Mila 18 - Leon Uris [41]
“Move out!” Styka barked.
The forward platoon galloped off. The flanks fanned out, and the communicators positioned to keep contact. They advanced in a slow trot, transfixed by the brightening day. North for an hour, then two, three, and each kilometer filled them with greater uneasiness. There was no sign of Company B. It was beyond normal limitations. Either they had had their orders changed or ... trouble.
Styka heard it first. The column stopped without a command. Everyone’s eyes went upward. There was a distant hum in the sky. Then black specks appeared high, high overhead, almost beyond sight.
“Off the road,” Andrei ordered quietly.
They went into the ditch on the Polish side of the border road, dismounted, and held their restless horses still. Two hundred pairs of eyes fixed on the sky.
“... sixty. Sixty-one, sixty-two ...”
The humming overhead grew louder and louder. And soon the sky was pocked with masses of black spots moving in perfect formation in what appeared to be slow motion.
The only sound in the stunned company was Styka’s voice continuing a toll in monotone. “... two hundred thirty-four, two hundred thirty-five ...”
They had never seen such a mass of planes. The awesome display passed and disappeared from sight and sound. Three hundred fifty airplanes. For a very long time no one uttered a sound.
“Captain,” Styka said in a cracked voice, “aren’t they flying over our territory?”
“East-southeast,” Andrei answered.
“Where would the captain say they are heading?”
“Warsaw.”
The eyes of every man went from the sky to Captain Androfski. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “the store is open for business.” Nervous laughter greeted him. “Styka, bring my officers in and get Private Trzaska from the First Platoon.”
They huddled around the map. Trzaska,” Andrei said, “you were a fanner near Starogard, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where can we find good cover and an elevation overlooking the road?”
Private Trzaska studied the map a moment, then slid a dirty fingernail up the border road and stopped. There’s a small forest here, sir. Runs several hundred meters in all directions and sits on a knoll.”
“How far from the road?”
“Oh ... maybe three hundred meters.”
They could make it an hour of good riding. It was the nearest point with decent cover. This is where we’re going, gentlemen,” Andrei said. “Have your men combat-ready, and move single file and stretched out. Quick trot all the way. Second Platoon, take the rear guard and drop your last man a kilometer back. Let’s move.”
“Mount up!”
“Combat-ready. Load them up.”
“Single file. Don’t bunch up like a flock of pigeons.”
The scouts moved out at a gallop.
This time Captain Androfski was first on the road. He put on his steel helmet, buckled the chin strap, cocked his pistol, and swung Batory up ahead of the company.
Styka’s large mustache drooped.
“How you doing, Sergeant?” Andrei asked.
“I’m so scared I could crap my pants,” Styka answered.
“Stay close to me. Well get through today. They say after the first one it’s not so bad.”
Styka faced the company. “Ride hard!”
Company A moved north again and within an hour found the woods which Private Trzaska had promised. Andrei was pleased. He had cover and an excellent view of the road.
He ordered each of four men to ride out a kilometer indifferent directions and observe. They were issued flares for warning. Then he sent one rider north to continue to look for Company B and a second rider south back to the Grudziadz base.
By midafternoon a second flight of planes, as large as the first flight in the morning, again blackened the skies, heading toward central Poland.
Andrei sat away from his men, trying to evaluate his situation and its implications. The new German Panzer power they had discovered, the seven hundred airplanes, and the lost Company B—all indicated war had started.
What move?
To continue to Tczew and join the battalion even though there appeared to be trouble up north?
To stand