Beyond the next bend we looked down on an opening
with some suspicious appearing gullies in it. Here we halted a few
minutes while the Lieutenant studied them with his glasses. "Better
take no chances," he whispered as he conferred with the officer in
the first platoon, "hold your men here while I bring up the
mortars." Word was passed back up the file from man to man, and
while the column halted the mortar men soon came along. Their
Sergeant was grinning broadly, and one or two of the boys he passed
kidded him. Mortar men are always happy when called into action; as
one of them explained to me, "We lug these condemnable things from
here to next Friday, and only once in a dog's existence do they let
us use 'em." If you saw the forty pound base-plate they carry, or
the massive tube and weighty ammunition packs that go with them, you
would understand; and better still, if you tried to shoulder these
burdens up a steep rock trail or over a muddy river crossing.
"There's all kinds of ways in and out of hell to punish men for
their sins, and then there's the mortar squad."
Capt.
Charles M. Bradford, MD. |
