"Let no one move," he whispered.
"Sons of the great whore," the voice came now from behind the rocks again.
"Red swine. Mother rapers. Eaters of the milk of thy fathers."
Sordo grinned. He could just hear the bellowed insults by turning his good ear. This is better than the aspirin, he thought. How many will we get? Can they be that foolish?
The voice had stopped again and for three minutes they heard nothing and saw no movement. Then the sniper behind the boulder a hundred yards down the slope exposed himself and fired. The bullet hit a rock and ricocheted with a sharp whine. Then Sordo saw a man, bent double, run from the shelter of the rocks where the automatic rifle was across the open ground to the big boulder behind which the sniper was hidden. He almost dove behind the boulder.
Sordo looked around. They signalled to him that there was no movement on the other slopes. El Sordo grinned happily and shook his head. This is ten times better than the aspirin, he thought, and he waited, as happy as only a hunter can be happy.
Below on the slope the man who had run from the pile of stones to the shelter of the boulder was speaking to the sniper.
"Do you believe it?"
"I don't know," the sniper said.
"It would be logical," the man, who was the officer in command, said. "They are surrounded. They have nothing to expect but to die."
The sniper said nothing.
"What do you think?" the officer asked.
"Nothing," the sniper said.
"Have you seen any movement since the shots?"
"None at all."
The officer looked at his wrist watch. It was ten minutes to three o'clock.
"The planes should have come an hour ago," he said. Just then another officer flopped in behind the boulder. The sniper moved over to make room for him.
"Thou, Paco," the first officer said. "How does it seem to thee?"
The second officer was breathing heavily from his sprint up and across the hillside from the automatic rifle position.
"For me it is a trick," he said.
"But if it is not? What a ridicule we make waiting here and laying siege to dead men."
"We have done something worse than ridiculous already," the second officer said. "Look at that slope."
He looked up the slope to where the dead were scattered close to the top. From where he looked the line of the hilltop showed the scattered rocks, the belly, projecting legs, shod hooves jutting out, of Sordo's horse, and the fresh dirt thrown up by the digging.
"What about the mortars?" asked the second officer.
"They should be here in an hour. If not before."
"Then wait for them. There has been enough stupidity already."
"Bandidos!" the first officer shouted suddenly, getting to his feet and putting his head well up above the boulder so that the crest of the hill looked much closer as he stood upright. "Red swine! Cowards!"
The second officer looked at the sniper and shook his head. The sniper looked away but his lips tightened.
The first officer stood there, his head all clear of the rock and with his hand on his pistol butt. He cursed and vilified the hilltop. Nothing happened. Then he stepped clear of the boulder and stood there looking up the hill.
"Fire, cowards, if you are alive," he shouted. "Fire on one who has no fear of any Red that ever came out of the belly of the great whore."
This last was quite a long sentence to shout and the officer's face was red and congested as he finished.
The second officer, who was a thin sunburned man with quiet eyes, a thin, long-lipped mouth and a stubble of beard over his hollow cheeks, shook his head again. It was this officer who was shouting who had ordered the first assault. The young lieutenant who was dead up the slope had been the best friend of this other lieutenant who was named Paco Berrendo and who was listening to the shouting of the captain, who was obviously in a state of exaltation.
"Those are the swine who shot my sister and my mother," the captain said. He had a red face and a blond, British-looking moustache and there was something wrong about his eyes. They were a light blue and the lashes were light, too. As you looked at them they seemed to focus slowly. Then "Reds," he shouted. "Cowards!" and commenced cursing again.
He stood absolutely clear now and, sighting carefully, fired his pistol at the only target that the hilltop presented: the dead horse that had belonged to Sordo. The bullet threw up a puff of dirt fifteen yards below the horse. The captain fired again. The bullet hit a rock and sung off.
The captain stood there looking at the hilltop. The Lieutenant Berrendo was looking at the body of the other lieutenant just below the summit. The sniper was looking at the ground under his eyes. Then he looked up at the captain.
