For the next half hour, they manipulated that log. The drill built both muscle and teamwork, and Clay put his all into it.

At last they set the log down on the dirt, with only a few new scratches on ears and shoulders and hands.

“To the pit,” Lombardi called. “Double time.”

The men jogged off the parade grounds and along the road.

Gene fell in beside Clay. “Hate picking up their slack when they’ve got hangovers.”

“It evens out. Remember, they picked up our slack when we had dysentery.”

“Don’t remind me.” Gene clutched his stomach as they ran. “Glad Rudder’s putting our cooks through cooking school.”

“Me too.” Major Rudder showed no mercy in training the men. But he’d also moved the Rangers out of Tent City and into real wooden barracks with showers and a dayroom and electric lights. He’d started “gripe sessions,” and he listened to the men’s concerns and made changes. “Looking forward to good food.”

Gene whacked him in the arm. “That’s why you should’ve gone to the USO party.”

Clay’s shirtsleeves, tied around his waist, slipped, and he tightened the knot as he ran. “I told you. I won’t be here long, and I don’t want to start something I can’t finish.” Here in Tullahoma . . . here on earth . . . Gene didn’t need to know what he really meant.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t go out and have fun.”

“Come on.” Clay spread his arms wide and mimicked the bragging look he’d seen so often. “How could a girl go out with me even once and not fall in love?”

Gene cracked up and punched Clay in the arm. “Yeah, that’s likely.”

Clay laughed too, but his own words stung. Ellen Hill had been his only girlfriend. In Kerrville, the white girls were put off by his brown skin, and the Mexican girls by his white name. And Ellen? Even after a year together, she’d only had eyes for Adler.

“Still, that little Leah—I bet she’d like a USO party.”

Clay swiped sweat from his upper lip. “Nah. She’s sweet, but she’s too young.”

Gene gave him a funny look. “You’re not that old. What? Twenty-two? She’s got to be at least eighteen.”

“Just barely. It’s more . . . she’s really young inside.”

“Yeah? She’ll grow up quick around this place.”

“Reckon so.” It would be a shame if Leah lost that innocence.

“Well, me and Betty Jo had a swell time. I’m gonna marry her.”

“What?” Clay studied his friend’s beet-red face. “You’ve only known her a few months.”

“As you said, we’re leaving soon. Think about it. If we get married, she’ll get my allotment. She’ll be able to afford a real place, won’t have to live in that converted chicken coop anymore.”