"What'll you do, sir?" Theo asked.

"Head for another hospital and see how many men I can pry loose there," the officer answered. "The more, the better. We can use experienced people, God knows."

Theo felt shy about joining a new crew. He'd spent his whole military career-he'd spent the whole war-with Ludwig and Fritz. They'd understood him as well as anybody did. They'd put up with him. If another driver and commander had lost their radioman… He made a sour face. He'd feel like a woman marrying a widower and trying to live up to the standard his first wife had set.

To his relief, he didn't have to do that. The personnel sergeant assigned him to what would be a brand-new crew. The commander was a sergeant called Heinz Naumann. He had bandages on his neck and his left hand-and maybe in between, too. "Burns. Getting better," he said laconically. On his coveralls he wore the Iron Cross First Class and a wound badge. Sooner or later, Theo knew, a wound badge would also catch up with him.

By contrast, the driver was just out of training. His coveralls weren't faded and shapeless; you could cut yourself on their creases. He was a big fellow with dark hair who moved like an athlete. His name was Adalbert Stoss.

Theo was from Breslau, way off in the east. Naumann came from Vienna. Stoss hailed from Greven, a small town outside of Munster. "It's a wonder we can understand each other," he said with a grin.

Grin or not, he wasn't kidding. As far as Theo was concerned, Stoss and Naumann had different strange accents. They probably thought he talked funny, too. "We'll manage," Heinz said.

"Oh, sure." Adalbert went on grinning. He seemed happy as could be to have escaped basic and come out to join the grown-ups at-or at least near-the front. Theo had seen that reaction before. Most of the time, it wore off as soon as the rookie saw his first body with the head blown off. Training was hard work, to say nothing of dull, but you hardly ever got killed there. In real war, on the other hand…