Free The Eldorado Network by Derek Robinson Page A

'That equipment is military property.'
    'Shit!' Davis shouted. 'It's shit!'
    'Milton,' said Dru gently, 'this guy is very, very inexperienced at handling firearms. Believe me, it's not worth it. Give him the shosser.'
    Townsend twirled the weapon and looked straight into Summers' furiously blinking eyes. He gave him the shosser.
    Summers threw it out of the post with all his strength. It clattered far downhill ."Townsend held Luis by the arm. 'I've seen it, Luis,' he said. 'That's good enough. Leave it be, okay?'
    'Hey! Why not chuck everything out there?' Davis asked. 'You chucked the battalion down the hill, why not  --  '
    'Silence!' Summers roared. His voice,was not made for roaring and it broke.
    'Chuck everything!' Davis hurled his battered saucepan out of the post. 'Everything!' His ropesoled shoes went flying, then his cap. He wrenched Summers' pistol free and sent it spinning away. 'Every . . . bloody . . . thing . . .!' he sang, stretching the words like a dedication, and raising his arms to the wide blue sky.
    'You're under arrest, Davis,' Summers said. He spoke flatly, not trusting his voice: everything betrayed him now. 'You'll be court-martialled.'
    'Really? With tanks, and planes, and guns?' Davis taunted. 'Promise?'
    'Get him out of here.' Summers turned to one of the officers. Davis grabbed the sandbag and slammed it hard against the side of Summers' head. Summers lurched and thudded against the wall, folded at the knees and slid to the floor, bringing a little rain of dirt and pebbles down on top of him. It coated his head and shoulders and trickled down his arms.
    'Clear off!' one of the officers snapped. At once Davis vanished up the communications trench.
    Summers lay stunned; his eyes kept opening and closing; each time they opened he was looking in a different direction.
    'I guess we ought to be going too,' Townsend said, but at that moment Davis came back. Behind him tramped the huge, unhappy figure of Andre Marty. The trench was too narrow for both of them.
    At the sight of Summers, Marty stopped. He gave the little circle a glare of scalding contempt; then he stooped, seized Summers by the tunic and hauled him semi-upright. 'Zis man,' he growled, 'equals fifty of you!' He thrust Summers at the nearest officer and dusted his hands.
    Davis had backed out and escaped again. Marty went to an observation slit. He took out his pistol and blasted off the complete clip in the general direction of Mola's camp. 'Sales boches!' he spat. Summers moaned.
    The correspondents slipped out, and filed through the trenches in silence. As they emerged onto the hillside they saw Davis talking to Templeton. He waved cheerily.
    'You ought to lie low, you know,' Townsend called.
    Davis shrugged. Townsend walked on, worrying, and then turned back. 'That bastard is liable to have you shot,' he said.
    'Oh well.' Davis scratched at his scabby face. 'Isn't that what bastards are for?'
    'You're crazy.' Townsend was angry and concerned; if he hadn't stayed to talk, Davis wouldn't be in this mess. 'Listen, come back to Madrid with us. Lie low for a bit. Take a break.'
    'No thanks. I didn't come to Spain to lie low.'
    'Why the hell did you come to Spain?'
    'Can't remember. But it seemed a good idea at the time.'
    Townsend ran to catch up with the others. 'Get a good story?' Dru asked.
    'Dunno. The International Brigade got screwed at Jarama. Is that a good story?'
    'But they won,' Barker said. 'I mean, they really did win. Mola got badly beaten. That's what those officers told us.' 'The man Davis is very funny,' Luis remarked. 'I laughed till I cried,' Townsend said.
    Three days later Dru was back at Jarama  -- but on the other side of the lines.
    Townsend and Barker had lost interest in the battle. Dru, however, now hoped to get a good pro-Franco story out of it. Victories usually made better news than defeats, and Dru couldn't see the Republicans winning this one. So Luis drove all around the flank of the war zone, approached