"There is no one alive up there," the captain said. "Thou," he said to the sniper, "go up there and see."
The sniper looked down. He said nothing.
"Don't you hear me?" the captain shouted at him.
"Yes, my captain," the sniper said, not looking at him.
"Then get up and go." The captain still had his pistol out. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes, my captain."
"Why don't you go, then?"
"I don't want to, my captain."
"You don't want to?" The captain pushed the pistol against the small of the man's back. "You don't want to?"
"I am afraid, my captain," the soldier said with dignity.
Lieutenant Berrendo, watching the captain's face and his odd eyes, thought he was going to shoot the man then.
"Captain Mora," he said.
"Lieutenant Berrendo?"
"It is possible the soldier is right."
"That he is right to say he is afraid? That he is right to say he does not want to obey an order?"
"No. That he is right that it is a trick."
"They are all dead," the captain said. "Don't you hear me say they are all dead?'
"You mean our comrades on the slope?" Berrendo asked him. "I agree with you."
"Paco," the captain said, "don't be a fool. Do you think you are the only one who cared for Julian? I tell you the Reds are dead. Look!"
He stood up, then put both hands on top of the boulder and pulled himself up, kneeing-up awkwardly, then getting on his feet.
"Shoot," he shouted, standing on the gray granite boulder and waved both his arms. "Shoot me! Kill me!"
On the hilltop El Sordo lay behind the dead horse and grinned.
What a people, he thought. He laughed, trying to hold it in because the shaking hurt his arm.
"Reds," came the shout from below. "Red canaille. Shoot me! Kill me!"
Sordo, his chest shaking, barely peeped past the horse's crupper and saw the captain on top of the boulder waving his arms. Another officer stood by the boulder. The sniper was standing at the other side. Sordo kept his eye where it was and shook his head happily.
"Shoot me," he said softly to himself. "Kill me!" Then his shoulders shook again. The laughing hurt his arm and each time he laughed his head felt as though it would burst. But the laughter shook him again like a spasm.
Captain Mora got down from the boulder.
"Now do you believe me, Paco?" he questioned Lieutenant Berrendo.
"No," said Lieutenant Berrendo.
"Cojones!" the captain said. "Here there is nothing but idiots and cowards."
The sniper had gotten carefully behind the boulder again and Lieutenant Berrendo was squatting beside him.
The captain, standing in the open beside the boulder, commenced to shout filth at the hilltop. There is no language so filthy as Spanish. There are words for all the vile words in English and there are other words and expressions that are used only in countries where blasphemy keeps pace with the austerity of religion. Lieutenant Berrendo was a very devout Catholic. So was the sniper. They were Carlists from Navarra and while both of them cursed and blasphemed when they were angry they regarded it as a sin which they regularly confessed.
As they cr
ouched now behind the boulder watching the captain and listening to what he was shouting, they both disassociated themselves from him and what he was saying. They did not want to have that sort of talk on their consciences on a day in which they might die. Talking thus will not bring luck, the sniper thought. Speaking thus of the Virgen is bad luck. This one speaks worse than the Reds.
Julian is dead, Lieutenant Berrendo was thinking. Dead there on the slope on such a day as this is. And this foul mouth stands there bringing more ill fortune with his blasphemies.
Now the captain stopped shouting and turned to Lieutenant Berrendo. His eyes looked stranger than ever.
"Paco," he said, happily, "you and I will go up there."
"Not me."
"What?" The captain had his pistol out again.
I hate these pistol brandishers, Berrendo was thinking. They cannot give an order without jerking a gun out. They probably pull out their pistols when they go to the toilet and order the move they will make.
"I will go if you order me to. But under protest," Lieutenant Berrendo told the captain.
"Then I will go alone," the captain said. "The smell of cowardice is too strong here."
