The group of OneWorld reporters made their way down through the people on the stream bank. A woman led the way, and for a moment Goose experienced a flash of recognition, but he lost the woman in the crowd. For a second there, he thought he knew her.

Then he spotted Private Braydon Childers, one of the newest recruits to the 75th. Braydon was tall and fit but wore thick army-issue glasses. Stubble showed along his jaw. His uniform was soaking wet.

Goose moved through the crowd. Rangers that saw him looked guilty and turned away, but Goose also noted that they were men who were on break, relieved of digging fighting holes and setting up booby traps.

The only dereliction of duty going on was Baker's water supply team.

"Private Childers," Goose said.

"Yes, First Sergeant." Childers turned in a smooth quarter turn. "Why isn't that water supply truck moving?" Goose kept his voice level and conversational.

"We were pumping water from the stream, First Sergeant, just like we were ordered. There were already people here. People from the U.N. task forces and from the Turkish army. A few of the nomads. All of them were doing the same thing, First Sergeant."

"Getting water?"

"Yes."

"But that stopped."

"Yes, sir. One of the men of our water detail was talking about Corporal Dockery."

An image of the impaled Ranger filled Goose's mind. From what he understood, Dockery was still alive, though the medical team working him didn't know what was keeping him alive.

"They say Dockery saw Bill Townsend disappear, First Sergeant,"

Childers went on. He looked at Goose. "I was told you were there. Maybe you saw the angel, too."

The electricity skated across the back of Goose's neck again. "What angel?"

"The angel that came and took Bill Townsend away." Childers blinked behind the thick glasses.

Goose shook his head. "I didn't see an angel, Private."

"I was told Dockery saw one. He said the angel came down and touched Bill Townsend on the shoulder and told him it was time to go." Childers searched Goose's face. "Did you see that, First Sergeant?"

Goose hesitated briefly. "No. No, Private Childers, I didn't see that."

A crestfallen look dawned on Childers's face.

"I didn't see Bill Townsend disappear," Goose said. "I turned from him, then turned right back. He was gone that quick."

Childers smiled. "That's when the angel took him, First Sergeant. That's what Dockery is saying." He looked back at the crowd that had formed down at the stream. "One of the guys talked about that. He said that the angels had come and taken the good men-"

"There are a lot of good men left behind here, Private," Goose pointed out.

"Yes, Sergeant. I know that. But what I mean is that the angels came for the believers. Men like Bill Townsend and Conley Macgregor and Stan Thompson. We got to talking among ourselves, and we all kept coming up with the same kind of men. Those that disappeared, First Sergeant, were all men who were in church every Sunday, men who prayed before meals, men who spent time trying to talk to the rest of us and explain about God. They were men who believed absolutely in the Savior."

"Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; Because Thy promise I believe, 0 Lamb of God, I come, I come."

"But we didn't listen, First Sergeant," Childers continued. "We didn't believe enough. Most of us, we're good men, just like you say. But we weren't those guys. John Taylor, he spoke up about then and said he'd never been baptized. That's when Jim Yancy said that Corporal Baker had been an ordained minister back in Ohio."

Goose knew that was the case. Bill Townsend had told him the story of how Baker had been a young minister until his wife had died in childbirth. He had left home after her funeral, worked at odd jobs to support himself before he'd enlisted in the Army at twenty-nine.

"John asked Corporal Baker to baptize him," Childers said. "He said he wanted to be saved in Christ before he ended up dead out here."

Goose looked out at Baker as he dunked yet another man. The corporal seemed tireless, like a man possessed. And maybe, Goose admitted, Baker was. The energy surrounding the stream was a strong current, a powerful force that wouldn't be denied. He could feel it.

"At first," Childers said, "the corporal said he couldn't do it anymore. Said he couldn't believe. John Taylor, he asked how could Baker not believe when Dockery had seen an angel, when so many people had disappeared just like is described in the Bible. Gone in a twinkling, that's what Bill used to witness to me."

"Just as I am, Thy love unknown Hath broken every barrier down; Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, 0 Lamb of God, I come, I come."

"John Taylor," Childers said, "he started losing it. He was afraid." The private's voice broke. "I guess we all were by that time, though I'm ashamed to admit it."

"Fear's nothing to be ashamed of, private," Goose said. "Every man in this op is afraid. I'm afraid."

Childers blinked at him. "You?"

"Yeah. There's something Patton used to say about fear. He said, 'Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.' That's what we're doing out here. Holding on a minute longer."

