Chapter 4 Part II Verses 8-12

Do you know, brother, that you are a prince—the son of Adam? Jara Din Rumi (1207-1273) End of June 1914. The summer of this year is very hot, and it can even be said to be a golden summer.The international situation is very calm.Tensions in Europe that have lasted for more than a decade or more are gradually dissipating. The situation is no worse than before, and it may even be much better than before. Seven British warships and the High Seas Fleet of the German Reich take part in the Elbe Regatta: a whole week of racing, dancing, music and fireworks.When the British fleet finally sailed away, the commander of the British army gestured to his master: "Friends from the past, friends forever."

In Serbia, a Grand Duke was assassinated by an anarchist, but who cares?Serbia is Serbia, and there are many grand dukes in that area. ＊＊ By this time Alan and Tom had grown up and were both 21 years old.Their future lay before them, like a sparkling ocean, on which anything could happen. Alan was a tall man with fair hair, pale blue eyes, and brows so pale that they could hardly be seen.He inherited his father's angularity, but it was softened by certain resemblances to his mother: her smile, her slightly worried expression. Alan was at Oxford and was finishing his last exams.These exams are exhausting, but it will be over soon.He will have a degree in natural sciences.He had little time to study the subject, but it allowed him to specialize in his chosen field of geology.

Because Darcy's oil adventures aren't over yet.He found investors, and he continued to prospect. In 1907, six years after starting, he discovered oil. Lots of oil.This time it's not a trickle, but a gush, and its flow is so strong that one of the world's largest companies is building for it.The company, now called the Anglo-Persian Petroleum Company, needed a lot of young geologists, so by September, Allen would be heading to the Persian-Mesopotamian border to start working in search of oil.But that was September.Between now and then he had two full months to ride, shoot and fish in the country, and go to dances and parties in London.

＊＊ Tom is also excellent. He was shorter than Alan, but stronger, with broad shoulders and smooth, slightly curly black hair.He was handsome: broad, strong, with a dazzling smile.Unlike Ellen, Tom was adept at dealing with girls.He never seemed to be short of female companions.Allen laughed at him all the time, but also felt embarrassed for himself.Tom is a veteran of the field, while Alan is inexperienced. There was one more thing Tom was ahead of Allen: career. When school was over, Tom gave up the possibility of winning a scholarship at Oxford and instead took a position in the London offices of the great Standard Oil Company.He did a great job.He is both talented and energetic and has become one of the most capable young people in the company.Although Tom worked hard, he spent every weekend with Alan, either socializing and dancing in London, or riding and shooting in the country.

＊＊ What about Guy? Over the years, Guy has completely ceased to matter.The hostility of childhood seemed to have faded.Even if the old hatred doesn't really go away, it doesn't mean much anymore.Tom stayed in London, and Guy didn't seem to be in London anyway.Guy was a soldier, a major, and he was very good at staff work.Tom and Guy saw each other rarely, and it was unlikely they would see each other very often.When they did bump into each other, both were icy polite. However, the summer of 1914 was a golden summer. It's been a summer to enjoy, and there's nothing better than being a young British man with a bright future ahead of him.Tom and Allen hardly ever had to make gestures to each other, though when they did, they made the gesture of the British commander in Kiel: "Friends past, friends forever."

＊＊ Here's the trouble with grand dukes: if you have a grand duke and then lose him, you can't just say, "To hell with this, let's find another grand duke."So Austria—the assassinated grand duke happened to be an Austrian—delivered an ultimatum to Serbia, which was accused of supporting the anarchist.Basically, the ultimatum was saying, "We're very upset about the assassination of the Grand Duke, so we want you to show real submission." So Serbia caved. Serbia is weak, while Austria-Hungary is strong, not to mention that Austria and Germany are still good friends, and Germany is famous for choosing the location of military operations.So Serbia caved.Generously, unreservedly, rather embarrassingly.

But, unfortunately, if you've already chosen a military location - if you're armed and ready, expectant, and promise to send your Aunt Helga a postcard from Belgrade - then a word or two A conciliatory reply isn't enough to stop you.So Austria declared war. The trouble with starting a war is that your neighbors get a little nervous.Russia sits right next to mighty Austria and Germany, and now it looks like a war is looming on her doorstep.This made Russia a little nervous, so she dispatched the army, an army of six million. Ouch!Austria-Hungary was only planning to fight a nice little war in its back garden, but suddenly the largest country in Europe mobilized its huge population and went into combat mode.Germany called on Russia to demobilize its troops, but from Russia's point of view, this was a bit like a weasel giving a chicken New Year's greetings.Russia told Germany to mind its own business, and then Germany also entered a state of war readiness.

The trouble with Germany moving its troops is that France is starting to get nervous.The French are a generous people, renowned for their hospitality, but if only a few decades ago thousands of uninvited guests marched through your capital, you'd be forgiven for getting nervous of.What's more, France and Russia are in an alliance, while Germany and Russia don't seem to be friendly these days.Germany asked France to abandon its alliance with Russia, which France refused. From the German point of view, if war was imminent, it would make perfect sense to strike first.Also, the great thing about the Germans is that once they decide what to do, they do it thoroughly.

In retrospect, neither Tom nor Allen nor anyone else could explain why an assassination attempt in the assassination capital would trigger the largest military conflict in world history.But, explainable or not, that's how history works. Germany needed a quick victory in the west to secure a decisive victory in the east, so Germany sent troops into Belgium, with the aim of Paris.The British—very reluctant to get involved in the war, but equally reluctant to cede Europe to the Germans—asked Germany to leave Belgium amicably.The Germans refused, so Britain also joined the war. May 1915.

