Kitt kept running, crashing through the undergrowth... machingun fire sounded, bullets tracing lines of death through the leaves and mud... one caught him in the leg, falling with a shout he clutched the wound, even as the sound of running soldiers neared... Dragging himself to a tree he leant against the trunk, eyes screwed up in pain... An american soldier stood over him, weapon aimed to his forehead, he seemed curious, looking from the helmet to uniform insignia....
"dont shoot! please... dont shoot!"
Kitt cried out, abject terror across his face, silently thanking his grandfather a hundred times for teaching him what english he knew... The soldier shouted somthing back, pointing his gun straight at Kitt... even as an officer approached along with several more american soldiers.... Kitt saw this through a haze of pain, clutching his leg crimson blood soaked his uniform... his helmet falling into the dark, churned up earth... the blue stripe and white slovakian symbol streaked with mud....