Free March Battalion by Sven Hassel Page A

were two hundred and thirty-five of us at the beginning. All volunteers. All in the Viking Division in the Ukraine. The first day, one hundred and twenty-one of us were killed. More were lost when the road was strafed by Russian, fighters and some of the ambulances went up in flames... The C.O. went mad and put a bullet through his brain. Two days later, eight of us were shot for "desertion in the face of the enemy". Nine more of us were sent to disciplinary regiments for having said that our officers were more to blame than we were. They were professional soldiers and they knew what to expect. We were volunteers and we'd been misled ... I was beaten for six hours non-stop in the prison at Lemberg. At first I thought I was lucky to be left alive. I'm not so sure now.'
    'So long as there are whores in the world, it's worth being alive,' said Little John, bracingly.
    The Professor smiled, and we all, automatically, perked up at the sound of the word 'whore'. Sex was a subject of which we never tired. We all knew each other's preferences by heart, we lived intimately with each other's day dreams, yet somehow they never ceased to be an enthralling topic of conversation.
    It was not long before we heard a volley of shots away to our right, and instantly we were on the alert.
    'Probably a search party out looking for us,' whispered Alte. 'Take cover and stay hidden.'
    Silently we crept on our stomachs back into the shelter of the undergrowth. It was dusk now, and our nerves were on edge at the prospect of being hunted. The search party were obviously also nervous. They fired a few shots into the bushes, retreated, came on again, fired at random at nothing at all. Doubtless they would willingly have given us up for lost had not their officers urged them on with the usual mixture of threats and curses. We caught a quick glimpse of them as they came through the trees. They were gauche young recruits, it was probably their 'first action. We heard one, more confident than the others, boastfully declare his intention to shoot on sight. The officer in charge turned on him wrathfully.
    'You wait until then, you'll be dead! In cases like this you shoot by instinct not by sight. Now shut up talking and keep your ears pinned back.'
    The Legionnaire silently rose up from the bushes and sent a volley of shots in the direction of the voices. We heard a cry, then someone cursing. The undergrowth crackled, then there was silence. We could sense the presence of someone not far away. The Legionnaire frowned intently through the darkness. Heide began to slide stealthily forward along a narrow path, followed closely by Porta and Little John, Barcelona covering them with his machine gun. A twig snapped in two and we saw a dark figure step out from the bushes. Barcelona at once opened fire. The man screamed and clasped his hands to his eyes. It was a Russian officer, a lieutenant He came blundering up the path towards us, blood streaming down his face. Barcelona fired again and put the man out of his misery, and at the same moment the rest of us opened fire on several figures that loomed up in the darkness. They were an easy prey. Those that did not fall turned and ran, and from some distance away we heard a Russian voice raised in anger. Doubtless the C.O. at tempting to restore order. Alte jerked his head. 'All right Let's go.'
    For the rest of the night and the following day we remained hidden and undisturbed in the wood. Towards evening, we prepared ourselves for our journey to the German front line. We had evolved a plan that was simple enough in theory, though whether it would work in practice seemed, to me at least, highly problematical,
    We approached the line of Russian trenches. Naturally we were stopped and questioned. To each question Alte gave the same reply; we had been sent out in capacity of a mine-clearing unit. No one batted an eyelid. We were provided with equipment and even wished good luck. .
    'Rather you than me,' said the sergeant