He made his way stiffly to a far corner and lay down. Every time he moved, he disturbed the soldiers around him. As the train began to roll, a draft sent a chill through him like a fever, but it was not enough to blow away the smell of men who had just emerged from the mud. Morning came. The sun cut through the slats. He saw two church spires rising into the perfect blue sky. One was closer than the other. At first they appeared stationary: two graceful fingers pointed toward heaven. But as the train continued to move, they began to converge, like the sights on a rifle. Beneath him the rails beat a steady tick-tick, tick-tick. “YOU!” THE VOICE from the lip of the crater had shouted. “Come forward! Now!” Then came the sound of a rifle bolt: tick-tick. Karl did not move. “I surrender,” he whispered in German. A rifle barked. In the flash he saw the eyes of the German soldier. Then he heard the sound of the man’s helmet tumbling down the slope and splashing at the bottom of the pit.
