the new enemy is Russia. Would you like to kill them?”
Tony the Toad smiled. He thought about Ernie and his buddies burning to death while trying to get out of the Sherman. Brentwood had died as well. He’d been an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to bake. Killing Russians would be dangerous and they must not be so reckless as to invite discovery, but he thought they might be able to hurt the Commies and get some small measure of revenge.
Yes, he would indeed like to kill Russians.
CHAPTER 8
Outside, the spring sun was bright and warm. This made the air inside the squad bunker stifling and hot, a foretaste of what the summer would bring.
First Sergeant Stan Krenski hunched down and entered the bunker through the low and small entrance in the rear. An angular and raw-boned man, he was not as tall as he sometimes appeared, and was only slightly taller than Logan.
“Jesus, it stinks in here,” Krenski said in mock dismay. “Doesn’t anybody shower anymore?”
Logan looked blandly at the others. He knew they were all pigs. “Why, I bathed just a little while ago. How about you guys?” The remainder of the squad assured Krenski that they had not only bathed but generously doused themselves with cologne in the last hour. It was a running gag. They all were filthy and stank to high heaven.
Krenski laughed and wiped his own dirty, sweaty brow. “Nice job,” he said admiringly as he looked around. The bunker was roofed with metal beams over which there were thick layers of sandbags and earth. The walls were similarly constructed and firing slits faced in all directions in case someone infiltrated behind them. Much of the material for this and the many other fortifications had been liberated from the nearby buildings. There was additional joking that the American army had done more damage to Potsdam than the American air force.
“Thanks,” said Logan. “Now, for God’s sake, Sarge, don’t tell us we’ve got to move someplace else. A helluva lot of work went into making this pleasure palace the beautiful creation that it is.”
Krenski took off his helmet and wiped his forehead. “Nope. I came to tell you that the captain wishes to see you, Sergeant Logan, and right away. I’ll stay here and admire how you put this place together while you and him talk.”
Logan grabbed his helmet and rifle and left the bunker for the short walk to the captain’s headquarters. Shit, he thought as he stepped outside, what the hell did Captain Dimitri want? Was he still pissed off because Lieutenant Singer got hit? Hell, that wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t anybody’s, really. Dimitri, who was usually around all the time, had been conspicuous by his absence for the last day or so. What did that mean?
Logan ducked his head as he entered Dimitri’s command bunker and took off his helmet.
Captain Dimitri was seated behind a makeshift desk made of planks. He did not look up from his papers. “Singer lost his arm, you know.”
Damn, thought Logan, he is pissed. “I’m not surprised, sir, it was pretty well gone when we got him to the aid station. I didn’t think anything short of a miracle was going to save it, and I haven’t seen many miracles lately.”
Finally, Dimitri looked up. Logan saw sadness in his face, but not anger. “Singer could have been a good officer. Now he gets to go home the first time we figure out how to get people out of here.”
“I liked him,” Logan said sincerely. “You’re right. He wanted to learn and to do the right thing.”
Logan felt a little guilty that he had not had an opportunity to visit Singer in the hospital. He made a mental note to rectify the problem. While the last few days had consisted of a lot of work, there still had been some free time during which he could have gone.
Dimitri nodded. “Sit down.” Logan pulled up a crate and complied. “But that’s not why I called for you. By the way, you stink and look like shit. Starting tomorrow we will be offering showers on a rotation basis and, with luck, you’ll be getting one about every week or so. The engineers have figured out a way to pump, strain, and somewhat purify the water from the river so we can bathe in it, but for Christ’s sake, tell your men not to swallow it or cook with it. That damn river is still stuffed full of corpses.”
“Yes, sir.”
Logan knew all about boiling the water for drinking and cooking, and had seen the swollen and rotting bodies of people and animals float slowly by. The news about showers would definitely cheer up his platoon. Maybe they could even do laundry. Maybe they could even get real food instead of rations. He never thought he would long for the dubious pleasures of a mess hall, but he did now.
Dimitri started speaking again, ending Logan’s thoughts. “For the second time in two months, your damned platoon needs an officer, and it’s highly unlikely we are going to get one from outside. I made a proposal and it went all the way up and everyone concurs. Congratulations, Jack, you are now an officer and a gentleman.”
Logan was stunned. “You’ve got to be joking, sir.”
Dimitri grinned. “I never joke. You know that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold bars of a second lieutenant. “Here, these used to be mine. Just don’t go wearing them until we get our asses out of this place. Snipers are attracted to shiny things.”
Logan took them, his mind awhirl. “But what about Sergeant Krenski. He’s the most senior NCO in the company.”
“Don’t worry about Krenski, Sergeant-I mean Lieutenant Logan-I’ve taken care of him.”
“Captain, I don’t understand. With all of Krenski’s experience, he’d be a great officer.”
“Disagree, Jack. He’s a great NCO. He’d be a shitty officer. He’s not officer material.”
Logan was puzzled. “Can I ask why? What you said almost sounds elitist, and I know you’re not that way.” Dimitri had commented several times on the fact that his parents were poor immigrants from Greece and how hard they had worked to achieve what they felt was success.
Dimitri chuckled. “I’m disappointed in you, Jack. You’ve been working with the man for months and you really don’t know a thing about him. Tell me, what’s the first thing he does when he gets a written order?”
“Uh, he usually fumbles for his reading glasses, which he can never find. He lost them a while ago, so he gives the papers to someone else to read for him.” Logan paused as the truth dawned. “Oh shit, he can’t read, can he?”
“Bingo,” said the captain. “Krenski’s thirty years old and has been in the army since he lied his way in at sixteen. He can read a little, very damn little, but he’s pretty much illiterate. That, my new lieutenant, is why he will not take over the platoon. In case you’re curious, he came to me when he thought I might promote him and told me his story. Bottom line, the man was terrified we’d make him an officer. He’ll be delighted that you got it instead, and he can stay as my senior NCO.”
Logan chuckled. “I’ll keep his secret.”
“Good, now let’s walk over to your platoon so I can formally introduce you in case they think you’re lying about the promotion.”
When the two men entered Logan’s bunker, they were surprised to find the entire platoon assembled.
“I took the liberty, Captain,” said a grinning Sergeant Krenski. “We’re gonna have a little party to celebrate, if you don’t mind, sir. Some of the guys, uh, managed to find and liberate some schnapps that might have otherwise fallen into the wrong hands. It would be an awful thing to have abused.”
In his headquarters, Major General Miller listened to the reports in icy fury. The Russians had begun shelling their positions. The barrage wasn’t all that heavy, but the unofficial truce was obviously over.
“Sir,” said Leland, “the artillery wants to fire back.”
“At what?” snapped Miller. “Do we know precisely where those shells are coming from?”
As he said that, a heavy one landed a hundred yards from where they were dug in and shook dirt from the roof. Miller was puzzled. Yes, the Reds were firing at them, but the effort seemed to be directed at nothing in particular. It was just a number of pieces of artillery lobbing shells into the perimeter without any direction or purpose at all. It didn’t make sense.
Captain Leland dusted himself off. “No, sir, we don’t really know where their batteries are. We can do some guessing and start shooting back, but God knows if we’ll hit anything.”
