Forward, Children!

k Dennison'

aising himself on one elbow and unc

cks have come,"

's c

ucks have brought supplies. We've got fo

replied hazily. He squinted and ducked as Landel sho

ank and sandbag irrigation shack for his tank helmet. His tall body almost filled

eah, you needed sleep." He shifted his flashlight around the crude shac

trucks are here ... thr

"Are you awake?" He pushed Dennison--shoved him

is it?" Den

s got here with his kitchen ... so, let's go ... okay? Now?" He was talking to himself, spitting out words, annoyed by the day's problems, w

... I'm goi

d, yawning and propping himself against t

reapp

" he shouted. "See yo

andel screamed, his head in the doorway. He zoomed his flas

ds over his bearded face, slum

en: legs and lights passed with metronome jerkiness across the sand: dust came up from beneath boo

ok sand from the make-shift roof of the shelter where o

the tanks and a tank dump nearby; he could smell the gas

ing air w

noticed his squashed, grease-pocked helmet; sleepily, he reached for it and placed it across his lap, pressing it down, maki

hat he had dreamed

cigarette glowe

own toward Lake Cayuga, the tower and the sounds blurring. Kids were sitting in the library, at long t

ember the sound

ds somewhere, students standing around the fire, some of them singing. A guy was pl

s and hands ha

le, the heat increasing, a shortage of water, the wate

a tank stinking and coughing nearby. The sound brought with it the sensation of violent

ed about: his helmet had rolled heedlessly and bumped against the wall: recov

wormed about the blankets for his mess kit and steppe

ed deeply to help wake up. The chilly air nipped h

ard the sky. The stars seemed closer because of the junked pipes and gears: the sky, utterly cloudless, was defiant: in a few hours its sun would

d by, coughin

Dennison and his cigarette. "We'r

lips with his ton

d. "Wait a second ... I've got

lked behind his crewmate--the sand deep, their bo

t today," Mil

you," Dennis

s on the

as it y

with skeletal brush and camel grass growing on its side. Gaunt, set off by stars, it threatened the kitchen and men, hung, swollen, a thing of unbelievable weight. Yel

ighty men, brushing sand out of a mess kit with a dirty handkerchief and

eeted one o

f your ass." The man drained his coffee and then blew

coffee pot raised for pouring, his face smudged, his eyes puttied with sleep; c

cross the counter, the pot steaming. He smiled at Dennison, liking him: Denn

n said, "you just came in with your o

ld still, have some hash. H

Dennis

said, behind Dennison.

e helmets; they were an unshaven lot. Their khaki did not count for much: they were all of a piece: their greasy, oil

ch with a bush on his face, each with a crew cut o

ded behind t

fire," Millard said, moving a few yards away

pped out of line and pushed

ome of the wood out of the blaz

a hit," Dennison belched ch

somebody yelled. "What's a piddling campfire alongside a village! We'

ating, spooning and chewing slowly, listening to the men talk, noticing the stars now and then. The pan burned pleasantl

f him, Millar

combustion; why, man alive, the Panzer tanks withstand the

s yelling f

ody b

n tanks in reserve ... I'

iliarity helped: the fire was encouraging: the hash was r

s, the vast terrain they had covered, that whamming through the sand, screwing round to avoid rock

luck had pulled th

there might be enough water, stuff that was fit to drink ... they could travel across some comparatively level ground, n

ousand stars, no New York sky; even through the smoke the points blinked brightly. Coldly. He held a mouthful of coffee on his tongue before he tackled his food once more. The bread w

ed up mess kit, coffee cup in the midst of the hash. Zinc's beard shone weirdly, crazily red in the light. He pus

a watch where we step in this desert." His teeth flashed in a grin intended for Denni

wn on t

d, sitting, his mess kit

ad. An

ash and bread--that's news!

of the 604th is trailing us;

lds again," Zink said, sopping hash onto a l

several minutes the dune came nearer, seemed taller, m

watched the fire, the coming and going men. His hair, badly cut, trimmed by a madman, was greasy, in contrast to his scrubbed whi

than the gunk they fed us yesterday," he said. "A

s lousy," De

more of this has

. there'

here plent

ave more hash before the fl

ere when we stop ... a fine way to g

Dennison asked. "Any

ed, gasping, his face white above his beard. During the morni

to place--somehow. Maybe the muscles inside are knittin'

rotten jolt, and came near puttin' me out o

okay," De

ted a hunk

n eat I can mana

quatted on the sand; several sat on oil drums; some ate with their backs to the flames; others loafed ab

e coffee," he said

an," sa

uy, slow, sloppy, small, with black rimmed spectacles and a black wad of a moustache, the image o

e, bringing the kitchen f

guys in the black ... ba

Where was the US? All these men ... here ... how had they g

e should eat more? What about being wounded on a full

ve got some sinkahs for you.

