“Force C consists of our Companies A and B, plus all six companies of the 5th Battalion. They’ll wait offshore. If our mission is successful, they’ll land at Pointe du Hoc to reinforce us. If we fail—”

“Fat chance,” Manfred Brady said.

Taylor lowered his eyebrows. “If we fail, they’ll land at Dog Green Beach to the left of the D-1 draw, and they’ll make their way to Pointe du Hoc. No matter what, the Rangers are taking out those guns.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me.” Taylor marched to another table and slid the blanket off another rubber map. “This is Pointe du Hoc.”

Clay murmured in appreciation, along with the other men.

A thin dagger of land stabbed the sea, surrounded by steep cliffs and a narrow strip of beach. At least their cliff-climbing skills wouldn’t go to waste.

“Here are the six guns.” Taylor touched six positions in a V, then the tip of the point. “And an observation post. The point is heavily defended with minefields, barbed wire, machine guns, antiaircraft guns, and a network of trenches and bunkers. But the defenses are set up against an attack from the land, not the sea. After all, these cliffs are one hundred feet tall.”

Laughter whipped around the tent.

“Come on, Lieutenant.” Gene elbowed Clay. “Can’t you get us a better challenge than that?”

Taylor sobered. “This time you’ll have Germans shooting down at you.”

The laughter dribbled away.

The platoon leader straightened up and crossed his arms. “Pointe du Hoc will get a thorough working over by Allied aircraft and ships. They’ll bomb the stuffing out of this place. But we must be prepared.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before we embark and while we’re on board, you boys will be busy.” He gestured around the tent. “We’ll have more briefings. You’ll study maps, aerial photos, and sand tables. You’ll memorize the terrain, the tides, and the location of every gun and defensive position. You will each receive an individual objective and will know it well.”

Clay nodded. The triangle of land was marked up with indications for bunkers and gun emplacements. Which one was the structure from his recurring dream? Where would he die?

Something stretched and tugged in his chest, pulling him away from that dream—the longing to see Leah and Helen, Wyatt and Adler, Daddy and Mama.

Clay forced himself to look around the tent at Gene and Ruby and Holman and McKillop. At Taylor and Lombardi and all the others.

Every man in the platoon had loved ones back home. Every man had reasons to live. And every man was willing to sacrifice his life for the greater good. To take out those guns and protect the soldiers on Omaha and Utah and the sailors at sea. To assure the success of D-day and the Allied cause, to free the enslaved peoples of Europe and protect the folks back home.