“Suits,” Halevy said at once. He told off half a squad of Czechs to serve as lures. They looked as miserable as Jezek would have in their boots. The rest of the men looked relieved. A well-sited MG-34 could have slaughtered half of them, maybe more.

Flopping down into the snow again, Vaclav steadied the monster on its bipod. He aimed where he would have put the gun if he were on the other side. Even with a telescopic sight, he couldn’t see anything funny. But nothing could hide a machine-gun muzzle when it started spitting fire. And maybe-he hoped-he’d spot motion when the crew served the gun.

Like sacrificial pawns, the handful of Czechs started crossing the field. They hadn’t gone far before the machine gun opened up on them. That was German arrogance. Letting them come farther might have drawn more after them. But the Nazis were saying, Thus far and no farther. This is our ground.

They could think so. Vaclav shifted the rifle a few millimeters-he’d guessed well. Blam! He winced even as he chambered a fresh round. Muzzle brake or not, padded stock or not, shooting that mother hurt every goddamn time. His right ear would never be the same again, either.

Blam! This time, the scope let him see a German reel away with his head nothing but a red ruin. Another one stepped up. They wouldn’t have caused so much trouble if they weren’t brave. Blam! He killed that one, too, and then another one a few seconds later. “Forward!” Halevy shouted. “Everybody forward!”

Forward the Czechs went. More Germans ran over to keep the machine gun firing. Vaclav methodically shot them. Before long, his side had a lodgement in the woods. The MG-34 fell silent. Maybe they’d captured it, or maybe the guys on the other side had pulled it back.

Either way, he could go forward himself now. Another few hundred meters reclaimed. Sooner or later, the rest of France. Later-how much later?-Czechoslovakia. It would take a while. Oh, yes. The antitank rifle seemed to weigh a tonne.