Schmeissers-it was no war, as he had said, but sheer, pitiful massacre, with the defenceless figures on the slope below, figures still stunned and uncomprehending, jerking, spinning round and collapsing like marionettes in the hands of a mad puppeteer, some to lie where they fell, others to roll down the steep slope, legs and arms flailing in the grotesque disjointedness of death. With four machine-guns in their hands-two Brens and two 9 mm. His last words were caught up and drowned in the tearing, rapid-fire crash of the automatic carbines. He shook out his pack of cigarettes.Have one? Jus' daydreamin', boss he said easily.Jus' daydreamin'. Mallory stared at him, slowly released his grip on the glasses, nodded several times in succession.
I do not believe it, Andrea said flatly.You couldn't make a mistake like that, my Captain.
A six-inch mortar, almost certainly using fragmentation bombs-you use a brush and shovel for clearing up afterwards. Guaranteed to turn the knees to jelly, especially after nightfall-but it's stifi the other one you have to watch. Also a mortar, Mallory explained.A five-barrelled job, and very nasty.
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