Hicks reached the clearing at the same time the German machine-guns momentarily stopped.
“Ja find ’em, Hicks?”
“No, but I saw Powers. If we made a half circle back to the left we might find ’em.”
“Sounds good enough to try.”
They were crawling, crawling on their bellies, in single file, when Pugh stopped and called with an exultant lilt in his voice:
“Oh-o, here’s one Squarehead that’s kissed his papa good-by. Right through the eye.”
The men in rear veered off so as not to see the dead body. A short distance away some one was moaning weakly. Hicks stopped. “Another one of our guys hit, I betcha.”
They crawled eagerly and yet fearfully toward the noises. Seen through the trees bandy-legged Funk was supporting the head of little Halvorsen and trying to get him to open his eyes. Beside him was Lieutenant Bedford, saying:
“You’re crazy, Funk. The kid’s gone, but we’ll see if anything can be done.”
Funk was softly calling: “Hank, oh, Hank, ain’t you got anything to say?”