The thunder did not bother Private Thomas Milton his first few days on the front, but the little cloud bursts that bite kept coming and they didn't appear to discriminate. If one blindly picked you out of the crowd, then you were done. Pure and simple. The more he thought about the randomness of it all, the more panic began to build up in his head like static. Sooner or later, there was bound to be a discharge.

Milton could have curled into a fetal ball and sobbed. He had seen a soldier do just that. Or he could have leapt from their flimsy fortifications and headed south, an action sure to attract an enemy sniper, or maybe a bullet from his own side.

To distract himself from such humiliating, possibly suicidal actions Milton chipped ice from the parapets and bathed the pieces in borrowed rum. They rattled against his tin, mocking his nerves.

His neighbor, Sid Gianni, would have seemed more at ease except that he managed to sweat in the sub-freezing weather. He eyed the cup with obvious interest. "Why'd you beg that off Capshaw if you just gonna play with it?"

"I bought it off him," Milton lied.

"Still. If it was me, it would'a been gone already."

"So I'm nursing it. Go away."

Gianni was not one to back down when he wanted something. He slid closer. "C'mon Milt. Look at these lips. Look as how they're dry and cracked. That's what'cha call parched. These lips are parched and a little rum's just the thing."

"I'm bleed'n for you, Gianni."

"Tell you what. I'll trade you a lucky for it."

Milton's thin, gaunt face lit up. He was starving for some nicotine. "You got cigarettes? What happened to 'just smoked my last one'"?

"Keep it down," Gianni snapped. "Every sad sack down the line will be on my case." He looked around, then leaned in closer and whispered. "I've got reserves. You hand over the juice, I give you one. That's the deal."

"Let's see 'em first."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll see 'em." Gianni bent over his gear and rummaged around. "Here we are," he said with an odious smile.

"Dago bastard. You got that whole pack and offer me one crummy cigarette. C'mon, you can do better than that."

Gianni held the pack just above Milton's helmet, then darted it in and out of sight. "Going once. Going twice."

Milton slowly set the cup to one side, then made a grab for it, snatching only air.

Gianni laughed.

"Cut it out."

But Gianni continued to taunt. "Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty."

Milton got up on his knees, his eyes fastened to the distinctive red on green target design of the Lucky Strikes package. He grabbed the arm that held it just out of reach and began to climb hand over hand.

"Give it, you son of a bitch." He was digging his thumbs into the wrist when the pack leapt out of Gianni's hand, followed a split second later by the crack of a rifle.

They both went flat. After a minute passed with no additional fire, Gianni reached out with a bayonet and slid the pack close enough to pick up without exposing himself.

"Shit. Look at that." Gianni fit his blackened pinky through the package and wiggled it on the other side. "Plumb center."

"Jesus," Milton said. "He could'a put it in your ear if he'd wanted."

Gianni wiped the icy sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Hey, you're right. That frick'n kraut was just showing off. My last pack too. What a jerk."

"Maybe he thinks you should share." Milton slammed the chilled rum into the back of his throat and shook his head when it burned.

"Yeah? Well, the both of youse can go to hell."

Gianni spat to express his displeasure, but fished a survivor from the pack and held it out, not wanting to push his luck.

BIO: J. R. Salling is an antiquarian bookseller specializing in the history of science and medicine, a fact sometimes reflected in his written work, more often not. His writings have appeared in Pindeldyboz, Flashquake, Eyeshot, Eclectica, Thieves Jargon, Monkey Bicycle, Ten Thousand Monkeys, Word Riot, Mad Hatters' Review, Rose & Thorn, Bewildering Stories, Champagne Shivers, Poor Mojo's Almanac, Southern Gothic Online, Smokebox, Gator Springs Gazette, Opium Magazine, and Slow Trains.