• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 2382 0

Temple flattened on the ground, the sound piercing his brain, thundering chatter, silent again. The German voices came again, one man with authority, instructions, the voice of an officer. Parker was close against the wall, staring back at him with black silent eyes. He pointed to the rear of the bunker, then crooked his finger, this way, began to crawl again. Temple followed, slow deliberate movements, felt the cold pounding in his chest, thought, Where are we going? They continued along the curving concrete, and Parker froze. Temple could see past him, the backside of the bunker, realized there was a depression in the ground, steps, leading down to a wooden door. The Maxim fired again, and Temple could see past the bunker, more just like it, heard more bursts of fire farther away. Parker crawled forward, slid down into the stairway, made room for Temple, motioned for him to follow. Temple was there now, the voices of the men distinct through the door. Parker pointed to Temple’s chest, touched two of the grenades and Temple nodded, yes, two. He set the rifle down slowly, pulled a grenade free of his shirt, saw a leather strap attached to the door, the handle. Parker grabbed it, the shotgun in one hand, and looked at him again, the cold stare. Temple’s heart was pounding, and he hooked a finger through the pin of the first grenade, held it tightly in his hand, nodded to Parker now, and the big man pulled on the strap. The door didn’t move. Parker tugged, looked at Temple, furious, shook his head. Temple stared at the door, his brain screaming the words: It’s locked!

Parker’s expression didn’t change, and he peered up out of the depression, crawled up, looked back at Temple, pointed to the door, the silent command. Stay here. He slid away, and Temple felt the panic coming, stepped back from the door, thought, What are you going to do? The voice in his head was chattering in a manic stream of words, the bayonet? What if they rush out? The voice in his brain was silenced by a sharp blast. Temple peered out around the edge of the bunker, saw Parker reloading the shotgun, then firing again, straight into a hole in the concrete. Temple stuffed the grenade into his pocket, grabbed the rifle, pointed it at the door, heard another shot from Parker. Inside the bunker, the voices returned, the single word, “Kamarad!”

The door didn’t open, and Temple’s hands shook, the bayonet poised, the word again, “Kamarad!”

Parker fired again, and now more Marines burst up out of the brush, more firing into the slits in the bunker. “Kamarad!”

Temple stared at the door, furious now. Come on out! Dammit! He pulled the trigger, punched a hole in the wooden door, fired again, men beside him now, Parker’s voice, “Ready grenades!”

The shotgun erupted close to Temple’s ear, the door splintering, and now another man jumped down beside Temple, kicked at the door, the timbers cracking, the door coming apart. Temple pointed the rifle inside, smoke and darkness, the thick smell of gunpowder, silence. Parker pushed his way past him, snatched a grenade from Temple’s shirt, yanked on the pin, tossed it into the bunker. They all ducked away, the bunker bursting from inside, thick gray smoke rolling out through the shattered door. Parker kicked his way through the door, plunged into the bunker, disappeared, and Temple stared blindly, heard the thick punch of the bayonet, another, the big man finishing the job.

Osborne was there now, knelt low beside the stairwell, said, “Spread out! Advance to the next bunker! Let’s move!”

The machine-gun fire rolled across the ridge, more rifle fire from down below, more Marines pushing through the wire, climbing the ridge. They came up in a steady wave now, the Maxim guns falling silent, shouts farther down the ridge, “Surrender!”

“Kamarad!”

“They’re coming out!”

“Kamarad!”

But the voices faded, and Temple watched as Parker emerged from the smoky concrete, blood on the bayonet. He looked at Temple, the hard glare still in his eyes, and Temple backed away, felt an odd fear, something cold and animal in Parker’s stare.