Orders Is Orders by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Galaxy Press, LLC
Published: 2009-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

TWO flares burned in the darkness and by their jumpy light could be seen the irregular pattern of sandbags stretched across the road and topped with barbed wire. Silhouetted in the foreground was a triangular stack of rifles and gleaming to one side squatted a spraddle-legged machine gun, manned by a sleepy Japanese crew.

A short row of tents faced the road, glowing with inner light and patterned with grotesque shadows, caricatures of the officers within.

A stocky sentry snapped erect to the right of the machine gunners. Rifle at port, he advanced two cautious paces, staring into the darkness down the road.

Four shadows were less dark than the night beyond.

“Todomeru!” barked the sentry. “Halt!”

The machine gunners popped up like jack-in-the-boxes. The shadows stopped moving on the walls of the tent and then surged toward the entrances.

Staggering under the almost inert weight of Toughey, Mitchell advanced until he could be seen in the light of the flares. Behind him the reverend stopped, panting, to set down the keg. Goldy paused uncertainly.

Mitchell saw an ammunition box on his right. He eased Toughey down to it and then stood erect again. He felt curiously lightheaded and his side was aching. He had not dared explore the wound.

Several curious officers closed into a semicircle about him. Two sentries moved warily down to better watch the other members of the party.

The silence was very long. Behind the impassive faces of the officers, astonishment was rife. There was no mistaking the globe and anchor and eagle on this haggard soldier’s cap. Officers of the Mikado were not prepared to see a United States Marine.

Mitchell started to speak in Shantung dialect and then stopped. It made no impression upon them. He swung back to English.

“I am Gunnery Sergeant James Mitchell of the United States Marines. I am under orders to proceed to Shunkien and report to United States Consul Jackson of that city. You will please let me pass.”

The officers stood where they were, just as blank as ever. Irritably, Mitchell started to speak again but a small, pigeon-breasted fellow, with a face as round and shining as the reverend’s bald head, stepped a pace forward.

“I speak English. Why do you want to go to Shunkien?”

“I am under orders from the commanding officer of the United States cruiser Miami. I wish to pass through your lines with my . . . my landing force.”

The Japanese massaged his face very thoughtfully, much like a sleek cat adjusting its whiskers. He stepped back and conversed very rapidly with a quick-eyed gentleman of higher rank.

Presently he spoke again. “Why do you wish to go to Shunkien? Did you not know that the city is under siege?”

“I am under orders,” said Mitchell stubbornly.

“It is impossible. We are very sorry. You, of course, have your orders with you?”

“The first Japanese PC I ran into relieved me of them.”

“Hmmmmm. This is very irregular.

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