Task Force Baum

Начало книги

He tasted chocolate and blood. The frozen edge of the D ration lanced his gums. He sputtered and spit, a crimson froth staining the white blanket of snow at the edge of his foxhole. He bit again at the icy bar, more carefully this time. A chunk broke away, and he chewed greedily, wrestling the bitter flavor. He scanned the horizon through the darkness, his eyes walking the hundred yards to the woods. Nothing.

“Captain Curtis”—the voice jolted him, and he half-rose, his hand cradling an M1911 .45 automatic pistol. Second Lieutenant Tim Hanson materialized through the misty blackness, gingerly balancing two steaming tin cups. Hanson labored through the snow, his lean legs stabbing the icy dust into his knee with each strenuous step.

The lieutenant extended a bony hand, and Curtis gratefully grasped a mug, tipping the fluid to his lips. The coffee was scalding hot, and he burned his tongue with the first sip, but he relished the fiery liquid as he swallowed. His throat and stomach embraced the river of warmth. He was freezing. Colder than he could ever remember. The winters in Indiana were harsh, but there was always shelter waiting nearby. A warm fire or the heater of his pickup. Since they’d arrived a week ago, he’d stood, sat, and slept in an icy world with no escape. He pulled his jacket closer, fighting down anger. Where were the winter clothes the army had promised them? He took another sip, a deeper one. He removed his glasses and ran a cloth over them, wiping away the frost. His eyes scanned the trees again, an endless futile vigil.

Читать дальше →