The only one who didn’t jump out of his socks was O’Hara. He tilted his head a little, then said sadly, “That’s a horse dying.” Without another word, he took his rifle, went out and put the beast down. Came back in and went back to sleep, as if he’d merely stepped out to take a piss.

He was so deadpan, some of the boys cracked up laughing. Me, I just lay there while a wave of hellish nausea swept through me. I’d never felt lower in my life. I’d been detached for so long, now every feeling on earth, I had it to death. Sad to death. Tired to death. Angry to death.

Scared to death.

I started whispering “Love you, Fish” to myself. I imagined the lurching house was a jeep bumping along a road of frozen mud, and I was on the hood. Wounded. Hanging on. It was a movie. That’s all. I was a hero in a Hollywood war thriller and the director would yell “Cut!” soon. Until he did, I just had to speak my one line.

“Love you, Fish.” I said under my breath, over and over. “Love you, Fish.”

Little by little, though, it was you I clung to, Asta. You who lay on top of me, strong and secure. So clean and sweet, pretty and pure and peaceful. Pinning me with elbows and knees, pulling me up into your body where all was safe and soft. Whispering into my mouth, “Jag älskar dig, Fisken. Älskar dig, Fisken. Älskar dig…”

I held onto you all night, Asta, my darling, darling girl.

It’s war. You do what you have to.

Whatever little thing gets you through to morning.

Now

The morning of January 3rd dawned with a mix of rain and snow. Two cows waddled around the paddock next to the house where the soldiers had spent the night. The men had little to say. The miserable lowing of the cattle seemed to say everything.

After a week of tense fighting, Company B was half what it used to be, its men exhausted and chilled deeper than bone. They were chilled to the soul. Slumped on an overturned bucket, Kennet stared at the dead horse lying in the paddock and felt nothing. Only a dry observation that an eviscerated horse resembled an upright piano split in half.

They were waiting for the half-tracks to pick them up. Lieutenant Jorgensson said the company was to be relieved. Young Marty seemed to have trouble grasping the concept.

“I thought… I mean, it’s war,” he said. “I thought you kept fighting until nobody was left.”

Schmitt put a hand out as if to jostle Marty’s head, but he seemed to run out of gas and the hand dropped. “We’re left,” he said. “And we get a break.”