Caleb had seen little sunlight since sailing from New York City. He peered out the train window as the Scottish countryside passed by under a wintry sky. Although gray, the sky was not as dark as it had been on the Queen Elizabeth as they crossed the Atlantic. The deeper hues of sea and sky had been almost indistinguishable except for the presence of whitecaps, which marked the horizon as the waves moved across the ocean to smash against the ship.

Two of his fellow Rangers were asleep in their seats across the aisle. The ocean voyage had been difficult for both of them. Wachowski, the big Pole from Milwaukee, had spent a good part of the journey leaning over the side rail. Ramirez, the very slight soldier from New Mexico, had fared a little better but had still spent a large part of the trip leaning on his duffel bag with his knees pulled up and his head tucked against his crossed arms.

The time since they disembarked in Greenock had not allowed for sufficient recovery for his friends, who had left most of their food untouched at each mess call. They had not been in Scotland for long when the 2nd Battalion was ordered to board the train to take them to Bude in Cornwall. Now, as the train rushed along the tracks, Caleb wondered what lay ahead of them. The sergeant had said Bude was a small beachside resort town before the war. Caleb was certain they weren’t going there for rest or relaxation.