soldier."

Wims finally understood. "Private Wims, Dolliver."

"That's better." The sergeant's eyes narrowed as he searched his memory.
"I don't r'member seein' ya 'round this company before."

"Ah don't recall seein' you 'roun' here either," Wims said in suicidal
innocence.

"Y'ARE GETTIN' WISE WITH ME!" the sergeant roared. "I'll take care of ya
later." He thrust Wims into the pit with the machine gun. "Now stay
there on that gun 'til I get back. I'm goin' ta find the lieutenant."

Wims squatted behind the gun, squinting experimentally through the
sights and swinging the barrel to and fro.

The sergeant returned shortly with the lieutenant. "That's him," he
said, pointing to Wims.

The lieutenant glanced at the green bar. "Are you sure you got that
message straight?"

Wims looked at the menacing sergeant. "Yes, suh," he said, swallowing.

"Somebody is crazy," the lieutenant muttered. "Sergeant, tell Lieutenant
Haas to cover my platoon. I'm going back to the CP to see Captain Blair
about this message. I'll try to be back before the attack starts to
either confirm or cancel the order, but, if not, Haas is to hold his
fire until he spots the white flare, or the Blues are right on top of
us; whichever happens first."

* * * * *

The lieutenant hustled up the hill and the sergeant went off to find
Lieutenant Haas, leaving Wims alone with the machine gun and the still
unconscious gunner. The distant machine-gun firing had stopped and the
white smoke of a screen laid down by the Blue attackers started scudding
thickly across the face of the hill, hiding them as they charged.

"Pickets are back," the sergeant yelled at Lieutenant Haas. "The
Blues've crossed the road an' are in the gully at the bottom of the
hill."

"How the devil can I possibly see a signal flare through these trees and
all this smoke?" Haas muttered to the sergeant. "I think we've got a
first-class snafu. Let's go check the machine-gun position; if it's
still there."

A whistle sounded and the Blue company surged up out of the ditch and
swarmed up the hill. As had been ordered, not a defending shot had yet
been fired. Wims opened the breech of the machine gun to see if the
ammunition belt was properly engaged. He had a difficult time forcing it
open and when he succeeded he found the webbing twisted and a couple of
cartridges jammed in at impossible angles. As he was trying to clear it,
the unconscious gunner