“Until they can use the bodies of their own dead as a shield.”
They settled themselves against the rear of the cave with their guns
and ammunition beside them. And at that moment four German soldiers
were approaching the big tree above the cave entrance.
Just as the first man was about to leap, there was a burst of fire from
behind him. He toppled forward, and Dick and Scotti had the pleasure of
seeing a wounded German fall flat at the cave entrance, without their
having moved a muscle.
The other Germans above the cave turned, just in time to meet another
burst of fire from a gun in the hands of Max Burckhardt. They fell
without having a chance to fire, and Max, followed by Vince and Slade,
rushed forward.
“Scotti!” they called. “Scotti!”
Dick ran to the cave entrance and called out to the men above, “Look
out! There still may be some more in the woods below.”
But no shot came from there, and Max, Vince, and Slade scrambled down
the hill into the cave.
“What kept you so long?” Dick asked.
“Well, first we waited to see just what went on at the dam,” Vince
said. “It went out—every bit of it—dam, power house, water, and all! It
was beautiful to watch. And then on the way back here we ran into a few
Germans. We didn’t have any guns ourselves, but we sort of took them by
surprise and handled them with bare knuckles. That’s where Max picked
up the gun he used on the fellow that was about to visit you. Only one
of the Germans we met had a gun and that’s it. The others were so
panicky because of the flood that they’d forgotten them. But that
little tussle delayed us a bit. Sorry.”
“Wonder where Tony is?” Dick mumbled. But before anyone had time to
answer they heard the pounding of many feet. They grabbed up guns and
waited at the entrance tensely. Then Vince let out a war whoop that
rang through the woods.
“It’s our boys!” he shouted. “It’s our own Army!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AFTERMATH
They were all in the town of Maletta again, two months later. It looked
cleaner and neater than when they had first seen it, for the
townspeople and the U. S. Army engineers had done a first-rate job of
cleaning out the mud and trash left by the flood waters.
Scotti was back in the United States, recuperating from his wounds, but
the rest of them were heading back to the front lines again, quite a
distance to the north by this time. They took the last day of their
furlough for a visit in the town that had been so important a part of
their lives for one week.
But there were some differences. Dick Donnelly wore a First
Lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders. The General had conferred the
commissioned rank on him on the field of action, right after the
successful conclusion of the battle for Maletta. And there was the
colored ribbon on his left breast which meant the awarding of the
Distinguished Service Medal.
Tony Avella was a Master Sergeant now. He and his Uncle Tomaso had been
caught on the opposite hill, away from the cave, by the flood waters.
But that had meant nothing more than sitting and waiting for the waters
to recede. They had been hungry and exhausted after their ordeal but
that was all. Even old Tomaso stood up well under it.
Vince Salamone and Max Burckhardt were both corporals now and everyone
in the group had some sort of citation in recognition of his brilliant
and heroic work. Boom-Boom Slade, as meek and quiet as always, seemed a
little embarrassed at the decoration on his breast.
They all went to call on old Tomaso first of all. They found him in his
same old room in the servants’ wing, but not the sad and broken man
they had first seen there. He had put on a little weight, decent
clothes now enhanced his dignified bearing. With characteristic Italian
emotion he gratefully saluted the American flag which now flew above
the door of the ancient villa.
“Did they take down the radio from the tower?” Tony asked him.
“No, it’s still there,” Tomaso said. “I think they may just have
forgotten about it. And I haven’t said anything because when this war
is over I want the town to put that in a museum—as a memorial to the
battle of Maletta.”
“Well, it can stay there for all I care,” Tony said. “I had my fill of
that bell tower for the rest of my life. I never want to see it again.”
Tomaso led them to a sidewalk restaurant where they sat and drank
coffee and talked together. They recalled all their experiences again,
reliving in memory those hectic days. It was a good memory, and the
result had been a great success. Thousands of German soldiers had been
drowned, thousands more killed by the Americans that poured across the
two ridges and so caught them in a vise. Hundreds of trucks and tanks
and guns had been lost by the enemy and many of these were already
repaired and serving the American forces. The general told them that
their work had saved at least a month in the Italian campaign, probably
more.
While they sat, Enrico came along and said hello to them all.
“Now,” he said to Dick, “I can take time to ask you for your autograph.”
Dick felt foolish, but he signed a note for the young Italian. Enrico
thanked the young lieutenant profusely, and then said very seriously,
“You know the opera company is singing _Cavalleria Rusticana_ tonight.
I’m really not up to it. It would be a great treat for me to sit in the
audience. How about it, Ricardo Donnelli, will you sing _Turridu_
tonight?”
“Bravo,” cried Tomaso with a wave of his hand and his black eyes
sparkling. “The great Donnelli it is for tonight.”
“No, no,” Dick protested. “I’m not a singer these days, I’m a soldier.”
“Forget it, big boy,” exclaimed Vince Salamone with affection and not
without humor, for he was a good foot taller than Dick. “You’re going
to be _Turridu_ tonight and capture the hearts of all the girls in
Maletta.”
“You bet you are,” agreed Tony. “He’s my favorite opera hero, and I’d
like to hear his role sung proper-like.” Adding with a mock-serious bow
to Enrico, “No offense to you, my good fellow.”
And Max Burckhardt exclaimed in his good-natured way, “No kiddin’,
Lieutenant. I’d like to find out first hand if all the hullabaloo I
hear about those vocal chords of yours is on the level.”
Boom-Boom Slade came out of his customary reticence to add, “It would
give me the keenest pleasure, Lieutenant Donnelly, to hear a man sing
whose talents as a soldier I so deeply respect.”
So that evening they all went to see Ricardo Donnelli in _Cavalleria
Rusticana_. But the next morning it was Lieutenant Dick Donnelly that
reported to his commanding officer at the front lines.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Transcriber's note:
page 48 - changed "Lieutentant" to "Lieutenant"
page 152 - changed "where-ever" to "wherever" on rejoining sentence
Tony can get where-
ever he wants to go
page 191 - corrected inconsistent spelling - "pipeline" to "pipe-line"
("pipe-line" used more often)
page 220 - removed extra "to" from sentence
he told the whole story to to
page 247 - removed paragraph break after "then said very seriously,"