Birdy

town called Reuth on the other side of the valley. It’s starting to get light and he points to some white dots near the horizon about a mile and a half away. Reuth is supposed to be a communications center for this section of the line. The krauts aredefending it like crazy men. There’ve been at least ten tiger tanks in and out of the town. There’s been all kinds of patrolling. He says his outfit’s been here in Neuendorf for ten days and has had twenty-seven casualties. He shows us the outposts for our platoon. He tells us we’ll probably have to attack Reuth; the whole division’s being held up here.
    When I get back to the cellar, my insides are churning up. When I get scared, my infield gets loose and my head feels empty. I’m already shaking inside. Christ, I’m going to make one crappy assistant squad leader. The only way I can see to get out of all this is to get hit.
    The cellar is smoky, smelly but warm. The squad is stretched out sleeping in sacks against the back wall. The fire’s built into an arched hole near the door. It might’ve been used to store potatoes once. There’s no flue so the smoke goes up to the ceiling of the cellar, drifts to the door and up the cellar steps. The smoke comes down to about four feet from the floor and you have to stoop over to breathe or find your way around. There’s a blanket over the doorway, and the only light is the fire. The room smells of smoke, farts, and feet.
    I go out again to find the latrine, it’s against what’s left of the back wall of the church. There’s a little path worn through the rubble. The morning light is coming on stronger and taking some of the bite out of the cold. Kohler and Schneider are on post; I can see them standing in the hole out on a small knoll. Christ, I hope there aren’t any patrols. There’ll have to be though if there’s going to be an attack.
    I squat and let fly. I’ll probably never take a normal crap again. My asshole hasn’t felt anything solid slide past it in three months. The toilet paper is hung on the handle of an entrenching tool. I wipe about five times to get it all, stand up, button up, then throw a few shovelfuls of dirt over the mess. The latrine’s still deep; should last till the attack anyway.
    The next week and a half aren’t actually too bad. We don’t get any of the patrols and we only have the one outpost to man. I get plenty of sleep. I’m hiding in my fart sack in the cellar. Theonly way they can hurt me is with a direct hit. It’s not likely at a mile and a half. I’m feeling safe but dreading the attack.
    When we do go out, it’s four in the morning. We make a long dogleg to the left and into a forest. It’s a pine forest and has a narrow point going over the edge of a hill, and part way down the other side in the direction of Reuth. It’s the closest we can get without going through open country.
    We sneak all the way there and to the front edge of the forest without anything coming in. Richards tells us to dig in. It’s about five o’clock and the attack is for seven. Our artillery barrage is going to start at six-thirty. So, here it is, the whole thing over again. The first times, you don’t really believe it’s going to happen. Then, when it is happening, it’s so real, you can’t think of it ever stopping. Now, I know it’s going to happen; pure fear has me tight by the balls.
    Harrington and I are down by the point of the forest. As the light comes up, we can see the houses of Reuth. They can’t be more than three or four hundred yards away. Harrington says maybe they’ve pulled out. How the hell can they pull out of a communications center unless they figure on abandoning this whole section of the line? I can’t see the krauts doing a thing like that. Maybe being brave is not thinking too much; or at least being able to fool yourself.
    It’s cold and there’s no smoking. Richards has me going around checking to see if everybody has their weapons in order, bandoliers, grenades, stuff like that. I don’t think anybody’s as scared as I am, not even the two new replacements. How the hell can they know? I’m glad to get back to our hole, jump in, and snuggle deep. It feels good to have solid earth against my back. There’s practically nothing smells or feels so comforting as deep earth when you’re scared. No wonder men lived in caves.
    We stay down there during the barrage. The heavy stuff is flying over our heads like freight trains. I huddle deeper;