Brothers In Arms- Hell-s Highway -

“Not yet,” Jake said. “We’re the Screaming Eagles. We don’t leave until the job’s done. And neither does Eddie. We carry him home—all of them. That’s what brothers do.”

The first Panzer IV emerged from the mist like a beast from a nightmare. Its tracks chewed the mud, and its long-barreled gun swung toward their position. Around Billy, the remnants of Easy Company opened fire. Rifles cracked. A bazooka team let loose a rocket that screamed across the field and struck the tank’s side skirt with a flash of orange. The tank kept coming. Brothers In Arms- Hell-s Highway

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.” “Not yet,” Jake said

“Fall back to the ditch!” Jake shouted. And neither does Eddie

“Billy,” Jake whispered, not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the tree line fifty yards away, where SS Panzergrenadiers had dug in. “You hear that?”

They ran, boots slipping in the slop, as machine-gun fire stitched the ground behind them. Billy dove headfirst into the drainage ditch, landing hard on his shoulder. Jake landed next to him, then Private Donnelly, then Corporal Hayes. But the kid—Private First Class Eddie Raynor, just eighteen, from Kansas—was still in the open.