There was a rumble of thunder in the night sky, and the sky was ablaze with artillery fire several miles to the north.The largest farmhouse in France seems to have given up on farming and converted itself into a hotel.In the spacious kitchen, three or four wooden tables were crowded with soldiers, and for half a franc one could buy a large plate of fried potatoes, a small slice of bacon, and a glass of beer watered down. Allen and Tom had just arrived in France. They blinked in astonishment at the lights and the noise, and at the same time they stretched their legs. They first took a boat, then a train, and then a military vehicle. They walked for two days. , My legs are cramping.They didn't stay long.A pale man—a corporal, judging by his uniform—runs up to them.

"Mr. Cleary? Mr. Montagu?" The two nodded.They enlisted soon after the war broke out.They trained in England for a few months, then lingered longer in a depressing transitional barracks on the outskirts of Manchester before finally arriving in France.They were both second lieutenants, and each would lead a platoon of soldiers who, like themselves, had no combat experience.Unsure of their military skills, the unfamiliar sight of the fiery sky cleared their heads. "The company commander wants to see you, sir," said the sergeant. "He wants to know why you didn't show up yesterday. We're going to the front tomorrow morning." The sergeant took the two of them to a place where it must have been a dairy that used to be a farmhouse—now idle because there were no cows to produce milk.An oil lamp hung on a hook hanging from the beams of the ceiling. A major in military uniform drank coffee and bent over some papers. His feet in military boots were crossed on a cabinet with a map.He looked up. "Bad stuff, French coffee. Do you have coffee? I mean English coffee." The two newcomers shook their heads. "I've got bacon, sir," said Alan, "and marmalade." "Er," the major snorted, "coffee. Best thing." Relieved, he put down his paperwork and stood up.He's ridiculously tall, with arms full of muscle that make him look a bit ape-like: strong, and potentially menacing. "Sit on the chair." The "chair" he meant was two wooden boards resting on a stack of milk churns. "Why the hell didn't you come yesterday?" Allen began to explain, but Fletcher interrupted him. "Military establishment. Always contradicting itself. It's a miracle you're here. We're going out tomorrow to rescue C Company." "Yes, sir." "Mr. Cleary?" Tom nodded. "Sir." Fletcher scowled, surveyed his new underling, and grunted reluctant approval.Then he looked at Allen. "Then you must be Montagu, eh?" "Yes, sir." "You don't have a brother, do you? A major? A good friend and brother of ours on the General Staff." Allen said yes. "Hmm!" Fletcher's snort this time expressed his disapproval.He took a sheet of paper from the stack in front of him and read aloud, "We have noticed that in many companies the routine cleaning of rifles is not being done properly...all company commanders...blah blah... Regulations...blah blah...inspection...blah blah. Please submit a detailed report...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Fletcher dropped the The paper, "signed by Major Guy Montagu." There was a long silence.Allen was extremely cramped.Tom, on the other hand, enjoyed the moment—at least until he realized Guy was in France, too.He wasn't Tom's immediate boss, but he was here too, in a superior position, ready to intervene.Guy's shadow once again enveloped his life.The very thought of this brought a surge of anger to Tom's heart. "Want to know where the bloody trouble is?" Fletcher finally said. "Sir?" Allen said. "My guys keep using the goddamn rifles." "Yes, sir." "Get them dirty. I mean the rifles, of course, not the people. People can't get any dirtier." "right." A moment's pause.Allen then began to defend his brother. "I don't believe my brother wants to—" He wanted to go on, but Fletcher cut him off, "Oh, never mind. It's official. I'll just tell them what they want to hear. Brightest rifle in all of France. Cleaned five times a day. Something like that ’” He sat down, put his feet back on the counter, and began to drink the second cup of coffee that disgusted him so much. "I guess you are all recruits?" "Yes, sir," Allen said. "I hope you are not too incompetent?" This question and his tone made the corners of Alan's eyes