The wounded man and his companions stepped on the aqueduct. Their pace was slower than that of the others, and everyone watched without a word as they made their way slowly forward. It seemed to Dick that he must be holding his breath.
There was almost a cheer from the men as the wounded soldier and his two carriers made the other side of the gully. Then the remaining men, with Dick at the end, followed quickly, without any concern about the old aqueduct.
On the other side, Dick explained briefly the course they would have to follow to get back to their own men. It was a roundabout circle over two ridges of hills, and across one stream that had to be forded. But they felt sure they would meet no enemy forces on the way, as their path covered wild country off the main routes.
The going was slow because the men all felt a letdown after their forced marches of the day. Now they felt safe, sure that they had eluded any pursuing force that might come after them.
“As a matter of fact,” Max said to Lefty, “I don’t think anybody’s following us. Those boys at the dam must’ve got word of the battle down in the Pass. They’re probably heading back down there now. I hope they’re too late.”
“This was a pretty good shindig, wasn’t it?” Lefty commented. “First time we’ve really had something of what we wanted. We really did a paratrooper’s job today.”
“Yes—pretty good, pretty good,” Max replied, with a sigh. “But I didn’t get my forty Nazis. I figure I only got about eleven myself.”
“No—you got to look at it this way, Max,” Lefty said. “What we did up here made it possible for our boys down in the Pass to wipe out a few thousand. So really you got a lot more than forty.”
Max smiled. “I like the way you put it,” he said. “But I want to do it personally.”
They had a quick meal before climbing another hill, digging food out of their ration cans. When they went on again, Max was walking beside Dick Donnelly.