PM was hit by bullet splash and stopped the tank: fumes and heat almost overwhelmed the crew as they worked over him, Zinc swabbing. Dennison was remembering Al, remembering....
PM waved them off: No, I'm not down for a count of ten! No, let me get back at the controls!
"Where?" he asked Landel.
"How much gas have we?"
"Quarter."
Landel briefed his map, fingers uncertain, eyes uncertain, wanting to stall, to call a halt.
The radio had conked.
Turn back he scribbled.
Back?
Where?