Bobby felt his heart pounding in his throat and his pulse roaring in his ears. The jump had his adrenaline flowing and his hands and arms were shaking. He barely heard the Sarge issuing the orders through the pounding pulse in his ears. He moved when the rest of the stick started moving, humping it across an open field towards the farm with the Pig clutched tightly in his arms. Training dictated that moving across open space like this made them prime artillery targets. But the Bear didn't have the same type of artillery capability as the Reds. They couldn't lollygag, but the chances of a shell coming down on their heads was slim.

A few minutes later they were at the collection of farm houses. Bobby got down on one knee, setting the Pig up near the perimeter of the shacks. He and Dixon would provide cover while the rest of the squad did a shanty by shanty search of the dwellings. Dixon passed him an ammo belt that he fed into the Pig and loaded it into place.

"Ready to rock and roll," he said to the squad. "Bobby D. has got your backs."