Holding his pistol in his right hand, he strode steadily up the slope. Berrendo and the sniper watched him. He was making no attempt to take any cover and he was looking straight ahead of him at the rocks, the dead horse, and the fresh-dug dirt of the hilltop.
El Sordo lay behind the horse at the corner of the rock, watching the captain come striding up the hill.
Only one, he thought. We get only one. But from his manner of speaking he is caza mayor. Look at him walking. Look what an animal. Look at him stride forward. This one is for me. This one I take with me on the trip. This one coming now makes the same voyage I do. Come on, Comrade Voyager. Come striding. Come right along. Come along to meet it. Come on. Keep on walking. Don't slow up. Come right along. Come as thou art coming. Don't stop and look at those. That's right. Don't even look down. Keep on coming with your eyes forward. Look, he has a moustache. What do you think of that? He runs to a moustache, the Comrade Voyager. He is a captain. Look at his sleeves. I said he was caza mayor. He has the face of an Ingles. Look. With a red face and blond hair and blue eyes. With no cap on and his moustache is yellow. With blue eyes. With pale blue eyes. With pale blue eyes with something wrong with them. With pale blue eyes that don't focus. Close enough. Too close. Yes, Comrade Voyager. Take it, Comrade Voyager.
He squeezed the trigger of the automatic rifle gently and it pounded back three times against his shoulder with the slippery jolt the recoil of a tripoded automatic weapon gives.
The captain lay on his face on the hillside. His left arm was under him. His right arm that had held the pistol was stretched forward of his head. From all down the slope they were firing on the hill crest again.
Crouched behind the boulder, thinking that now he would have to sprint across that open space under fire, Lieutenant Berrendo heard the deep hoarse voice of Sordo from the hilltop.
"Bandidos!" the voice came. "Bandidos! Shoot me! Kill me!" On the top of the hill El Sordo lay behind the automatic rifle laughing so that his chest ached, so that he thought the top of his head would burst.
"Bandidos," he shouted again happily. "Kill me, bandidos!" Then he shook his head happily. We have lots of company for the Voyage, he thought.
He was going to try for the other officer with the automatic rifle when he would leave the shelter of the boulder. Sooner or later he would have to leave it. Sordo knew that he could never command from there and he thought he had a very good chance to get him.
Just then the others on the hill heard the first sound of the coming of the planes.
El Sordo did not hear them. He was covering the down-slope edge of the boulder with his automatic rifle and he was thinking: when I see him he will be running already and I will miss him if I am not careful. I could shoot behind him all across that stretch. I should swing the gun with him and ahead of him. Or let him start and then get on him and ahead of him. I will try to pick him up there at the edge of the rock and swing just ahead of him. Then he felt a touch on his shoulder and he turned and saw the gray, fear-drained face of Joaquin and he looked where the boy was pointing and saw the three planes coming.
At this moment Lieutenant Berrendo broke from behind the boulder and, with his head bent and his legs plunging, ran down and across the slope to the shelter of the rocks where the automatic rifle was placed.
Watching the planes, Sordo never saw him go.
"Help me to pull this out," he said to Joaquin and the boy dragged the automatic rifle clear from between the horse and the rock.
The planes were coming on steadily. They were in echelon and each second they grew larger and their noise was greater.
"Lie on your backs to fire at them," Sordo said. "Fire ahead of them as they come."
He was watching them all the time. "Cabrones! Hijos de puta!" he said rapidly.
"Ignacio!" he said. "Put the gun on the shoulder of the boy. Thou!" to Joaquin, "Sit there and do not move. Crouch over. More. No. More."
He lay back and sighted with the automatic rifle as the planes came on steadily.
"Thou, Ignacio, hold me the three legs of that tripod." They were dangling down the boy's back and the muzzle of the gun was shaking from the jerking of his body that Joaquin could not control as he crouched with bent head hearing the droning roar of their coming.
