Redemption - Leon Uris [238]
“You’ve known the kind of fear I felt today, haven’t you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What happened to you?”
“It’s just the way your life turns out, sometimes.”
“What can you do about it, Chester?”
“Recognize that from this day on, the monster is sitting on our shoulder all the time. It can strike a hundred times, never twice the same way. It’s worse when you pretend it’s not there. Recognize it! Know it the instant that flush of terror paralyzes you and, at that same instant, say, ‘Hello friend, it’s you again…you sure scare the shit out of me but you can’t stop me from thinking or moving.’ You’ll get plenty of practice.”
I took Johnny’s wallet. There was a picture of him and his old man. He loved his dad. Thought about him after. The photograph of his mother was so old and faded I couldn’t make much of it. He never got a letter from her.
I’d made a basic mistake about Chester. Never judge courage from the size of a man. Won’t make that mistake again. Bloody giant, that kid was.
We went to Spears and Elgin. “Two up and two down,” I said. “You take the first watch. See if you can stay awake for two hours. If not, wake us up. If you have to talk, talk with your lips on each other’s ear. No fucking noise, lads.”
Chester and I found a bit of softer ground a few yards away. We were nearly asleep when some short rounds of artillery fell close to us. We could feel the heat and waves of the blast and a kick of dirt.
“Mind if I curl up with you?” Chester asked.
“My pleasure.”
“If you feel an erection,” he said, “don’t take it personally. It only means I have to pee.”
“Well, you’ll get no hard-on from me this night,” I retorted.
After a time.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“It’s my birthday,” Chester said.
“What the hell. I had mine a week ago. I turned twenty-one. My old man can’t get me back now. How old are you anyhow, Chester?”
“Truth?”
“Doesn’t make any difference out here.”
“I’m turning seventeen.”
I put my hand over Chester’s mouth and watched his eyes open. What a kid! He wasn’t even alarmed. I put my mouth around his ear. “Turks,” I said. “They came over the ridge and are down in middle of the gully. Elgin’s at the trigger. I’m putting up a flare in about thirty seconds.”
I rolled away from him and put a flare into the Very pistol. There was almost no noise below. The Turks must be wearing rags over their shoes. There! A little snap of brush…I want them in just a little deeper…just a little…
I aimed for the opposite wall of the gully so we could light them up without being seen ourselves. The sound of the cartridge arcing out brought quick, loud whispers from the Turks. THERE! Night to day! They were caught and frozen in the white brilliance…trapped. The dummies were bunched up.
“Go!”
Elgin was lovely…a real machine-gunner…short bursts…picking up first on those who might make a charge at us…a scramble…they poured back toward the ridge and escaped. Elgin’s tracers kept finding them. I don’t know if any of their patrol got back over the ridge alive.
The light over the gully went from fierce white to dull bloody red and popped out…
“We’d better move to the opposite wall of the gully,” I said, “in case they come back. Good go, lads.”
“I didn’t even use a half a belt of ammo,” Elgin said, taking the carrying handle of the gun and draping it over his shoulder.
“I’ve got the ammo case,” Spears said.
Chester Goodwood was frozen, then shivering and dried up. I slapped him and he grunted a not. “Want me to carry you or can you hold on to the back of my shirt?”
“I can move,” he assured me, wobbling to his feet.
I had studied the lines of the gully during the daylight hours and hoped that in near blackness I could find my way down the center and up the other side. Holding hands or shirts, we skidded and huffed into the gully bed. Something soft under my feet. Shit, a Turk!
He moaned and cried, begging for his life. I dared turn my torch on him for an instant. Poor bastard’s stomach was out. His eyes screamed to me for mercy!
“I’d better finish him,” I said, “or else he may call to another patrol.”
“I