rage.
‘Take the lead,’ he orders wickedly. ‘As former officers you’re used to it. Now watch yourselves. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger, boys.’
‘What’d we ever do to you?’protests one of them weakly.;
‘Just
try
to do somethin’,’ roars Krüger, in a rage.
Long after they are out of sight we can hear his blustering voice.
Tiny has taken a trip into the cactus and returns with three Bulgarian gaiters and a Russian
kalashnikov
.
‘Where’d you find that lot?’asks the Old Man, wonderingly.
‘Won it playin’bingo,’ grins Tiny, throwing himself down on his stomach. He keeps on laughing, seemingly unable to stop himself. He seems to feel that he has been amazingly witty.
They light a fire. The wood is completely dried out so that there is no betraying smoke.
Porta wants to brew up coffee, but it is only after a long drawn-out argument that the Old Man gives him permission to use any of the precious water. The coffee smells wonderful. We sit listening to the noise of the crickets and the distant voice of the war.
‘When you are thirsty, it helps to suck on a stone,’ the Legionnaire tells us.
‘It’s bleedin’lovely sittin’ ’ere lookin’out into the night,’ saysTiny dreamily. ‘Like bein’a bleedin’boy scout. I always wanted to join that lot.’
‘It’s gonna get rough!’says Tango, prophetically, polishing away at his gun.
The black bird of death is coming to get us,’ whispers Gregor, ominously, as we listen to a long drum-roll of explosions, which make the mountains shake.
Porta plays a tune softly on his piccolo. Tiny knocks out his mouth-organ. Tango dances, using his carbine as a partner.
‘Sleep with me tonight?’he whispers a smooth question to the weapon.
A swarm of strange insects attacks us. Our hands and arms swell up violently at every bite. Porta and Tiny cover head and neck with their flame-thrower helmets, but the rest of us have no protection. Our faces are soon unrecognizable.
The thirst grows worse.
‘
Bon, mes amis!
As long as you can sweat you will not die of thirst,’ says the Legionnaire, tonelessly. ‘When you sweat no longer
then
you are in danger.’
There is only water enough for four days, even at the low ration level the Old Man has set. Tango thinks it will take us at least two weeks to get through. We move only slowly. Some try to suck water from the cactus plants, and become terribly ill. Their stomachs literally turn inside out in bursts of convulsive retching.
Krüger returns without having found the missing men.-
‘Have you
looked
for them?’questions the Old Man suspiciously.
‘We have looked everywhere, Herr feldwebel,’ answers the ex-leutnant angrily.
‘You, Unteroffizier Krüger?’asks the Old Man sharply.
‘We have left no stone unturned. Should we have interrogated the ants as to whether they had eaten the men!’shouts Krüger, flaring up.
‘They’ve gone over to the enemy,’ says the ex-leutnant of infantry.
‘Button your lip till you’re asked!’shouts the Old Man, fuming.
‘Is it them cunt ‘unters as ’ave fucked off?’asks Tiny, with a broad grin.
‘If you mean me,’ shouts a voice from the
500’s
over in the shadows, ‘I’m still here!’
We have only slept a few hours, when the sentries awaken us. A column of partisans has passed in the dark without seeing us.
We strain our ears fearfully at the darkness. Two shots smash out not very far away.
‘Make ready to move off,’ whispers the Old Man, swinging his equipment over his shoulders.
I watch the rear. It is so dark I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.
Suddenly I find myself alone. I use my field lamp cautiously. Only cactus and insects. I listen hard. Not a sound. The unit seems to have sunk into the ground.
They’re playing a trick, I think. They’re mad enough to, even in a situation like this.
I listen again. All is silence. Not even the noise of the crickets. I take a few cautious steps forward. They’ve