“You are a fish with the power to grant wishes,” he said. “These Jerries get no wishes if they don’t catch you. Don’t make it easy for them. Dizzy may have a horseshoe up his ass but you, gullgosse? You have gold in your blood, a gun in your hand and Baby’s extra ammo. Three gifts you got right now. Do something with them.”

The receiver of his M-1 had gotten clogged with dirt and snow, but he could still operate it by hand. He aimed downhill at the house swarming with German soldiers, and he opened fire. He was an army of one with nothing to lose. He doubted he was hitting anything at this distance. It didn’t matter. The point was, he was doing something. He’d go down fighting. They might find him dead, but they’d find him with empty clips.

And then… the sweet sound of machine gun fire. Sweet because it was slower than German gunfire. Sweeter because it came from behind him.

He whirled around just as the red tracer bullets began arcing over the snow and the familiar roar and rumble of the American tanks began to shake the earth.

Kennet let out a yell as the fear drained from his body. A primal scream of triumph shot up from his boots and made his helmet lift an inch off his scalp. He was full of electric relief, alive from frozen toes to frozen fingers, and holy Hildur, was he actually sporting a goddamn erection? He was, and at that moment, he could’ve charged down the hill and taken the enemy alone.

The infantry was crawling down the slope now, moving in short, economic surges from bushes to rocks to snowdrifts. And then Hook—Oh, my buddy, my mate, I knew you’d come—was yanking Kennet out of his hole, yelling, “I’m swear to God, I’m going to kill you.”

“Rain check,” Kennet said.

“You owe me three wishes, don’t you fucking dare die on me.”

“Wish later, move your ass now.”

Gold pumped hard through his veins as he and Hook ran down the hill and took cover behind a wrecked German tank. They were joined by O’Hara with his BAR, Marty draped with bandoliers of ammunition, and Schmitt with his bazooka.

“You all right, Fish?” O’Hara said, setting up his gun.

“I will be when you start playing my favorite tune.”

O’Hara gave a tight nod and then opened fire on the German positions. Sheltered behind the massive tank tread, Kennet quickly field stripped his rifle and got all the crap out of it.

Gradually the company built up enough strength to rush the house. Three Germans came out with their hands in the air. Machine gun fire cut them down in two seconds. Two more Jerries emerged from a dugout and Kennet saw Lieutenant Jorgensson shoot both with his pistol.

“No prisoners, Silver,” Kennet whispered.