"I knew they'd start giving us hell sooner or later," remarked Murray
Lee as he climbed into his tank.
At Waterford there was ordered confusion when they arrived. Just outside
the town a long line of infantrymen were plying pick and shovel in the
formation of a system of trenches. Machine-gun units were installing
themselves in stone or brick buildings and constructing barricades
around their weapons; line after line of tanks had wheeled into position
under cover of woods or in the streets of the town, the little whippets
out in front, fast cruiser-tanks behind them and the lumbering
battle-tanks with their six-inch guns, farther back.
Artillery was everywhere, mostly in little pits over which the gunners
were spreading green strips of camouflage. As the American tanks rolled
up, a battery of eight-inch howitzers behind a railroad embankment at
the west end of the town was firing slowly and with an air of great
solemnity at some target in the invisible distance, the angle of their
muzzles showing that they were using the extreme range. A couple of
airplanes hummed overhead. But of dead or wounded, of dodos or any other
enemy there was no sign. It might have been a parade-war, an elaborately
realistic imitation of the real thing for the movies.
Guides directed the Americans to a post down the line toward Chew Road.
"What's the news?" asked Ben of an officer whose red tabs showed he
belonged to the staff.
"They hit the right wing at Atsion," replied the officer. "Just what
happened, I'm not sure. Somebody said they had a lot of those light-ray
guns and they just crumpled up our flank like that." He slapped his
hands together to show the degree of crumpling the right flank had
endured. "We lost about fifteen hundred men in fifteen minutes. Tanks,
too. But I think we're stopping them now."
"Any dodos?" asked Ben.
"Just a few. The airplanes shot down a flock of seven just before the
battle and after that they kept away.... What is it? General
Witherington wants me? Oh, all right, I'll come. Excuse me, sir," and
the staff officer was off.
Most of the afternoon was spent in an interminable period of waiting and
watching the laboring infantry sink themselves into the ground. About
four o'clock a fine, cold drizzle began to fall. The Americans sought
the shelter of their tanks, and about the same time their radiophones
flashed the order to move up, toward the north and east through a barren
pasture with a few trees in it, to the crest of a low hill. It was
already nearly dark; the tanks bumped unevenly over the stony ground,
their drivers following each other by the black silhouettes in the
gloom. Off to the right a battery suddenly woke to a fever of activity,
then as rapidly became silent and in the intervals of silence between
the motor-sounds the Americans could catch the faint rat-tat of
machine-guns in the heavens above. Evidently dodos were abroad in the
gloom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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