Smith took a long route, around a tractor and some other implements. When they came into the clear there was only one man on their side of the house. Where's the other one? the lieutenant asked himself. Now what do we do? You gotta stick to the plan. Everyone's depending on you.
"Back me up."
Smith was amazed. "Let me, sir, I--"
"Back me up," Edwards whispered. He set his M-16 down and drew his combat knife.
The Russian soldier made it easy, as he stood on tiptoe, entranced with the goings-on within the farmhouse. Ten feet behind him, Edwards got to his feet and approached one slow step at a time. It took him a moment to realize that his target was a full head taller than he was--how was he supposed to take this monster alive?
He didn't have to. There must have been an intermission inside. The Soviet private slumped down and reached in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, then turned slightly to light one from a cupped match. He caught Edwards out of the comer of his eye, and the American lieutenant lunged forward with his knife, stabbing the larger man in the throat. The Russian started to cry out, but Edwards wrestled him down and slapped his left hand over the man's mouth as he struck again with the knife. Edwards twisted the man's head one way, and the knife the other. The blade grated against something hard, and his victim went slack.
Edwards felt nothing, his emotions submerged in a flood of adrenaline. He wiped the knife on his trousers and stood on the man's body to look in the window. What he saw caught the breath in his throat.
"Hi, guys!" Garcia whispered. Two Russian privates turned to face a pair of M-16s. They had left their rifles in the truck. Garcia gestured at the ground with his rifle, and both men went facedown, spread-eagled. Rodgers frisked them both for weapons, then went around the front to report in.
"Took 'em both alive, sir." He was surprised to see their "wing-wiper" lieutenant with blood on his hands.
"I'm going in," Edwards told Smith. The sergeant nodded quickly.
"I'll cover you from here. Rodgers, you back him up."
The lieutenant moved through the half-open door. The living room was empty and unlit. The noise of heavy breathing came from around the corner, and a steady pale light. Edwards approached the corner--and found himself faced with a Russian in the process of unbuttoning his pants. There was no time for much of anything.
Edwards rammed his knife under the man's ribs, turning his right hand within the brass-knuckled grip as he pushed the blade all the way in. The man screamed and lifted himself up on his toes before falling backward, trying to get himself off the knife. Edwards withdrew and stabbed again, falling atop the man in a grotesquely sexual position. The paratrooper's hands tried to force him off, but the lieutenant felt the strength drain from his victim as he moved farther forward to stab him again in the chest. A shadow moved and he looked up to see a man stumbling forward with a pistol--and the room exploded with noise.
"Freeze, motherfucker!" Rodgers screamed, his M-16 aimed at the man's chest, and everyone's ears ringing from the thunder of the three-round burst. "You okay, skipper?" It was the first time they had called him that.
"Yeah." Edwards got to his feet, letting Rodgers precede him as he backed the Russian up. The man was exposed below the waist, his pants hobbling his ankles. The lieutenant picked up the pistol the Soviet had dropped and looked down at the man he'd knifed. There was no doubt that he was dead. His handsome Slavic face was contorted with surprise and pain, and his uniform blouse was soaked black with blood. The eyes might have been marbles for all the life they contained.
"You okay, ma'am?" Rodgers asked, briefly turning his head around.
Edwards saw her for the second time, sprawled out on the wooden floor. A pretty girl, her woolen nightdress torn apart, barely covering one breast, and the rest of her pale body, already red and bruised in several places, exposed for all to see. Beyond her in the kitchen Edwards saw the unmoving legs of another woman. He went into the room and saw a dog and a man, also dead. Each body displayed a single red circle in the chest.
Smith came in. He looked around the room, then at Edwards. The wimp had fangs. "I'll