Read Online The Praetorians by Jean Lartéguy - Free Book Online

everyone!” Mahmoudi yelled.
    Followed by a few men, he plunged into the brushwood at the bottom of the wadi. A few minutes later the 81 -calibre mortar-shells began bursting on the rocks with a noise of shattering china.
    It was half past eight in the morning, it would not be completely dark till nine o’clock in the evening. They had over twelve hours to wait in their funk-holes, like beasts at bay.
    Â * * * * 
    Radio reception was bad; perched on a hummock, as was his habit, Raspéguy had great difficulty in maintaining contact with his companies as they gradually advanced along the slopes of the valley.
    Sitting cross-legged and crouching over his map, with the field telephone in his hand, he yelled:
    â€œHullo, is that you, Pinières? I can hardly hear you. Speak slowly. What’s your position?”
    â€œI’ve reached the 7 th Infantry Regiment Company. What a mess, sir! Sheer butchery! They might at least have taught these poor lads to defend themselves.”
    â€œThe officers?”
    â€œAn old lieutenant who’s whimpering and a young second lieutenant who’s fuming.”
    â€œSend the second lieutenant along to me. What about the
fells
?”
    â€œVanished.”
    â€œThey’re lying low. We’ll have to dig them out with a fork, like snails. Over and out.”
    â€œHold on, sir! Three
fells
have just surrendered with their weapons.”
    â€œSend them along to me as well. Hullo, Orsini? Orsini, what’s going on your end?”
    â€œNot so good, sir. Four of my men bumped into some
fells
under cover. Five
fells
were blown to bits, but three of my men as well.”
    â€œHullo, Jérémie. Speak up, Jérémie.”
    â€œCaptain Jérémie here, sir. We’ve drawn a blank. But there’s been some movement: broken branches, scraps of paper lying around, cartridge-cases . . .”
    â€œBoisfeuras Company, your position?”
    â€œAt the bottom of the wadi. Three degrees left of what remains of the marabout. We’re making for the mound. We’ve come across four of their dead, with their arms beside them.”
    â€œThat means the others can’t be far off. Send me all the papers found on the bodies, and get into position on the mound.”
    â€œPatrols, sir?”
    â€œNo, stay where you are.”
    Raspéguy called up all his companies one after another. With the support company the same had happened as with Orsini. Five paratroopers had run into six
fellaghas
hiding upin the undergrowth; three paratroopers killed, two wounded, and the
fellaghas
who had received some grenades were blown to pieces.
    â€œAlmost even numbers,” said Raspéguy as he tapped his map.
    Captain Naugier, who was acting as adjutant in Major Beudin’s absence, blew his nose. He always had a cold. This was calculated to annoy the colonel, who could bear only people who were fighting fit. “In Raspéguy’s outfit, in order to have the right to die, you’ve got to be in the best of health.” This saying of Esclavier’s, uttered in a harsh voice in front of a group of new recruits, had become one of the traditional jokes which, together with a few legends and battle reports, constituted the folklore of the 10 th Colonial Parachute Regiment.
    â€œWell, Naugier, what do you make of it?”
    Naugier shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œNothing much. It’s a bit of a snafu.”
    He took a little bottle out of his pocket and, not without a certain ostentation, put some drops into his nose.
    Naugier wanted to resume command of his company; he did not like his post at Regimental H.Q. He would explain quite seriously, in a careful, almost pedantic voice, which the whole regiment took pleasure in imitating: “I’m allergic to the old man at close quarters. He gives me a cold in the nose.”
    The second lieutenant from the 7 th Infantry Regiment turned up. He snapped to attention and