on Porta.
I crouched, ready to spring. I didn't want to jump, I was scared rigid, I knew I'd never make it, the air was awash with bullets between us and the bunker. The only trouble was, I was even more scared of Heide. Heide was a fanatic, and a sadistic bastard into the bargain, and when he said he'd shoot, he meant it. On the other hand . . .
"Get going!"
He jabbed me in the kidneys with his sub. Sobbing with fear, I bunched my muscles together and launched myself into the bullet-ridden air. I was the first man over the ditch, but within a. second the others were with me. Ponz was by my side, with the pouch of grenades. He was making an odd snuffling noise. I glanced at him, my nerve suddenly restored, and realized that he was now in the state I had been in on the other side of the ditch.
"Do what you damn well like!" he whimpered at Heide. "My war's coming to an end right here in this ditch! Fuck the Fuhrer and fuck the Fatherland and fuck the pissing Reich!"
"And fuck the Navy, too!" roared Heide.
Amid a sea of bullets, the rattling of machine-gunfire and the bursting of shells, they stood and glared at each other. Staring up at the shattered walls of the steelworks, it slowly dawned on me what it would mean if the factory fell. This place was Stalin's pride and joy. With Red October gone, what would he have left?
I became suddenly aware that Heide had abandoned Ponz and gone bounding up the slope toward the bunker. This was perhaps the most dangerous moment yet. The slope was steep and snow-covered and crisscrossed by enemy fire. I watched Heide spring to safety at the foot of the bunker and crouch there exultantly. One of us, at least, had made it.
I turned to the shivering sailor. "You coming, or not?"
"Don't make me laugh!"
It was all he would say. I shrugged my shoulders and threw myself at the slope. Bullets zipped across my path and buried themselves all around me in the snow. I rolled panting into the shadow of the great bunker. Its massive concrete walls rose menacingly above us. Those inside must feel so safe, while we skirmishing figures outside were so minute and unprotected, so relatively powerless.
I pressed myself hard against the foot of the wall, seeking some temporary shelter.
"What's the matter with you?" jeered Heide. "Got the wind up?"
"I'm not the only one," I muttered. "Damn fool idea this was!"
Heide held out his hand. "Never mind that. Where are the grenades?"
"I don't know," I said. "It's not my job to carry them. I'm not a goddamn packhorse."
"Who the hell's got them then?"
I suddenly remembered. "He has." I pointed back down the slope, to where Ponz was still cowering in the ditch. "He's got them."
"You mean you came up here without any grenades?" Heide stared at me aghast.
"You mean you did," I retorted.
"It's not my job to carry grenades!"
"And it's not mine, either! They were given to him, it's up to him to bring them!"
"To hell with that!" shouted Heide in a frenzy. He grabbed me by the collar and shook me. "You go right back down there and get them! What the hell are we supposed to do up here without any grenades?"
I tore myself away. "Let someone else fetch them!"
"I said you!" bellowed Heide. "You're the best man we've got with a grenade, and I'm ordering you to go down there and get them!"
"And I'm telling you to go screw yourself!" I bellowed back. I waved a hand in the direction of the terrified sailor. "Why can't he bring them up here? I'm not risking my neck going all the way down there and back again. You must be out of your mind!"
Heide gave me a look of maniacal hatred, then turned abruptly and shouted down at Ponz. "Hey! You there! Ponce, or whatever your name is--get a move on out of that hole!"
As the sailor simply withdrew farther into the protection of the ditch, Heide opened fire. The effect was instantaneous. With one bound, the man was up the hill and at our side. Without the grenades; in his anguish, he had abandoned them in the ditch! With a
I crouched, ready to spring. I didn't want to jump, I was scared rigid, I knew I'd never make it, the air was awash with bullets between us and the bunker. The only trouble was, I was even more scared of Heide. Heide was a fanatic, and a sadistic bastard into the bargain, and when he said he'd shoot, he meant it. On the other hand . . .
"Get going!"
He jabbed me in the kidneys with his sub. Sobbing with fear, I bunched my muscles together and launched myself into the bullet-ridden air. I was the first man over the ditch, but within a. second the others were with me. Ponz was by my side, with the pouch of grenades. He was making an odd snuffling noise. I glanced at him, my nerve suddenly restored, and realized that he was now in the state I had been in on the other side of the ditch.
"Do what you damn well like!" he whimpered at Heide. "My war's coming to an end right here in this ditch! Fuck the Fuhrer and fuck the Fatherland and fuck the pissing Reich!"
"And fuck the Navy, too!" roared Heide.
Amid a sea of bullets, the rattling of machine-gunfire and the bursting of shells, they stood and glared at each other. Staring up at the shattered walls of the steelworks, it slowly dawned on me what it would mean if the factory fell. This place was Stalin's pride and joy. With Red October gone, what would he have left?
I became suddenly aware that Heide had abandoned Ponz and gone bounding up the slope toward the bunker. This was perhaps the most dangerous moment yet. The slope was steep and snow-covered and crisscrossed by enemy fire. I watched Heide spring to safety at the foot of the bunker and crouch there exultantly. One of us, at least, had made it.
I turned to the shivering sailor. "You coming, or not?"
"Don't make me laugh!"
It was all he would say. I shrugged my shoulders and threw myself at the slope. Bullets zipped across my path and buried themselves all around me in the snow. I rolled panting into the shadow of the great bunker. Its massive concrete walls rose menacingly above us. Those inside must feel so safe, while we skirmishing figures outside were so minute and unprotected, so relatively powerless.
I pressed myself hard against the foot of the wall, seeking some temporary shelter.
"What's the matter with you?" jeered Heide. "Got the wind up?"
"I'm not the only one," I muttered. "Damn fool idea this was!"
Heide held out his hand. "Never mind that. Where are the grenades?"
"I don't know," I said. "It's not my job to carry them. I'm not a goddamn packhorse."
"Who the hell's got them then?"
I suddenly remembered. "He has." I pointed back down the slope, to where Ponz was still cowering in the ditch. "He's got them."
"You mean you came up here without any grenades?" Heide stared at me aghast.
"You mean you did," I retorted.
"It's not my job to carry grenades!"
"And it's not mine, either! They were given to him, it's up to him to bring them!"
"To hell with that!" shouted Heide in a frenzy. He grabbed me by the collar and shook me. "You go right back down there and get them! What the hell are we supposed to do up here without any grenades?"
I tore myself away. "Let someone else fetch them!"
"I said you!" bellowed Heide. "You're the best man we've got with a grenade, and I'm ordering you to go down there and get them!"
"And I'm telling you to go screw yourself!" I bellowed back. I waved a hand in the direction of the terrified sailor. "Why can't he bring them up here? I'm not risking my neck going all the way down there and back again. You must be out of your mind!"
Heide gave me a look of maniacal hatred, then turned abruptly and shouted down at Ponz. "Hey! You there! Ponce, or whatever your name is--get a move on out of that hole!"
As the sailor simply withdrew farther into the protection of the ditch, Heide opened fire. The effect was instantaneous. With one bound, the man was up the hill and at our side. Without the grenades; in his anguish, he had abandoned them in the ditch! With a
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