Men at War by Bill Fawcett

Author:Bill Fawcett [Fawcett, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Battles - History, Combat, Anecdotes, Military history, Battles, General, United States, Strategy - History, Combat - History, Soldiers, Biography & Autobiography, Military, Strategy, Biography, History
ISBN: 9780425230138
Publisher: Penguin Group USA
Published: 2009-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Hey, Chicago! The looie wants you!”

The platoon top, Hurlburt, had his head stuck through the tent flap.

Beim jerked his mind back from forbidden territory, scribbled at the bottom of what he’d written before,All my love until we meet again and forever after that.

Your Dick

and stood up. “Lead the way.”

Allison had a mustache so large that it almost swallowed his nose. It made him look as much like a French poilou (“hairy fellow”) as a Texan.

He also gave Hurlburt a look that said the top’s presence was not desired and his absence would be welcomed. Hurlburt started to open his mouth. Allison repeated the look. Hurlburt took the hint, and his leave.

“Okay,” the lieutenant said. “How do you see the war going?”

Beim didn’t quite gape. “You don’t look much like General Pershing, sir.”

“What does that matter? Or not?”

Beim considered his best course of action for about two seconds. He held his peace for enough longer to let a trio of trucks clatter by—one loaded with stovepipe-like Stokes mortars, the other two towing 37mm “trench guns.”

Then he gave an edited version of the imaginary portions of the letter to Rose. The AEF had just reached the coal fields when Allison held up a hand.

“About what the Old Man reckoned. Question is, you want to go to Langres now or after we join the push?”

That consideration didn’t even take two seconds.

“After.”

“Good. Hurlburt’s showing signs of boozing too much. The battalion MGs are about to kidnap Katzenmeyer. If Hurlburt folds, you’re platoon top. If I go west, you’ve got the platoon.” Allison grinned. “Still want to wait?”

“I’d be a damned fool not to.”

“That you would. Oh, and Moussin’s going to be a sniper, and two of your orphans are in the hospital with influenza.”

“Damn.”

“I know. I signed up to fight the Germans, not diseases. But what can you do?”

A mile away, some ack-ack was firing at German planes. Beim listened for the heavier report of bombs.

Silence slowly crept back over the First Division. Beim saluted.

“By your leave, sir?”

Allison returned the salute. “Dismissed—and good luck.”

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