twitch in surprise.Before he could come up with an answer, Fletcher interrupted him again. "Don't worry. The training is a waste of time. The only soldiers in the company were me, the commander, the lieutenant, two young men from the Royal Army Officers' College, and a sergeant major, who, in his opinion, was the whole The idea of ​​the new army is a big joke. The training you need is this: If you see a German, kill him. Keep your own head from being blown off. Don't get your men in trouble. Let the commander continue to think You are the Almighty Lord. Do you understand?" silence. "And coffee," said Tom. "Damn right. And the damn coffee." Soon they were taken to the front lines. "Chalk. Lucky guy. Easy first job." Fletcher poked at the shoulder-high embankment and let go to let a handful of white soil float to the trench floor. "As hard as a stallion's teat, and it's the same when it rains. You should see the clay pits where we live in the winter. Two feet above the shoreline and three feet below. Every time you try to build a parapet an inch or two higher , the Germans will shoot you with guns. Only rats like it." Allen remained silent.Both he and Tom were shocked.The mud, the vermin, the labyrinth of trenches, the danger lurking on every gun emplacement, every weak point in defense engineering, every bullet that whizzed by, shocked them. Not far from the bomb shelter, a head hung from the barbed wire eighteen inches above the ground.According to the British soldiers who took over the trench, it was the head of a French soldier who had been bombed.It was an easy thing to dispose of the thing one night, but it had taken on a superstitious importance to the troops.The head was given the title of Private First Class Tori, and was considered a full member of the company.Food is thrown at it, drinks are thrown at it, and even lit cigarettes are thrown at it as some kind of blessing tribute. "This is your territory." Fletcher introduced their bomb shelter to Allen and Tom. "You gotta put some more dirt on top of that goddamn top. It can't stop a guy flying straight up, not yet. Also, the food has to be hung. If it's on the ground, Brother Mouse will dry it out, which is Violation of the rules. The corpses are theirs, and the food is ours. Got it, my boy." Fletcher left after speaking, leaving the two young men alone in their new home.Tom looked at Alan.Allen looked at Tom. A smile appeared on Tom's face, "Okay, brother, here we come." Allen nodded, "Yes, here we are." Sitting on the bed, they ran their hands over the rough wooden walls, feeling the weight of the earth above their heads.They remembered what Fletcher had said: a direct hit would end the game for them both.They thought about the previous summer and the impossibility of returning to that life. But there was something else in the air.Positive stuff.The startling reality of their new home makes them feel more connected than ever.They were already on the front line, only a few dozen yards away from the enemy who wanted to kill them.Their task is to put the enemy to death.But they are brothers.Not just brothers, they are twins.It seems that no power on earth can separate them. The two sat on their beds, stared at each other, and then, for no apparent reason, started laughing out loud. 9 weeks later. Tom and Alan are no longer rookies.They know how to protect their men, how to harass enemy troops, and how to patrol dangerous no man's land.They lived through rats, discomfort, shelling, gun battles, and casualties of people they knew.But there is one more thing they don't know.They have not faced a major action and its human impact.not yet. But that's about to change. ＊＊ Tom pushed aside the sack hanging from the door of the dugout.The stench of human bodies and burning wood hits me, followed by less overwhelming kerosene and tobacco.Half of the people had their faces completely darkened, and the other half were either huddled in front of the only mirror, or had their companions clean it up for them.One of them had his face painted with red hearts and love words for his girlfriend.Another had a swearing face all over his face. "Weed Compaq," said Tom sternly, "make this guy's face as black as it should be. And you, Tinsey, stay away from the white ash on the wall, unless you want the Germans to think you're a Blown up ghost." With Tom watching, they quickly restored order.Tom counted