“Fall back to the ditch!” Jake shouted.
Billy looked at the bodies. American and German, tangled together in the mud like brothers who had forgotten why they were fighting. “No,” he said. “But I’m still standing.” Brothers In Arms- Hell-s Highway
Billy crouched behind the crumpled wreck of a German half-track, his M1 Garand pressed against his chest. Beside him, breathing in the same wet, diesel-tainted air, was his squad leader, Staff Sergeant Jacob “Jake” Marino. They had been brothers since Toccoa, Georgia—through the jump into Normandy, through the bloody hedgerows, through the frozen hell of Bastogne. Now, September 1944, they were on a road they’d come to call Hell’s Highway. “Fall back to the ditch
“He’s gone, Billy. He’s gone.”