“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