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.]

18