MEET ME ON THE BARRICADES

The air is filled with the piercing shrieks of the high-arching canopy of projectiles overhead.

Zero! ‘ .

Enthralled by the grandeur of the artillery con- cert he fails to observe for a moment that his men have started to attack without him. Abashed, he hurries after them; nonchalantly, he takes his place at their head, leading the advance.

[Countless scenes from war pictures flicker before his e yes.]

The earth heaves, rocks, staggers; the terrain is torn, hacked, pulverized.

[He walks through an inferno of Hollywood battle locations.]

The machine-gun crew moves slowly across the.

field at a weighted pace, burdened by the gun and ammunition, sweating under the glittering, merciless Spanish sun.

[The pages of a dozen war novels flutter in his mind. Putrescent, shapeless, the corpse of Kemmerich lies in the path of his advance. Broadbent reclines in a shell crater, looking away from his shattered leg where a pool of blood grows as though fed b )2 some sub- terranean spring. At the bottom of that chalk pit a trench rat steps daintily onto Paolacci’s chest, pre- pares to eat with relish the lieutenant’s lower lip.]

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