To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [339]
“All right, Tanner. You boys stay right here. We need your rifles. The enemy’s all over the damned place. Safest place for you is in this damned cut. Some of you spread out and watch the flanks.”
The men seemed grateful for a voice of authority, and Patton scanned the faces, saw fear, the edge of panic. You’re lost, so you’re retreating. Not if I can help it.
The machine-gun fire had slowed, scattered bursts that seemed to drift away in the mist. Patton felt the frustration growing inside of him, said to Knowles, “Dammit, I’m not just going to sit here!”
“Sir! Listen!”
He saw one of the runners peering up along the edge of the cut, and now Patton heard the sound, the roar of tanks. He climbed up the sharp embankment, saw five Renaults, back along the base of the hill. The machine guns started again, the dirt splattering around him. He jumped back down, said, “We need those boys up this way! Captain Knowles, go down there and tell them our situation!”
Knowles looked at him for a brief moment, and Patton turned away, said under his breath, “Now, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
Knowles was up and out of the cut, and Patton began to pace, stepped past the men who lay all along the cut. The machine guns continued to fire, the men around him hunkered down. Patton climbed the embankment again, stared down toward the tanks, less than two hundred yards away, could see Knowles running, dropping down into a wide trench, then up, men around the tanks gathering to meet him. The gunfire seemed to move that way, the men suddenly disappearing into the trench, out of sight. Patton swung the walking stick, slapped the dirt hard beside his feet.
“Come on, dammit!”
He was bathed in a wet cloud of fog now, could see nothing, listened for the sound of the tank engines, heard only the uneven chatter of the guns. Hell, they’re shooting all over the place. They barely know we’re here! Those damned tanks could clear out this whole area! He saw more men moving over the ridge toward them, more infantry, and he waved, shouted again, “Here!”
The men ran toward him, grateful relief, slid down into the railroad cut, every face looking to him, more of the annoying fear.
“Check your rifles! We may see some Huns soon! They know we’re here, but there’s no better place for you to be!”
He ignored them now, strained to see the tanks, still heard no engines, shouted into the cut, “Lieutenant Edwards!”
Edwards appeared, seemed to flinch at every sound. The man was not infantry at all, had been assigned to Patton’s headquarters from the Signal Corps.
“Get down there! Tell those tank drivers to get themselves up this damned hill! Those must be Compton’s people. Find out where Compton is!”
Edwards climbed up beside him, stared into the fog, and Patton said, “They can’t see you, Lieutenant! Run like hell! You’ll make it!”
Edwards was gone now, and Patton ignored him as he ran toward the tanks. Patton raised the binoculars, stared at nothing, scanned the thick air, wiped a sleeve on the lenses of the binoculars. Dammit! Somebody has to know what’s happening!
The mist cleared again, and he saw the men at the tanks, Edwards there as well, could see the men gathering again, thought, Christ, they’re having a damned conversation! I have to go myself!
He looked down along the cut, saw men all staring at him, edgy, nervous. I’m the only officer. And they have no fight in them. If I leave, they’ll be gone.
The machine guns began again, and he realized the air was clearing. He saw a flicker of fire, a low ridgeline less than a hundred yards away, said, “There! Fire at that ridge! Those stumps!”
The men seemed to hesitate, and now the air around him was alive with the sounds of the Maxims.
“Sir! Get down!”
He saw Angelo, right below him, said, “Dammit! We need those tanks! What the hell is their problem?”
He stared down the hill, saw the men there jumping down into low cover, the Germans guns pouring fire around the line of tanks. He felt the explosion building inside of