burned, but the stench had permeated them to the bone. The stench of Monte Cassino.
Nine out of the ten supply columns remained in the gorge of death, unrecognisable bloody lumps. You can eat bark, leaves, even earth to help your hunger, but thirst! We fought like wild animals over a puddle. We discovered a shell hole full of water out in no-man's-land. A horde of rats was drinking avidly at it. We flung a hand grenade at them, then heedless of the bursting shells, we flung ourselves down there and drank, drank, drank!
By the afternoon bursting shells had emptied the hole. On the bottom were some distended corpses. They had been there a long time. We spewed our guts up. But the next day, we found another shell hole and drank again.
That was Monte Cassino, the holy mountain.
SECRET MISSION
The crest of the ridge was veiled in dense, blue mist. We kept marching into patches of low mist. A flock of crows wheeled down delightedly upon a forgotten corpse. A big herring gull drove them away.
We were bad-tempered and tired after a night's digging that had cost us twelve men.
The first shells fell. They were evil 10.5's. They sounded like a huge door being slammed. Fortunately for us, they were not fitted with contact fuses. If they had, most of us would have been done for there and then.
Porta and I were unrolling a coil of barbed wire, when they started coming over. For the next two hours we lay out there in no-man's land. Then they attacked. Shoals of infantry. We had only light arms with us, as we were digging, and so we had to use barbed wire and stanchions as weapons. One of our pointed steel stanchions was just as good as a bayonet. Most of our losses were incurred when we returned after the attack, for our own infantry shot at us, firing low, thinking we were the English. When we reached their positions, Mike hit the company commander in the trench and knocked him out, and Leutnant Ludwig collapsed at the feet of his CO. with half his guts hanging out of a gaping hole in his belly. Ludwig was only eighteen and that was his first action. The CO. vomited.
Trenching and wiring was not reckoned as anything. It was on a par with guard duty. Nobody was particularly keen for it, but it had to be done. There were always casualties. It was the units in rest positions, who were given the job.
We could hear violent gunfire in the North. It sounded as though something were going to start at Forti. But we didn't care. It never moved us, when we heard of a whole division being wiped out. They weren't people we knew. We were out-and-out egoists. War had made us indifferent to other peoples' pain.
When we reached the road, where the trucks should have been waiting for us, there were none. We flung our helmets on the ground angrily and cursed the service corps to hell and back again. We couldn't stand them and regarded them as spongers, like the cookhouse men.
Leutnant Frick emerged from the mist together with two strange Luftwaffe officers. They walked slowly along the squadron picking out various people, who were told to fall in on the lefthand side of the road.
The Old Man nodded: "More dirty work in the offing. This stinks of special mission."
Almost all of No. 2 Troop were selected. Seventeen in all.
"La merde aux yeux," cursed the Legionnaire, shuddering with cold. "There goes our morning coffee."
Leutnant Frick beckoned to the Old Man. They whispered together. Then Gregor Martin and Marlow were called out and sent across to us.
"So you couldn't do without us," Marlow said, grinning, as he sat down beside the Legionnaire.
The Luftwaffe officers had a good look at each of us. Some trucks came jolting up.
"No. 5 Company, board. Those picked out to the left," Mike ordered.
The delighted lucky ones clambered up on to the tracks and waved to us. We spat at them. That wasn't enough for Tiny. He threw a great stone at them.
"Pick up your arms. Single file. Follow me!" ordered Leutnant Frick.
Luftwaffe trucks drove us to
Nine out of the ten supply columns remained in the gorge of death, unrecognisable bloody lumps. You can eat bark, leaves, even earth to help your hunger, but thirst! We fought like wild animals over a puddle. We discovered a shell hole full of water out in no-man's-land. A horde of rats was drinking avidly at it. We flung a hand grenade at them, then heedless of the bursting shells, we flung ourselves down there and drank, drank, drank!
By the afternoon bursting shells had emptied the hole. On the bottom were some distended corpses. They had been there a long time. We spewed our guts up. But the next day, we found another shell hole and drank again.
That was Monte Cassino, the holy mountain.
SECRET MISSION
The crest of the ridge was veiled in dense, blue mist. We kept marching into patches of low mist. A flock of crows wheeled down delightedly upon a forgotten corpse. A big herring gull drove them away.
We were bad-tempered and tired after a night's digging that had cost us twelve men.
The first shells fell. They were evil 10.5's. They sounded like a huge door being slammed. Fortunately for us, they were not fitted with contact fuses. If they had, most of us would have been done for there and then.
Porta and I were unrolling a coil of barbed wire, when they started coming over. For the next two hours we lay out there in no-man's land. Then they attacked. Shoals of infantry. We had only light arms with us, as we were digging, and so we had to use barbed wire and stanchions as weapons. One of our pointed steel stanchions was just as good as a bayonet. Most of our losses were incurred when we returned after the attack, for our own infantry shot at us, firing low, thinking we were the English. When we reached their positions, Mike hit the company commander in the trench and knocked him out, and Leutnant Ludwig collapsed at the feet of his CO. with half his guts hanging out of a gaping hole in his belly. Ludwig was only eighteen and that was his first action. The CO. vomited.
Trenching and wiring was not reckoned as anything. It was on a par with guard duty. Nobody was particularly keen for it, but it had to be done. There were always casualties. It was the units in rest positions, who were given the job.
We could hear violent gunfire in the North. It sounded as though something were going to start at Forti. But we didn't care. It never moved us, when we heard of a whole division being wiped out. They weren't people we knew. We were out-and-out egoists. War had made us indifferent to other peoples' pain.
When we reached the road, where the trucks should have been waiting for us, there were none. We flung our helmets on the ground angrily and cursed the service corps to hell and back again. We couldn't stand them and regarded them as spongers, like the cookhouse men.
Leutnant Frick emerged from the mist together with two strange Luftwaffe officers. They walked slowly along the squadron picking out various people, who were told to fall in on the lefthand side of the road.
The Old Man nodded: "More dirty work in the offing. This stinks of special mission."
Almost all of No. 2 Troop were selected. Seventeen in all.
"La merde aux yeux," cursed the Legionnaire, shuddering with cold. "There goes our morning coffee."
Leutnant Frick beckoned to the Old Man. They whispered together. Then Gregor Martin and Marlow were called out and sent across to us.
"So you couldn't do without us," Marlow said, grinning, as he sat down beside the Legionnaire.
The Luftwaffe officers had a good look at each of us. Some trucks came jolting up.
"No. 5 Company, board. Those picked out to the left," Mike ordered.
The delighted lucky ones clambered up on to the tracks and waved to us. We spat at them. That wasn't enough for Tiny. He threw a great stone at them.
"Pick up your arms. Single file. Follow me!" ordered Leutnant Frick.
Luftwaffe trucks drove us to
Similar Books
