"No, Sir." The driver craned his neck. There was nothing but barren rubble and bomb craters and torn, twisted metal and ruined buildings. "There are all sorts of old automobiles lying around out there, Sir," the driver volunteered. "Yes, and they've been here long enough to get good and rusty," the Captain snapped. "This is something else." The driver craned his neck. There was nothing but rubble. Eight men in the back of the half-track leaped to their feet when they heard the faint clicking of KCN-H2SO4 guns and the buzz of an old gamma gun and the sharp bark of a very old sub machine-gun. But a grenade landed on the truck and another rolled under it. Another wreck was added to the rubble. "Take their weapons, if there are any left," said a quiet voice. * * * * * And in the more peaceful city of Louisville, Jay Welch was introduced to Kevin Ilaria's best friend, his adjutant at Standiford Field. Jay took a liking to Sub-Tribune Jason Rinaldi the moment he felt the fellow's firm grip. "Jason is adjutant," Ilaria explained. "And one of the few 'field soldiers' who manages to get along with Caesar's Pretorian Prefect, Lamberti. How he does it, I don't know. Lamberti's absolutely unbearable." "Prejudice. Middle-class prejudices," Rinaldi grinned. He was short and very dark with a lot of black hair. Ilaria's left cheek cracked into a long dimple as he smiled. "He picks on me because I'm a serious psychologist." Rinaldi laughed. "As a psychologist, Kevin, you're an excellent bridge player. As a soldier--" "Just remember who's got three bars and who has two." Rinaldi waved his hand and shrugged. "They pass 'em out to psych boys wholesale," he said, and ducked Ilaria's swing. "Slow reflexes, too," he added as he turned to go. Ilaria stopped him at the door and murmured a few sentences. Jay caught something about sabotage at Standiford. Rinaldi seemed to be attributing it to the Commanding Officer there. "Nice guy," Jay said as the door closed behind Rinaldi. "You said it. Good officer, too. He'll root out the bird who's playing around out there. Can't figure out why it's being done." "Factions," Jay said, "--within factions." "Little ones always exist, I guess. Have you finished with the history films?" "I've seen them, yes. I'm still trying to digest them." "The language give you much trouble?" "Quite a bit, but I think I got most of it. "One man," Jay went on wonderingly. "One man. A Captain in the Italian Army. "The Communist forces in Indo-China had been driven back and Captain--then Major--Lollabrigida went in after them. "The defeat was becoming so terrible that the Kremlin dealt itself a playing hand rather than the dummy it had been playing. Red forces came piling in. Lollabrigida and his Italian troops stopped them cold. Then he seemed to sway. And, when the Commies pounced for the kill, they were trapped, pocketed, and annihilated.