Gregory Benford & Martin H. Greenberg (eds.) What Might Ha

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in Arabic, Lawrence wadded up his headcloth and thrust it against the wounded
man s side, where it turned red and sodden far too rapidly. Now it did not
matter who controlled that field hospital.
Bear up, lad, Lawrence whispered. Before he could remember that he was old,
sick, and half-crazed, and that he hated to be touched, he swung Haseldon s
arm over his shoulder and started across the field toward the wretched
hospital. The bursts of light, the shaking of the ground as each shell
exploded all faded from his consciousness; his horizons narrowed to the next
step, the step after that.
The command to stop came in German and was reinforced with a warning shot and
men in his path, barring his way to the surgery7. Speaking or looking up might
be fatal. He eased Haseldon to the ground.
That one s done for. The soldiers spoke over his head. Lawrence turned
Haseldon s face away, afraid that its pallor would betray them both.
Just as well. Those Berbers are treacherous little beasts.
Still, if the English are wasting supplies, we should ...
You can t disturb the surgeons now. They re operating on Colonel Stephan of
the Fifth
Panzer.
There was a murmur of dismay. When was he brought in?
Around noon. He s got a bad chest wound. Shrapnel. The General wanted the
English surgeon, this Major Aird, to put a pressure dressing on it, so Colonel
Stephan could be flown out.
But the doctor insisted on operating, said Stephan would die if he didn t.
Someone shouted an order in harsh German from the lean-to.
They want the armored cars to pull back? the soldier standing nearby
demanded. So the noise won t disrupt the surgery? Maybe we could put up
little curtains to make the operating room more gem�tlich, too.
Schweig; they re operating on one of ours. Tenderhearted, those English.
What about the natives there?
Let them wait. Thev re worthless.
The roar of engines as the armored cars withdrew made Lawrence shudder. He had
hoped that playing the role of fugitive, aiding a wounded tribesman, might win
him help from the English surgeons. But clearly the Germans were not going to
let him get near the surgery. They were just going to let Haseldon die here,
weren t they? And why? Because he wasn t one of theirs.
Lawrence thought of the photos he carried, then of Tafas. The best of you
brings me the most
Turkish dead, he had said then. Atrocious: the stiffened bodies in the
desert; the bled-out bodies in the grave pits; the sight of a man who had
admired him dying in his arms. As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, the
line ran through his head. They kill us for their sport.
Fingers struggled toward his, and he grasped Haseldon s hand as firmly as he
might. Sorry,
came a faint whisper.
No one could have done better, Lawrence replied, and I ll remember. He
heard Haseldon struggle for breath, and drew him closer, holding the dying
man s head up until it lolled back, and Lawrence knew that he was dead.
The ground had stopped shaking. Now only the tramp of booted feet, not
bombshells, made
Lawrence tense. A crowd of Panzer officers was leaving the tent.
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We ll return again tomorrow on our way back into Egypt, one of them told the
bloodstained man who accompanied them out of the operating room.
Last of all, as if in defiance of protocol, was a general, not too tall,
somewhat stocky, wearing an Iron Star and a blue order, Pour le Merite, at his
throat.
Lawrence knew that face from his pictures, from the waking nightmare that his
life had long been. He waited until all the others had passed. Then, in an
undertone, he called, Heir General
Rommel!
Unsnapping the catch of his holster, Rommel strode toward him. Lawrence took a
deep breath and raised his head, and Rommel halted. His hand went up, and his
mouth opened and closed on
Lawrence s name.
So, do ghosts now fight alongside the quick and the dead? Rommel asked,
elaborately sarcastic, in his heavily accented Swabian German. A fraud, of
course.
I am quite what I seem to be, Lawrence stated in the carefully cultivated
German of the
Oxford scholar he had once been.
Rommel gestured with distaste at Haseldon s body, half-sprawled over
Lawrence s knees. So
I see.
Lawrence grimaced and straightened Haseldon s body on the ground. Any moment
now, Rommel would shout for guards to take him away, if he didn t just draw
his Luger and kill
Lawrence himself. Apparently, your assassins had never heard of German
efficiency. I
survived.
Rommel stared down at Haseldon, and Lawrence followed his glance, saw the
glazed stare of filming blue eyes, and shut them with a convulsive motion of
one bloodstained hand. He had a sudden impulse to pour dirt over the dead
man s face. He was under my command, Lawrence said. I d be grateful if he
had a decent burial.
Rommel snapped his fingers for the guards to take the body away. And you,
too?
Before or after I give you Prime Minister Churchill s message? I d appreciate
a safe-conduct out of here.
You have my word on it. I would have been disappointed if the English had
sunk to using the notorious Lawrence as an assassin or a spy. He glanced
around, as if he could see an English regiment about to attack and rescue
Lawrence.
I m quite alone, I promise you.
You re dead! Men don t disappear for five years, have funeral sermons
preached over them, then appear in the middle of a war
Lawrence laughed softly. Herr General, you are not the only soldier known for
being unpredictable. Would you not use your death or a lie about it to help
your country?
What assurances do I have that you are not a lie? Already, Rommel was
beckoning
Lawrence toward Mammut, as if he preferred to debrief a spy in private. A
junior officer hurried up, waving a message.
This is war the way the ancient Teutons used to fight it. I don t even know
at this moment whether the Afrika Korps is on the attack or not! Rommel
cursed.
His mood had shifted from the ironic whimsicality of a moment ago. Lawrence
knew there was not much time. Operation Crusader was keeping Rommel on the run
with its very unpredictability.
Well? he snapped at Lawrence.
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Moving slowly, keeping his hands in view at all times, Lawrence took off his
weapons belt. My word of honor, he said.
Rommel raised an eyebrow, and part of Lawrence agreed with him.
The word, he went on, hating the theatricality of his words, of a man who
rode with
Allenby into Jerusalem at the head of the first Christian army to take it
since the Crusades.
Rommel laughed, a sound resembling the bark of a fox. Crusade! Not precisely
my favorite word, he said.
Lawrence shrugged. Soldiers can only do what they can. We too must follow our
orders, no matter how they tie our hands or short us on supplies.
The Russian front! God only knows how sick I am of the damned Russian front!
They want
Cairo, Alexandria ... I could give them all Egypt, but not one man, not one
penny for Africa, but that it s begrudged
And sent to Russia? Lawrence asked. Germany has some magnificent strategic
minds; but
Russia? Napoleon foundered there. Do you think that your Fiihrer can succeed
where Napoleon failed?
Is this what your Churchill sent you to do? Rommel snapped. To test my
loyalty to the
Fiihrer? My oath holds.
You sound like one of Charlemagne s paladins, off to fight the Moors. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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