His father, being a hunter, would have liked it. And his mother would have gushed over the gilded tea tray. Tom wished he could explore the manor further, though it would probably take him a week to see every space. He’d have to include details in a letter to home.

He heard deep voices coming closer to a nearby door and then it opened to reveal several uniformed men emerging from their meeting. From where Tom was sitting, he was hidden from their view. He was just about to stand up and salute when he heard something that made him stop.

“General Alexander doesn’t believe that the guerrillas in Italy are going to be effective in fighting off the Nazis, so he’s postponing his participation.”

“What does Roosevelt say to that?”

“He wants to wait and see what the CLN does. In the meantime, there are rumors that Churchill and Roosevelt are trying to broker a meeting with Stalin, maybe as early as next month.”

“Can Stalin be trusted?”

“Right now, he’s Hitler’s enemy. And you know what they say.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Exactly. But God help us all if we get into bed with the Russians.”

Tom cleared his throat and stood up. He recognized Colonel Sink and Major General Lee, having seen them walk by during many drill inspections. Their chests were laden with pounds of medals, the kings of the army looking right at home in these palace-like environs.

Give him Dick Winters any day. A first lieutenant who knew how to get into the thick of things and who preferred the austerity of a bunk to posh surrounds like this.

“Yes, PFC Powell?” Major General Lee didn’t know Tom from Adam, but the precision of a military uniform revealed his name on the brass tag and patch on his arm.

“A message for you from First Lieutenant Winters.” Tom handed him the sealed envelope.

“Not another missive about Sobel, I hope. That bastard whipped Easy Company into shape like nobody’s business, but dammit, I’ve never gotten as many complaints about someone either.”

Tom stood at attention, as he’d been taught. As if there was a metal rod holding up his spine. He had his opinions about Sobel but knew he wouldn’t be asked to share them.

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Did he want a response?”

“I don’t believe so, sir.”

“You don’t believe so? That’s a yes or no question, son.”

Tom curled his toes in his boots. Though he was inches taller than Lee, the man had a terrifying countenance. He reminded him of his father.