@@@@@Fine sergeant I am, he told himself His
@@@@@Fine sergeant I am, he told himself
His ears were keyed to all the sounds of the night, and from long experience he sifted out the ones that were meaninglessIf an animal rustled in its hole, he paid no attention; if some crickets chirped, his ear disregarded themNow he picked a muffled slithering sound which he knew could be made only by men moving through a thin patch of jungleHe peered across the river, trying to determine where the foliage was least denseAt a point between his gun and Wilson's there was a grove of a few coconut trees sparse enough to allow men to assemble; as he stared into that patch of wood, he was certain he heard a man moveCroft's mouth tightenedHis hand felt for the bolt of the machine gun, and he slowly brought it to bear on the coconut groveThe rustling grew louder; it seemed as if men were creeping through the brush on the other side of the river to a point opposite his gunTiny charges seemed to pulse through his limbs and his head was as empty and shockingly aware as if it had been plunged into a pail of freezing waterHe wet his lips and shifted his position slightly, feeling as though he could hear the flexing of his muscles
The Jap mortar fired again and he startedThe shells were falling by the next platoon, the sound painful and jarring to himHe stared out on the moonlit river until his eyes deceived him; he began to think he could see the heads of men in the dark swirls of the currentCroft gazed down at his knees for an instant and then across the river againHe looked a little to the left or right of where he thought the Japanese might be; from long experience he had learned a man could not look directly at an object and see it in the darknessSomething seemed to move in the grove, and a new trickle of sweat formed and rolled down his backHe twisted uncomfortablyCroft was unbearably tense, but the sensation was not wholly unpleasant
He wondered if Wilson had noticed the sounds, and then in answer to his question, there was the loud unmistakable clicking of a machine gun boltTo Croft's keyed senses, the sound echoed up and down the river, and he was furious that Wilson should have revealed his positionThe rustling in the brush became louder and Croft was convinced he could hear voices whispering on the other side of the riverHe fumbled for a grenade and placed it at his feet
Then he heard a sound which pierced his fleshSomeone called from across the river, "Yank, Yank!" Croft sat nu