You want my advice? Don't mess around with that particular horse's ass or he's liable to dump a load of horse's poo-poo all over you.'
'He sounds a bit mad,' Barker said.
'Oh, he's crackers,' Templeton told them.
'What was he raving about?' Townsend asked Dru.
'Treason. Traitors in the ranks. The revolution betrayed. Firing squads. Summary executions. All Trotskyite spies will be purged.'
'He's always on about that,' Templeton said. 'Never stops.'
Luis had been standing with his head bowed, looking very serious. Now he addressed Templeton.
'Sir, I offer my apology for what I said to you earlier. It was bad manners.'
'Oh, that's all right, chum.' Templeton was scratching his armpits, hard. 'Sorry, everybody. I'm afraid I'm a bit lousy.'
Luis was not ready to allow lice to distract him from his views on war. 'It is bad courtesy to criticise a soldier when one has not experienced the truth of war for oneself,' he declared.
'Please don't worry about it.' Templeton slapped his trousers. 'Sometimes violence seems to stun them, and other times it just wakes them up. One never knows what to do for the best.'
For a moment everyone stood around in slight embarrassment, listening to the strident bellow of the brigade conference.
'Well, we're not going to get anywhere here, are we?' Barker said. 'Why don't we trundle off and take a squint at the Front?'
'Show you the way, if you like,' Templeton offered.
As they walked up the hill, Milton Townsend took Luis aside. 'Listen, Luis,' he said. 'The stories I've been getting from Republican Army Headquarters are no damn good to me. Frankly, it's all bullshit propaganda. Now what I need, see, is a nice, simple, gung-ho bit of action. Keep your ears open, okay?'
'Okay.'
'I mean, this is war. Right? So there's got to be a chance for glory somewhere, you know what I mean? Some guy has got to save his wounded buddies, or capture a strongpoint singlehanded, or shoot down three fighter planes with four bullets, or something. I mean it happens, for Chrissake. We've just got to find it, that's all.'
'Sometimes these damned heroes get themselves killed, that is the difficulty,' Luis remarked.
'That doesn't necessarily matter. We just have to find a good witness. This fight for democracy and freedom and all that crap is fine, terrific, but we need action. You go to the movies? You like westerns?'
'Sure! Gary Cooper, Lone Ranger -- '
'Okay, you got it. Find me the Lone Ranger of the International Brigade. Dead or alive.'
They found the Front a mile and a half up the track, in trenches dug just short of the crest; and defending this stretch of the Front they found the 2nd English Battalion, now sober, dirty and glum.
Harry Summers came out to meet them. 'I take it you've got permission from Brigade H.Q. to be up here?' he asked.
'We just left there,' Dru said. 'Your lot didn't get much of a break, did they?'
'The men are quite refreshed. They voted to return, as a matter of fact, as soon as they heard we were preparing for a counter-attack.'
Townsend said: 'Preparing to make one or to meet one?'
'The former.'
'Terrific! Maybe you can show us the target?'
Summers took out a very used handkerchief. The fabric crackled as he pulled it unstuck. 'We fight for Spain,' he said. 'For the loyal, free and democratic republic. It is the fascist rebels who are seeking to capture targets. We fight for freedom, not for property.' He blew his nose.
There was a short silence. Luis looked uncertainly at Townsend, who rolled his eyes at him. 'Sir,' Luis said to Summers, 'where is the bloody enemy?' Everyone brightened up. Summers turned and led them forward.
The trenches were crumbling and filthy. Bits of food, rusting tins, broken rifles and stained clothing lay everywhere, and now that the sun was high the flies were loud: the trenches had been used as a latrine as well as a dustbin. The men of the 2nd Battalion were hard at work, cleaning out the mess and strengthening the walls; they pressed
'He sounds a bit mad,' Barker said.
'Oh, he's crackers,' Templeton told them.
'What was he raving about?' Townsend asked Dru.
'Treason. Traitors in the ranks. The revolution betrayed. Firing squads. Summary executions. All Trotskyite spies will be purged.'
'He's always on about that,' Templeton said. 'Never stops.'
Luis had been standing with his head bowed, looking very serious. Now he addressed Templeton.
'Sir, I offer my apology for what I said to you earlier. It was bad manners.'
'Oh, that's all right, chum.' Templeton was scratching his armpits, hard. 'Sorry, everybody. I'm afraid I'm a bit lousy.'
Luis was not ready to allow lice to distract him from his views on war. 'It is bad courtesy to criticise a soldier when one has not experienced the truth of war for oneself,' he declared.
'Please don't worry about it.' Templeton slapped his trousers. 'Sometimes violence seems to stun them, and other times it just wakes them up. One never knows what to do for the best.'
For a moment everyone stood around in slight embarrassment, listening to the strident bellow of the brigade conference.
'Well, we're not going to get anywhere here, are we?' Barker said. 'Why don't we trundle off and take a squint at the Front?'
'Show you the way, if you like,' Templeton offered.
As they walked up the hill, Milton Townsend took Luis aside. 'Listen, Luis,' he said. 'The stories I've been getting from Republican Army Headquarters are no damn good to me. Frankly, it's all bullshit propaganda. Now what I need, see, is a nice, simple, gung-ho bit of action. Keep your ears open, okay?'
'Okay.'
'I mean, this is war. Right? So there's got to be a chance for glory somewhere, you know what I mean? Some guy has got to save his wounded buddies, or capture a strongpoint singlehanded, or shoot down three fighter planes with four bullets, or something. I mean it happens, for Chrissake. We've just got to find it, that's all.'
'Sometimes these damned heroes get themselves killed, that is the difficulty,' Luis remarked.
'That doesn't necessarily matter. We just have to find a good witness. This fight for democracy and freedom and all that crap is fine, terrific, but we need action. You go to the movies? You like westerns?'
'Sure! Gary Cooper, Lone Ranger -- '
'Okay, you got it. Find me the Lone Ranger of the International Brigade. Dead or alive.'
They found the Front a mile and a half up the track, in trenches dug just short of the crest; and defending this stretch of the Front they found the 2nd English Battalion, now sober, dirty and glum.
Harry Summers came out to meet them. 'I take it you've got permission from Brigade H.Q. to be up here?' he asked.
'We just left there,' Dru said. 'Your lot didn't get much of a break, did they?'
'The men are quite refreshed. They voted to return, as a matter of fact, as soon as they heard we were preparing for a counter-attack.'
Townsend said: 'Preparing to make one or to meet one?'
'The former.'
'Terrific! Maybe you can show us the target?'
Summers took out a very used handkerchief. The fabric crackled as he pulled it unstuck. 'We fight for Spain,' he said. 'For the loyal, free and democratic republic. It is the fascist rebels who are seeking to capture targets. We fight for freedom, not for property.' He blew his nose.
There was a short silence. Luis looked uncertainly at Townsend, who rolled his eyes at him. 'Sir,' Luis said to Summers, 'where is the bloody enemy?' Everyone brightened up. Summers turned and led them forward.
The trenches were crumbling and filthy. Bits of food, rusting tins, broken rifles and stained clothing lay everywhere, and now that the sun was high the flies were loud: the trenches had been used as a latrine as well as a dustbin. The men of the 2nd Battalion were hard at work, cleaning out the mess and strengthening the walls; they pressed
Similar Books