the number of people.There are eight people in total. "Corporal, how many people do you count?" "Eight, sir." "Where's the last guy?" "The last one, sir? Major Fletcher said eight—" "Where's Chief Private? Where is he?" Tom's joke set the air-raid shelter up with laughter, but he wasn't done yet. "Oh, don't worry," he went on, "actually, I remember telling him to go first." There were screams and howls at his one-liners, and the joke had already been told to all the idiots in the platoon.Tom got along very well with his men almost from the beginning.Although they are very nervous now, their morale is high at the same time. However, although Tom was joking, he was extremely worried, not for himself, but for Alan.Earlier in the day, Fletcher sought volunteers as the company assembled. "We need a guy to lead the scouting party. The goal of the scouting team is to find some gaps in the goddamn barbed wire—if there are any goddamn gaps—and come back. You'll have to leave a trail with lime on the way back, Show the way for others behind. We would appreciate it if you could avoid the noise when you reach your destination. Raiders will follow the trail, hop lightly over the hole in the fence, and be quiet before the Germans wake up. Stab them. Got it? Who's brave enough?" Alan and Tom certainly had guts. "New here, can't wait, huh?" Neither answered. "As long as it gets Colonel Jimmy the medal, what? That would be great. That's exactly what we want." Colonel James "Jimmy" McIntosh was their battalion commander - the man, it is said , he was going crazy thinking about medals.When Fletcher said this, there were faint smiles on the faces of the people at the table. "Montagu, you'll be in charge of reconnaissance. I'll be in charge of raids. Cleary, you'll be my second in command. If things go wrong, you'll take over. Clear?" very clear.Both of them nodded, and their hearts became heavy when they thought about what was about to happen. Then Fletcher paused, his expression indicating that he wanted to say something but hesitated.Everyone waited with bated breath. "Well - Montague - I don't think your brother Guy will be part of the raid on the Germans tonight - he probably doesn't think he can take the brunt of that, huh? Face the bullets, a little change - anyway , there are better things to do than that, I think - cleaning the rifle - I don't mean that - good job, I'm sure - anyway, I mean, he'd be proud of you , right? The first mission, that's all." Fletcher finished stammering.Everyone listened in shock.Fletcher's words were close to insulting Guy, almost accusing him of avoiding danger.Of course, it was common for soldiers fighting on the front lines to complain about those far behind, but Guy was Allen's older brother, and Fletcher's words were more than acceptable barracks jokes. Alan could see Tom's smile deepen, and then he replied in a cold voice, "Thank you, sir. Yes, I hope he'll feel proud." "Yeah, yeah, that's, that's," Fletcher quickly retreated from the dangerous subject.He suddenly saw a pair of mice mating on his personal store of marmalade, and he breathed a sigh of relief, then strained his attention. "Hey, rats!" he yelled, grabbing his pistol. "I'll count to three, everyone. One... two... three." He led the crowd to shoot, and both rats died in the pile of marmalade inside. "No sex in the barracks. Let the French do it." That was eight hours ago. Allen chose to go out first, and he will also be the first to face a real threat of death.Tom will only start when Allen returns. Tom's body was under double tension.Yizhong is for himself and the danger he is about to face.The other is for Allen and the danger he is facing. Allen's job was to find the gaps in the barbed wire.Will there be a notch on it?Tom was skeptical.Allen was strictly instructed not to spend time cutting the barbed wire, but Tom knew Allen.His twin brother would not let a troop of soldiers encounter an impenetrable obstacle.Tom guessed that at this moment, Allen might be lying on the ground, holding the wire cutters and cutting the barbed wire bit by bit.The slightest sound or the slightest reflection of light may give away his position and endanger his life. Tom smoked one cigarette after another, extinguishing each one on the silver sandbags in the parapet.The burning tobacco passed through the sack, and a trace of soil leaked from the bag. "For God's sake, take