“Was Lieutenant Robinson in your tank? Jackie Robinson?”

“He was, ma’am. They casevaced him out on the first flight to the aid station. He saved us all, Miss Duffy. Hopped out of the turret with a machine gun. Held off a whole bunch of Germans who were fixing to kill us. Shot most of ’em. Then he ran out of ammo, clubbed a few who got through and tried to climb up, stab him with their bayonets. I guess they’d run out of bullets, too. Or lost their guns. It was confusing, ma’am. I’ve never been so confused in my life.”

“It’s okay, Sergeant. Everyone gets confused in combat, all the time. So is Lieutenant Robinson okay?”

Turley gestured helplessly.

“Don’t rightly know, ma’am. He got hit twice and jumped off the tank. I got a few of the Germans trying to do him in. And then some white boys come through and cut them down. Three of them was from Georgia. I tell you, Miss Duffy, never in my whole life have I been so happy to see three white boys from Georgia with murder their eyes.”

Julia smiled gently. “Do you mind if I quote you on that?”

“No, ma’am. I wish you would.”

Turley looked up over her shoulder, and Julia turned to find Patton standing there.

The general dropped to one knee beside her.

“You going to lie there all night, soldier?” he asked.

“No, sir,” said Turley. “Soon as you get me a new tank, I’m headed that-away.” He nodded in the direction of the advance.

“Good job, son. You get yourself up, go see Captain Mackay over there, and tell him I said to find you a new Sherman. Are you wounded, by the way? Do you need any attention?”

Turley’s head and one arm were heavily bandaged, but he pushed himself up off the ground. “I’m fine, General.”

“Good man. I’m proud of you, son. You did a great job here tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As Turley hobbled away to get himself reassigned, Julia saw Patton wipe a tear from his eye. “Absolutely fucking magnificent,” he muttered, before seeming to realize that Julia was there. “Come on, Miss Duffy. I won’t have my men lying around, and I won’t have my correspondents lying around, either. Let’s get back to the jeeps. There’s a hell of a fight brewing up just along the road.”

The fьhrer had lost his voice, and he’d lost something else, too. Himmler was certain that was why he spoke with such melancholy.

The change had come over him a few hours ago. He’d stormed off in a rage to sleep for a few hours, but returned after only thirty minutes, uncannily subdued. The bunker had come to a halt when he appeared at the doorway. Nobody knew what to say.

The air attack on Patton’s flank had been brushed aside. All the hard work and crippling expense that had gone into the plan had counted for nothing. The best planes in the Luftwaffe were gone, and along with them some of the best pilots.

And now the Americans were on the verge of taking the strategic hub at Oostakker.

Himmler’s stomach rolled over when he saw the fьhrer reappear. This was going to be very unpleasant. The SS chief stood silently as Field Marshal Gunther von Kluge stepped forward. A sickly green tint colored his face.

The records from the future had revealed von Kluge’s disgraceful ineptitude, as he had failed to expose the German plot against Hitler, and Himmler had made use of the information. The field marshal had survived simply because Himmler found it convenient to keep a few of the weaker, more corrupt army officers in his debt. But von Kluge had never fully recovered from his encounter with the SS chief.

Now he stammered his way through a report on the failed air attack, then drew in a deep breath and plunged on.

“After my d-discussion with the commanders in the Belgian sector-those whom I could reach-I…I regret to report that, in the face of the enemy’s complete c-command of the air, and their omniscient gathering of intelligence, there is no possibility that we will find a strategy to counterbalance their overwhelming capabilities…unless we give up the current field of battle.

“De-despite…our most intense efforts, the moment draws near when this front, already so heavily strained, will break. And once the enemy reaches open country, an orderly command will hardly be practicable in view of the insufficient mobility of our troops. As a result of the breakthrough by Patton’s armored spearhead, the whole Western Front has been ripped open.

“I consider it my duty to bring these conclusions to your notice in good time, Mein Fьhrer.” With that, he stepped back, and looked like a man prepared to die.

The room was hushed and still. Nobody dared move. Von Kluge was visibly shaking, and when Hitler finally opened his mouth, the field marshal flinched. But the fьhrer merely rubbed at his eyes and spoke in a cracked whisper. He was more rational, more willing to accept the realities, than Himmler had known him to be in months, possibly years.

“If we lose France,” Hitler croaked, “we forfeit our key launching point in the U-boat war. In addition, we lose all of the material support we gain from the occupation, including millions of tons of food, and the last tungsten we can hope to get. Still, it is evident-and we must place this at the head of all of our considerations-that it has become impossible to fight a pitched battle in France. We just cannot do it. And yet, we cannot allow Patton to drive his sword toward our heart through Belgium, either.

“We can still manage to regroup our forces, but even then only to a limited extent. Perhaps we should evacuate the coast without further ado, and allow our mobile forces to form reinforced lines that we might defend inflexibly.”

His eyes clouded over, and he seemed to go deep into his own mind. When he continued, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “it is also evident that our forces are entirely inadequate to defend even a narrow front. Any further effort in France would be possible only if we could gain superiority in the air, yet we must-no matter how bitter this may be-preserve our new Luftwaffe units inside the Reich, employing them only as a very last resort.

“We have lost the missile facilities. We will lose all of the U-boat bases. Our best armor is gone. When and where the last die will be cast, I cannot say.”

The fьhrer lifted his eyes from the ground and let his gaze fall on everyone who stood around the map table. They flickered with only the barest reflection of the fire that had once burned in them, but at least it was better than the dead man’s gaze Himmler had observed earlier.

Hitler clenched his fists then and said, “Clearly our plan to ambush Patton from the air was betrayed, and this tells me that we have not done enough to root out the traitorous elements exposed by the Emergence. We must do everything we can to hunt these spies down, and levy the most severe punishments.”

Nobody but the fьhrer dared look at Himmler, but he knew everyone in the room was waiting for his response. He had seized the responsibility for safeguarding the Reich and its leadership against fifth columnists like Rommel and Canaris. He had bathed the state in an ocean of blood to wash away their malign influence. But it had not been enough. He would have to do more. He set his features to demonstrate the steely resolve he would bring to the task, but this was undermined by what the fьhrer said next.

“We must involve everyone in Army Group West, conducting this struggle with the utmost fanaticism, and standing firm everywhere. Because mobility, a war of movement, is no longer possible for us. At least in the west. But we have substantial forces securing the border in the east. It is time to review that situation. The Soviets are not yet a threat-they remain greatly weakened by our earlier efforts against them.