"Baker finally gave in, First Sergeant," Childers said. "With John Taylor asking him, with me asking him, and the others that hadn't been baptized, Baker couldn't turn away. So he baptized us. And once he started, once all those other soldiers figured out what was going on, they came forward, too. You can't blame Baker. We got it started and he just hasn't had the heart to turn them away." He paused. "Truth to tell, First Sergeant, I think Corporal Baker has found him something out in those waters that maybe he never really lost."

Baker lowered another man into the water and brought him up. As soon as the man was steady, the corporal reached for another and began speaking.

"I still need that water supply truck running, Private," Goose said. "All your crew has been baptized?"

"Yes, First Sergeant."

"Get them together. You're in charge. Get that truck moving again. I'll tell Corporal Baker he's relieved of the water detail and he can continue here."

"I will, First Sergeant." Childers made his way through the crowd and started calling his squad to him.

Goose walked down the hill and stepped into the stream. The water was warm and moved sluggishly, rising to wrap around his thighs. He crossed to Baker, feeling his boots slip on the mud.

Baker paused in his baptism. Water droplets spotted his flushed face. "First Sergeant," the big man greeted him. He looked nervous, but he also looked like a man who wasn't going to be deterred from his appointed task.

Goose was aware of the stares of the other men around them. Fear hollowed all their eyes.

"Carry on, Corporal. I just wanted you to know that you'd been relieved of the water detail."

"I was going to get back to that as soon as I could," Baker apologized. He turned his face toward the stream banks. "But they just kept coming."

"I can see that. I'm going to see if I can find a chaplain or two who can help you. Big as you are, you're not going to be able to carry this load by yourself."

Baker beamed. "It's not just me, Sergeant. God is here with me. I've felt His touch. I knew I couldn't walk away from this and leave it undone."

"Corporal!" Four men carrying a bloodstained gurney charged through the stream, splashing water in all directions. They were part of the U.N. forces. "We need you now! I don't know if Hakim is gonna make it! He wanted you to baptize him!"

Baker stepped toward the gurney.

The man on the gurney was young. His black skin looked ashen. Perspiration gleamed against his shaved scalp, and his head lolled to one side. Bloody bandages covered his midsection and his thighs. His eyes held a glazed appearance, and Goose didn't think the young soldier was going to make it either.

"Son." Baker put his hand on the young soldier's forehead. "Can you hear me, Son?"

"Yes." The young soldier's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I hear." He focused his eyes on Baker. "I want-I want God." His breath rattled in the back of his throat. Tremors shuddered through his body and his eyes rolled up into his head.

Baker pinched the young soldier's nose closed and covered his mouth with a big hand. "I baptize Hakim in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." He nodded. "Put him into the water."

The men holding the gurney lowered the wounded man into the stream, immersing him entirely. Blood floated up from his wounds and formed clouds in the brown water, clearly seen because of the bright sun.

"Bring him up," Baker said.

The men pulled the young soldier back up. For a moment, Goose thought the man was dead.

Baker took his hand back.

"Thank you," the young soldier said. Then a final long breath released from his lungs and the tremors that had coursed through his body ceased. He relaxed in death.

"He held on," one of the soldiers who had carried the gurney whispered hoarsely. "He knew he was dying, but he hung on till we could get him here. He insisted on coming when he heard what you were doing."

Tenderly, Baker shut the young soldier's eyes. "It's done. He's with God now."

"Thank you, preacher," one of the men bearing the gurney said. Together, the four men turned and trudged away with the body of their dead friend.

Tears glittered as they spilled down Corporal Baker's broad face. He swiveled to look at Goose. "I've got to do this, Sergeant. I didn't mean to desert my post. After all these years, God has put His work back in my life."

"I don't think He ever took it away," Goose said softly. "I think He just made you see again." He nodded toward the waiting lines that met in the heart of the stream. "Get back to work, Corporal. I'll see that you get some relief."

Baker shook his head. "I'll welcome the help, First Sergeant, but I won't leave this post. God is making me strong. I'll endure."

"I think you will," Goose said. "As you were, Corporal."

"God keep you, Sergeant, " Baker said. Then he reached for the next man in line.

Goose made his way back to the stream bank. Even as he stepped up onto dry land, the woman reporter thrust a microphone into his face. She was young and beautiful in khakis despite the oppressive heat and the dust that constantly carried through the wind.