care of yourself bro, for God's sake." A voice behind him made him jump up. "What are you doing? Huh?" It was Fletcher. "Nothing, sir. I wonder where Montagu is now." Fletcher snorted, "Is your people ready?" "Yes, sir." "Leaving in fifteen minutes. Go tell them." "And what about Montagu, sir?" Fletcher shrugged. He looked very evil under the moonlight, "Mr. Cleary, Montague has to rely on his luck." time has passed. Still haven't seen Allen. Fifteen minutes are up.Fletcher gestured that it was time to go. One by one, they walked down the short, thick little ladder into no man's land.Leaving the claustrophobic tunnels and parapets of trenches, the world suddenly seemed so vast that there was nowhere to hide.Ahead of him, Tom could see the ape-like form of Fletcher and the black silhouettes of his soldiers.Tom was in charge of the second team. After counting thirty seconds, he began to follow slowly.Except for the sound of boots stepping quietly on the ground and the sound of the gun handle scraping the ground, there was silence around.Minutes passed, each minute as long as a century. Suddenly there was an exception. The soil under Tom's hands suddenly glowed white.He paused for a second in shock.It was lime, glistening in the moonlight.But if this is lime, then... Allen jumped out of the darkness, grinning.Tom suddenly realized how worried he had been.Being twins is great—it's a friendship that no one else can ever match—but there's a downside to it, and it's pretty simple: Tom will have more to lose. He hugged Allen, "Take care of yourself, brother. No matter what happens, you must take care of yourself." Allen hugged him too, and then left. "I've done it. Now it's your turn." ＊＊ Tom looked up.He has delayed too long.He led his men to climb forward along the lime line, while Allen had safely returned to the front line of the British army. The raiding party moved forward slowly.For a minute or two things went very well.Raiders are quiet, stealthy, and undetected. Then something happened. Just ahead of Tom, a soldier from Fletcher's squad slid on the edge of a crater and slid all the way to the muddy bottom.Although he prayed quietly, his equipment rolled out of the backpack and rolled down the slope with a clang. The sound was as piercing as an alarm. For a moment Tom held his breath.He could feel those in front of him and behind him holding their breath too.The whole night sky was silent. Then a rifle opened fire, what sounded like a continuum of shots.It was never clear whether it was the Germans or the British who fired the shots, but seconds later, gunfire rang out from the German front.Tom realized he was being attacked, and a sudden, uneasy dread came over him.For a moment, he became dull and dazed, unable to take any action. He looked around.To his right there was a crater, deep and - for now - safe. "Get to the crater now," he yelled, using all his lungs to force his men to obey him.The force in his voice made them obey instantly. All climbed into the crater.Tom counted the number of people and followed. The German firepower intensified.A shell ignited the night sky.Tom stuck his head out very cautiously.At first he saw nothing.Then, after poking his head out a little further, he caught a glimpse of Fletcher's party far away from them, lying in a bomb crater very close to the German front, with little cover.The artillery fire faded away.Tom pulled his head back, and the bullets fell into the ground and around his head. He looked at his men, who were sitting at the bottom of the crater, safe but terrified.He started talking, but they were still absent-minded and distracted.One of them—Tinsey—nods his head and sings rhythmically, "Stupid, shit, German, damn—" Tom hit Tinsey hard on the arm.Tingxi shut up.Everyone else looked at him wildly. "Listen to me, everyone. You have to go back to the bomb shelter, as quickly as possible, as safely as possible." Another burst of gunfire interrupted him.Tom was covered in dirt, and he supposed everyone else was, too. "Every two of you, I give the order to go and you go, don't rush before I give the order. You have to run fast, and if you see someone injured, don't stop. You just run." One of them was in a hurry. He packed his backpack full of grenades. "Denning, leave it alone. Put it down! Put it down, man. Y'all, do you know what to do?" They all understand.Tom divided them into groups