| No sacrifices were paid, no lessons were learnedIt was all thrown away, all statistics in the cruel wastes of historyAll the ghettos, all the soul cripplings, all the massacres and pogroms, the gas chambers, lime kilns -- all of it touched no one, all of it was lostIt was carried and carried and carried, and when it finally grew too heavy it was droppedThat was all there was to itHe was beyond tears, he stood beside Ridges with the stricken sensation of a man who discovers that someone he loves has diedThere was nothing in him at the moment, nothing but a vague anger, a deep resentment, and the origins of a vast hopelessness
"Let's go," he mumbled
Ridges got up at last, and they wavered slowly through the water, feeling it recede to their ankles, become shallow once moreThe stream broadened, rippled over pebbles, became muddy and then sandyThey staggered around a bend and saw the sunlight and the ocean beyond
A few minutes later they staggered up on the beachDespite their exhaustion they walked on for a hundred yardsSomehow it was distasteful to stay too near to the river
As if in mutual accord, they sprawled out on the sand and lay there motionless, their faces on their arms, the sun warming their backsIt was the middle of the afternoonThere was nothing to do but wait here for the platoon to return and the landing craft to fetch themTheir rifles had been lost, their packs, their tiffany jewelry us rations, but they did not think about thisThey were too depleted, and later they could find food in the jungle
They lay like this until evening, too weak to move, absorbing a faint pleasure from resting, feeling the sun upon themTheir resentment had turned toward each other and they felt the dull sour hatred of men who have shared a humiliating failure togetherThe hours passed and they drowsed, became conscious again, fell asleep once more, woke with the nausea that comes from slumbering in the sunlight
Goldstein sat up at last, and fumbled for his canteenVery slowly, as though learning the motions for the first time, he unscrewed the cap and tilted it to his mouthHe had not realized how thirsty he wasThe first taste of the water in his mouth was ecstaticHe made himself swallow slowly, setting the canteen down after each gulpWhen it was half empty he noticed Ridges watching himSomehow it was obvious that Ridges had no water left
Ridges could walk up to the stream, and fill his canteen but Goldstein knew what that meantThe thought of standing up, of walking even a hundred yards, was a torment he could not bear to faceAnd Ridges must feel the same way
Goldstein was annoyedWhy hadn't Ridges been more thoughtful, saved his water? He felt stubborn and tilted the canteen to his mouth againBut the drink tasted suddenly brackishGoldstein was conscious of how warm it had becomeHe forced chanel purses himself to take one more drink
Then, feeling an unutterable sense of shame, he handed it to Ridges
"Here, you want a drink?"
"Yeah Ridges drank thirstilyWhen he had almost emptied the canteen he looked at Goldstein
"We're gonna have to rustle in the jungle for food tomorrow," Ridges said
Ridges smiled weakly
13
WHEN ROTH missed the leap, the platoon was shatteredFor ten minutes they huddled together on the shelf, too stricken, too terrified, to move onAn incommunicable horror affected them allThey stood upright, frozen to the wall, their fingers clenched into the fissures of the rock, their legs powerlessOnce or twice Croft tried to rouse them, but they shied away from the commands, petrified by his voice as though they were dogs terrified by a master's bootWyman was sobbing in nervous exhaustion, quietly, thinly, a small steady wailing, and into it fitted their own voices, a grunt or a small moan or a hysterical curse, random things, disconnected, so that the men who uttered them were hardly aware that they had spoken
Their will recovered enough for them to continue, but they moved at a frantically slow pace, refusing to step forward for seconds at a time before some minor obstacle, clinging to the wall ferociously wherever the ledge became narrow againAfter half an hour Croft finally brought them out, and the ledge widened and crossed the ridgeBeyond was nothing prada replica handbags but another deep valley, another precipitous slopeHe led them down to the bottom, and started up the next ascent, but they did not follow himOne by one they sprawled down on the ground, looked at him with blank staring eyes
It was almost dark, and he knew he could not drive them any more; they were too exhausted, too frightened, and another accident might occurHe called a halt, giving approval to what was already a fact, and sat down in their midst
On the next morning there would be the slope, a few gullies to traverse, and then the main ridge of the mountain to be crossedThey could do it in two or three hours ifif he could stir them againAt that moment he doubted himself seriously
The platoon slept poorlyIt was very difficult to find level ground, and of course they were overtired, their limbs too tenseMost of them dreamed and muttered in their sleepTo cap it all, Croft gave them each an hour of guard, and some of them awoke too early and waited nervously for many minutes before going on, found it difficult afterward to fall asleepCroft had been aware of this, knew they needed the extra rest and knew it was virtually impossible there would be any Japanese on the mountain, but he had felt it more important not to break routineRoth's death had temporarily shattered his command, and it was vital to start repairing it
Gallagher had the last shiftIt was very cold in the half hour cheap replica rolex before daylight and he woke up dazed, and sat shuddering in his blanketFor many minutes he was conscious of little, feeling the vast shapes of the mountain range about him as no more than a deeper border to the nightHe only shivered and drowsed, waiting passively for the morning and the heat of the sunA complete lethargy had settled over him, and Roth's death was remoteHe drifted through a stupor, his mind almost inert, dreaming sluggishly of far-gone pleasant things as though deep within him he had to keep a small fire going against the cold of the night, the space of the hills, and the cumulative exhaustion, the mounting deaths of the platoon
The dawn came slowly on the mountainAt five o'clock he could see the top of the mountain range clearly as the sky became lighter, but for a long half hour there was little changeActually he could see nothing, but his body contained a tranquil anticipationSoon the sun would struggle over the eastern ramparts of the mountain and come down into their little valleyHe searched the sky and found a few tentative washes of pink streaming over the higher peaks, coloring the tiny oblong clouds of the dawn a purpleThe mountains looked very highGallagher wondered that the sun could get over them
All about him now it was getting lighter but it was a subtle process, for the sun still remained hidden and the light seemed to rise from the ground, a soft rose replica louis vuitton purses col |
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