Saunders shifted on the bench and stared out the open back of the moving truck.

He'd taken one of the outside positions, and while he'd brushed off the squad's jokes about how he always felt a need to keep his eyes open for danger, he had admit at least some of what they said was true. He'd been alert for so long, ever since the start of the war, that it was sometimes impossible to relax.

So far, all he'd seen was the dust churned up by the truck wheels and the convoy stretching out behind them in what seemed like an endless stream. Occasionally, a patch of forest, a small lake, or a run-down farm would flash past, but nothing else broke up the monotony of the long ride.

He turned away from the endlessly brown road to the interior of the truck. Doc, Billy, and Littlejohn sat across from him. Caje was right beside him, and Kirby slouched nearest to the cab.

They all looked bored and a little tired. Not the dragging exhaustion after a long, hard patrol, but weariness brought on by the hum of the engine, the constant jolting, and the need for nothing more than sitting. He felt it himself, but they were coming to the end of the line now.

Just a little longer. Then, Paris.

:::

Kirby rubbed the back of his neck and shot a glance at the rest of the squad. Doc gave him a sleepy half-smile. Littlejohn was snoring. Billy fiddled with his chinstraps. They all looked so content, just sitting there as the truck bounced through every pothole between here and Paris.

Not him, not by a long shot.

He'd complained before about having to walk everywhere, but right now he was just about ready to jump out and take his chances on the road. Dusty or not. He'd been sitting on this hard wooden bench for over four hours now and he ached all over. Their driver was a real treat, too. Was he trying to put them all out of commission before they made Paris? Because that's what it felt like.

Just then, the vehicle crunched through another rough, pitted patch of gravel. Kirby braced his legs against the truck floor and slapped a hand on his helmet to keep it from falling off as the road leveled out again.

"Best military transportation in the world..." he muttered sarcastically. That was what Caje'd said when he'd tried to enlighten them about this old rattletrap. Kirby snorted inwardly. As far as he was concerned, the Krauts could have it and good riddance.

:::

Paris. Soon they would be in Paris.

Even before D-day, Caje had noticed that nearly every soldier talked about getting there someday, to Paris. It was something to look forward to during endless patrols and cramped billets, something to talk about among friends, something to plan and put some pay aside for each month.

How many times had he brushed off Kirby's talk of Paris? Too many to count, but they were almost there now.

Because he was Cajun and spoke French, everyone thought he knew all there was to know about France and Paris, but he didn't. He'd never been here in his life, and before the war he'd had no thought to ever travelling anywhere outside the States. And now here he was.

Through the dust churned up by the truck wheels, Caje could see green grass and trees on the side of the road. Outside, the countryside looked the same as every other piece of France he and the others had fought through, but it was different too, because of where the road led.

Paris.

:::

At the moment, all Doc wanted to do was get a little sleep.

While the other guys had mostly come in fresh from a couple days behind the lines, he'd been ordered to help with a bunch of wounded men that'd been pouring in as they got closer to Paris.

The Germans might not have wanted them in the city, but here they were. Almost, anyway.

Six, maybe seven hours of relative peace and quiet on the road and for the life of him, Doc couldn't get his eyes to close for more than a few moments.

Maybe it was the constant jolting, maybe it was that there didn't seem to be any way to get really comfortable, maybe it was Kirby glowering away directly opposite...whatever the reason, the uselessness of his attempts to get some sleep were frustrating.

"Hey, Sarge, how far away are we from Paris now?"

Doc grinned. Kirby sounded exactly like him and his brother John when they were on long car rides to visit relatives. Always driving their mom crazy asking how much longer the trip'd take.

"Pretty soon, Kirby." Saunders looked like he was hiding a smile too as he turned and looked out the back of the truck. "Pretty soon."

:::

Billy fidgeted.

He hadn't sat still this long since he'd been on one of those ships, waiting to storm Utah beach.

Littlejohn had dropped off to sleep almost as soon as they'd all piled into the truck. Billy wondered how he did it. Sure, the trip was a bit boring, but just the thought of their destination kept him wide-awake.

Paris!

How could anyone even think of sleeping at a time like this?

He craned his neck to see something, anything out the half-open back of the truck, but squeezed between Doc and Littlejohn, he could only catch an occasional glimpse of some grass or the vehicle behind theirs.

Billy sighed and leaned back against the rough side of the truck. Since he couldn't see anything, his mind gradually went from outward to inward, mostly thoughts about what he'd do when they all finally got to Paris. He still wasn't quite sure, but that didn't really matter, because whatever happened was sure to be memorable. He couldn't wait to tell Mom and Dad and Davie and, especially, Evelyn, about the first time he saw Paris.

:::

Just as he was about to drift off, the sound of a muffled, far-off explosion jolted Saunders awake. Then another.

With barely a change in heartbeat, he was wide awake. An instant later, their driver slammed down on the truck's bakes and Saunders had to grab a chunk of the canvas stretched over the ribs of the vehicle. Littlejohn, who'd been asleep, wasn't as quick, and it took both Billy and Doc to keep him from falling out the back.

Saunders jumped down from the truck. Besides an entire stopped convoy and dozens of men trickling out of the stalled vehicles, he didn't see anything unusual up or down the road. He walked up to the driver's cab.

"What's going on?"

The driver shrugged, chewing his gum with loud smacks. "No idea, buddy. The trucks in front stop, I stop. Simple as that."

Saunders was just about to give the driver a piece of his mind and then head up the line himself when Hanley pulled up in his jeep. He'd come from nearer the front of the convoy.

"What's the problem, lieutenant?"

Hanley leaned his arms against the jeep's steering wheel and pushed his helmet back. "A couple of the trucks at the front of the line got caught in some land mines."

"Any casualties?"

Hanley nodded. "A couple. The Krauts probably planted those mines before evacuating, as some sort of a last-ditch effort."

By this time, everyone else had piled out of the back and grouped around Saunders and Hanley.

"How far are we from Paris, lieutenant?" Caje asked.

"Ten, maybe twelve miles. But Battalion wants the convoy to hold off until they can send up some engineers to check for more mines. There's a town about two miles from here. You and the rest of the company will wait there.

Saunders nodded. He didn't care what the arrangements were, as long as he had a chance to stretch his legs and maybe snatch a couple hours of sleep on something that wasn't moving. Doc and Littlejohn looked like they felt the same. Kirby stood off to one side, rubbing his leg with an expression that was halfway between a scowl and a grimace. Billy looked disappointed at the news, Caje's face was unreadable, the way it often was.

"I have to go pass the word along," Hanley said, gesturing behind him, toward the back of the convoy, "and then report back to Captain Jampel."

"Okay, lieutenant."

Hanley smiled. "See you in Paris, sergeant."