Still unable to see who she was talking to, Nancy called out in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard, “If you’re the 17th Airborne, then we’re friends.”

Though still not quite ready to drop his guard completely, Nathan decided that it was time to make a bold move. Lowering his rifle, he continued to make his way down the side of the hill to where the female colonel stood. When they were but a couple of meters apart, Nathan cradled his M-16 in his left arm and saluted the dark figure that now seemed far less imposing than it had just seconds before. “Second Lieutenant Nathan Dixon, Company A, 3rd of the 517th Parachute Infantry at your service, ma’am.”

A smile lit across Nancy Kozak’s face. She was, she realized as she brought her own hand up to return the lieutenant’s salute, back where she belonged.

The appearance of Nancy and her sergeant in a Humvee loaded with rations, fresh water, and new radio was a turning point for Nathan. Up to then he and his platoon had no purpose, or function in life. The only thing that had kept the platoon together had been their training, their discipline, and a collective fear of the unknown. Which of those three elements was the strongest, Nathan had come to discover, varied from man to man. How long he could have depended on them to sustain his unit when everything from hope to rations had run out was a question he now knew he would never have to answer.

“For now,” Nancy stated in a tone that made it clear that she would brook no debate, “you will lay low with your platoon. Until we have a clear mission for you or a situation arises that provides us with an opportunity to do something meaningful it’s best that no one in Idaho know that you exist.”

Gandulf looked up from the pouch of food he had been busily attacking while he was listening to Nancy. “So,” he stated after swallowing a mouthful of beans, “we’re going to be the joker in the deck.”

Nancy looked up at him and smiled. She loved sergeants like that, men who knew what the score was and didn’t need a lot of guidance. “Yes, that’s right. This platoon is sort of like the Trojan horse, but without the horse.”

For the first time in days, Nathan and his collected NCOs chuckled. They were back in the game. Looking about in the darkness he could see those men who not standing watch were relaxing as they dug into their second, and in some cases third, bag of MREs.