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he’d kicked. He plunged the knife into the kraut and spun to look at the other two.
    One was being ripped apart by Jordan’s MG fire. The German’s body spun, while still upright, dead on his feet, the power of the weapon that was shooting him, and the bullets impacting him, stopping him from falling. The other German stood watching it, his back to Kent. Kent seized the opportunity and casually walked to the German as the other fell down, dead.
    Kent reached his arm around the German’s neck and slid the knife into his lower back. He didn’t die instantly. He kicked and croaked for a few moments. Once blood started to run from his mouth, he didn’t last much longer.
    Kent let the dead body drop to the floor. He turned to the artillery. It wasn’t there. There was a long tree trunk leaning on concrete, the end pointed out of the slit window at the front of the bunker, facing out to sea.
    Jordan came running into the bunker via the entrance at the rear. “That was amazing, Sarge. Now all we have to do is … blow … the …”
    “It’s not fucking here.” Kent bit his lower lip and wiped the blood off the knife with two pinched fingers. “You can bet none of them fucking are. They must have moved them. They set tree trunks in their place to fool our aerial recon.”
    “So what does this mean? All this was for nothing? We failed our mission?”
    “What is our mission?”
    “To land on the beach, to scale the cliffs, and to blow the damn artillery.”
    “Our mission is to win the war. So no, all of this wasn’t for nothing.”
    A massive explosion sounded outside the bunker. Kent and Jordan looked to each other then ran back outside. Smoke assaulted them there; dust was hanging in the air. They couldn't see more than a foot in front of them.
    Kent tried to wave some away. Jordan was coughing as he said, “What the hell was that? I can’t see shit.”
    “I have no idea, it didn’t sound like it came from our ships.” Kent pressed forward, still waving his hand, trying to clear a path.
    Clunk. His foot had hit something.
    He looked down to the ground. “I think this is what hit.”
    Jordan joined him. “What is it? A shell that hasn’t gone off?”
    “It doesn’t look like any shell I’ve ever seen.” Kent knelt down. The shiny metal-looking object was ploughed into the dirt. “I think we’re only seeing the top. It looks like the rest is dug into the earth.” Kent reached his hand out to touch it.
    Jordan grabbed it and stopped him. “Be careful.”
    Kent just shook his hand free and continued. He quickly touched it with the tips of his fingers. He snapped them away even quicker. “Son of a bitch!”
    “What’s wrong, is it hot?”
    “No, it’s cold. Freezing.”
    “I don’t like this, what if it’s a Nazi weapon. It could have given you a disease or something. You might be infected.”
    “I don’t think it’s German.”
    “It isn’t one of ours. We don’t have anything like that thing. What’s it even made of?”
    “I don’t think it’s one of ours either.”
    “If it isn’t the Germans, if it isn’t ours, whose the hell is it, the Brits?”
    “Nope. Not the Brits.”
    “It’s got to be somebody’s.”
    “I think it might be.”
    “Whose then?”
    “I don’t think it’s anybody’s whose fighting in this war.”
    “You’re starting to scare me.”
    “You know those magazines you read?”
    “The ones you tell me I read too many of?”
    “Yeah, those.”
    “Oh shit, you’re not thinking …”
    “I’m thinking that it doesn’t belong to any human army.”
    JUNE
    I pulled the covers over my pillows. I’d arranged them so they resembled the shape of my body the best I could. It didn’t look too convincing with the light on, but once I’d turned it off, if my dad did choose to have a quick look through my bedroom door, I was hoping they would be a good enough disguise to convince him I was still in bed.
    I went to my old and rickety chest of drawers and