James hadn't paused to wait for the other man to recover the last time he'd attacked, why would he do so now? It would be a tactically disastrous move. Once you went on the offensive, you kept your momentum going or you lost. The germans had learned that the hard way in Russia. Something deep inside the soldier told him that he couldn't let this man have a moment's respite, couldn't let him gather his energies for a concerted assault. Perhaps it was a remnant of that feeling of dread that still lingered in his chest, or perhaps his senses were telling him something his mind couldn't quite decipher yet, either way, this was not the time to pause for conversation.

He followed the other man yard-for-yard as he darted away, never letting the distance between them grow to more than a few feet. When the other man stopped, James didn't, his left fist hurtling toward the front left side of the other man's ribcage, his forward momentum compounding the force of the blow and giving it more than enough power to break through another defense like the one the man had demonstrated less than a second ago.