The '44 Vintage

The clarity persisted. It was all quite mad, all utterly pointless. Chandos Force was fighting its last battle, against the French and against itself, and for nothing.

'Come on, Jack—get moving,' said Sergeant Winston from just behind him.

'I'm okay.' Butler fired again at the trees.

'Sure you are. But it's time to say good-bye.'

Butler thought that was a funny thing to say in the circumstances. He also thought that the solid comfort of the tower was preferable to the open stretch of the bridge.

Suddenly he remembered Sergeant Purvis.

'Where's that bugger Purvis?' He fired again.

'The hell with Purvis! Get going, Corporal.'

It didn't seem right that Sergeant Purvis of all people should get away.

He turned towards the American. 'Where's Purvis?'

The look on Sergeant Winston's face answered the question: the sergeant was grinning at him like a wolf.

Butler swung back towards the trees.

The Sten jammed.

As his hand closed on the magazine he felt himself being dragged away from the wall and propelled onto the bridge. For an instant he was angry, and then fear started his legs moving.

The bridge was longer and narrower than it had been before, and the firing behind him was louder and closer. As he ran he heard a sudden swishing-hissing sound alongside him, and the gravel spurted madly Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

on his left and away in a writhing snake ahead of him.

Audley grabbed him as he came to the end of the parapet and pulled him down onto the cover of the stonework, half knocking the breath out of him. The chateau and the blue sky and the gravel spun round as he rolled sideways.

A shadow blocked out the light.

'No!' shouted Audley. 'For Christ's sake, man—'

Butler found himself staring from ground level down the long funnel of the bridge parapets, back the way he had come.

Halfway down the funnel Hauptmann Grafenberg was trying to disentangle a body which was curled up against the stonework. As he tugged at one arm another long snake of spurting gravel raced up the drive and onto the bridge towards him.

The arm suddenly seemed too heavy for him. He knelt down slowly beside the American, as though the problem of lifting him was one which required special thought and he needed time to work it out. Then, just as slowly, he toppled over alongside him.

The firing was very loud now, echoing all around them.

Butler started ro rise, but Audley's hand pressed him down.

'It's no good,' whispered Audley. 'They're done for.'

It was no good, thought Butler. They were done for.

'An' we'll be done for an' all if we stay 'ere any longer,' said a voice from behind them.

Butler looked over his shoulder in surprise to find Driver Hewett crouching a yard away, nodding at him with ancient wisdom.

No winners and losers, only the survivors and the dead. Driver Hewett had been born with that knowledge, he'd never needed to learn it.

Without looking back at the bridge Butler crawled away in Audley's wake towards the safety of the woods.

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Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage