Redemption - Leon Uris [250]
I knew Christopher Hubble had changed, but I could not help but be touched by the total trust he had placed in me since we landed. He knew I went crazy when Johnny Tarbox died but he saw past it.
Colonel John Monash, the Aussie Commander of the line down to Lone Pine, entered.
“We’ve just drawn lottery dates at my headquarters,” Monash said. “My date is…let’s see…the. Turks attack on May 18.”
“Well, I hope they give us that much time,” Brodhead retorted He told Monash what we had seen today and his notion of the Turkish assault.
“I’ve lost over thirty men on patrols trying to get a look,” Monash said. “So the Chessboard’s pregnant. You’re going to have to take the big hit,” he said to Malone.
“All boils down to our little acre here,” Brodhead said, “strength against strength. We either hold, die, or become prisoners of the Turks. The latter is out of the question for me. All right, gentlemen, 0200 at my command post tonight. We’ll get a plan tidied up.”
“Sir,” Malone said, “is the wireless working to naval gunfire?”
“Yes, we’re back in contact.”
“General, we and the Turks are going to be on top of each other. I’d like to see the navy concentrate on the Chessboard and nothing but the Chessboard.”
“Well, what about no-man’s-land?”
“I have a notion, General,” Malone went on. “We’re too close to their trenches for naval gunfire. I say we keep a battalion on ready alert at all times. The minute the Turks attack, we send the battalion into no-man’s-land and meet them with bayonets. They won’t figure on that. I think it’s a chance to confuse them.”
That sobered the place up.
“Interesting,” Markham agreed.
“I like it,” Monash agreed. “But how do we get out of our trenches fast enough?”
“Have the battalion on alert lie behind the trenches and cross over the top of us by throwing down plank bridges.”
“Let me think about it,” Brodhead said. At that, the General dismissed everyone except Chris and myself. When they were gone, Brodhead stunned me with his sensitivity. “I know what you’re going to ask me, Chris. The answer is no.”
“Is this a private matter?” I asked.
“No, not at all. You have wheedled your way onto the front lines for the Turkish counterattack, Landers, and Major Hubble is about to suggest that so long as Colonel Chapman is dead, he should command the Canterbury’s at Quinn’s Post. Is that about it, Chris?”
“I’d say that is the gist of the matter.”
“Not quite yet,” Brodhead answered.
“Sir, I took on this mule detail out of deep loyalty to you. My brother Jeremy can run my battalion in his sleep with Subaltern Landers here as his exec.”
“Sorry. I think Colonel Markham is better suited.”
“You promised me, sir.”
“So I did. Exactly what I promised is that if you got a mule transport working, I would skip you a rank at the end of the campaign and see that you got a regiment at that time. However, don’t be too impatient. At the rate we are losing senior officers you may get your chance sooner than later, what?”
Anzac crammed as many men and as much ammo and water behind Quinn’s and Courtney’s Posts. Being the “professor” of the terrain, I helped find little pockets where one- and two-man observation posts could keep constant watch on the Turks. Phone lines were run to these.
Malone had me at his side a great deal of the time, dispensing our stores of material. The Colonel did a lot of his thinking out loud in rumble-mumbles and would then look at me curiously to see if I agreed with him. His richly endowed eyebrows covered his eyes like an English sheepdog to conceal surprise and unpleasant news. Each day I went with him on a sweep of his observation posts before he reported down to Brodhead at Corps.
By mid-May the late morning-early afternoon heat was so intense that hell up here and hell down there probably had little variance. Quinn’s Post was always over 110 degrees. Everyone stripped off jackets, trousers, and leggings. We were down to underdrawers, shoes, our web belts, and some sort of head covering.
Between noon and 1500, men fainted from heat prostration all