later the barrage began falling beyond the crest of the ridge. He looked
at his watch, blinked, and looked again. That barrage was due at 0550;
according to the watch, it was 0726. He was sure that, ten minutes ago,
when he had looked at it, up there at the head of the ravine, it had
been twenty minutes to six. He puzzled about that for a moment, and
decided that he must have caught the stem on something and pulled it
out, and then twisted it a little, setting the watch ahead. Then,
somehow, the stem had gotten pushed back in, starting it at the new
setting. That was a pretty far-fetched explanation, but it was the only
one he could think of.

But about this tank, now. He was positive that he could remember
throwing a grenade.... Yet he'd used his last grenade back there at the
supply dump. He saw his carbine, and picked it up. That silly blackout
he'd had, for a second, there; he must have dropped it. Action was open,
empty magazine on the ground where he'd dropped it. He wondered,
stupidly, if one of his bullets couldn't have gone down the muzzle of
the tank's gun and exploded the shell in the chamber.... Oh, the hell
with it! The tank might have been hit by a premature shot from the
barrage which was raging against the far slope of the ridge. He reset
his watch by guess and looked down the valley. The big attack would be
starting any minute, now, and there would be fleeing Commies coming up
the valley ahead of the UN advance. He'd better get himself placed
before they started coming in on him.

He stopped thinking about the mystery of the blown-up tank, a solution
to which seemed to dance maddeningly just out of his mental reach, and
found himself a place among the rocks to wait. Down the valley he could
hear everything from pistols to mortars going off, and shouting in three
or four racial intonations. After a while, fugitive Communists began