Lying flat on his belly and looking up into the sky watching them come, Ignacio gathered the legs of the tripod into his two hands and steadied the gun.
"Keep thy head down," he said to Joaquin. "Keep thy head forward."
"Pasionaria says 'Better to die on thy--'" Joaquin was saying to himself as the drone came nearer them. Then he shifted suddenly into "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; Blessed art thou among women and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Holy Mary, Mother of God," he started, then he remembered quickly as the roar came now unbearably and started an act of contrition racing in it, "Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee who art worthy of all my love----"
Then there were the hammering explosions past his ears and the gun barrel hot against his shoulder. It was hammering now again and his ears were deafened by the muzzle blast. Ignacio was pulling down hard on the tripod and the barrel was burning his back. It was hammering now in the roar and he could not remember the act of contrition.
All he could remember was at the hour of our death. Amen. At the hour of our death. Amen. At the hour. At the hour. Amen. The others all were firing. Now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Then, through the hammering of the gun, there was the whistle of the air splitting apart and then in the red black roar the earth rolled under his knees and then waved up to hit him in the face and then dirt and bits of rock were falling all over and Ignacio was lying on him and the gun was lying on him. But he was not dead because the whistle came again and the earth rolled under him with the roar. Then it came again and the earth lurched under his belly and one side of the hilltop rose into the air and then fell slowly over them where they lay.
The planes came back three times and bombed the hilltop but no one on the hilltop knew it. Then the planes machine-gunned the hilltop and went away. As they dove on the hill for the last time with their machine guns hammering, the first plane pulled up and winged over and then each plane did the same and they moved from echelon to V-formation and went away into the sky in the direction of Segovia.
Keeping a heavy fire on the hilltop, Lieutenant Berrendo pushed a patrol up to one of the bomb craters from where they could throw grenades onto the crest. He was taking no chances of any one being alive and waiting for them in the mess that was up there and he threw four grenades into the confusion of dead horses, broken and split rocks, and torn yellow-stained explosive-stinking earth before he climbed out of the bomb crater and w
alked over to have a look.
No one was alive on the hilltop except the boy Joaquin, who was unconscious under the dead body of Ignacio. Joaquin was bleeding from the nose and from the ears. He had known nothing and had no feeling since he had suddenly been in the very heart of the thunder and the breath had been wrenched from his body when the one bomb struck so close and Lieutenant Berrendo made the sign of the cross and then shot him in the back of the head, as quickly and as gently, if such an abrupt movement can be gentle, as Sordo had shot the wounded horse.
Lieutenant Berrendo stood on the hilltop and looked down the slope at his own dead and then across the country seeing where they had galloped before Sordo had turned at bay here. He noticed all the dispositions that had been made of the troops and then he ordered the dead men's horses to be brought up and the bodies tied across the saddles so that they might be packed in to La Granja.
"Take that one, too," he said. "The one with his hands on the automatic rifle. That should be Sordo. He is the oldest and it was he with the gun. No. Cut the head off and wrap it in a poncho." He considered a minute. "You might as well take all the heads. And of the others below on the slope and where we first found them. Collect the rifles and pistols and pack that gun on a horse."
Then he walked down to where the lieutenant lay who had been killed in the first assault. He looked down at him but did not touch him.
"Que cosa mas mala es la guerra," he said to himself, which meant, "What a bad thing war is."
Then he made the sign of the cross again and as he walked down the hill he said five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys for the repose of the soul of his dead comrade. He did not wish to stay to see his orders being carried out.
28
After the planes went away Robert Jordan and Primitivo heard the firing start and his heart seemed to start again with it. A cloud of smoke drifted over the last ridge that he could see in the high country and the planes were three steadily receding specks in the sky.
They've probably bombed hell out of their own cavalry and never touched Sordo and Company, Robert Jordan said to himself. The damned planes scare you to death but they don't kill you.
For Whom the Bell Tolls Page 34