and let them all run out.There was no one left in the crater except Tom. His mouth was full of sand: a German bullet.Anger flared up in his heart. "You idiots," he yelled.He yelled at everyone.The Germans, Wallace Fletcher, Colonel Jimmy, the nice riflemen he was in battalion with.He yelled at the high command that they had fought the battle.He yells at Guy, who has never been in a war and probably never will. The firepower was still fierce, but they all focused on attacking the small unit in front, pinning them to death where they could not move.In the morning, they would be reduced to cannon fodder by mortar shells.Tom shifted, and his foot caught Denning's grenade bag. His anger grew stronger and stronger. He picked up his backpack and started running. 3 weeks later.noon.The whole battalion has been withdrawn from the front line, and it will be reorganized for two weeks in the town of Le Hamel, 6 miles away from the front line. Alan jogs along a path that winds to the door of a stone cottage.A whiff of white ash kicked up from the soles of his feet, and then fell lightly on the flowers, poppies, and saffron seeds by the roadside.By the time he reached the bend in the trail, Allen began to change from a slow jog to a fast one.He ran to the door of the hut and slammed on the wooden door loudly.There were voices from the upstairs windows. "Up there, man." ＊＊ Tom survived, but only barely. His rage carried him all the way to within a few steps of the German front.There he dropped to the ground and started throwing grenades like a pitcher in some crazy cricket match.With his anger, he kept aiming and throwing, extremely fast and extremely dense.Exactly what he hit, no one knows, but one thing is certain: the concentrated fire on Fletcher became scattered and chaotic.Fletcher seized the opportunity and ran back to camp with his men: they were saved. As soon as Tom finished throwing the grenades in his backpack, there was nothing else to do.His anger was gone and his sanity returned. To the east of him, dawn was just beginning to break its first light.Tom was so close to the German front that he could hear the German guards farting.As he was crawling, he must have been shot, as he felt a sudden sinking of his left arm, and a few seconds later blood began to flow.He found a crater and rolled into it.He wrapped a cloth over the wound, closed his eyes for a while - and woke up around noon.The sun was high in the bright sky, and the larks were singing, and their songs echoed in the air. He has no food, no water. The crater he was in was also hopelessly shallow. So he just lay there.All day long, from golden evening to late night.After night fell, he began to crawl back, at this time he was extremely weak.If it wasn't for Alan, he would never go back. He was found by Allen at around 3 a.m., stretched out, unconscious, with his head pointed in the direction of the British front.Allen grabbed his belt with one hand and dragged him home. Allen smashed open the wooden door and rushed up the rough wooden ladder to the attic.Tom was lying on the bed, half dressed, with a white sling over his left arm.He put down the book and smiled.He looked strong and healthy, save for his injured left arm.Camp life had added one more quality to Tom's physique (and, Alan guessed, his own): stronger, more confident.The two clapped their palms together, their new gesture. It was the first time they had seen each other since the raid.They have all changed.Both of them experienced danger and near death.They all began to fully understand the meaning of war. "My God," Allen said, "now we finally know what war is." Tom nodded. "Yeah, it was one hell of a night. Two nights to be exact. I thought I'd never see the third night again." Allen nodded.Then his expression brightened, and he let go of Tom's hand, "As long as you don't go to the battlefield, huh?" "That's exactly my wise plan, don't you think?" "That's right. By the way, everyone thinks you should be given a medal, and you deserve it." He was happy for Tom, of course.He knew Tom deserved the medal, and almost certainly would.But...the two brothers are always secretly competing.It was like this when I was a child, it was like this when I was young, and it seemed like it was destined to be like this after joining the army.Tom had always won more wrestling, more riding, every pretty girl in Hampshire (or so it