“Heard you coming a mile away.”
“I rather thought so,” Jonesy commented. “While you acted as though you had been taken by surprise, still—” He broke off, startled out of his wits as the night sky lit up with a burning incandescence. The night was bright and white around them, reflecting the varied emotions on their faces. “Good God! What's that?” Jonesy sat up.
Gary froze to the ground, unmoving, searching the field with narrowed eyes. Both Jonesy and the old man were stiffly upright, staring at the brilliant light in the sky.
“Hit the dirt, you damned fool!” Gary snapped.
The darkness was split with light and sound.
A rifle cracked suddenly on the other side of the river, half a mile to the south of the field where they lay hidden. A heartbeat later the first machine gun cut loose to shatter the night with its rapid song, followed instantly by another. Gary listened to the guns, recognizing their make and caliber by memory. There came a flurry of whistles and the guns stopped firing. In the new silence a belated rifle spoke once and was still. Very slowly the hanging light faded from the sky and night took over its rightful domain.
“ What was that? ” Jonesy demanded again in a shaking, frightened voice. The older man had sidled near him.
“That was your friend Harry,” the corporal answered. “He made it all right.”
“They… they killed him?”
“Those guys weren't shooting fish, mister.”