thuds and a shrieking sound overhead, and the replacement on the ground looked up sheepishly.
“That’s ours,” Shorty said as he walked by him.
“Better to duck and live to tell, than not duck and die, kid,” said Tuck, laughing as he lit a cigarette.
His pals helped him up. Dull crumps sounded ahead of them as the shells hit their target. The firing continued, thuds and crumps blending into a thunder of sound, surrounding them, echoing off the hills and rolling back at them.
“Where are we going?” Having been acknowledged, the replacement who hit the ground felt he could ask a general question. No one answered him. Jake shook his head, feeling sorry that the kid didn’t understand how meaningless the question was. New to the front, he wanted an answer in a geographical sense, a specific location. Where are we going – what town, what hill, what terrain feature are we walking towards? No one knew. They were following the company, which was following the battalion, which was…well, they all hoped there was more than their battalion involved, but who knew?
Jake knew the real answer, but it wasn’t something he could readily explain, couldn’t even tell the kid how off his curiosity was. It was that the names of things didn’t matter. What difference did it make if you got yours on a road you knew the name of? Or if your legs got blown off in a town you could point to on a map? Or were blinded on a hill you could pronounce the name of? What the fuck did that matter? They were going to attack the MLR, which is the only place there ever was. It might be a village, or a ridge, or a road intersection, or a farmhouse. Advance. Attack. Dig in. Defend. That’s where you’re going kid, and you’re going to freeze your balls off on the way there.
Today he knew even less than usual. No sergeant, and now the platoon didn’t even have a lieutenant, what with Red back at Battalion Aide, a nice clean hole in his arm. Not that it mattered, they knew enough.
Jake thought about the possibilities. This wasn’t the route they had taken yesterday. They were following a logging road out of the forest, down into cleared land in a broad valley to their east. Probably trying to flank the MLR, or avoid nasty spots like that machine gun nest they found yesterday. Bombardment or no, the Krauts made themselves some good bunkers when they had the time, and they might be in position and waiting for them. The artillery had to let up once they got close, or at least walk the shelling back. Either way, it gave the Krauts the time they needed to get out of their holes. He put that worry away, no sense stewing about it until he had to. Maybe they were going after a village on the other side of the MLR. That would be good, since it meant they could sleep inside tonight. If they held it that is, and if the Krauts didn’t have every building already zeroed in.
Jake tried to remember the last full night of sleep he’d had. He couldn’t. Not on the line anyway. They had two nights in a rear area about twenty days ago, showers, new uniforms, hot chow. Guard duty one night, an hour of shelling the next, and then back in a cold hole in the ground. Sleep. It sounded like a luxury, like something in a store window you knew you could never afford, but couldn’t stop staring at either. Unobtainable. Like the ring he had wanted to buy Mary Lou, to show her he was serious, that he had some class. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d have to work up to that, but it had a real amethyst and some cut crystal that looked like diamonds. Mary Lou’s father was a doctor, not a rich man, but somehow above the rest of the folks in Minersville. Not a snob, but he read a lot, he knew a lot of things, and was always telling Mary Lou to remember there was a world beyond the ridges that sliced their part of Pennsylvania into thin strips of road and river. Mary Lou always said she wanted to marry a boy who’d show her that world. Jake had no idea how he
“That’s ours,” Shorty said as he walked by him.
“Better to duck and live to tell, than not duck and die, kid,” said Tuck, laughing as he lit a cigarette.
His pals helped him up. Dull crumps sounded ahead of them as the shells hit their target. The firing continued, thuds and crumps blending into a thunder of sound, surrounding them, echoing off the hills and rolling back at them.
“Where are we going?” Having been acknowledged, the replacement who hit the ground felt he could ask a general question. No one answered him. Jake shook his head, feeling sorry that the kid didn’t understand how meaningless the question was. New to the front, he wanted an answer in a geographical sense, a specific location. Where are we going – what town, what hill, what terrain feature are we walking towards? No one knew. They were following the company, which was following the battalion, which was…well, they all hoped there was more than their battalion involved, but who knew?
Jake knew the real answer, but it wasn’t something he could readily explain, couldn’t even tell the kid how off his curiosity was. It was that the names of things didn’t matter. What difference did it make if you got yours on a road you knew the name of? Or if your legs got blown off in a town you could point to on a map? Or were blinded on a hill you could pronounce the name of? What the fuck did that matter? They were going to attack the MLR, which is the only place there ever was. It might be a village, or a ridge, or a road intersection, or a farmhouse. Advance. Attack. Dig in. Defend. That’s where you’re going kid, and you’re going to freeze your balls off on the way there.
Today he knew even less than usual. No sergeant, and now the platoon didn’t even have a lieutenant, what with Red back at Battalion Aide, a nice clean hole in his arm. Not that it mattered, they knew enough.
Jake thought about the possibilities. This wasn’t the route they had taken yesterday. They were following a logging road out of the forest, down into cleared land in a broad valley to their east. Probably trying to flank the MLR, or avoid nasty spots like that machine gun nest they found yesterday. Bombardment or no, the Krauts made themselves some good bunkers when they had the time, and they might be in position and waiting for them. The artillery had to let up once they got close, or at least walk the shelling back. Either way, it gave the Krauts the time they needed to get out of their holes. He put that worry away, no sense stewing about it until he had to. Maybe they were going after a village on the other side of the MLR. That would be good, since it meant they could sleep inside tonight. If they held it that is, and if the Krauts didn’t have every building already zeroed in.
Jake tried to remember the last full night of sleep he’d had. He couldn’t. Not on the line anyway. They had two nights in a rear area about twenty days ago, showers, new uniforms, hot chow. Guard duty one night, an hour of shelling the next, and then back in a cold hole in the ground. Sleep. It sounded like a luxury, like something in a store window you knew you could never afford, but couldn’t stop staring at either. Unobtainable. Like the ring he had wanted to buy Mary Lou, to show her he was serious, that he had some class. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d have to work up to that, but it had a real amethyst and some cut crystal that looked like diamonds. Mary Lou’s father was a doctor, not a rich man, but somehow above the rest of the folks in Minersville. Not a snob, but he read a lot, he knew a lot of things, and was always telling Mary Lou to remember there was a world beyond the ridges that sliced their part of Pennsylvania into thin strips of road and river. Mary Lou always said she wanted to marry a boy who’d show her that world. Jake had no idea how he
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