To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [297]
“Guess so. Damn!”
Scarabelli laughed, but the curses grew louder. Parker suddenly said, “Oh . . . no . . . aagh.” The big man began to slap at his pants legs, said, “Laugh, Jersey! They’ll be on you too.”
Within a few minutes, the trench was alive with dull splashes, men standing, hands digging into pants and shirts. Temple probed, reached his hands as far down into his pants leg as it could fit, scratched at the small squirming lice.
“Everybody! Sit down!”
There was silence for a moment, the men reacting instinctively to the command.
“Who said that?”
“Who was that?”
“An officer?”
“Lieutenant Wilkinson. Eighteenth Company. Any sergeants here? Any of my men?”
One man spoke, down to Temple’s left. “Yes, sir. Private Jordan. Baker’s here too.”
There was silence now, and Temple could hear the officer’s footsteps in the mud as he moved along the trench.
“Sit tight, Jordan. We’re here all night. Cooties or no. Get used to it. The Huns are in the rough country a few hundred yards east of here, and we expect they’ll either come after us in the morning, or we’re going after them. Major Turrill is close up behind us, and Division knows where you boys are. Anybody not get rations?” He paused, no response. “Good. Now, we need to post guards, every ten yards or so. I’ve got no time to choose volunteers, so you do it yourselves. You could be the only thing that keeps us alive if the Huns move against us.” He reached down, tapped a helmet a few yards from Temple. “Start with this man here. Count off, in either direction. Every tenth man is the guard for the first hour. Then switch to the man beside you. There’s no parapet in this section, so you’ll have to find some place you can see the ground out front.”
The man waited, and Temple heard the counting, the voices rolling toward him, heard Murphy say, “Ten. Hell.”
They continued to count down the line, and Parker said, “Sir, we have a wounded man here. Head injury, looks like.”
“Where?”
“Beside me, sir.”
Wilkinson knelt down, lit a match, the light blinding Temple. The lieutenant held it for a long second, then blew it out. “Nothing you can do. He’s dead.”
Temple blinked, tried to push the blindness from his eyes.
There was silence again, and Wilkinson stepped past Temple, said, “I’ll try to find more officers. If anyone else in command comes through, tell them I’m down this way. Tell them of my instructions.”
“Sir.” The voice was Murphy’s. “Are there any officers back up the other way? Any way we can sort out the platoons?”
Wilkinson stood silently for a moment, said, “I haven’t found any officers. There’s a sergeant back about fifty yards, Simpson, of the Sixtieth. As far as I’m concerned, he’s in command of those boys up that way. As for platoons . . . Private, until we can see what we’re doing, there is only one platoon, and it looks like it’s mine. Now, guards up, find a place where you can see the ground out front. Anything moves, raise hell. The rest of you, get some rest if you can.”
Murphy stood, and Temple said, “There’s a tree limb sticking out right above me. Use it to climb up.”
Murphy stepped close to him, and Temple leaned out of the way. Murphy kicked his boot into the trench wall, showering Temple with dirt, then reached up, grabbed the limb, suddenly let out a short scream. He fell now, landed hard across Temple’s legs, splashing the mud over all of them.
“Oh, Christ! Roscoe! That’s not a tree limb. It’s an arm!”
Temple blinked through the mud, stared up, could see the bones now, a man’s fingers. He stared at it for a few seconds, Murphy pulling himself up out of the mud. There were laughs now, all down the trench, and Murphy bent low, said, “Sorry. Didn’t expect that.”
Parker rolled up to his feet, said, “I’ll help you. Don’t worry about it, Murph. There’s a dead boy sitting next to me who don’t look older’n fifteen. I didn’t expect that either.”
WITH THE NEW DAWN CAME RELIEF. THE MARINE SIXTH REGIMENT, held in reserve, was now sent forward, joining up with the infantrymen of the Twenty-third and Ninth Regiments. The confusion of the day