Difficult Loves by Italo Calvino Page A
Authors: Italo Calvino
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Fiction - General, Literature: Classics, Interpersonal relations, Short Stories, Man-Woman Relationships, love, Italian - Translations into English
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chest of one of them and fired at a button. He heard the men's shouts and the bullets whistling singly or in bursts over his head; but he was now lying stretched on the ground behind a heap of stones at the roadside, under cover. It was a long heap, and he could move about, peep over at some unexpected point, see the gleam on the barrels of the soldiers' weapons, the gray and glittering parts of their uniforms, shoot at a stripe, a badge. Then he'd drop back to the ground and slide quickly over to another side to fire. After a bit he heard bursts from behind him firing over his head and hitting the soldiers; these were his comrades coming to reinforce him with machine guns. "If that boy hadn't woken us with his shots ..." they were saying.
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Covered by his comrades' fire, the boy could take better aim. Suddenly a bullet grazed one of his cheeks. He turned; a soldier had reached the road above him. He flung himself into a hole under cover, but had fired meanwhile and hit not the soldier but the rifle, by the bolt. He heard the soldier trying to reload, then fling the gun on the ground. The boy looked out then and fired at the soldier, who'd taken to his heels; the bullet tore off a shoulder strap.
He followed. Every now and again the soldier vanished in the wood, then reappeared. The boy nipped off the top of his helmet, then a strap on his belt. Meanwhile they had reached a remote valley where the sound of battle didn't reach. Suddenly the soldier found there were no more woods in front of him, only a glade, with thick bushy slopes. The boy was just coming out of the wood now; in the middle of the glade was a big rock; the soldier just had time to crouch down behind it, with his head between his knees. There for the moment he felt safe; he had some hand grenades with him and the boy could get no nearer, but could only keep the rock covered in case the soldier tried to escape. If only, thought the soldier, he could make a run for the bushes and slide down the thickly covered slope. But that bare space had to be crossed —how long would the boy stay there? And would he never lower that gun?
The soldier decided to make a test; he put his helmet on the point of his bayonet and hoisted it slightly above the rock. A shot rang out and the helmet rolled to the ground, pierced through.
The soldier did not lose heart; it was obviously easy to aim at the edges of the rock, but if he moved quickly it should be impossible to hit him. At that moment a bird winged
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quickly across the sky, a pigeon perhaps. One shot and it fell. The soldier dried the sweat on his neck. Another bird passed, a thrush; that fell, too. The soldier swallowed saliva. This must be a place of passage; birds went on flying overhead, all of them different, and the boy went on shooting and bringing them down. An idea came to the soldier: "If he is watching the birds he won't be watching me so much. The second he fires I'll run for it." But perhaps it would be better to make a test first. He took up the helmet again and put it back on the point of his bayonet, ready. Two birds passed together, snipe. The soldier was sorry to waste such a good opportunity for the test, but he did not dare risk it yet. The boy fired at one of the snipe, then the soldier pushed up the helmet, heard the shot and saw the helmet whirl in the air.
Now the soldier felt a taste of lead in his mouth; he scarcely noticed the other bird falling at a new shot. He must not hurry things, anyway; he was safe behind that rock, with his grenades. And why not try and get him with a grenade, while staying under cover? He stretched back on the ground, drew his arm out behind him, taking care not to show himself, gathered up all his strength and threw the grenade. A good effort; it would have gone a long way; but in the middle of its flight a shot exploded it in mid-air. The soldier flung himself on the ground to avoid the shrapnel.
When he raised his head the crow had come. It was wheeling
----
Covered by his comrades' fire, the boy could take better aim. Suddenly a bullet grazed one of his cheeks. He turned; a soldier had reached the road above him. He flung himself into a hole under cover, but had fired meanwhile and hit not the soldier but the rifle, by the bolt. He heard the soldier trying to reload, then fling the gun on the ground. The boy looked out then and fired at the soldier, who'd taken to his heels; the bullet tore off a shoulder strap.
He followed. Every now and again the soldier vanished in the wood, then reappeared. The boy nipped off the top of his helmet, then a strap on his belt. Meanwhile they had reached a remote valley where the sound of battle didn't reach. Suddenly the soldier found there were no more woods in front of him, only a glade, with thick bushy slopes. The boy was just coming out of the wood now; in the middle of the glade was a big rock; the soldier just had time to crouch down behind it, with his head between his knees. There for the moment he felt safe; he had some hand grenades with him and the boy could get no nearer, but could only keep the rock covered in case the soldier tried to escape. If only, thought the soldier, he could make a run for the bushes and slide down the thickly covered slope. But that bare space had to be crossed —how long would the boy stay there? And would he never lower that gun?
The soldier decided to make a test; he put his helmet on the point of his bayonet and hoisted it slightly above the rock. A shot rang out and the helmet rolled to the ground, pierced through.
The soldier did not lose heart; it was obviously easy to aim at the edges of the rock, but if he moved quickly it should be impossible to hit him. At that moment a bird winged
----
quickly across the sky, a pigeon perhaps. One shot and it fell. The soldier dried the sweat on his neck. Another bird passed, a thrush; that fell, too. The soldier swallowed saliva. This must be a place of passage; birds went on flying overhead, all of them different, and the boy went on shooting and bringing them down. An idea came to the soldier: "If he is watching the birds he won't be watching me so much. The second he fires I'll run for it." But perhaps it would be better to make a test first. He took up the helmet again and put it back on the point of his bayonet, ready. Two birds passed together, snipe. The soldier was sorry to waste such a good opportunity for the test, but he did not dare risk it yet. The boy fired at one of the snipe, then the soldier pushed up the helmet, heard the shot and saw the helmet whirl in the air.
Now the soldier felt a taste of lead in his mouth; he scarcely noticed the other bird falling at a new shot. He must not hurry things, anyway; he was safe behind that rock, with his grenades. And why not try and get him with a grenade, while staying under cover? He stretched back on the ground, drew his arm out behind him, taking care not to show himself, gathered up all his strength and threw the grenade. A good effort; it would have gone a long way; but in the middle of its flight a shot exploded it in mid-air. The soldier flung himself on the ground to avoid the shrapnel.
When he raised his head the crow had come. It was wheeling
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