His army knife left the steel throat with a screeching sound. Green and thick oil was still stuck to the knife when it hit the ground. He left it laying there.

He didn't need it anymore. He needed to hurry

The right joint bolt holding the thigh had lost its footing in the fight. Wartime got him paid, usually, but this time it seemed to cost him a lot more than he would gain. Pain, or other feelings of that kind, wasn't for him to have. Limping he struggled on down the hill and just as he rounded a few trees he sighted a tank.

He didn't need this. He needed to hurry.