Force 10 from Navarone by Alistair MacLean Page A

to. Seven.’
    ‘Don’t fire till you are sure.’ Stephan turned back to Vukalovic. ‘God above, General, you were almost blown into German hands.’
    ‘I’d have been worse off without the parachute,’ Vukalovic said mildly.
    ‘There’s so little time.’ Stephan struck a clenched fist against a palm. ‘So little time left. You were crazy to come back. They need you far more –’ He stopped abruptly, listened for a fraction of a second, threw himself at Vukalovic and brought them both crashing heavily to the ground as a whining mortar shell buried itself among loose rocks a few feet away, exploding on impact. Close by, a man screamed in agony. A second mortar shell landed, then a third and a fourth, all within thirty feet of one another.
    ‘They’ve got the range now, damn them.’ Stephan rose quickly to his feet and peered down the gorge. For long seconds he could see nothing, for a band of dark cloud had crossed the face of the moon: then the moon broke through and he could see the enemy all too clearly. Because of some almost certainly prearranged signal, they were no longer making any attempt to seek cover: they were pounding straight up the slope with all the speed they could muster, machine-carbines and rifles at the ready in their hands – and as soon as the moonbroke through they squeezed the triggers of those guns. Stephan threw himself behind the shelter of a boulder.
    ‘Now!’ he shouted. ‘Now!’
    The first ragged Partisan fusillade lasted for only a few seconds, then a black shadow fell over the valley. The firing ceased.
    ‘Keep firing,’ Vukalovic shouted. ‘Don’t stop now. They’re closing in.’ He loosed off a burst from his own machine-pistol and said to Stephan, ‘They know what they are about, our friends down there.’
    ‘They should.’ Stephan armed a stick grenade and spun it down the hill. ‘Look at all the practice we’ve given them.’
    The moon broke through again. The leading German infantry were no more than twenty-five yards away. Both sides exchanged hand-grenades, fired at point-blank range. Some German soldiers fell, but many more came on, flinging themselves on the redoubt. Matters became temporarily confused. Here and there bitter hand-to-hand fighting developed. Men shouted at each other, cursed each other, killed each other. But the redoubt remained unbroken. Suddenly, dark heavy clouds again rolled over the moon, darkness flooded the gorge and everything slowly fell quiet. In the distance the thunder of artillery and mortar fire fell away to a muted rumble, then finally died.
    ‘A trap?’ Vukalovic said softly to Stephan. ‘You think they will come again?’
    ‘Not tonight.’ Stephan was positive. ‘They’re brave men, but –’
    ‘But not insane?’
    ‘But not insane.’
    Blood poured down over Stephan’s face from a reopened wound in his face, but he was smiling. He rose to his feet and turned as a burly sergeant came up and delivered a sketchy salute.
    ‘They’ve gone, Major. We lost seven of ours this time, and fourteen wounded.’
    ‘Set pickets two hundred metres down,’ Stephan said. He turned to Vukalovic. ‘You heard, sir? Seven dead. Fourteen hurt.’
    ‘Leaving how many?’
    ‘Two hundred. Perhaps two hundred and five.’
    ‘Out of four hundred.’ Vukalovic’s mouth twisted. ‘Dear God, out of four hundred.’
    ‘And sixty of those are wounded.’
    ‘At least you can get them down to the hospital now.’
    ‘There is no hospital,’ Stephan said heavily. ‘I didn’t have time to tell you. It was bombed this morning. Both doctors killed. All our medical supplies – poof! Like that.’
    ‘Gone? All gone?’ Vukalovic paused for a long moment. ‘I’ll have some sent up from HQ. The walking wounded can make their own way to HQ.’
    ‘The wounded won’t leave, sir. Not any more.’
    Vukalovic nodded in understanding and went on: ‘How much ammunition?’
    ‘Two days. Three, if we’re careful.’
    ‘Sixty wounded.’