Fulmar sighted along his rifle for what seemed a long time. He lowered it, shaking his head.
“I can’t tell. Might be German. Might be American. I just can’t tell.”
The lieutenant wiped his face. Command decision time.
“You think you can hit him? I mean, with one shot?”
“Piece of cake,” said Fulmar. “I just can’t tell from the helmet whose side he’s on. Once they get dirty it’s hard to tell.”
“You think it will give away our position?”
“You’re asking me, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant stared down the road for a long time before answering.
“No. Take the shot.”