howl of rage, Heide lashed out with his foot and sent the man rolling back down the slope.
"You get those grenades up here on the double!"
Ponz lay cowering and whining in the ditch. "You fired at me! You could have killed me."
"That was my intention! I'm sorry I missed, I'll try again."
Gregor and the Legionnaire had crept around to join us. Ponz gave a wild shriek as Heide opened fire, and came skittering up the hill with tears rolling down his cheeks and the pouch of grenades bumping at his side. We snatched them from him and began feverishly to concoct our own brand of homemade bombs: a clutch of four grenades secured to a bottle filled with gasoline.
"OK, Sven." Heide pointed to the nearest loophole, which looked to be about five miles above my head. "I'll cover you while you chuck it in."
"What, me?" I said aghast.
"I said you, didn't I?"
"Yes, but how the hell can I?"
"Don't ask me," said Heide indifferently. "I didn't think up the idea, I only have to make sure it's carried out."
I stared up at the loophole, a good ten or eleven feet above the ground.
"You're the expert," said Gregor. "You've always been a wow with grenades."
I glared at him venomously. Heide jerked his head at me, and unwillingly I moved out into the open. A machine gunner posted high up behind one of the factory walls at once began plastering me with bullets. The air around me buzzed like a swarm of lusting wasps. I took aim, opening my chest wide to the enemy fire, drew back my arm and flung the grenades up toward the loophole. There was not sufficient strength behind my arm. The angle was wrong. The bomb crashed into the wall a couple of feet below the loophole and bounced down to the ground at our feet. I was scarcely aware of Heide hurling himself at me, knocking me off balance and into safety as the thing exploded. My arm was wrenched almost off my body by the force of the blast. I was quite hopeful for a moment, but when I felt it, it appeared still to be attached.
"Idiot!" snarled Heide. "They've spotted us now!"
I sat resentfully on the ground, massaging my shoulder.
Heide kicked at me with his boot. "Up!" He gestured at me. "Only one thing for it. You'll have to stand on my shoulders and stuff the thing through the hole that way."
I stared up at him, horrified. Heide was mad. Stark raving mad. I had always half suspected it.
"Come on!" He snapped his fingers at me as if I were a well-trained dog. "Let's get the thing over with."
Beyond the shadow of the bunker wall the fury was still raging. Despite Porta's ceaselessly accurate machine-gunfire, the Russian guns were still in action.
"Look," I said, trying to be reasonable with the demonic Heide, "I think someone else ought to have a go. My arm's been almost torn off my body, and I don't . . ."
"Liar!" Heide gripped me by my injured shoulder and hauled me to my feet. Tongues of red-hot fire raced down the right side of my body. Heide slapped me this way and that across the face until I felt dizzy, and then he stepped back and clasped his hands together. "Right! Shove your foot in there and get up."
I had no alternative. There never was any alternative in this godawful war. Heide was far stronger than I, he would kill me without a moment's hesitation if I again refused to obey his orders. And no one would blame him. I looked around hopelessly at the others. Ponz was sniveling against the wall, Gregor was glaring aggressively at me. Only the Legionnaire gave me a faint wink and grin of encouragement.
I swallowed some bitter-tasting liquid that had come into my mouth, placed my foot in Heide's hands and swung myself up onto his shoulders. Gregor passed up the grenades. Heide took a few paces backward into the enemy fire and I stretched up toward the loophole. But as I stuffed the grenades inside, the butt of a rifle appeared and bolted them out again. I lost my balance, grabbed at Heide's head, collapsed completely and brought him down with me. Together we rolled, in a
"You get those grenades up here on the double!"
Ponz lay cowering and whining in the ditch. "You fired at me! You could have killed me."
"That was my intention! I'm sorry I missed, I'll try again."
Gregor and the Legionnaire had crept around to join us. Ponz gave a wild shriek as Heide opened fire, and came skittering up the hill with tears rolling down his cheeks and the pouch of grenades bumping at his side. We snatched them from him and began feverishly to concoct our own brand of homemade bombs: a clutch of four grenades secured to a bottle filled with gasoline.
"OK, Sven." Heide pointed to the nearest loophole, which looked to be about five miles above my head. "I'll cover you while you chuck it in."
"What, me?" I said aghast.
"I said you, didn't I?"
"Yes, but how the hell can I?"
"Don't ask me," said Heide indifferently. "I didn't think up the idea, I only have to make sure it's carried out."
I stared up at the loophole, a good ten or eleven feet above the ground.
"You're the expert," said Gregor. "You've always been a wow with grenades."
I glared at him venomously. Heide jerked his head at me, and unwillingly I moved out into the open. A machine gunner posted high up behind one of the factory walls at once began plastering me with bullets. The air around me buzzed like a swarm of lusting wasps. I took aim, opening my chest wide to the enemy fire, drew back my arm and flung the grenades up toward the loophole. There was not sufficient strength behind my arm. The angle was wrong. The bomb crashed into the wall a couple of feet below the loophole and bounced down to the ground at our feet. I was scarcely aware of Heide hurling himself at me, knocking me off balance and into safety as the thing exploded. My arm was wrenched almost off my body by the force of the blast. I was quite hopeful for a moment, but when I felt it, it appeared still to be attached.
"Idiot!" snarled Heide. "They've spotted us now!"
I sat resentfully on the ground, massaging my shoulder.
Heide kicked at me with his boot. "Up!" He gestured at me. "Only one thing for it. You'll have to stand on my shoulders and stuff the thing through the hole that way."
I stared up at him, horrified. Heide was mad. Stark raving mad. I had always half suspected it.
"Come on!" He snapped his fingers at me as if I were a well-trained dog. "Let's get the thing over with."
Beyond the shadow of the bunker wall the fury was still raging. Despite Porta's ceaselessly accurate machine-gunfire, the Russian guns were still in action.
"Look," I said, trying to be reasonable with the demonic Heide, "I think someone else ought to have a go. My arm's been almost torn off my body, and I don't . . ."
"Liar!" Heide gripped me by my injured shoulder and hauled me to my feet. Tongues of red-hot fire raced down the right side of my body. Heide slapped me this way and that across the face until I felt dizzy, and then he stepped back and clasped his hands together. "Right! Shove your foot in there and get up."
I had no alternative. There never was any alternative in this godawful war. Heide was far stronger than I, he would kill me without a moment's hesitation if I again refused to obey his orders. And no one would blame him. I looked around hopelessly at the others. Ponz was sniveling against the wall, Gregor was glaring aggressively at me. Only the Legionnaire gave me a faint wink and grin of encouragement.
I swallowed some bitter-tasting liquid that had come into my mouth, placed my foot in Heide's hands and swung myself up onto his shoulders. Gregor passed up the grenades. Heide took a few paces backward into the enemy fire and I stretched up toward the loophole. But as I stuffed the grenades inside, the butt of a rifle appeared and bolted them out again. I lost my balance, grabbed at Heide's head, collapsed completely and brought him down with me. Together we rolled, in a
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