“Corporal Russell Gary… used to be with the Fifth in Chicago.”
A helmeted head appeared in the window of the cab. The helmet bore a stripe of white paint. Gary absently added, “Sir.”
“Do you carry identification, Corporal?” the officer asked suspiciously.
“Yes, sir.” He dug down under his clothing to bring up the two dogtags hanging on a chain.
The lieutenant peered at them and then up at the man. “Well, I don't mind saying thanks! You certainly helped us out of a hole.” He paused. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, sir.” Gary looked down the road at the sprawled bodies. “Except for the casualties, sir.”
There was a moment of silence as the officer sought for words. Gary stared at him, at the second face looking over his shoulder.
The second face suggested, “Ask him about Chicago, Lieutenant.”
“A-bombed,” Gary said without waiting for the other to repeat the question. “Hundreds of A-bombs. The place is just a pile of ashes now.”
“How did you escape?” was the quick retort.