Since Lee was outnumbered, he set up his cot as far as he could from the wire, and planned to sleep with one eye open. He pretended he had surrounded them. The Germans didn’t look at him. Instead, they lay on their bunks, played cards, and seemed only to come to life at six o’clock, when supper was delivered.

Lee lay back, looking at the ceiling, which was discolored and moldy from the rain. He was counting backward through his life, taking experiences and subtracting them from a list of accomplishments. All he had done right was to rescue two puppies and deliver them, in their need, to a mother whose puppies had been drowned.

“Your favorite pet?” “Gin and tonic.”

At seven o’clock, Lieutenant Ripley came to see him. He was surprised to see Ripley holding a dog in each extended hand, flinching at their vague wriggles as if they were trout long out of the water.

“Here you go, Duncan.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lee went up on one elbow from his full recline. “They’re probably hungry.”

“I’m afraid you have to take them,” Ripley said.

“They’re supposed to be with Banjo.”

“She’s gone.”

“If you put them with her, she’ll be good to them. Right?”

“I just walked by. She wasn’t in her crate,” Ripley said patiently. He put each dog down on the cot. “I know they mean something to you, so …”

The puppies were nut-brown dinner rolls. Neither one could move much or make a noise yet, but hunger urged them to show their open mouths in hopes that something good would happen.

“What do I do with them?” Lee asked. He imagined, without wanting to, Banjo walking away from them. “I don’t have food.”

Ripley shrugged once. “The wind has picked up. You can keep them warm at least.”

Lee looked at them miserably. “Where did Banjo go?”

“Try to give them a few good hours.”

When Ripley was gone, Lee lowered his hands to their backs. He stroked their fur. He put each of them in his lap. He could feel them breathing, the tiny vibrations of their heartbeats. He could feel them failing.

“Pardon me.”

Leaning against the chicken-wire fence, from the German side, was a figure so slender he was almost transparent. He wore the telltale prisoner’s gray woolen underdrawers with red piping. His head had recently been shaven as part of delousing, and his cheeks were hollow, making his pale-blue eyes, which did not move, mesmerizing.

Also: he was holding a four-ounce tin of milk.

Lee picked up a puppy in each hand, and approached him cautiously. “Yes?”

“Might I trouble you for a cigarette?”

“Maybe I don’t have one.”

“Maybe I’m not holding a can of milk,” he replied.

“How did you get milk in here?”