“No, sir,” he decided. Surely Winters would have told him if anything more than the delivery was expected. But he hoped that it was another plea to send Sobel elsewhere—he had demoralized Easy Company with his draconian expectations and had a history of inventing infractions back in Georgia just for kicks. The men felt more loyalty to Dick Winters as the head of their platoon than they did to Sobel as the company commander.

But Lee didn’t open it in front of him, so Tom had no hope of finding out if Captain Sobel’s days were, at last, numbered.

“Dismissed.”

Tom saluted and turned, exiting the elaborate front door without ceremony and stepping back into the crisp evening air. He exhaled a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

He hopped on the bike, not looking back at Littlecote House. Not looking back on what he’d heard.

The United States. Britain. Italy. Germany. Russia. Just a few of the countries mentioned in the brief conversation he’d overhead. Not to mention all the news coming out of the Pacific.

This was, indeed, a world war.

Tom hoped he and his friends would survive it.

*  *  *

The little cottage in Chilton Foliat might as well have been in a different world from where he’d just ridden in from. Owned by their hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, it was as unpretentious as their surname. But it was tidy, and Mrs. Brown kept timber in the fireplace all day so the boys could play cards and read from their small collection of books in the scant spare time they were afforded. Mrs. Brown made an unbeatable Yorkshire pudding and always had a batch ready when they returned from drill, hungry and tired.

Tom had written to his mother to let her know how much she would love the place and to assure her that her son was in good hands.

He returned to the attic bedroom the three men shared. William was stoking the embers in the stone fireplace as they mellowed into a dull orange glow. Heat gave way to the chill of the evening. John was crouched next to the hearth, rubbing his hands together.

“Where’ve you been? Necking with a local girl?” William looked up and grinned. His ribbing was good-humored, though Tom had come to suspect that his joviality was a mask for troubles he kept to himself. William’s sleep was restless, night after night.

Tom shrugged. William knew that Tom had ridden up to the estate. Unlike some of the boys in the 101st, Tom thought it unseemly to take up a romance with a local girl when today, tomorrow, and the next were so uncertain. Such things would happen for him once he was well settled into army life, a swath of medals and stripes adorning his shoulder.

And such distractions wouldn’t serve them well in the field.