Intrepid

As they passed the lead platoon, the colonel fell in line with them, hustling them forward and kicking the first ones who tried to go to ground before covering the full forty meters.

Colonel Cortez turned as soon as first went to ground, ready to do whatever it took to get second platoon moving, but Captain Sawyer was already up, already moving that platoon out under the watchful eye of its lieutenant and sergeant.

Cortez flipped him a thumbs-up and stooped to take a knee and survey his situation.

There were still flashes of light sparking up and down the ditches, though the first two lines seemed quiet. As he watched, a couple of those bombs lofted up and out, to explode among the psalm singers or the Guard. As far as Cortez could tell, the bomb didn't seem to produce any casualties, but rounds were whizzing over his head. Lots of high shots.

Not all; one that sounded like a military dart whizzed past his ear. That left him wondering exactly where Zhukov's Guard company was. What Cortez would give for a standard battle board, but that required knowing where you were, and a full GPS was way beyond the budget of this lash-up.

Once more, he advanced his companies by lines of platoons. The two wing companies weren't under his immediate supervision, and they weren't advancing as far with each bound. Either he'd have to go over and personally supervise their doing an extra set of bounds, or they'd have a lot more distance to run when he ordered the full attack.

Colonel Cortez scowled and decided he'd funnel them into the trenches as reserves to support Second Company. Or if the farmers broke and tried to run, maybe the two lagging companies would be in a better position to pursue.

Around the colonel, troops fired and advanced, did their duty as they were trained. He looked at it, found it was good … and smiled.

And as he smiled, he realized, it was time.

The lead platoon was only two hundred meters from the first trench. The trailing platoon was about to start its bound. The middle platoon was Captain Sawyer. This would work out fine.

Cortez mashed his commlink. ''Zhukov, I'm about to order a general assault. You get ready to receive those that break and run for the swamp. On a five count, check your fire unless you have a clear target.''

''You drive ‘em to us. We'll bag ‘em, sir.''

Now Colonel Cortez stood and signaled to third platoon. ''Up and at ‘em.'' A bullet whizzed by his ear, but no soldiers dropped as they obeyed his orders.

''Second platoon, prepare to advance as first platoon comes in line with you. Prepare to advance,'' he shouted, as the trailing platoon came even with the middle one's firing line.

''Advance,'' he shouted.

''Come on. You heard the man,'' Captain Sawyer shouted, ''Last man to the trenches gets to clean up this mess.''

With a shout, second platoon was on its feet and moving at a trot forward.

''Third platoon,'' Cortez shouted, running ahead of first and second, ''prepare to advance,''

''Don't get up yet,'' a sergeant shouted. ''You don't want to get so far out front we shoot you in the back.''

Enthusiasm was quickly curbed.

But in a moment, the three platoons were even, and all were on their feet. Some paused to fire. Others shot from the hip.

Here and there, a trooper went down. Most of them were on the far right and left. If they had bullets in their backs from the tardy First and Second Companies, Cortez was going to dock some officers' pay.

But the Second Company was now shouting as it ran for the gun pits. Something in the pits blew up, almost blinding Cortez. The noise was deafening, even though the Guard was now holding its fire. Men fired, shouted, ran.

And Cortez was leading them.

He reached the first trench. As he did, he scanned right and left in the dim light of the dawning day.

And saw nothing.

He fired at the next trench and raced for it.

This one, he jumped into. There were sandbag coverings to his right and left. He fired at one, heard a scream, and whirled to find something monstrously large and dark charging him. He couldn't make out what it was in the shadowed light of the trench; he just fired at it.

His target screamed in rage … and redoubled its speed. Cortez pulled the trigger down hard and held it. His pistol went to full automatic.

He hit his target; he didn't miss. But the huge shadow kept right on coming at him.

Then, with a roar, it collapsed at his feet, white tusks gleaming in the dark.

''What in the devil's name is that?'' a psalm singer asked.

''That is the biggest porker I ever did see,'' came from the trooper behind him, ''And my daddy raised some prizewinning hams, he did, I tell you.''

''Look out, Colonel!''

Came too late to keep the colonel from being slammed in the butt and knocked forward onto the hog. He went down, only too aware those tusks were millimeters from his unarmored groin. He dodged the dead pig's revenge and rolled into the mud beside it.

His hand with the automatic being the hand supporting him, it got a mud bath.