A Farewell to Arms (Unabridged). Ernest Hemingway

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of the fragments and the rattle of falling brick. Gordini got up and ran for the dugout. I was after him, holding the cheese, its smooth surface covered with brick dust. Inside the dugout were the three drivers sitting against the wall, smoking.

      “Here, you patriots,” I said.

      “How are the cars?” Manera asked.

      “All right.”

      “Did they scare you, Tenente?”

      “You’re damned right,” I said.

      I took out my knife, opened it, wiped off the blade and pared off the dirty outside surface of the cheese. Gavuzzi handed me the basin of macaroni.

      “Start in to eat, Tenente.”

      “No,” I said. “Put it on the floor. We’ll all eat.”

      “There are no forks.”

      “What the hell,” I said in English.

      I cut the cheese into pieces and laid them on the macaroni.

      “Sit down to it,” I said. They sat down and waited. I put thumb and fingers into the macaroni and lifted. A mass loosened.

      “Lift it high, Tenente.”

      I lifted it to arm’s length and the strands cleared. I lowered it into the mouth, sucked and snapped in the ends, and chewed, then took a bite of cheese, chewed, and then a drink of the wine. It tasted of rusty metal. I handed the canteen back to Passini.

      “It’s rotten,” he said. “It’s been in there too long. I had it in the car.”

      They were all eating, holding their chins close over the basin, tipping their heads back, sucking in the ends. I took another mouthful and some cheese and a rinse of wine. Something landed outside that shook the earth.

      “Four hundred twenty or minnenwerfer,” Gavuzzi said.

      “There aren’t any four hundred twenties in the mountains,” I said.

      “They have big Skoda guns. I’ve seen the holes.”

      “Three hundred fives.”

      We went on eating. There was a cough, a noise like a railway engine starting and then an explosion that shook the earth again.

      “This isn’t a deep dugout,” Passini said.

      “That was a big trench-mortar.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      I ate the end of my piece of cheese and took a swallow of wine. Through the other noise I heard a cough, then came the chuh-chuh-chuh-chuh — then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door is swung open, and a roar that started white and went red and on and on in a rushing wind. I tried to breathe but my breath would not come and I felt myself rush bodily out of myself and out and out and out and all the time bodily in the wind. I went out swiftly, all of myself, and I knew I was dead and that it had all been a mistake to think you just died. Then I floated, and instead of going on I felt myself slide back. I breathed and I was back. The ground was torn up and in front of my head there was a splintered beam of wood. In the jolt of my head I heard somebody crying. I thought somebody was screaming. I tried to move but I could not move. I heard the machine-guns and rifles firing across the river and all along the river. There was a great splashing and I saw the star-shells go up and burst and float whitely and rockets going up and heard the bombs, all this in a moment, and then I heard close to me some one saying “Mama Mia! Oh, mama Mia!” I pulled and twisted and got my legs loose finally and turned around and touched him. It was Passini and when I touched him he screamed. His legs were toward me and I saw in the dark and the light that they were both smashed above the knee. One leg was gone and the other was held by tendons and part of the trouser and the stump twitched and jerked as though it were not connected. He bit his arm and moaned, “Oh mama mia, mama Mia,” then, “Dio te salve, Maria. Dio te salve, Maria. Oh Jesus shoot me Christ shoot me mama mia mama Mia oh purest lovely Mary shoot me. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Oh Jesus lovely Mary stop it. Oh oh oh oh,” then choking, “Mama mama mia.” Then he was quiet, biting his arm, the stump of his leg twitching.

      “Porta feriti!” I shouted holding my hands cupped. “Porta Feriti!” I tried to get closer to Passini to try to put a tourniquet on the legs but I could not move. I tried again and my legs moved a little. I could pull backward along with my arms and elbows. Passini was quiet now. I sat beside him, undid my tunic and tried to rip the tail of my shirt. It would not rip and I bit the edge of the cloth to start it. Then I thought of his puttees. I had on wool stockings but Passini wore puttees. All the drivers wore puttees but Passini had only one leg. I unwound the puttee and while I was doing it I saw there was no need to try and make a tourniquet because he was dead already. I made sure he was dead. There were three others to locate. I sat up straight and as I did so something inside my head moved like the weights on a doll’s eyes and it hit me inside in back of my eyeballs. My legs felt warm and wet and my shoes were wet and warm inside. I knew that I was hit and leaned over and put my hand on my knee. My knee wasn’t there. My hand went in and my knee was down on my shin. I wiped my hand on my shirt and another floating light came very slowly down and I looked at my leg and was very afraid. Oh, God, I said, get me out of here. I knew, however, that there had been three others. There were four drivers. Passini was dead. That left three. Some one took hold of me under the arms and somebody else lifted my legs.

      “There are three others,” I said. “One is dead.”

      “It’s Manera. We went for a stretcher but there wasn’t any. How are you, Tenente?”

      “Where is Gordini and Gavuzzi?”

      “Gordini’s at the post getting bandaged. Gavuzzi has your legs. Hold on to my neck, Tenente. Are you badly hit?”

      “In the leg. How is Gordini?”

      “He’s all right. It was a big trench-mortar shell.”

      “Passini’s dead.”

      “Yes. He’s dead.”

      A shell fell close and they both dropped to the ground and dropped me. “I’m sorry, Tenente,” said Manera. “Hang onto my neck.”

      “If you drop me again.”

      “It was because we were scared.”

      “Are you unwounded?”

      “We are both wounded a little.”

      “Can Gordini drive?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      They dropped me once more before we reached the post.

      “You sons of bitches,” I said.

      “I am sorry, Tenente,” Manera said. “We won’t drop you again.”

      Outside the post a great many of us lay on the ground in the dark. They carried wounded in and brought them out. I could see the light come out from the dressing station when the curtain opened and they brought some one in or out. The dead were off to one side. The doctors were working with their sleeves up to their shoulders and were red as butchers. There were СКАЧАТЬ