. I gue

ide of his kitchen--and pulled out a cellophane bag and pass

son g

boy,

GI's storming over the sand, howling for doughnuts across the counter. "Jus'

reme

unched a doughnut underneath hi

ow it'

you rat

there's another sinkah

fake accent, fished for th

rfe

talking. Dennison lit a cigarette and offered his pack to Zinc, who accepted one.

a Korps was on him!" He remembered Landel bellowing over the tank intercom, storming ab

Zinc commented, rec

wanting a leave, a week, two weeks, a month away from the assaults. Let some other guy knife his way through the An

, couldn't talk some of the time. One of his men got shot

on drenching their legs and arms and backs; they felt the lunging of their machin

grains of sand, shuffled through the dying fire, rub

off shelling, fel

tremble in Denn

at his han

, those gawky French windows in grey stone walls; he thought of his uncle's writing desk in his room

e the park at E, the oaks, ash, chestnut, willow ... the miniature island where Rousseau had been buried ... the Petit Lac

bout the terrain that was ahead: unfolding a map, some went over the lay of the land together. Wiping

he fire

omed and died.

nding in groups, be

head bent; Zinc follow

the base of the great dune. The bulk of each tank was something cut out of the night. As Den

int had been chipped off innumerable places. Her starboard side had sunk down where the sand had given way under her weight. She weighed thirty-

een?" Landel screamed, appearing o

d eating," De

in' on the floor of the bus. My god, man, can't you

t," Dennison yelled.

spotlight went out; the darkness seemed to alter th

hat light? What's the matter! Th

atter of seconds the mechanic's light snapped on. Dennison had climbed on

out of here; we've a hell of a lot to do before we can pull out. Millard," he screamed: "MILLARD, Milla-ard. G

elly. He got up with a grunt, not a word. Their bearded faces leered at each other in the winking light; a halft

Millard snapped. "Why not move our

nty-six, now a middle-aged farm hand, face seamed, ugly. His mouth was too big, fla

son said. His flash yellowed boxes of ammuni

tta keep sand off those boxes ..

rday," Zinc said. "Couldn

rpaulin and wiping off the machine gun cartridges before lugging them. The path to the tanks became crowded; the sand got ver

box, and those of the bevel-gear case. He checked fuel lines for leakage. Starting the motor, revving it, he glanced at his wristwat

hulky body coming out of the night, his helme

exclaimed, handing

y, w

ya; he hated the tanks; the old happy days had been his boyhood days in Wisconsin, on h

ce it. Everything they touched was sandy; sand spat at them, rasped their h

a shell boomed among the machines; there was an enormous rattle of steel as gravel and

us," Chuck yelled. "Lig

ent wrong: we're always blundering, blundering ...

e, Chuck ...

ned the bolt, c

ther shell struck, banging furiously. Darkness meshed with silence! Someone flipped on the cab lights; Dennison jazzed the motor,

: the steel walls became paper partitions, l

iving slits, Landel beside him, unfolding his

before: starboard, around the great dune; northeast by road for six kilometers; t

hells. Somebody coughed over the intercom. The rear light got doused; another bulb popped on where Chuck was working at a bolt on his gunnery seat, tilting the pad to a new angle. Milla

n. Dennison shifted the powerful Chrysler motor into second and swung away from the gr

anced at hi

s. A shell, exploding in the distance, resembled a fake dawn. Pushing down with his palms, Dennison gripped the clutch levers. Feeling jailed, st

nication was comin

ed over rocks he flooded the engine and it snorted and backfired and spat into the d

to port. In time the light became a code, and Denniso

ack: their prearranged signal for mutual under

... where they

e radio," La

, how wrinkled that flap of sand: good, to get out of that black

ripped the sky and hung suspended, rocking, ki

a shell blew up beside the Sherman and hurled it half around. Dennison toppled from his seat--the air knocked out of his lungs. He thought: We're hit ..

