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And then, turning to run again, Rainy trips, throws out her hands instinctively The suicide pill flies free, but she tracks it, sees it peeking frorabs for it, footsteps so close now, her fingers find the pill, raise it to her mouth, and she is hit froh her body

She has a split second to see the shoe that s her consciousness spinning through the void, twirling, dragging her down and down The second punch finishes the job

Rainy lies cru out onto the pine needles Her gun beside her

26

RIO RICHLIN—ABOARD LST-902, OFF SALERNO, ITALY

It is Rio Richlin’s first battle briefing as a corporal, an NCO, a noncommissioned officer Corporals aren’t always included, but Stick has brought her along and Rio is very sensible of the compliment

Sensible of the co it She had not asked to be ued with Cole and their new lieutenant, and had been told to shut up and do what she was told

That part at least she understood

In addition to the NCOs, their new lieutenant, Frank Stone, is there No one knows much about Stone yet aside fro, smokes like a fiend, blinks a lot, and seems to have a chip on his shoulder

Theof a warehousebox stuffed full of Shermans, twenty tanks in all, plus two half-tracks and a couple of jeeps

GIs are berthed in rectangular cells all around the outer edge of the boat This ship has a nominal capacity of 217 men, which is nonsense—there are soldiers cra with soldiers The busy sailors have trouble at tih the crowds of soldiers to reach their stations and genially curse the reen as “sand fleas,” “lubbers,” “clumsy bastards,” and more, but never with real animus The sailors know that soon these soldiers will be ashoreand they will not be

Twenty tanks, so like 305 men, barrels of oil, ammo—the contents of this one ship could start a war all by itself, Rio thinks

The colonel, a West Pointer, has given a little rah-rah speech and turned the briefing over to Captain Jesus “Paco” Morales, also a West Pointer, a shinily bald, broad-shouldered officer in a spotless unifores the two dozen noncoms to line up around a low sand table The sand table is a lovingly sculpted diorama of the Salerno beach

“Okay, h one here, a real ball-buster, begging your pardon, Corporal”

Two specific references to Rio—she is the only female present—and both times every head but Stick’s swivels toward her