“My three wishes.” Hook put up a finger at a time. “We see this through to the end. We go back home. We die in our sleep. What do you think, too unreasonable?”

“No. Good wishes. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I believe the words are, ‘Your wish is my command.’”

“That’s only for genies in bottles. Magic fish just do what they can.”

Jokes and cursing are all you have left in a foxhole, Kennet wrote. It beats thinking about every shell that missed you and wondering if the next one has your name on it. Wondering how long the barrage is going to last. Wondering if the German infantry is poised to attack. Wondering how long you’ll last if they do.

Amazing what a body can get used to. Even with all the wondering, all the booming and rattling and rubble pouring on us, I dozed off for a bit while Hook kept a lookout. Not a solid rest by any stretch of the imagination but for a few precious moments, I went. I was gone.

If a shell has my name on it, it’ll find me. Whether I’m asleep or awake. Might as well grab what winks I can.

Our tanks and artillery laid down shells and machine gun fire in front of our positions. So that held off an attack and one by one, we could leave our foxholes and go up to the tracks which were parked on the hill, get our coats and some rations.

New Year’s Eve supper was some frozen beef stew à la Uncle Sam, dug fresh out of the tin and elegantly served on the tip of a trench knife. If you nick your tongue, the blood adds to the flavor. Accompanying the main course was some lovely frozen condensed milk, which one chews rather than drinks.

The ambience was first rate. Instead of romantic candlelight, we were treated to a line of burning houses along the road. The flames lit up the sky, flickered on the dirty snow and lent an air of eerie mystery to the mealtime hour. Nothing like a roaring fire to warm the heart. And the hide, as Hook and I took a walk to the inferno to thaw out. Pete von Asselt came with us. He’s a swell guy.

The intense heat sure felt good on my sore muscles. I was telling the boys about the Finnish institution of the sauna when two men came walking down the road.

When he had time to think about it, Kennet was astonished how quickly he went from storyteller to soldier. A sentence was still coming out of his mouth as he set his rifle to his shoulder and opened fire on the two figures in the road. They were silhouetted against the burning houses and Kennet didn’t know how he knew they were Germans. Just that something about the way they moved wasn’t right.