The Young Lions

"It works, Ah reckon," Rickett said. "Ah think we have shot ourselves a tank." He took the bazooka off Noah's shoulder and put it against the wall.

Noah continued to stare out at the lane. It was as though nothing had happened, as though the tank were a permanent part of the landscape that had been there for years.

"For Christ's sake, Noah," Burnecker was yelling, and then Noah realized that Burnecker had been shouting his name again and again, "get away from that window."

Suddenly, feeling in terrible danger, Noah jumped away from the window.

Rickett took his place at the window, holding his BAR again.

"Nuts," Rickett was saying angrily, "we shouldn't ought to leave this here farm. We could stay here till Christmas. That fairy diaper-salesman Green ain't got the guts of a bug." He fired from the hip out into the lane. "Get back there," he muttered to himself. "Stay away from my tank."

Lieutenant Green came into the room. "Come on downstairs," he said. "It's getting dark. We're going to start out in a couple of minutes."

"I'll stay heah for a spell," Rickett said disdainfully, "jest to see that the Krauts keep a proper dithtance." He waved to Noah and Burnecker. "You-all go on ahead now and take off like a big-arsed bird if they spot you."

Noah and Burnecker looked at each other. They wanted to say something to Rickett, standing scornfully at the window, the BAR loose in his big hands, but they didn't know what to say. Rickett didn't look at them as they went through the door and followed Lieutenant Green downstairs to the living-room.

The living-room smelted of sweat and gunpowder and there were hundreds of spent cartridges lying on the floor, crushed out of shape by the feet of the defenders. The living-room looked more like a war than the bedroom upstairs. The furniture was piled on end against the windows and the wooden chairs were broken and splintered and the men were kneeling on the floor against the walls. In the twilit gloom Noah saw Colclough lying on the floor in the dining-room. He was lying on his back, his arms rigid at his sides, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. His nose was ru

It was very quiet in the living-room. A single fly buzzed irritably around the room, and Riker swiped at it savagely twice with his helmet, but missed each time.

Noah sat down on the floor and took off his right legging and shoe. Very carefully he smoothed out his sock. It was very satisfactory to rub his foot gently with his fingers and pull the sock straight. The other men in the room watched him soberly as though he were performing an intricate and immensely interesting act. Noah put his shoe on. Then he put the legging back and laced it meticulously, pulling the trouser leg carefully over the top. He sneezed twice, loudly, and he saw Riker jump a little at the noise.

"God bless you," Burnecker said. He gri

"I can't tell you people what to do," Lieutenant Green said suddenly. He was crouching near the entrance to the diningroom, and he spoke as though he had been preparing a speech in the silence, but then had been surprised at hearing his own voice coming out so abruptly. "I ca

Nobody moved. From upstairs came the ripping, hurried sound of a BAR. Rickett, thought Noah, standing there at the window.

"However…" Lieutenant Green said vaguely… "However… It's too bad. But you have to expect things like this. Things like this are bound to happen from time to time. I will try to take the Captain back with me. With me," he repeated, in his weary, thin voice. "If anybody wants to say something, let him say it now…"

Nobody wanted to say anything. Noah suddenly felt very sad.

"Well," said Lieutenant Green, "it's dark." He got up and went to the window, and looked out. "Yes," he said, "it's dark." He turned back to the men in the room. By now many of them were sitting on the floor, their backs against the walls, their heads drooped between their shoulders. They reminded Noah of a football team between halves, in a losing game.

"Well," said Lieutenant Green, "there's no sense in putting it off. Who wants to go first?"

Nobody moved. Nobody looked around.

"Be careful," Lieutenant Green said, "when you reach our own lines. Don't expose yourselves before you're absolutely sure they know you're Americans. You don't want to get shot by your own men. Who wants to go first?"

Nobody moved.

"My advice," said Lieutenant Green, "is to leave through the kitchen door. There's a shed back there that'll give you some cover and the hedge isn't more than thirty yards away. Understand, I am not giving any orders any more. It's entirely up to you. Somebody had better go now…"

Nobody moved. Intolerable, thought Noah, sitting on the floor, intolerable. He stood up. "All right," he said, because somebody had to say it. "Me." He sneezed.

Burnecker stood up. "I'm going," he said.

Riker stood up. "What the hell," he said.

Cowley and Demuth got up. Their shoes made a sliding sound on the stone floor. "Where's the goddamn kitchen?" Cowley said.

Riker, Cowley, Demuth, Noah thought. There was something about those names. Oh, he thought, we can fight all over again now.

"Enough," Green said. "Enough for the first batch."

The five men went into the kitchen. None of the other men looked up at them and nobody spoke. The trap-door to the cellar was open in the kitchen floor. The light of the candle came up dimly through the dusty air, and the bubbling, groaning sound of Fein dying. Noah did not look down into the cellar. Lieutenant Green opened the kitchen door very carefully. It made a harsh, grating sound. The men held still for a moment. From above there came the sound of the BAR. Rickett, Noah thought, fighting the war on his own hook.

The night air smelled damp and farm-like, with the sweet heavy smell of cows coming through the crack of the open door. Noah muffled a sneeze in his hand. He looked around apologetically.

"Good luck," Lieutenant Green said. "Who's going?"

The men, bunched in the kitchen among the copper pans and the big milk containers, looked at the slight pale edge of night that showed between the door and the frame. Intolerable, Noah thought again, intolerable, we can't stand here like this. He pushed his way past Riker to the door.

He took a deep breath, thinking, I must not sneeze, I must not sneeze. Then he bent over and slid through the opening.

His shoes made a sucking sound in the barnyard earth and he could feel his helmet straps slapping against his cheeks. The sound was flat and seemed very loud so close to his ears. When he got to the shadow of the shed in the deeper shadow of the night, he leaned against the cow-smelling wood and hooked the catch under his chin. One by one the thick shadows moved across the yard from the kitchen door. The breathing of the men all around him seemed immensely loud and laboured. From inside the house, from the cellar, there was a long, high scream. Noah tensed against the shed wall as the scream echoed through the windless evening air, but nothing else happened.