“They’re all kids,” Jake said, his voice breaking for just a second. Then he hardened again. “And we’re the only ones who can stop this. On me. Now.”
The rain had not stopped for eleven days. It fell in a gray, weeping sheet over the Dutch countryside, turning the shattered roads into canals of mud and muck. For Private First Class William "Billy" Rourke of the 101st Airborne, the rain was just another enemy—one without a face, one that rotted your boots, your rations, and your hope. Brothers In Arms- Hell-s Highway
The first Panzer IV emerged from the mist like a beast from a nightmare. Its tracks chewed the mud, and its long-barreled gun swung toward their position. Around Billy, the remnants of Easy Company opened fire. Rifles cracked. A bazooka team let loose a rocket that screamed across the field and struck the tank’s side skirt with a flash of orange. The tank kept coming. “They’re all kids,” Jake said, his voice breaking
Jake finally turned. His face was mud-streaked, exhausted, but his eyes still held that hard, steady light. “Then we make them pay for every inch.” For Private First Class William "Billy" Rourke of
“Fall back to the ditch!” Jake shouted.