Redemption - Leon Uris [235]
Chester was at my side and told me he had control. I waved for Corporal O’Rourke and his lads to follow.
I could see Chester turning command over to a warrant officer and then running down the beach waving Jeremy’s boat in.
OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN!
For the first time in years, Mary’s name came to my lips in prayer. Brighton Beach was littered with dead and dying men! There were only a few yards of beach to be had and then a steep uphill climb. The bodies were thick, thick like seagulls after a fishing trawler, dozens, hundreds, lying still or screaming or moaning while others were trying to put on iodine and wrap them up…like…I walked over the beach unable to step between them…sorry, mate…medics will be here soon…sorry, mates…shit, one of my squad went down.
We were in thick, prickly brush five and six feet high. It was no gentle slope, we were fucking going fucking uphill and the brush held dozens and dozens of dead men tangled in it.
I found a concave area big enough to hold the four of us and we huddled in.
“O’Rourke, I’m Rory. We’ve worked together at Lemnos.” Turning to my left, I said, “What’s your name, pal?” slapping a young Anzac on the shoulder.
“Happy Stevens from Palmerston North.”
“Rory Landers. How many rounds have we got?”
“Two hundred.”
“Not enough. Happy, get back to the beach. Find Chester Goodwood.”
“Righto.”
“We need a box of maybe three or four hundred more rounds. We’ll stay right here.”
“I’m gone,” Happy said as he crouched and dashed for the beach.
“You read a map, O’Rourke?”
“They didn’t make me corporal for nothing.”
I opened my map. It was sticky with Johnny’s blood. I looked uphill. Too steep. Something wrong. I studied the curve of the coastline. The jut of land called Gaba Tepe was nowhere to be seen to the south…but north…a large knob of landfall and then a long, long sweep of coast.
“If this is Brighton Beach I’ll kiss your ass at battalion assembly,” O’Rourke said.
“North?”
“North,” he agreed, “we’re north of our beach.”
“Looks like they brought us ashore into the middle of the Turkish Army.” I cleaned my field glasses. “Dead men as far uphill as I can see.” I could make out Otagos pushing toward the Aussie line just beyond my sight. “There’s a battle going on up there, maybe a little over a half-mile. The terrain is really dirty,” I said, passing the binoculars to O’Rourke.
“Seems like the Turks are above our front line on higher ground and firing into the beach,” he said.
“You’ve got it,” I answered. “They’re hitting us up here and down there with artillery. We’re in a soft spot for now. Jesus, there goes a landing boat…blew it to hell.”
I caught a semaphore flag just twenty yards away behind some brush.
“Over here!”
Happy Stevens of Palmerston North…why did I think of Palmerston North?…dashed up to us followed by a pair lugging an ammo box between them.
“Lieutenant Hubble is ashore and connected with Lieutenant Goodwood. They’ll be up in a few moments, soon as they organize the beach party.”
“You’re Dan Elgin,” I said.
He smiled. “Gisborne, Poverty Bay.”
“I’d say we found poverty bay right here,” O’Rourke said.
“And you’re Spears,” I said.
“By God, you remembered. Kaikoura, South Island.”
“Sure, I remembered,” I said, “Spears put the pack on your mule backward on Lemnos. Don’t let him feed the ammo belts.”
“Now, that’s something to be remembered for,” Spears said.
“Find yourselves cover. Don’t go more than a few yards. Face the beach so any new troops heading uphill won’t mistake you for Turks.”
No sooner had I spoken than a new wave of men were quickly moving through us toward the front. I inquired. Things were no better on the beach. I could see why Stevens of Palmerston North was called Happy. He grinned as he caught sight of me and came in with Jeremy and