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Show Flying - 150 and scatter into the rocks and bushes at the fringes of the beach. From up on the hill where John Henry sits, the popping of blank cartridges sounds ridiculous, like kids with cap pistols, and even the artillery simulators, loud and dangerous at close range, don't sound like much. A whistle and a bang and a little puff of vihite smoke. Up and down the coast as far as John Henry can see, other boats are heading for more beaches. Thousands of soldiers rushing madly toward the California hills, struggling to get ashore, desperate to get into the dark thickets where they will be hidden and safe, where they can cling for a minute and catch their breath before beginning to do battle qgain. Thousands running or crawling through the sand, wriggling on their bellies beneath simulated gunfire to reach the welcoming mountains and valleys, the dark clumps of trees beneath which they can rest. "Let's get back to camp," says Wilberforce putting away his binoculars. "'We have work to do." At guardmount they stand in three rows in the rays of the setting sun. Clips with nine rounds of blank ammunition in each are handed down the line. "This is blank ammunition," says Lieutenant Biggs, the officer of the day, "but it's dangerous. It can kill you if you don't know enough to be careful." |
