G-8 #10 The Dragon Patrol by Robert J. hogan

Author:Robert J. hogan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A SHELL flare burst over the waste between the lines. The air for a long moment was lighted as brightly as day. Then darkness fell once more. “Now!” G-8 hissed and lifted his foot. He felt himself shot up through the air as though from a spring-board. He was scrambling over those sand bags now.

Blam!

A shell burst out in the space ahead. No telling what it was. It might have been from a Yank battery or a German. In either case it was poorly aimed. But it flooded No-Man’s-Land with its light just as G-8 rolled over the top of the sand bags. G-8 dropped instantly and lay motionless. He was caught in that flash, caught there in his German helmet and infantry uniform. Had any of the enemy peering over their escarpment seen him move from the trench itself? He had no way of finding that out as yet. He lay still for several seconds Then he began to crawl rapidly.

Blam!

Another shell burst out in the night. He flattened and lay still. The ground heaved under him. Earth, sodden and stinking, spattered down on him. That shell had burst only a couple hundred feet away. He waited. Then he crawled on again, out across the waste that was dedicated to no man. For no human could live out there for long. It was anybody’s territory. It belonged to G-8 for the moment — and another, as he was to learn shortly. Blam — plop! Another flare burst over No-Man’s-Land and shed its light down on the horrible sight. G-8 dropped motionless and stayed there until the flare went out.

Tac-tac-tac!

From far up the line of the Yank trenches came the stutter of a machine gun. Mud spattered in his face. The ground just ahead of him seemed to come alive as that machine gun went into action. G-8 knew the answer to that but he could do nothing about it. Machine-gun nests near the point where he had rolled over the top had been warned to lay off a German who was crawling through. But that other machine gun, the one to the west, hadn’t been told what was going on. They had seen a German helmet and the German infantry uniform moving back toward the enemy lines.

Tac-tac-tac!

They were raking his position with their deadly fire. His own men firing at him because they didn’t know.

Tac-tac-tac! Blam!

A shell burst so close that he was half covered with the mud that it spewed up toward him. That would help to hide him. The stench of the dirt mingled with human bodies, choked him. But he dared not cough. He heard a groan a little way ahead and began to move toward it as darkness again covered his movements. G-8 gained the edge of a shell hole. He was moving around it now, crawling inch by inch. The Yank machine-gunners continued to pour their lead into the place where he had been a few moments before.

Wheee!

A shell whistled by. He heard it coming and rolled desperately for the shell hole.

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