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by William Blome

The girl with the great big bosom in a bright red sweater is desperate to hide from the advancing grenadiers, but she can’t hide in just this early morning fog, it isn’t thick enough. She’s going to need a big sycamore tree to get behind, and then she’ll have to flatten herself against the tree face-forward if she’s to have any chance at all of evading the grenadiers. Her other problem, however, is to have enough luck not to be hit by the sporadic mortar fire that’s falling through the canopy of trees, for mortar fire is a sine qua non for grenadiers before they advance anywhere (save in chow lines or crowded latrines). Assuming there’s one grenadier now advancing on the girl and another grenadier witnessing the first grenadier starting to rape the girl against a sycamore, it’s fair to conjecture: what are the odds that the witnessing grenadier will break cover and confront the advancing grenadier about, say, the differences between lust and love?

William C. Blome served in the First Infantry Division during the war in Vietnam. Now he writes short fiction and poetry. He lives between Baltimore and Washington, DC, and is a graduate of the Johns Hopkins University Writing Seminars.