her

.. port!" La

owned the shellfire. Their grinding was like the beating of pneumatic hammers on metal sheets. It seemed to the crew

d a lofty dune; he leaned forward to relieve a cramp in his side and wet his l

g for dawn, De

a little ... got

and indicated his mouth: lights in the cab

ison heard o

d he would never have another drink, never get out, never have a chanc

crash of shells, the steel: i

teen to Landel.... Strange, dark

m lantern ... this was another cave, a cave that moved. He shivered from the heat and his dri

soon free him from the signaller's microscopic dot. He

one; the radio was wheezing ins

usly; he glanced through his slit across the desert, across slab after slab of unfamiliar ground where yellow light ex

ing to Chuck

signal!" La

o," Chuc

ur, it was grey inside the tank now; the faces of the

painful tooth: the thing had to be extracted. Fred Landel had his palms palmed over his eyes, his b

eyed the engi

ie in bed and sleep ... could

hing in the rocking motion, the rise and fall, made him feel that he was driving over the bodies of wounded men. He seemed to see across treel

s seared hi

oward the rear--retreat. He wanted to open a steel door, jump out,

son. As Landel yelled on the radio transmitter, Dennison bent ove

Anadi--Ar

was A

en it was smooth going: he shot the bus into faster gear: they were

tion with other ta

y: a hund

nk

ll

machine gun: it was Zinc: then th

signall

tank began zigzagging; the machine on the port side was driving straight ahead.

north

ped wildly al

ped white walls, white roosters, bashed dome, a toppling minaret, more Libyan dust. From a brick compound,

ed inside. Dennison rolled forward slowly. The lights went on. Dennison had a moment to catch a glimpse of tiled roofs, bar

er cobbles, over a low barricade, close to a white wall; there a poster disp

ink ... rest ... may

the space from house to house, street side to street si

ators, oil gauge, gas gauge, temper

crashed on the thought: he held his mouth open, expecting another detonation. The treads scr

n fan seemed t

incre

desert, shel

clear up? Christ, how my shoulders ache! What have the

thirty tanks i

. Okay, we push ah

e war could be shut out. White flags fluttered on roof tops--dirty white rags. Sandbags, with Egyptian lettering on them, leaned against an iron fence that leane

on of a dog he had owned in E, a brown dog: here Tubby, here T

hine gun destroyed an emplacement on a roof: Millar

front of a store where Nazi gunners were firing. Above a dome, perhaps a mosque, a

ed together, men and women, their clothing white and blue; their turbans white. Landel swung his mac

tank wall, Lan

hy the hell are you out in the st

eir eyes and throats. The crewmen's faces were haunted. They stared out of ports

irectly ahead as the p

erstand its composition, figure out how it originated, whether it alte

ntercom: he had seen Al crash onto the floor: they had wanted to lug him outside, into the a

horses and a cow. Horses not cars. He had talked about horses at camp: they had been buddies at Camp Manley.

till inside. A signal Corps flag appeared in the doorway of a two story building. A Corps flag wagged on a roof. Denn

he read Lan

t

i, shells were gutting, lo

, fog, people waiting for a double-decker, kids leaning over a bridge rail, Big Ben, the grey Thames flowing .

ecked the

gaso

ion, they separated, to mop up. A barricade had been erected on a street between low, white walls; there we

even second floor windows. Grey sh

of masonry. As Dennison topped the barricade a Nazi tank opened fire, firing

to the right; he yelled through the intercom to Chuck, ordering him to open fire. Chuck's 75-pounder boomed. D

rward as fast as she would roll. If the commander of th

ook, the Nazi turret is revolving. Wait, Chuck heard Landel's comman

pped a shell behind the Sherman: it exploded so close its force threw Landel to the floor. Smoke drenched the por

n to fan out as Dennison stared, his bus motionless. The sun was beating down: the smoke was clearing: dust was rolling up fro

s first t

ssed the barrel and bullets clattered across cobbles and rubble. Some of the soldiers c

to the square where other M4's were parked, near

.. get outside ... some water ..

removing his helmet, he splashed his head, staring into the shallow white tiled pool. A single fish was swimmi

face again, th

grey-grey something

opped, flicked its tail, puffed i

and crossed the square and brush

Zinc, his hands in the fountain: he floppe

aintly: it would be hours bef

gh he had won the war: he had seen Landel's bus knock out the Nazi machine. Landel pointed o

d up the cat a

men nervously, speaking French, talking jerkily, as if something had injured his tongue. He could not get it into his head that

from his bott

handed back the bottle, the boy began to shout and point: he

house! See! There's machine gun ... it's pointed this way! Maybe s

ht he yelled at the nearest crewmen. The warning spread. Someone at the fount

. At once the

ard fell, slumping heavily against the basin of the fountain; t

ners ... planes roared overhead ... Millard was dead; the wat

or was it t

objected. "I'm okay. We'd

d ... a nick. Hold

und him. Dennison thought that his face had become years older: oil had spattered his chin. His lowered lip sagged, exposing his missing tee

