James Chase - Get a Load of This

Mendetta said: “The enemy can certainly be delayed, Your Excellency, but eventually they must break through. It will then be too late to retreat. The loss of the Lewis gun will be serious.”

Cortez shook his head. “Once we are across the mountains, Pablo will not follow us. The fighting will be over. We shall no longer require the Lewis gun. It will have served its purpose. We shall have to re-equip the whole of the army before launching a new offensive.”

There was a long silence. Neither of the two officers wanted to speak. They waited for Cortez to tell them who was to go. Cortez waved his hand. “Time presses. The officer who undertakes this operation may not be able to retreat. It is a dangerous, but, at the same time, a glorious opportunity. It would not do for me to choose which of you shall do this. I have great faith in you both. Will you gentlemen kindly withdraw and decide between yourselves who is to go? I shall expect your decision in ten minutes.”

Mendetta got to his feet, saluted and walked out of the room, followed by Holtz. The bright hot sunlight nearly blinded them as they stepped into the courtyard, and without a word they walked stiffly to the small out-house that served as their quarters.

“He is crazy, the mad senile fool,” Mendetta burst out, as he shut the door behind them. “He is throwing away the lives of four men and an officer, as well as the Lewis, to save his unprintable vanity.”

Holtz lit a cigarette with a hand that shook a little. He was tall, very dark and handsome. Although he was only twenty-six, he looked a lot older. In spite of the heavy going of the past two weeks, he was smart and his white uniform very neat and clean. A heavy gold chain encircled his brown wrist, and on the second finger of his right hand he wore a curiously fashioned green jade ring. He looked at Mendetta, who was six years his senior. “We haven’t long,” he said. “I suppose you will take on this operation?” There was a little mocking smile on his lips that infuriated Mendetta.

“I am married and I have two children,” Mendetta said. Sweat came out in little glistening beads on his forehead. “I thought that you—” He paused and looked away.

“I see,” Holtz said slowly. “Will your wife miss you so much?”

“It would kill her if anything happened to me,” Mendetta said. He had not seen his wife for three years, but he was very fond of life, and he felt this was the only card that he could play honourably. “If it were not for my family,” he went on, drawing himself up, “I would seize this chance. It is a magnificent stroke for the revolution.”

Holtz said, “I am married too.” This was not strictly accurate, but he couldn’t let Mendetta off so easily.

Mendetta went very pale. “I didn’t know that,” he said. “You never said.”

Holtz got to his feet. “We have two minutes,” he said. “Shall we cut cards?”

Mendetta became very agitated, and although he opened and shut his mouth several times he could not speak.

Holtz took a soiled pack of cards from a drawer and tossed them on the table. “Lowest card has the magnificent opportunity,” he said, and flipped a card from the pack. It fell face upwards. It was the four of spades.

“Not very difficult to beat,” he said, shrugging. “Come, Mendetta, the General is waiting.” He went to the door and stood with his back to the table.

Mendetta pulled a card from the pack. His hand shook so that the pack became scattered. He looked with horror at the two of diamonds he had drawn. Snatching up another card, he found the six of spades and ran with trembling legs over to Holtz. “The six of spades,” he managed to gasp.

Holtz looked at him, the mocking smile again on his lips. “How fortunate you are. To be lucky with cards and to be lucky in love.”

Mendetta saw that Holtz knew he had cheated, and he went white with shame.

Holtz said: “The General may wish to see you as well. Let us see him together.”

Cortez was waiting for them impatiently. “Well?” he snapped.

Holtz saluted stiffly. “I am ready to take your orders, Your Excellency,” he said.

Cortez nodded. He was pleased. Holtz was young. He had a stronger nerve than Mendetta, and, what was more important, he was proud. He would not fall back.

Cortez looked across at Mendetta. “Make immediate preparations for the withdrawal. Do not forget, the gun goes first. Have everything ready to leave within the hour. You have no time to lose.”

Mendetta saluted and stepped to the door. He looked back at Holtz, then said, “My best wishes, Lieutenant. May we meet again.”

Holtz bowed. “Remember me to your wife, Mendetta, remember me to your children,” he said. “You fortunate man.”

Mendetta went out of the room and shut the door behind him.

The General looked at Holtz searchingly. “I did not know he had any children,” he said, pulling a map towards him.

Holtz came close to the table. “They are always convenient,” with a little grimace. “What are my orders, Your Excellency?”

The General looked at him sharply. He didn’t like bitterness and he could not understand sarcasm. With an effort of will, he drew his attention to the matter in hand. “This place can be held with courage,” he said. “You will have four men. I cannot spare more. Choose whom you like. I take it you will handle the Lewis gun yourself? The enemy are unlikely to use their artillery, once they have ascertained that this place is held only by a few. Shells are costly. You are to delay them as long as possible. As long as you are alive, they cannot pass. You are not to expose yourself, and you are to be very careful not to waste ammunition. I will leave the details to you. Is there anything you do not understand?”

Holtz shook his head. “You have made it very simple, Your Excellency. How long am I to keep up the resistance?”

“I want at least twelve hours to get to the mountain road. Once I have got beyond the pass I do not think Pablo will follow any further; it would be too dangerous. We leave immediately. Pablo may not attack. In which case you will withdraw after twelve hours have elapsed from the time we leave. If he should attack, then you must hold him off until…” he glanced at the small clock on his desk, “four o’clock tomorrow.”

Holtz nodded. “I understand perfectly. If you will excuse me, I will make my preparations and choose my men.”

The General waved his hand. “I shall see you before I go,” he said. “Make your preparations with all speed.”

Outside in the courtyard there was tremendous activity. Horses were being saddled. Packs slung. Men, running to and fro, shouted orders excitedly. In the centre of the commotion stood the big, rusty field-gun. Men were already fastening thick ropes to it, and even as Holtz approached, the gun began to move slowly down the uneven road towards the distant hills.

He stood for a moment watching it go. Then he turned with a shrug of his shoulders. Time was pressing. He knew the four men he was going to choose. He knew they were reliable, although, of course, they had no wish to throw their lives away. Still, as long as he was with them, they would see it through. He was sure of that.

He caught sight of Sergeant Castra, who was walking towards him. “Sergeant,” he called. “Here, I want you.”

Castra increased his pace. He was a tall, thick-set man, with hard eyes and a firm determined jaw. He had been in the service for a long time, and Holtz knew him to be a soldier in every sense of the word.

“I want Golz, Dedos, Fernando and you to remain behind. We are to hold this position until the army has had time to withdraw. Will you get the other men?”

Castra saluted. “Yes, Lieutenant,” he said, “at once.”