“If we run into the enemy, I’ll be sure to give ’em an eye test.”

“I still say the trench is man’s greatest invention. My kingdom for a trench.”

“You can dig all the trenches you want once we get back. My orders.”

“Isn’t that how they torture prisoners?”

“My pension to the man who invents a way to fasten your-shit, it’s started! Don’t get your balls blown off, gents!” Ferrell shouted.

The din of battle filled the air. I could feel the shudder of distant shells exploding.

I turned my attention to Yonabaru. After what happened in PT, maybe my dream was just a dream, but if Yonabaru died by my side at the beginning of the battle, I’d never forgive myself. I replayed the events of the dream in my head. The javelin had come from two o’clock. It had flown right through the camouflage screen, leaving it in tatters, all about a minute after the battle started, give or take.

I tensed my body, ready to be knocked down at any moment.

My arms were shaking. An itch developed in the small of my back. A wrinkle in my inner suit pressed against my side.

What are they waiting for?

The first round didn’t hit Yonabaru.

The shot that was supposed to have killed him was headed for me instead. I didn’t have time to move a millimeter. I’ll never forget the sight of that enemy javelin flying straight at me.

5

The paperback I’d been reading was beside my pillow.

It was a mystery novel about an American detective who was supposed to be some sort of expert on the Orient. I had my index finger wedged into a scene where all the key players meet for dinner at a Japanese restaurant in New York.