To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [75]
“Keep moving, Major. I want to see an observation post.”
The officers escorting him seemed uncomfortable now, nervous glances to the top of the trenches, some of them looking to him, expecting, what, he wondered, relief from this terrifying ordeal? Ludendorff felt his impatience rising, had little use for officers who did not have the stomach for the front lines. Baum commanded the battalion, and Ludendorff had sensed hesitation in the man from their first meeting. He had seen too much of this before, thought, Another clerk who has found his way to command of a combat unit. Send your men up here to do the dirty work, while you stay safe in your concrete shelter. No wonder this campaign has failed.
He looked up to the parapet, saw riflemen all along the firing line, some sitting, leaning against the soft dirt, others standing, dull black eyes watching him pass. Baum seemed not to notice them, and Ludendorff slowed for a moment, absorbed their stares, could feel the strength of these men, the veterans, men who had made the fight, who had driven their bayonets into the enemy. His escort continued to move forward, heads low, mud splashing on polished leather. Ludendorff picked up his pace, stepped into water again, a hole in the boards, the odor of death rising up from the muddy ground. He kept his eyes to the front, would not think of what lay in the ground around him.
The signs of the most recent fight were increasing now, the planks beneath him broken and splintered, many small cave-ins, what had once been the walls of the trench. He saw pieces of every kind of hardware, broken rifles and shredded backpacks, canteens and gas masks. The smells had meaning now, remnants of gas and spent powder, strong enough to overpower the stink of death. He had avoided looking into the dark holes that lined the trench, many of them collapsed, small openings in the earthen walls that only partially hid what remained of their occupants.
The officers began to slow, gathering, looking back at him. Their hesitation was more pronounced now, their nervous glances and jumpiness annoying him. There were no other sounds, no thunder from distant artillery, no pinging of rifle fire, nothing to cause anyone here any alarm. He moved up closer behind them, put his hands on a young captain’s shoulders, moved him aside, pushed past the rest of them, thought, Is there one man among these clerks who is not afraid? He was the guide now, snaked his way past more riflemen, the trench winding in a sharp turn to the left. In front of him, the narrow lane opened up into a wide circular pit, the edges lined high with sandbags. He saw men with binoculars, lining the parapet in a wide semicircle, one man staring into a periscope, all of them looking west. He pointed to the periscope, said, “You . . . Lieutenant. I should like to see.”
The young man turned toward him with an impatient glare, realized with a shock that he was confronted by a gathering of immaculately dressed officers. He backed up a step, made a short bow, said, “My apologies, sir. Please.”
Ludendorff leaned close to the periscope, ignored the commotion as Major Baum hissed a sharp command that brought the other observers scrambling down from the parapet. They fell into line now, the instinct of some long-forgotten drill, stood at hard attention. Ludendorff blinked into dirty lenses, could make out shapes, low mounds of dirt, nothing else. He stepped back, said, “What are we seeing, Lieutenant?”
The young man stood at attention, stared past him, said, “At present, sir, nothing.”
“I assume, Lieutenant, that this is a positive thing?”
The young man looked at Baum, seemed unsure of answering the question.
Ludendorff said, “You will respond with frankness, Lieutenant. Do you know who I am?”
The man seemed to stiffen again. “No, sir. My apologies, sir.”
Baum seemed to quiver beside him, and Ludendorff silenced him with a sharp glance. “It’s all right, Major. This is not a problem. Lieutenant, I am General Ludendorff.”
He saw the young man’s eyes widen, but no other reaction.