"First Sergeant Gander," she said.

Looking at her, Goose recognized her from that morning in Glitter City. It seemed like that had been years ago instead of hours.

"Miss Vinchenzo," Goose greeted, though he never broke stride.

"You remember me?" The fact seemed to surprise her and catch her momentarily off guard.

"Yes, ma'am," Goose answered. "I hope you'll excuse me. I've got a job to do." He kept moving up the hill, feeling the sharp ache in his knee as he ascended the grade.

"I'd like to interview you," she said.

"Yes, ma'am. Just not right now. I'll have to clear it with my captain."

"That would be Cal Remington?" Danielle Vinchenzo matched him stride for stride as he marched uphill.

"Yes, ma'am." Goose kept his answers short and clipped. It was a habit. Talk too much and the media could do almost anything they wanted with what was said. He'd been in front of microphones and cameras a lot. Cal Remington loved media attention, and his men sometimes got caught in the glow of the camera, too.

"Do you have anything to say about what is going on here?" Danielle asked.

"No, ma'am." Goose waved to Tommy Bono, who legged it over to the Hummer and climbed in behind the wheel.

Behind Danielle, a cameraman loped along with a camcorder on his shoulder. The man struggled to keep the camera trained on Goose and the woman.

"Baptism isn't exactly standard operating procedure for the army, is it, Sergeant Gander?" Danielle asked.

"No, ma'am." Goose could see that the young woman was getting frustrated with the interview. He also guessed that the transmission was going out live.

Earlier, Remington had warned that many of the reporters had satellite access again and were broadcasting live interviews with the Turkish army, the U.N. task force, and Rangers. Up till now, Goose had kept himself insulated within the closed perimeter of battlefield ops while the reporters had been kept outside the gates.

"A number of people might see this sudden desire to get baptized as an act of desperation," Danielle said.

Goose turned and stood his ground so suddenly that the young woman had to back away to keep from colliding with him. He kept a neutral expression on his face. "Is that what you think, Miss Vinchenzo?"

She froze, not knowing what to say.

"Because if that's what you think," Goose went on, "if you think that those soldiers out there aren't going to hold the line when the time comes ... well, ma'am, I sure wouldn't be standing where you're standing when the train comes through."

All around them, the men who had been privy to the conversation suddenly erupted in an explosion of applause and shouts of encouragement.

"Hoo-rah! "

"That's telling her, Sarge!"

The cameraman behind the young reporter swung around to capture the reactions.

Instead of being angry as Goose had expected, Danielle nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. She switched the microphone off. "Very good, Sergeant Gander. I'm not giving up on getting your story, though. Another time?"

Goose swung himself aboard the Hummer and made his injured knee as comfortable as he could. "At my invitation, ma'am, it would be my pleasure." He touched his helmet respectfully, then waved Tommy into motion.

As they wheeled around, Goose looked at Baker standing in water up to his waist in the middle of the stream, the two lines of men leading up either hillside. At the moment, Goose wasn't worried about the men or even the Syrians. He had no idea what Cal Remington was going to do when he learned that one of his corporals was baptizing men while being covered by international news networks. Or that his first sergeant, the man who knew what he wanted done, was responsible for leaving the corporal in place.

The strains of the invocation somehow remained clear even over the roar of the Hummer's engine, ringing in Goose's ears.

"Just as I am, of that free love, The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove, Here for a season, then above, 0 Lamb of God, I come, I come!"

United States of America Fort Benning, Georgia Local Time 8:37 A.M.

Voices woke Joey. He tried to retreat from them and drop back into slumber, where he didn't have to face all the pain that awaited him, but he didn't have any luck. The voices kept intruding because they were voices he didn't expect in his house.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position in Chris's bed. Even after all these years and the nights he'd spent "camping out" with Chris under a sheet while they fought off bears and pirates, he still forgot about the bunk bed above and slammed his forehead into the stout frame. Yelping in pain, Joey rubbed his forehead and ducked under the overhead bed. In a way, that pain felt good. At least there was an understandable reason for that feeling. The pain he'd felt when he woke up was caused by stuff too weird to ever explain. And he knew that the pain in his head would fade in minutes. He didn't think the other would ever go away.

Despite knowing that he wasn't going to find Chris there, Joey still looked through both beds. His heart felt cold and leaden inside his chest. Before he could stop himself, he was crying. His fists knotted in the sheets and he wanted to rip them from the bed.