A handful of soldiers made their way back past him. He craned his neck to see where the rest were. The untidy hummocks of khaki littering the broken g...ound told their own story. There weren't any others. Over half of the troops that had climbed from the trench scant minutes before were either dead or wounded like him. Rough hands seized his shoulders and he felt himself lifted onto a broad back. He was still in that strange dreamy state. He hardly felt the jolting as Geordie Watts carried him. It was unlike her to hesitate or skirt a subject, so her reticence, at least to his finely tuned senses, was clear."So what is it Barb?" he asked during a lull in the conversation."Huh?" said Barbara, with a 'caught' look passing briefly over her face."What is it you want to talk about, but don't know how to start?" he asked teasingly."Oh you think you know me, do you? I'll have you know I am a woman of mystery." Uh huh." Men can never truly know what a woman is thinking." You're right about. More

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