Clay stood at the end of the line so he could compose himself as the ripping sound tore him apart again and again.

Since the dream first appeared, he’d only experienced a peaceful, driven sense of anticipation. Why the sudden melancholy?

Clay crossed his arms in his green herringbone twill fatigues. Was it because he’d soon leave the United States, never to return?

His wedding ring rubbed against his other fingers, and he sighed. No, it was Leah. Before he married her, his only joy had come from pursuing the dream. Now he found joy in giving to her and through their friendly correspondence.

In the process, he’d lost his focus.

But he wouldn’t change a thing. The thought of Leah at a mother’s home preparing to give away the only person she loved—well, it broke his heart.

Still, he had to be careful. God had sent the dream to assure Clay that his earthly misery was coming to an end, but also so he wouldn’t waver when life didn’t seem so miserable, so he wouldn’t falter when that ripping sound came his way.

Besides, he’d promised Leah he was going to die, and he was a man of his word.

That made him chuckle.

Gene faced him. “What’s so funny?”

Clay fished around for something. “Can you imagine me infiltrating behind enemy lines and passing for German?” He lifted his brown hands.

Gene cracked up, then gave a comical Nazi salute. “Jawohl, Herr Kamerad!”

The instructor sent Gene a sharp, dark-eyed look. “Do it right, or even your Aryan looks won’t save your hide.”

He then demonstrated the salute and made the platoon do it until they did it right.

Clay had to be prepared for whatever mission he received.

FORT DIX, NEW JERSEY
MONDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1943

On his cot, Clay set aside his olive drab service jacket, freshly marked with his name. Yet another requirement in the Rangers’ “Preparation for Overseas Movement.”

“I swear.” Bob Holman marked a pair of underwear. “If we have to watch another Army film, I’ll shoot the projectionist.”

Clay laughed. They’d completed their stateside training. Now they waited. While they waited, Rudder kept them in shape with physical conditioning, marches, and weapons drills.

“Mail call!”

Clay dashed outside with everyone else.

In the street between the wooden-walled eight-man tents, a private stood beside a jeep loaded with bags of mail.

As the man read names, Clay shivered in his fatigues. The tent was warmed by a potbellied stove, but he needed a sweater under his uniform in the New Jersey fall. A lot colder than Texas.

“Paxton!”

Clay grabbed a thick and squishy letter from Leah. “Please,” he muttered. They’d agreed she’d officially announce her pregnancy to him about this time, and then she’d announce it in Tullahoma. She was four months along, and soon the pregnancy would announce itself.