Ficly

Three's company, but four...

In a crouch I race to the next foxhole. As I slow I hear the challenge “apple”.

“Cobbler”, I whispered back.

“Come on in.”

I slid into the foxhole with Rosenberg and Stimson. “We’ve got company coming. Maybe two, three minutes out.

“Geez, ain’t they had enough for one night” said Stimson.

“Which way are they coming,” asked Rosenberg

“A couple of dozen moving in from the north…”

“Shit!” Whispered Stimson, “Movement south!” He flung himself against the wall of foxhole and pointed his BAR into the darkness.

“We’re fucking surrounded” spat Rosenberg.

“Thank you for that news flash, Walter Winchell.”

“Shut your mouths and keep your eyes open, both of you,” I said.

Looking to the south I saw a lone silhouette in the darkness approaching stealthily. Stimson aimed his BAR and spoke the challenge, “Apple”.

“Cobbler” came back the reply. The figure approached and became First Sergeant Stanislaw. “You’ve got company coming right behind me”

“Friendlies?”

“Not unless you ordered some Chinese take out.”

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