o cares! In Afr

ill b

rboy was

ll," Zinc

ur of us to crew our t

t!" Zin

s," Dennis

nage, Chuc

iary sum worth far more? His hands trembled: death was such a crappy business. In Ohio d

oss the square, banging on a door, shoving him inside when two women opened. A bull

ng of the roof gunners. Kneeling and sitting on the tiled floor of someone's living room he and Zinc did their best to bandage the

nch he yelle

cate a Red

the boy, her blue boubous was

n," she

of their stock of bandages: the

ison said to himself. "Nic

Millard was left, to be trucked to a base. The tanks gulped water. A supply tank furnished

the coffee? Cigarettes? God

amed: Advanc

pening a double door, a pack of dates lay on his table, a gi

shut his eyes: he belched and swayed in his seat: the hatch ban

minded the heat; already the roaring of the tank

om--far away--h

concrete pi

ust be some other M4's around! Or an M18! Maybe the rest of the Corps was lost on the desert--in some hellish place.

ar a chapel, was the pillbox, white, dirty, plastered with faded movie posters. Before Dennison could shift gears

l sig

the blood flow from his head: he thought: going to conk out. Must have cant

t ... go si

beyed auto

ck bawled at

ready ... re

ust a rod of steel: methodically, Chuck trained his 75; his first shell overshot but

ide opened, Landel accounted f

ng, whistlin

ashed it, treads burying the spirals, the

: water, face, water, the turret flung open, now he could brea

surface seemed annoyingly, dec

h it

he aske

reported, doubt

an Inca ceremonial head: a scratch under one eye was bleeding; his naked sh

d about the fountain. Should have known, should have. It was Dennison's fault for not reconnoitering. Give him hell

yapping on

f the highway. He had no chance to diminish his speed and zoom aside since they were clocking forty. Dennison's nerves buckled, his spine stiffened, his throat contracted

him ... I killed one of o

ret, stabbing the desert. Deser

ighway i

using his

showed an e

they were h

umble a tread, stove in the floor, belch out the walls? ... In the white walled house, the A

d as the bodies of men. Excellent imagination. Useless. Absurd. Such thinking had not hardened

d seemed to him that he had crushed them himself, mashed then with his own weight. He had dreamed then, for many nights, of arms and han

d

d ... palm trees, white one-story

t their tank forces were pincering: th

and starboard--was undulating with heat and light: heat, combining a scab

ow, he seemed a little insane as he swatted at flies. The dust on his cycle matched the dust on his fatigues.

.. so this was Beramet? Where, in Bera

ndows, firing machine guns, firing rifles. GI's opened a front. A grenade exploded. Sand gushed up. Another grenade forced sand through the visors and por

hed across

other. Eyes on the street havoc, he moved his machine as directed. Sometimes he saw Arabs firing, sometimes Nazis, sometimes

the Beramet probe was almost over ... now he noticed that his hand was scratched and he li

ly pain and everyone hoped to die. In this world there was the torture of sound being tortur

ter. Time could never obliterate these memories. The brain was permanently wounded. He tried but could not tap the future: he was too

death woke him. He woke shaking,

shortage: they squirmed into a wadi below a hundred meter red cliff topped by a

, concrete wall that crossed the wadi. Its concrete apron bedded a few of the Shermans. Landel, hoping the cl

ed into food the crews tried to eat. They crept over hands and faces and necks as men tried to work. They bit. Singly and by the dozen

led over

ed cold coffee from a thermos. With a rag over his face, Dennison was determined to rest as lo

dragged him throu

p of the cliff fall; he heard rocks and gravel avala

flew over but

, following their tell-tales across the desert. Like infallible radar the ruts could le

nd and slice a man across his waist and chest: the man did not scream. God, Dennison groaned. Another bomb flattened Dennison: Jesus, how ma

id hurling metal: he imagine

isted h

enc

rhead to cut down on the spray of sand. Nobody said a word. Presently, Chuck Hitchcock came crawling, blubbering, mouth gaping: crawling o

never see again: he tried to shield his wounded face, the man

ught, remembering Chuck's stories about bil

fell into ensheathing fire. It was visible to everyone under the tarp. Sand fountained.

