"Smith, Wilbur - Courtney 03 - A Sparrow Falls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

This part of the line was unfamiliar, the brigade had moved in less than
a week previously, but the stench was well remembered. The musty smell
of earth and mud, overladen with the odour of rotting flesh and sewage,
the stale lingering whiff of burned cordite and high explosive.

Sean sniffed it and spat with distaste. Within an hour he knew he would
be so accustomed as not to notice it, but now it seemed to coat the back
of his throat like cold grease. Once again he looked up at the sky, and
now he frowned. Either the wind had shifted into the east a point or
two, or they had taken a wrong turning within the maze of trenches, for
the low cloud was no longer rolling in the direction that fitted with
the map that Sean carried in his head. Nick! Sir? Are you still
right?

And he saw at once the uncertainty in the young subaltern's eyes as he
looked back. Well, sir -The trenches had been deserted for the last
quarter of a mile, not a single soul had they passed in the labyrinth of
high earthen walls. We'd better take a look, Nick. I'll do it, sir.
Van der Heever glanced ahead along the trench, and found what he was
looking for. At the next intersection a wooden ladder was fastened into
the wall. It reached to the top of the sand-bagged parapet. He started
towards it.

Careful, Nick, Sean called after him. Sir, the young man acknowledged,
and propped his rifle before swarming upwards.

Sean calculated they were still three or four hundred yards from the
front line yet, and the light was going fast.

There was a purple velvet look to the air beneath the clouds, not
shooting light at all, and he knew that, despite his age, van der Heever
was an old soldier. The glance he took over the top would be swift as a
meerkat looking out of its hole.

Sean watched him crouch at the top of the ladder, lift his head for a
single quick sweep and then duck down again.

The hill is too much on our left, he called down.

The hill was a low, rounded mound that rose a mere hundred and fifty
feet above the almost featureless plain.

Once it had been thickly forested, but now only the shattered stumps
stood waist-high and the slopes were dimpled with shell craters. How
far is the farm house? Sean asked, still peering upwards. The farm
house was a roofless rectangle of battered walls that stood foursquare
facing the centre of the Battalion's sector. it was used as a central
reference point for artillery, infantry and aircorps alike. I'll have
another look, and van der Heever lifted his head again.