Only a couple stood still where they had been hit, vacant surprise mirrored in their lifeless faces, then slipped down tiredly to the stony ground at their feet. Schmeissers-it was no war, as he had said, but sheer, pitiful massacre, with the defenceless figures on the slope below, figures still stunned and uncomprehending, jerking, spinning round and collapsing like marionettes in the hands of a mad puppeteer, some to lie where they fell, others to roll down the steep slope, legs and arms flailing in the grotesque disjointedness of death. With four machine-guns in their hands-two Brens and two 9 mm. His last words were caught up and drowned in the tearing, rapid-fire crash of the automatic carbines. He risked a quick peep round one of the boulders, eased himself back again.Eight, mebbe ten of them still down there, boss, he reported.The poor bastards are like ostriches-trying to take cover behind stones the size of an orange. A six-inch mortar, almost certainly using fragmentation bombs-you use a brush and shovel for clearing up afterwards. Guaranteed to turn the knees to jelly, especially after nightfall-but it's stifi the other one you have to watch. I was only sayin' what Louki told me, he said defensively.Īlso a mortar, Mallory explained.A five-barrelled job, and very nasty. Abruptly Miller's smile vanished and he nodded.
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