bomb e

or it!" Denn

... get out of her

. Chuck was sobbing. Dennison thought every step was getting them nowhere; yet Landel appeared out of a wall of smoke, his head pla

uck cried. "I'm

tied rags or handkerchiefs or shirts over their face. So, it was sand, not flies. The

ted, trying to estimate damage. H

flies are gone, the bomb's got rid of the fl

ies ... the bombers

andel said,

fl

hit him

d too, in spite of his hysteria, that he was lucky to have escaped:

huddling, at first in little groups. In twos and threes they began checking, cl

the m

as

lies, flying close to the sa

ind kicked up dust. A section of the wadi cliff had toppled and sand had buried snouts and sides of several machines and both half-tracks: the san

a sand hollow. Directly in front of Dennison lay a pair of arms, intact from f

e, Denn

binson, fro

k, dragging Chuck, almost hurlin

coffed. "Watch where you're going

nd knocked him down: he tried to jump on him but

del gulped. "Are

Dennison yelled. "Larry Robins

ies had been blown about like chips. Glaring at Chuck's bloody eyes he felt no pity for him: he f

tain he ordered Dennison to ta

... take him, then let's get our bus

ison said to hi

him hospitalized; on leave, he would rest by the ocean; ships w

in the sun the imbedded sand glistened like glass; blood glistened like glass. C

talking kind

Dennison asked

N

fter you ... he's fro

ho

lli

a do

cal C

re a

e ... Willits and Cobb are helping the men

go, Den

he side? ... I want to put medic

ka

uff won

ka

d st

cigarette,

re.

garettes to be shredded; the pack was badly squashed but he s

railed across his eyes; the cigarette dropped to the sand; rolli

s ... m

ds off them!"

hey so

re bad--keep yo

a dwarf thorn t

gher ... I'm using more m

gimmie a

" said D

grey animal-kind eyes. When Dennison returned with water, he nodded at

hat around your head ... over your eyes ... we'll get you to a doctor soon as we can ... I'll use the transmitter ... o

as Dennison walked awa

he hatches, freed the guns: Landel had a shovel: there was no Al, no Millard, no Chuck: climbing inside Denniso

the transmitt

red Landel ... M4-221 reporting ... bombers caught us at point L-T ... place we call "The Dam" ... tanks badly

d him, in the transmitter, the old seat cushion, the thermos on the

io splu

oming in ... we know your conditions ... medical help enroute ... tanks moving f

el. A star specked the horizon. For an instant, for several minutes, he contemplated the ancientness and greatness of this continent: perhaps some of that greatness could resurrect mankind. How absurd the steel hulks,

ambulances, a corps of medics: "the dam" became an encampment, a black-in of men and steel. Dennison, at

ression, he was losing his best friend: everythin

o meet her. She's, she's pretty ... was the prettiest girl in Racine ... She's stationed at Red Cross ... Dalton

in the ambulan

r said: we'r

e ... tell her I sent you ... take it ... you can find her ..

od-

od-

ds slip on the shovel handle. He and Zinc were digging by lantern light, their shadows mugging each other: arms,

o showed a beautiful woman. Slipping it

hungry," he

... gotta sit ... rest." He was trying to rub away intestinal pain with his right hand: he had strained muscles as he helped l

.. he's lost his

mumbling

mutilated body, on a stretcher in a converted supply tank. Robinson's ID fell beside the tank and Zinc b

son said, folding some canvas over him. "Who's b

and lack of sleep: numb, he stumbled toward the chow wagon, shoes sinkin

n gasoline drums, oil drums, boxes, t

truck, under blankets and tarpaulin. Wind scraped at the tarp with a s

in the morning,

w," Zi

we hav

ea

miles they had to travel before the war ended. Three stars burned in a ragged triangle: gradually, the uppe

a grotto, Atala's grotto: ah, that pitiful story: beauty obliterated by superstition, by folly: lovely Atala had been his companion in Ermenon

no

d the tarpaulin.

he could steal: his arms and shoulders ached: sand grubbing had done t

Chu

soon men were yelling, talking, pushing,

s thr

k blared boogie-woo

read his

motor refus

rmed easily, and they rolled out of the gully, rolled across a flat of sand

leased Dennison: it was a pleas

e seat, the cushion solid. A shaft of light came in. The periscope was excellent. The viewer

against his Adam's apple, black, cancerous: his bal

tank rolled along, anothe

its size with the im

mb crater, flicked its fan

e as lonely as he: men riding inside noth

a knock in

range vibration

king sound in the

motor te

gan to

growing hot rapidly. Dennison mumbled to himself about the vents. The roaring of t

let up on acceleration but not before Z

cam

an's world, his years in Ithaca, at Cornell. The bronze figure of Ezra Cornell was hazed by leaves--then blurred by falling snow. He saw tree-fogged paths winding to his flat on the hilltop above Cayug

as co

ys, stead

rèse was dead, Uncle Victor, Landel and Zinc were de

wanted to close his fingers around a tangerine, strip the peeling, smell the strong smell. His mother used to buy tangerines at

jam, he wanted the r

p during the afte

thought,