In the early evening, the column halted before a small town whose church stood stolidly against the dusk, untouched by shellfire or bombs. The place was still populated, most of its buildings having escaped the ruin seen during the long march south. Above the road, a few late-grazing cattle stood in a sloping meadow, watching the soldiers with docile interest. Jake stared back at the cows, mistrusting the peacefulness, yet he could hear nothing louder than the tired groans of men and horses and a whispering rush of hidden water. A flurry of shouted orders got them off the road
A Day of Rest
