With part of the squad arguing in hushed whispers the tracks were theirs,
Maddox thinking they were German, and part of the squad wishing they paid more attention during field navigation -
Maddox was getting angry.
"All right, God dammit!" he says,
"Ryan, signal third platoon!" Pvt. Ryan crawls over to where the squad thinks 3rd platoon went and shots in a stage whisper:
"Third platoon! Hey!"
Silence reigns...
There are a couple murmurs from the squad:
"Are we lost too?" "Are we going around in circles?" "Damn, I can't see shit."
"We are NOT lost." Sgt. Maddox affirms, reaching for his compass. He stares intently at it, holding it scarcely an inch from his eyes.
"Damn it all," he grumbles, settind down his rifle and fishing out a match. He strikes it against the brim of his helmet and rasies it to the compass face...
Everyone proceed to the new thread here:
The Face of Battle