He worked now in a mental vacuum, all but unconsciously. He ran to the stair bottom and called, "Come down," his voice was shrill. "Alice, Tommy, all of you."
They came, hesitantly, and when they saw the shambles of the room stared at him with as much disbelief as had the enemy women. He pointed a finger at the oldest of the girls. "Alice," he said, "you've been given instruction by the warriors. How is the Bren gun fired?"
The eleven year old bug eyed at him. "But you're a husband, Alan...."
"How is it fired?" he shrilled. "Unless you tell me, there will be no Wolf clan left!"
He lugged the heavy gun to the window, mounted it there as he had seen the women do in practice.
"Tommy," he said to a thirteen year old boy. "Quick, get me a pan of ammunition."
"I can't," Tommy all but wailed.
"Get it!"
"I can't. It's ... it's unmanly!" Tommy melted into a sea of tears, utterly confused.