Front Lines (Front Lines 1) - Page 131

The ground beneath the jeep just explodes upward, sending the jeep cartwheeling. It turns in midair. Rio sees bodies thrown like dolls.

“Hit the dirt!” Cole yells.

The jeep slams down and explodes again. This time it slams into the wall of the canyon. A body, Rio can’t tell whose, flies free and smashes against the canyon wall. It slides down like some figure in a cartoon. Like it’s adhesive.

“Minefield!” Cole shouts. “Everybody freeze. Nobody moves.”

GIs strain to see if anyone is moving up ahead. The pass is in shadow but the jeep burns now, burns and casts an eerie orange light that does not show movement other than the drift of disturbed sand and a small, indistinguishable desert creature that sensibly scuttles away.

Lieutenant Helder from Third Platoon along with the various sergeants huddle up, once they’re sure this isn’t artillery or an air raid. The general consensus is that they have to send someone forward to check for survivors, but once that’s done they should abandon this stupid mission, get back to the road, and find their way to the main body of the army, wherever the hell that may be.

Rainy disagrees. “The orders I’m carrying come from Colonel Clay, with the full authority of General Fredendall.” This is a bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit. “Those orders say we go find this supply column. And it’s through that pass.”

“You want to stroll through that pass, Headquarters?” Sergeant Garaman demands. “That’s a minefield. Now, maybe it’s just antitank mines, but maybe it’s antipersonnel mines, too, and I don’t see any engineers here.”

“Don’t go through the pass? Then climb the hills on either side.”

“In the dark? Shadows are already long, and night comes on fast out here, this time of year. We’ll lose half a dozen men just from broken bones.”

“The orders are clear,” Rainy shoots back.

“Well, your colonel isn’t the one who has to find a way through, now is he? He ain’t here, he’s in the rear with some A-rab whore pulling his pud.”

Garaman and Schulterman continue to argue, and Helder continues to show every sign of being a man overwhelmed, while Cole borrows a pair of binoculars and scans the two sides of the pass.

“Anyone here ever done any mountain climbing?” Cole asks, interrupting the increasingly heated flow of invective.

Rio has not, but Hansu Pang raises his hand. So does a corporal from another squad.

“What are you thinking, Jedron?” Garaman asks, relieved to have an excuse to end the absurd shouting match with a woman half his size.

“I’m thinking that cliff right there isn’t but thirty, forty feet high,” Sergeant Cole says. “A man could carry a rope up there.”

The NCOs pass the binoculars back and forth, pausing to cast suspicious glances at Private Pang.

“We’re supposed to trust a fugging Jap?” someone asks, making the suspicions explicit.

“He’s an American,” Cole says, casting his own suspicious look at Pang, who stands stock-still, jaw clenched.

“I’m actually—” Hansu begins, but is cut off.

“He could get to the top and signal anyone on the other side,” Garaman says. “He could bring them down on us.”

Silence stretches as everyone considers the situation. Finally Helder sighs and says, “I don’t like it. But if we don’t try it, this headquarters girl, sorry, Sergeant Schulterman, here, is going to have us up on charges.”

“That’s right,” Rainy says, playing her part.

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought.” Sergeant Garaman is disgusted. It’s a feeling shared by everyone, including a visibly angry Hansu Pang. “Someone’s got to climb with the Jap. And if there’s any funny business . . .”

The implication is unspoken but clear: if Pang looks cross-eyed, someone has to be there to shoot him.

“I’ll go with Pang,” Cole says at last. “See if we can’t find a way forward that isn’t through that pass. Maybe at least get a picture of what’s on the other side. Could be more mines, could be a battalion of Waffen SS waiting for us.”

“Okay. And we need a detail to check on the jeep, see if anyone’s alive. Salvage any water or ammo. Any volunteers?”

“I’ll go.” Dain Sticklin, of course.

“Pick two people from your squad to go with you,” Sergeant Garaman says.

Tags: Michael Grant Front Lines Historical
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