Zinc fired and a fellow sagged to his knee, another dropped his rifle on the balcony floor, another began dragging a wounded comrade, both crawling on hands and knees: the wounded man seemed to be shouting: his dentures popped from his mouth, bounced and smashed in the street. Landel killed the remaining pair. A GI appeared, wig-wagging, a walkie-talkie in his big, hairy arms, his helmet cockeyed. Reporting into his w-t he paced the Lee; as it swung onto a main street, the motor responded sluggishly, as if running out of gas, and Dennison worked the choke. As he glanced through the periscope he noticed the GI walking on the sidewalk, swinging one arm, talking as he walked. A shell exploded: the GI, his w-t, bones and flesh splattered across the walk. Another 77 blew up the paving in front of the Lee: a roof collapsed, mixing steel and concrete. Dennison reversed. Following the main street, deserted shops and stores on both sides, he saw something drop from a second floor--a mattress. It fell across the tank’s prow, swayed, fell again. Dennison rammed an empty swastika jeep. From second floors machine guns raked a GI patrol, wiping it out, the men dying in the gutters. Telephone wires whipped around a lamppost. It was no longer raining. Landel began directing Zinc: their guns accounted for several SS outside a drugstore. Waiting for smoke to clear, Dennison moved along the street where machine gunners were mounting their gun in a building named Zorn: ZORN was carved on the façade in tall letters: under shellfire, Zorn crumbled as they passed. For Dennison, the grief of other attacks was returning, muddled, violent, hobnailing his brain. This is our last attack, he told himself: gasoline low: stop: not any more: not any more: Gex is a ruin: we’ll be able to rest ... rest ... a little rest ... Mouth open, he longed for a cool drink, remembering the apple cores floating on the floor of 9. Who was that walking along the street? Jeannette, get off the street! Jean ... what are you doing here? Can’t you hear me? Oh, Christ, my head! He bent forward and wet his lips with his tongue. Before he could stop the tank it plowed into a wall and stopped with a great shock. Landel screamed. Zinc fell. Landel grabbed hold of Dennison and beat him with his fists, the pain in his wound galloping through his body. He sobbed and babbled; Zinc had to yank him off, and restrain him. "What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?" Landel shouted. Dennison could not figure out what had happened: he could not understand why the Lee was out of action: he asked Zinc if they had been hit. In spite of his deafness, he heard Landel ask: "Why did you ram the wall?" "Do what?" "Why did you hit the wall?" Dennison waited for several seconds. "I don’t know what happened." "You rammed into this wall--you fool!" "I went blank." "Let ’im alone!" Zinc shouted. "Shut up!" Landel yelled. "I went blank .... that’s all," Dennison repeated.