Boldly, I walked erect. No hiding for me. I felt sure no one could see me anyway, or if they did, I knew no bullet could harm either the dog or me. Power bathed us in a crystalline armor.

Soon we closed upon a curious looking vehicle, like a box on tracks. A tank, I realized. It was spewing noxious diesel fumes everywhere, burning my sinuses and making McDuff sneeze. Soldiers shuffled along in its wake, seeking protection from American bullets. I still haven't figured out why they weren't asphyxiated, although they seemed to think the tank made them invincible, as if machinery would always prevail over mere humans.

Ahead of the tank, at the intersection of a street and the road into town, someone had erected a barricade. This would be where I'd find Caleb.

Instead of hearing bells, now my ears shuddered under the impact of gunfire, machinery and yelling men. Straight across from where I stood, a German machine gun rattled, stopped; rattled, stopped. Americans moved in the darkness beyond the barricade.

The tank thundered on, crushing everything in its path.

Reaching the barricade, it began to climb the mountainous obstacle, nose—and cannon—pointed straight upwards.