Vasili's ears, partially deafened and somewhat adjusted to the constant explosions, began to pick up a faint yet distinct sound, a sound that shouldn't have been there amidst the tumult. Pinging. He concentrated on the sound in an effort to block out the fear that clung to him like a shadow. 'Ping P-Ping Ping-ping Ping.' The ethereal sound got clearer and the chaos fuzzier, the harder he focused. Adrenalin coursed through his veins. He grabbed each shell tighter and threw each casing farther as the sound of the surreal scene around him slowly went silent. Flashes came with concussions but no sound. Vasili kept an eye out for the source of the pinging while he worked and the guns took on a comical feel as they silently bucked and blew fire. 'Ping ping P-ping.' Each time a trigger man jerked on his cord, another ping. 'Ping Ping Ping.' It was the spring activated, thumb-sized firing pins striking the backs of the shells inside the guns. It didn't seem possible that he could hear them, but the striking pins rang out clearly, like a crew of blacksmiths working on an anvil at the edge of town.

"They're coming for us!" Hoxa screamed. His voice jolted Vasili back to the pandemonium around him. "They're coming!" Hoxa jumped off the wet gun awkwardly and landed spread eagle in the mud next to the fallen trigger man. He got up, undaunted and slapped each remaining trigger man with his crop as he ran by. All four held fire, rubbed at stinging welts under their uniforms and watched the captain for orders.

"Raise your pitch to forty degrees, load phosphorous and fire on my command."

"What is it?!"

Captain Hoxa screamed out one long word over the incoming explosions. "Infantry!!!"

The breech operators cranked frantically on the elevator controls. The heavy steaming gun barrels edged slowly skyward and trained in on the approaching troops. "Ready," each operator shouted in turn.

"Be ready to continue tracking them as we shoot!" Hoxa shouted. He raised his riding crop high. "Fire!"

The phosphorous rounds weighed less than the shorter high explosive shells, allowing the handlers and loaders to shave a full second off their reloading cycle. Hoxa had given the other two companies orders to redirect fire any time they saw white phosphorous explosions, and as planned, larger white and yellow flashes sprang up around the first impacts.

"Up two degrees! Reload, Fire! Up one! Fire! Up one!" It dragged on for what seemed hours as the tempest continued to rage in the valley. All the while Hoxa stood on a small mound between #2 and #3, looking out through his binoculars, raising and lowering his riding crop like a bandleader each time a salvo screamed away.