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UNIT6 The Pasture Night settled, thick with the acrid odors of gunpowder and blood. No moon meant firing at muzzle flashes, an inexact method by which to combat ones foe, but the enemy had no advantage either. With artillery fire blanketing the field of battle, Jack had no opportunity to go to Mikes aid. He poked his head over the rim of the trench to see if he could spot Mikes corpse. He knew he was dead. He had heard his scream of pain when he was hit. His agonized moans had grown weaker and less frequent and finally ceased about ten minutes ago. The regiment had been under heavy bombardment for two days, without respite. He had been too late to stop Mike as he propelled himself out of the foxhole and staggered as he hit the muddy terrain. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Mike had | 
