WW2: Ten Poignant Stories (7b)

Farley Mowat's descriptive account of battle scenes in Sicily and Italy during World War 2 are worth another look. (First time I've given someone double billing, isn't it?) His book, AND NO BIRDS SANG, ends abruptly or at least at an unusual point as he heads toward Rome with members of a Canadian infantry unit. Why? I don't know, but I'd like to know.

Link to WW2: Recommended Reading 7

What I do know is that the book is worth a second read, let alone a second look.

He Beckoned Me to Follow

   Kennedy, as was his habit
   (one that I dreaded and abhorred),
   decided to go forward and see
   for himself what was happening.
   He beckoned me to follow.

The storm clouds rolling overhead seemed close
enough to touch, and the land lay under a leaden
obscurity drained of all colour and devoid of shape.
Ankle-deep in sucking mud we plodded across
a patchwork of little fields and vineyards.
The explosions of our own and German shells
pounded hideously inside my skull, yet Kennedy
seemed unaware. Not once did he dive for cover
or even so much as hunch his shoulders when the 
grating scream of an incoming projectile warned
of imminent destruction. Senseless anger boiled up
in the quaking bog within me: You goddamn
pigheaded idiot! I mouthed in silence.
What in hell are you trying to prove?
Rage mounted - and sustained me.

   A salvo of medium shells plunging through the
   overcast into the mud a few yards to our flank
   sent me grovelling. When I raised my head 
   Kennedy was a dim shape in a dimmed world,
   plodding steadily onward. I scrambled to my feet,
   shouting aloud now, against the Doomsday roar:
   "You crazy bastard!"

But still I followed him.
I could not break the leash.

Photos by GH

Link to Ten Poignant Stories 7