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Keith turned around and fired his M1 on instinct. The figure in the doorway fell down, but when an American rifle fell on Keith, he knew he had made a mistake. He moved over to the body and examined it to find it was a German he had shot, only he was carrying an M1. Keith looked up and saw a figure and the barrel of a gun in his face.

“Up! Now!” The figure said in perfect English. Keith stood up and raised his arms. The figure came out of the darkness of the doorway into the moonlight. Keith was surprised to see Lieutenant Miller. “. . . K . . . Keith? Is that you?” He asked, lowering his gun.

“Yes, sir. What are you doing here? I thought Gordon and I were the only survivors . . . .” Keith replied, lowering his arms and picking up his M1.

“. . . Everyone else in the company is dead. Well, except for you, me and Gordon. Where is he, anyway?” Miller asked, taking off his helmet and sitting on it like a chair.

“Well, when that tree fell on our foxhole, I got knocked out. When I woke up Gordon was freaking out. Then some Krauts moved the tree and blew his head clean off,” Keith explained. Miller was wide-eyed as Keith explained what had happened all the way up until then.

“Well, I did a reconnaissance earlier, and it looks like we’re stuck here in this stink hole of a town until the guys left liberate us,” Miller said as he stood up and put his helmet on. He walked downstairs, came back up with a Thompson and handed it to Keith. “. . . I got an idea. Since we’re here and we’ve nothing to do, let’s raise hell behind their lines, eh?” Miller winked.

“I gotcha.” Keith slung his Thompson around his body so it wouldn’t fall off while he was running and went downstairs with Miller.

“Stay low, don’t be seen, and most of all, be quiet.” Keith nodded. Miller quietly opened the door, and, staying crouched, left the house with Keith following close behind. They came to an alley where three guards were laughing and drinking. Miller looked around the corner at them, and the two closest to them were facing away.The one farthest from them was facing them. Miller moved away from the alley and told Keith what he saw. “They all had machine pistols, we’re using our Thompsons to take them on, you got that?” Keith nodded again.

“Yes, sir. But, if we pull out sub-machine guns, then the whole damn German army is gonna be on our asses. Is that really a smart plan?” Keith asked, taking his M1 off of safety just in case. Miller gritted his teeth, looking around.

“You’re right.” Miller looked around again. He spotted the church and pointed. “There! If we get up to the top of that church tower, maybe we can pick off some of those Krauts one by one. Keith, you take point.” Keith started toward the church with his lieutenant right behind him.

Almost there, Keith thought. Whoa! Suddenly the young PFC fell down a shaft of some sort and landed on some hay.

“Keith! Are you OK?” Miller’s voice called out from above.

“I’m fine, sir . . . Come down here, would you? This is . . . interesting . . . .”

“What?” Miller asked.

“Come down here, sir!” Keith called back. Miller squinted to see if it was safe, but he slipped. He caught himself with one hand and one leg on each side of the hole. He sighed and stuck the butt of his Thompson on the ground to help him up. He got up, barely, but his finger slipped, and he fired a few rounds on accident.

“Oh . . . s**t.” Miller cursed himself under his breath and jumped down the hole.

“Fancy meeting you here, Lieutenant,” Keith said as his CO landed on the hay. Miller smirked at that. He turned around and saw a ladder leading out of the hole. He climbed up it as Keith watched.

“No wonder we got in. The door was unlocked!” Miller yelled down as he closed a little snow-camouflaged door. He got back down and told Keith to take point again. They walked around for a while, talking about things back home. Keith’s ears perked up at that moment for some reason.

“Shh . . . .”Keith ducked down and put his M1 up to his shoulder. A squad of Germans came around the corner. Keith took cover behind a box, and Miller took cover behind a barrel. Keith pulled out his Thompson; Miller started counting the Germans.

“One . . . two . . . eight Germans coming toward us, Keith! Fire on my signal.” Miller briefed the other soldier. Keith took his Thompson off of safety and aimed it at the Germans. “Ready . . . aim . . . fire!”