in the undergrowth; less frequently the gashed sides of a house stared forlornly with its gaping windows. A city had once flourished here. But the lieutenant's only interest in it was to see that the squirrels, rabbits and birds, those Geiger counters of the soldier flourished through it with the ease of familiarity. It was not radio-active then. Nevertheless the rubble made the walking hard. And they clung to the outskirts, choosing rather an old battlefield than the tomb of the civilians. Pounded into the earth by rain of a dozen years lay an ancient tank, its gun silently covering the clouds which scurried south.

The men were not in any recognizable formation of march, but there was a plan of sorts despite the appearance of straggling. Loosely they formed a circle two hundred yards in diameter, a formation which would allow both a swift withdrawal into a compact defense unit from any angle of attack and would permit a swift enveloping of any obstacle met, the foremost point merely opening out and closing around. But the movements of the men themselves were quite independent of the organization, for they marched as the pilot of an ailing plane had once flown—not from field to field, but from cover to cover. All open spaces were either traversed at top speed, completely skirted, or else crawled through. The equidistant posts were very flexible of position according to the greatest danger of the terrain; these, too, were loose circles save for the rear guard, which was a long line, the better to pick up any willful stragglers or extricate any which had been trapped in the pits with which all this land abounded—pits which had the appearance of solid ground, built to impede troops and used now by peasants who found a need for clothing and equipment.

The one officer, if such he could be called, who had latitude of movement for his small group was Bulger. Bayonet thrust naked and ready in his belt, helmet pulled threateningly over one eye, filthy overcoat flapping against his heels, he roved purposefully and thoroughly, rumbling from flank to flank and beyond, appearing magically inside and outside the circle of march. He would overrun the vanguard, inspect the ground ahead and then go rambling off with two or three scarecrows at his heels to poke into some suspicioned rise of ground and, sometimes, send a runner back to change the whole route of march to roll over the place and pick up cached supplies. After a good day Bulger would begin the evening meal by pulling birds, onions, old cans of beef from an unheard-of time, moldy loaves and wild potatoes from that overcoat which seemed to have the capacity of a full transport; for while the main 

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