seemed), and now Tom won the army again.This fact should not cause indignation, but it does, if only slightly.Alan smiled carefully, trying not to show such emotion. But they are twins, and they don't completely rely on language to communicate. Tom asked gently, "Is that making you uncomfortable, brother?" Allen shook his head, "You are an excellent and brave officer, and you should be recognized." Tom pouted. "Really? I don't think I'm brave, let alone good. I was so mad that night. I threw a grenade at the Germans because they were closer to me. If the barbed wire Next to our own high command, whether it's Haig or the French, whatever bastards they are, I'm sure I'll blow up a lot of them." "You will not." "You won't. If they want to reward brave warriors with fancy stuff, they should pick a guy like you." Allen accepted the compliment with a smile, but his eyes were still serious. "You are better than you think. But it's not a bad thing to be a little less foolish. No one will like you any less because of it." This time it was Tom's turn to smile.He looked at his watch. "Speaking of fooling around," he said, "there's a little fool waiting for me now. But I'll be back for supper, if you want to know." "Fool? You mean—girl? My God, you don't have a girl here, do you?" Allen was first shocked, then embarrassed, and then cursed himself for both emotions. "Girl? Maybe," laughed Tom.His bright laugh and bright hair that defies military discipline reminded them of the bygone days, the carefree days before the war. "My God, you really do!" "Yeah, and you know what, you should get one too. I can tell you that if you're looking for some comfort after a stint in the dreaded trenches, spending an afternoon in bed with a little French fool is the way to go But that's all." Allen blushed slightly.He was embarrassed by the talk, and he didn't like to hear officers talk about whores as they talked about horses. "I'm not sure I can do that. With a..." Allen paused, not saying the word "whore." "I don't like preaching." "Anyway, it's true. There's nothing more relaxing than a pretty French fool. I'm pretty serious right now. If you want me to help, I'd love to." "I'm surprised you can—" Alan blushed. “有时回想起我们在前线的日子，我连饭都吃不下去，更别提……更别提，做那事了。” “我并不总是这样。可是，并不一定非要做爱才可以躺在姑娘的床上，那也是同样的放松……在床上，你用不着扮演英国军官。这儿的姑娘们都很理解，你知道。他们并不是一点都不知道战争对男人造成的影响。” 艾伦仍然脸色发红，他问道，“听着，那你……？天啊，我没有恶意，只是我真的不知道。那个时候……你……？” “我不付钱，不付。我的漂亮傻瓜不找我收费。可我猜她也跟其他男人上床，如果有的话，她可能会收他们的钱。这只是性，你知道。她不爱我，我也不爱她。等到战争结束，我猜她会嫁给一个法国农夫，忠贞地跟他过一辈子……我想她是想为战争献一份力。这是她的办法，而且是个好办法，我这么觉得。” 红色已经定居在艾伦的脸上。玫瑰红逐渐变成了番茄红，番茄红又让位于甜菜红。“我明白了。谢谢。我并不是想……我并不是要……” “你并不是要劝诫我，我知道。”汤姆微笑着站起来。他很理解地握紧艾伦的肩膀，“呆会儿见，吃晚饭时见。” 艾伦笨拙地点点头，“当然，再见，吃晚饭时见。 汤姆拉过一件干净衬衫盖到受伤的胳膊上，用手简单挠了挠卷发，微微一笑——然后离开了。 命运的麻烦就在于它不留痕迹。命运从来不像命运。它并不会迈着沉重的脚步带着燃烧的气味闯入一个人的生命。 相反，命运存在于细微事物中。一个孩子对黑莓布丁的喜爱。一个父亲对待两个孩子的些微不公平。战役的偶然结果。一块白紫相间的勋章。 这真是个遗憾。因为危险如果被发现就可以被避免。因为无形的东西仍然可以是致命的。因为最微小的事情都有可能发展到摧毁一条生命。 ＊＊ 1915年9月25日，英国对卢斯发起了进攻。参与行动的6个师都被密集的机枪火力挡住步伐。第二天早上，为了保住士气，又有两个师——一万五千人，全部都是自愿者——以十纵队的阅兵阵型开进明朗的黎明。德国枪手吓了一大跳。再也没有比这更明显的目标了。他们连续开枪，直到枪管发烫，机油渍渍。英军成百地倒下，但他们仍然秩序良好地向前迈进，就好像这是计划的一部分，这计划不为敌军所知，但必将取得胜利。然后幸存者来到了德军的铁丝网前面。网上没有缺口，密密集集，无法穿越。这时，只有到了这时，他们才往回撤退。 ＊＊ 汤姆得到了勋章：军功十字勋章，一小块缝在军装上衣上的白紫相间的布条。他为此感到自豪，这是当然的，但很快它就被抛到脑后。它好像已经不再重要。可它很重要。 艾伦和汤姆从盖伊那儿听说了卢斯一战的惨败，当时他极为罕见地来到了后备区。那是在10月初一个寒冷的日子里。艾伦和汤姆躺在一个防空洞的屋顶上，抽着烟，看着一支炮兵队伍挥汗如雨地为他们那发射60磅重炮弹的庞然大物挖着掩体。 “早上好，女士们，”盖伊不经邀请就在他们身边坐下，“真高兴看到我们的前线部队正在摩拳擦掌。” “去死吧，盖伊，”汤姆说道，既没有抬起目光也没有改变姿势。 他们简单地聊着琐事，但不久之后盖伊开始喋喋不休地谈论卢斯战役以及整个战争给他带来的失败感。“约翰·弗伦奇爵士是个该死的白痴——虽然很正派，但毫无用处。黑格可不像他那样。战术，射击学，补给线，所有没用的方面，他都绝对是一流的，绝对是现代将军的模范。可是——我的天啊！——他沉迷于进攻。他一点都不在乎伤亡。我在那该死的地图室见过他，我听到了卢斯战役的人员损失，21师和24师的巨大伤亡，可他惟一的反应就是改变弹药的供应安排。一点别的表示都没有。一点没有。” “可怜的家伙们，”艾伦说道，“他们都是自愿者，这让人感觉更糟糕。” 盖伊点点头，“现在急缺军官，当然了，人手也缺，不过大事都是由军官来做的，他们死得比士兵们更加彻底。他们现在应该正在其他师搜集人手。你们俩有没有想过来点变化？” 艾伦和汤姆对望一眼，想法一致，但由艾伦说了出来。 “要么都去，要么都不去，盖伊，要么都去，要么都不去。” 那天的谈话就到这里结束。盖伊很快就走了——能干，可靠，一丝不苟。可是这个问题并没有结束，一点都没有。 几个星期后，艾伦和汤姆返回了前线。大雨把每个人都弄得狼狈不堪。弗莱彻少校跳下战壕寻找汤姆。 “啊，你在这儿，克瑞里。遮泥板上脏得一塌糊涂，就像玩杂技一样滑溜。把它们收拾干净。” "Yes, sir." “进一步考虑一下，也许这事儿用不着你操心了。上头叫连里找一名军官来弥补21师和24师的损失。上面传来话说你就是那家伙。勋章，就是这样。从一开始士兵们就会很尊敬你。” “你要把我调走？”汤姆的声音很震惊，也充满挑衅。 “不是我要，老兄。天知道他们会派谁来补你的缺儿。布里斯托尔的杂货商吧，我猜。他会把刺刀想成他妈的钩针。不是捅上一刀，而是扎上一针，很可能是这样。不过争也没用。我们服从国王，国王服从上帝，而上帝服从道格拉斯·黑格先生。对，长官。不，长官。跑步走，长官。” "I will not go." 弗莱彻突然意识到了汤姆的语气和他眼中的怒火。弗莱彻的语气也变了。“如果上面叫你去，你就得去，克瑞里。还有，跟我说话的时候，请喊我'长官'。” “是，长官，可我得告诉你，没有蒙塔古，我哪儿也不会去。去哪儿我不介意，但要么是跟他去，要么哪儿也不去。” “别教训我我该怎么做，不该怎么做，克瑞里。我明天上午会把你的名字报到麦金托什上校那里，你就别废话了。还有，去把该死的遮泥板打扫干净。” 汤姆等弗莱彻走后，立马在防空洞里爆发。 “沃特金斯，”他大喊道，“沃特金斯。” 一名下士跑到他跟前。 “长官？” “去把那该死的遮泥板打扫干净。那儿简直像玩杂技一样滑溜。如果有人问起我，就说我去看医生了。” 他爬上胸墙，往后爬去，宁可选择战壕间相当空旷的乡间，也不愿意走漆黑泥泞的战壕。这么走会带来不必要的危险，可汤姆没有情绪去理会这些。 “是，长官……我该跟他们说你出了什么毛病吗？” 汤姆几乎已经走出了视线，但他回过头来喊道，“当然应该。你该告诉他们，我有个堂兄屁眼儿发痒了。” 他消失在夜幕中。 如果之前还有什么疑惑的话，那么现在已经没有了。命运已经设好陷阱。这三个人——艾伦，汤姆和盖伊——做了他们必定会做的事情。接下来的事，不管具有什么样的灾难性，都必将发生。现在只有奇迹才能拯救他们。 凌晨两点钟，一辆摩托车呼啸着出现在阿拉斯一个舒适的住宅区外。这时已经是十月末，花园里只有一些黑色的败枝从铁栏杆上伸到街边。外边的路边停着一辆漂亮的银色汽车。 汤姆停下摩托车，撞开花园的大门，拿起门上的狮子头门环重重敲了三四下。几秒钟过去了，没有任何回应，汤姆又敲了敲门环，打破了夜的寂静。 “谁呀？天啊，来了，来了。”（原文为法语——译注。） 汤姆站在门外可以听到里面的锁被打开，等到最后一道锁被打开后，他猛地推开门走进去。他直接走过管家——睡眼惺松，怒气冲天，穿着晨衣，带着发卷的女管家——重重走上楼。他不知道要找的是哪间屋，所以他把门一扇扇撞开，又一扇扇甩上，直到他来到二楼的起居室。盖伊正在里面，穿着睡衣和制式长茄克，他正站在镜台前检查着他的手枪。门被撞开打到墙上的时候，盖伊转过头来，手离他的枪只有几英尺。 “呆在那儿别动，”盖伊喊道，“别再往前走。”他的手现在已经放到枪上，调了一下枪在桌上的位置，这样他就可以轻易地拿起枪。 “别碰那枪，你个白痴。”汤姆说道。 “你干嘛跑这儿来？谁容许你擅离职守的？”盖伊往床边退去，一只蜡烛在床边摇曳着，冒出黑烟。 “把我和艾伦分开是你的主意，是不是？你就是不能在一边闲着，是不是？” “21师和24师的伤亡不是我的主意。那些可怜的家伙需要军官。总部的想法是我们应该给他们派去有优秀作战纪录的家伙。像你这样的家伙。” “艾伦和我一样的优秀，你知道这点。比我更优秀。他比我更会照顾手下的人。在发起进攻的时候他比我更会保持冷静。我个人并不在乎去哪个师。我也不在乎自己会死在哪场无谓的战役上。但我不会和艾伦分开。绝对不会。任何人都不能把我们分开，尤其是你。 盖伊已经不再害怕汤姆可能会发起直接攻击，所以逐渐冷静下来。他惯有的自鸣得意又悄悄回到他的态度。 “做决定的不是我，对吧？虽然我们需要新的军官，可我们不希望打乱已有的营队编制，更别说从一个连队里调走两名军官。所以要么是你，要么是艾伦，不可能两人都去。这不是我的决定，是黑格的决定。如果你愿意，你可以去跟他争论。他离这儿只有四条街。”他把地址告诉汤姆。 汤姆对他的讽刺置之不理。他绕着屋子缓缓踱着，屋子非常宽敞，装备齐全——跟前线防空洞里的糟糕局面简直不可同日而语。汤姆用手拨弄着镶银的梳子，梳子旁边就是那把左轮手枪。 “艾伦觉得你并不是真正地恨我，”他低声说道，“他以为那是你故意装出来的。可我了解你，盖伊堂兄，正是因为我了解你，所以你恨我。”汤姆的手指从梳子上慢慢移到枪上。他的拇指将保险栓拨开，关上，拨开，关上，拨开，关上。 “把它放下。”盖伊不安地说道。 “我知道你是谁，盖伊堂兄，”汤姆又说了一遍。他举起手枪，将保险栓拨开，扣住扳机。他将枪直直地指向盖伊的脑袋。盖伊站在房间的另一端，但这么短的距离不可能射偏。 “把枪放下，”盖伊说道，双唇发干，“把枪放下，这是命令。” “放下？像这样吗？” 汤姆把枪逐渐放低，直到枪口指向盖伊的裆部。枪管在微弱的烛光下放出幽光。他瞄准得连一寸都没有偏离。盖伊站在那儿，张开嘴，一动不动，微微踮起脚尖，就好像这样的话能使子弹从两腿间穿过。而同时，汤姆看上去几乎不具威胁；说沉思更加合适一点；而且还很镇定。过了一两秒钟后，汤姆把枪放回身后的桌子上。重金属落在漆蜡的红木上发出啪的一声响。盖伊松懈下来。他合上嘴，放下脚跟。 “你以为我是为了自己而来请你帮忙，”汤姆继续说道，就好像什么都没发生过，“你以为我这么做是因为我不能容忍离开艾伦。你错了。我当然想跟他在一起。他一个人就相当于其他一百个人，他一个人就相当于一千个你这样的人——可他需要我，如果他想挺过这场战争他就需要我。我不知道为什么，可我知道就是这么回事。你他妈的想怎么对我都行，盖伊堂兄，但是，如果你想保住你的兄弟，你就得让我们俩呆在一起。” “这么做你会被处决的。”盖伊声音沙哑得跟乌鸦叫差不多。 “哦，还有一件事。对我来说无所谓，可我知道艾伦不希望与他的手下分开。他赢得他们的喜爱并不容易，可现在他已经做到了，如果再让他从零开始他会十分不情愿的。就目前而言，他的人甚至愿意为他赴汤蹈火。” “这真的不由我决定。” “对，我也没指望是。可黑格元帅时常会想到你。只要你想，你就能解决这事儿，就像你当初促成这事儿一样。” “我什么也不能保证。” 汤姆微笑起来。他的手放到门上。“你不用保证。等你早上醒来，你会记起来，我擅离职守，偷了一辆摩托，闯进你的房间，将一把装满子弹的手枪对准你的脑袋。然后你就会全力而为的，是吧，堂兄？”汤姆没有等待盖伊的回答。他打开门，然后第二次把贴在门边偷听的女管家推到一边。他的脚步声穿过平台，走下楼梯。“别忘了，堂兄，我知道你是谁。” 十秒钟之后，一辆摩托车呼啸着驶进浓浓的夜色。 * 没过多久，汤姆就被证实是正确的。 5天后，弗莱彻少校像猿猴一样大步走进汤姆的防空洞。 “有好消息要告诉你，克瑞里。司令部里一团混乱。你不用调到21师去了，还留在这儿。不过在我看来，真是太可惜了。” "What did you say?!" “没法再免费从杂货商那儿买到帽子了。什么？什么？什么？” 弗莱彻对自己的玩笑放声大笑，然后埋进汤姆的物件里寻找他放在里面的威士忌。那一晚的炮火比平时更加猛烈，炮声在空中隆隆作响，震得地面一阵颤动。天花板上纷纷扬扬地落下白灰。弗莱彻把威士忌倒进两个大杯。 大地在他们脚下震动。两人将酒一饮而尽。 事件与后果。起因与结局。每一个结果都会引发新的循环。 一次突袭行动。一枚荣誉勋章。对军官的需求。盖伊试图分开汤姆和艾伦。汤姆闯进盖伊的房间。一名下级军官将一把装满子弹的手枪指着一名上级军官的脑袋。一切起因都很细微，甚至细不可辨。可结果就不这么细微了。 而且它们时刻都在发展。 ＊＊ 坚果在脚下发出嘎吱声。这是十一月的第一场严霜，空荡荡的树枝上挂着闪闪发光的冰屑。整个树林看上去就像是童话里的世界。这两个人走了好长一截路，谈到各种话题，直到他们走进寂静的树林深处，艾伦才终于谈到了一直困扰着他的话题。 “前几天我碰巧在村子里见到了盖伊。”他说。 "Oh?" “他说了一个离奇的故事，关于你和21师的调动。” "yes?" “他说你立刻就觉得这次调动命令是他搞的鬼，还说你叫他推翻这个决定。” “对极了。” “他还说你挥舞着手枪闯进他的房间。” 汤姆大笑起来，“差不多吧。我确实闯进了他的房间，可我没有带枪。他的桌上放了把枪，我猜他听到我在楼下的声音后就开始填装子弹。我确实用枪指了他一会儿。我真的不知道为什么。” 他说得一点也不困窘。艾伦不可置信地瞪着他。“你拿装满子弹的手枪对着他？” “对——至少我猜想枪里装了子弹。我也没费那个劲儿去检查。你看。”汤姆用脚尖将一些树叶拂到一边，一颗光秃秃的树根边露出铜线的光泽。那是一个抓捕兔子用的陷阱。“很巧妙，是吧？嘿，这个怎么样？”汤姆从口袋里拿出一根意大利香肠，他们俩本来打算把这个当作午餐。汤姆把香肠穿过线圈，然后拉紧铜线。他把树叶又像之前那样散开。想到捕猎手回来以后看到猎物时的情景，汤姆不由笑得前仰后合。 “汤姆！拜托！” “怎么了？如果让我猎到一根香肠，我会很满足的。” “我不是说陷阱，你个白痴。你拿枪对着他？”艾伦很震惊，同时他也既沮丧又左右为难，每次汤姆和盖伊吵架他都会有这种感觉。 “对，我想他不太喜欢这么做，可这成功了，不是吗？” “可是拜托！你不能就这样对他挥舞着枪。你以为你在搞什么呢？” 汤姆若无其事的态度突然消失了。艾伦开始大叫，当他对某件事感到愤怒的时候，他就会唠唠叨叨地开始说教。汤姆从来不理那一套，现在也是如此。 “我来告诉你我的想法，”他冷冷地说道，“我认为——不，这么说也不对，我知道－－你那个所谓的哥哥想把我们分开，我也知道我能吓唬得他撤回决定。更重要的是——” “可你不能拿枪指着他。”艾伦怒不可遏地抬高音量。“你得学会自制。盖伊是有错，可他是我的兄弟——” “哦？他是你的兄弟，对吧？那他该死的干嘛想把我们分开？” “你没有证据证明他曾经想把——” “对，你说得没错。再说了，就像你说的那样，他是你兄弟，所以他不可能会伤害你。” “听着，不管他是什么或不是什么，盖伊都是家人——我的家人，我是说，而且——” “你的家人？你的家人？那我是什么？我是什么？该死的下人的儿子？”汤姆大喊道，他呼出的气息在冰冷的空气中冻成白雾。他已经愤怒之极。 “拜托，汤姆！冷静点！如果你把你的怀疑告诉我，我可以去跟他说。你用不着拿着该死的——” “很有可能错的是你。你想过这点没有？也许拿枪指着他的脑袋正是需要做的事。还是说，每次只要有麻烦，你那该死的善良又会蒙住你的双眼让你看不清事实？” 到此时为止，两人都因为大声争吵而气喘吁吁。他们冲着彼此大喊大叫，艾伦已经不知不觉地拿起一根树枝，像是想用它来攻击汤姆。 他们都恨不得杀了对方。 然后，就像过去一样，愤怒消散无踪，就好像从未出现过。他们的怒气一泄而空，冷静慢慢恢复。也许他不愿意承认——甚至对自己都不愿承认——可艾伦知道汤姆说得没错。要想对付盖伊，艾伦所依赖的体面和公正可能永远也不像装上子弹的手枪那么有效。 “听着，老兄，”艾伦说，“我们俩一直都很亲密，比其他任何人都要亲密。盖伊不会成功的。不过等事情结束，不管盖伊做了什么或是没做什么，我觉得——” “他就是做了。我知道他做了。 “好吧，就算是这样，我也可以去找他谈。用不着——” “然后他会告诉你整件事都跟他没有关系，然后你就会相信他。你总是那样。” 他们默默地往前又走了几步。艾伦久久地凝视着动物留下的一些痕迹。他可以看到狐狸的足迹。如果他仔细倾听，还可以听到树林里那些几乎悄然无声的动物：梅花鹿小心翼翼的脚步声，兔子们安静的咀嚼声，啄木鸟在树上的轻叩声。他抬起头向上看去。 “小心点，兄弟，”他说，“你不时就会玩点危险游戏。” 汤姆灿然一笑，在空中挥了一下手。“下人的儿子就是这样：没什么可失去的。” 当然，他错了。不久之后他就会意识到这一点。