Free March Battalion by Sven Hassel

alive over a spit'
    'Charming,' said Porta. 'And here's me who can't stand the heat.'
    'In any case,' gloated Heide, 'I shouldn't imagine there are any of that little bunch left alive to recognize us again.'
    We pushed on through the trees but had scarcely covered more than a few metres when we heard the unmistakable sound of tanks not far ahead. With one accord we bounded off the road and dived into the undergrowth as the first T.34 came into view. A grenade whistled past us and we flung ourselves flat on the ground. Porta went racing off down a narrow pathway and crashed headlong into a Russian sergeant, who naturally took him to be friend rather than enemy. He did not live long enough to discover his mistake: Porta emptied his revolver into him at point blank range and seized upon the flame thrower that the man had been carrying.
    'Now we'll show the bastards!' he yelled.
    He positioned himself straight in the path of the oncoming tanks and knelt on one knee, calmly waiting, as if it were no more than a routine exercise. The rest of us crouched in the undergrowth, biting our nails with anticipation.
    'Fire, for God's sake,' muttered Alte.
    Little John was unable to contain himself.
    'For Christ's sake FIRE!' he shouted to Porta.
    All hell was promptly let loose about our ears, but in that instant Porta fired and a long flame snaked out towards the nearest T.34. The tank seemed to rear up in an effort to avoid it. It moved forward a short way, then stopped. An answering flame shot skywards from the turret. A man appeared in the opening. He pulled himself half out into the open air and then fell back again, with blue flames licking greedily at his body. His long cry of agony was enough to curdle anyone's blood. Except, perhaps, Heide's. He probably enjoyed it. The revolting smell of burning flesh filled our nostrils. The two remaining tanks made a half turn and crashed away through the undergrowth in a panic. They had obviously taken the flamethrower, for an anti-tank gun and had no intention of remaining behind to be slaughtered.
    As for us, we also took to our heels. We ran until we were free of the woods, emerging breathless and exhausted into the open, where we fell to licking the snow like so many animals to soothe our parched throats. All round us it was still and silent, but far away, in the distance, we could hear the whine of shells and the heavy groaning of artillery.
    'There it is,' said Steiner, pointing to the north west. The front.'
    'God, how I hate it all.'
    The Professor suddenly flung himself down in the snow, and after a moment's hesitation the rest of us followed suit. We needed a short period of relaxation before facing the next load of problems.
    'What do you hate especially?' asked Porta, lying on his back and staring up at the trees.
    The Professor made an impatient movement with his hand.
    'Everything. All the lies and the cheating and the senseless slaughter. They made it sound so different when we first joined up, back in Oslo.'
    'Naturally,' said Porta, dryly. 'I suppose they promised you glorious victory and little flags to wave and tin trumpets to blow? And the enemy was just a bunch of toy soldiers waiting to be knocked down like a load of skittles? Jesus Christ Almighty, the things some people believe!'
    'We died like flies,' said the Professor. 'They sent us into battle totally unprepared. Before we'd even had a chance to discover the danger we were in most of us were already dead.'
    'Heard it all before,' muttered Barcelona.
    'Yeah. They made you think the war was some sort Sunday school outing,' said Porta.' 'What sort of training they bother to give you?'
    'Six weeks,' said the Professor.
    We all turned to look at him. 'Six weeks?'
    'That's all.'
    'My God, we had three years of it,' said Alte slowly. 'For us the war began easily enough with Poland. Just like manoeuvres, only real bullets instead of blanks ... six weeks! God in heaven! How many of you survived the first onslaught?'
    'There