope of a lucky shot.

There are two paths: retreat or advance.

But retreat where? Go running and stumbling back into German foxholes? Or charge into invisible machine gun nests? And then what?

Rudy J. Chester crawls beside Rio.

“Start shooting, goddammit,” she snaps at him.

“I can’t, Sarge, I can’t! I dropped my gun!”

Rio hears Stick’s voice raised high. “Richlin! Preeling! We’re pulling back! On my signal, Alpha squad first, everyone else covering fire!”

It is the only sensible move. But withdrawing in order from a hot gun battle is one of the hardest maneuvers for any military unit.

“I see muzzle flash!” Geer shouts, and turns his BAR.

“Shit!” Stick yells. “Horne says stay put!”

“Horne can fug himself!” Sergeant Mercer yells.

A mortar shell explodes, and Mercer yells, “Goddammit!”

A voice Rio does not recognize shouts, “Sergeant Richlin! You’re in charge.”

There’s a terrible catch in that voice. Rio feels goose bumps tickling her skin. She feels a twisting, turning inside her.