The transmission was broken and the voice was barely recognizable. But Rodgers had no doubt that it was Brett August. The colonel did not know how long he would be able to transmit. So he got right to the heart of the communication without wasting words.

"Copy that," Rodgers said.

"Team of four," August said.

"Girl and grandfather, Friday, and one cell member."

"I copy," Rodgers said again.

"I'm at the foot of the zone.

Should I go up now?"

"If you wait till sunup you may miss them," August said.

"I'm sorry." "Don't be," Rodgers said.

"Will try and keep enemy busy," August went on. His voice began to break up.

"Storming here-cell exhausted.

Ammo low."

"Then bail out," Rodgers said.

"I'll be okay."

August's response was lost in static.

"I've got a good head start," Rodgers went on. He was shouting each syllable, hoping he would be heard.

"Even if they enter the valley now they won't catch up to me. I'm ordering you to pull back. Do you read? Pull back!"

There was no response. Just a loud, frustrating crackle.

Rodgers turned down the volume and kept the channel open for another few moments. Then he shut the radio off to conserve the batteries and slipped the unit back in his belt.

Rodgers hoped that August would not try to stick this one out. Going back down the mountain might not be an option for August and the others.

But finding a cave and building a fire would be a better use of their energies than hanging on to a slope and trying to draw the Indian army toward them. Unfortunately, Rodgers knew the colonel too well. August would probably regard retreat as abandonment of a friend as well as a strategic position. Neither of those was acceptable to August.

The plateau was also the place where the Strikers had died.

That made it sacred ground to August. There was no way he would simply turn and walk away from it. Rodgers understood that because he felt the same way. It made no sense to fight for geography without strategic value. But once blood had been spilled there, one fought for the memory of fallen comrades. It validated the original sacrifice in a way that only combat soldiers could understand.

Rodgers took a moment to walk along the bottom of the glacier. It did not seem to matter where he started. He had to pull himself up one of the "toes" and start walking.

There were collapsible steel bipoint ice cram pons in his vest.

Rodgers removed them and slipped them over his rigid boots. The two-pronged claws on the bottoms would allow for a surer grip on the ice.

He strapped them on and removed the pitons from another pocket. He would hold them in his fists and use them to assist his climb. He would not take the time to hammer them in unless he had to.