Man-made thunder rumbled in the background as a constant reminder that the Germans were still very close to the beaches at Normandy. Even though the perimeter had expanded eastward, German artillery could still hit many targets inside the perimeter.

He trudged on. His clothing and boots were soggy and he was shivering from the cold, even though it was summer. Soon, he found the tent city that was the replacement depot. It was a confused sea of humanity, all dressed in olive drab. Literally thousands of men were arriving and departing to new units. Morgan was first sent to a clinic where he received some stitches in his forehead along with a fresh bandage. The medic assured him it made him look heroic. Jack told the medic to go screw himself, which the medic thought was hilarious. His bruises and scratches were treated and he was assured that his shoulder was fine but would pain him for a while, which was something he’d already figured out.

He’d recovered his duffle bag, but much of the contents had been ruined by salt water. This meant standing in long lines to get replacement uniforms and equipment. Fortunately, all his personal and official papers, along with his orders, had been in a waterproof envelope. A GI in England had made that suggestion and it turned out to be a damned good one.

The replacement depot was outside the ruined town of Trevieres, a place that would have been unlovely even if it hadn’t been shelled to pieces during the invasion. Jack found a cot in a tent assigned to officers and settled in to wait. He was told not to unpack. He would be out and on his way the next morning. He lay down and wondered if he’d be able to sleep. It proved to be no problem.