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To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [20]

By Root 2358 0
the recruit. Calm down. Focus to the front. His eye flicked, caught some movement, and he froze again, the voice in his head silent. He stared again, the shadows dancing, then motionless, a trick of the eye. He tried to see the barbed wire, cursed silently. How can I see anything? Dammit! They could be pouring through, a hundred men, right in front of me. If they’re quiet, I won’t know until they’re right here, crawling over the sandbags! He held tight to his breathing, the voice in his head again: Barbed wire, you bloody idiot. Bells. You’ll hear the bells. He blinked hard, his eyes suddenly watering. No! He wiped with his sleeve, fought the blurriness. His eyes locked on the blackness again, the strain now slicing through his skull, dull pain working up the back of his neck. He massaged the ache with his hand, blinked again, could feel cramps creeping into his feet, his legs. He tried to flex his knees, ease the tightness, the voice shouting at him: Greenie! Do your duty! Behind him, another voice, soft, and he ignored it, thought, All right! I can do this! Now a touch on his leg, and he jumped, a sharp sound bursting out, “AHH!”

“Jesus, Greenie. Get hold of it, man. Time’s up. Two hours. Take a break.”

He looked at the voice, a hard whisper, could see nothing in the trench, then dull movement below him. It was the corporal.

“Sorry. Yes, all right. I’m coming down.”

He heard a soft voice close to him, and Duke said, “Not so bad, eh, Greenie? You survived your first watch. Most greenies start shooting at something, swear they see Fritz coming. Must give those boys across the way a good chuckle.”

He followed Duke down from the parapet, and immediately the corporal climbed up, then two more men, moving into position. Cutter sat down, lit a cigarette, then said in a low voice, “You’ll learn, Greenie. Get some rest. Two hours and we do it again.”

He could see the shadow of Duke moving away, followed, heard a harsh sound, stopped. He listened for a moment, realized Duke was coming back toward him, grabbing him by the sleeve. They were at the parapet again, and he heard a voice, not a whisper, the lieutenant.

“Everyone but the watch, follow me back toward my quarters.”

The rest of the men seemed to emerge from the darkness, some sliding out of dugouts, no one talking. He was curious, followed the line of men, turning right, out of the front trench, then right again, duckboards and water. He felt his way, his hand reaching out to the man in front of him, saw a sudden flicker of light, the glow of a candle. Graves, on the far side of the light, said, “Gather up. When we’re done here, take word back to the watch, fill them in.” He paused, seemed to gather himself, stared down into the candlelight. “We have received orders. Apparently, there has been something in the works for a while. It is not customary that junior officers be informed until the last minute. Tomorrow morning, at four hundred hours, the artillery will commence a bombardment of the enemy trenches. They will sustain fire for ninety minutes, and then cease. During the bombardment, you will be escorted to the regimental embarkation parapet. Ladders are being put in place now. You, or rather we, will await the sound of a single whistle, and, along with the rest of the regiment, we will commence an advance toward the enemy. By all estimates, the artillery should destroy any obstacle, including the barbed wire, and any opposition that would otherwise await us on the other side. Command has every confidence that we will achieve our purpose, and capture the enemy’s defenses, then advance into his artillery. Command has apparently suffered enough of the enemy’s nightly barrage. I am told one shell came perilously close to division headquarters.” He looked at the faces, said, “Is the corporal here? . . . I don’t see you.”

“No, sir, he’s on the watch.”

“Inform him of these details. You are dismissed.”

The candle disappeared into the dugout, and he stood blindly, felt a hand on his arm, heard the low voice of Duke, “Well, now, you are one lucky bloke, Greenie. On

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