Since she had no plans for Halloween night, she had stayed late to wash and dry a couple more loads from earlier in the week before the motherlode hit...on Monday. Now she began to feel the chill of late October on her bare arms and legs. Getting to wear the costumes at work was one of the best parts of the job. Her outfit for the day was a low-cut peasant blouse with a short green skirt and a brocade bodice that laced up the front. It gave her B-cup breasts more noticeable cleavage, and showed. Three others had been killed and several had been wounded. She wondered when it was going to be her turn.The Gun Sergeant was still with them. He'd recovered from his bout of concussion and had sought out his old crew. Regretfully, he told them, the young lad, de Castries son, hadn't made it. He'd died that evening. Father and son together, this was a filthy war, Benin thought.She wondered every night about John Greenhaugh. Had he been shot down? Or maybe waiting to be evacuated with the other. More

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