The Centurions Read Online Free Page B

it, it appears in a startling purity which is made up of lucidity, objectivity and penetrating understanding. Between the thirty-fifth and fortieth day, in the midst of this purity, the urge for food occurs again: this is the final alarm signal given by the organism on the point of exhaustion. Beyond this biological limit, metaphysics cease to exist.”
    Since dawn on 7 May Glatigny had been in this condition. He had the strange feeling of having two separate states of consciousness, one of which was weakening more and more at every moment but still impelled him to give certain orders, make certain gestures, such as tearing off his badges of rank when he had been captured, while the other took refuge in a sort of dull, morose form of contemplation. Until then he had always lived in a world which was concrete, active, friendly or hostile, but logical even in absurdity.
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    On 6 May, at eleven o’clock at night, the Viets had blown up the summit of the peak with a mine and forthwith thrown in two battalions which had seized almost the whole of the strong-point and, which was worse, the most commanding positions.
    The French counter-attack by the forty survivors had thus started from the foot of the slope.
    Glatigny recalled the remark Boisfeuras had made: “This is all completely idiotic!” and Pinières’s sharp retort:
    â€œIf you’re nervous about it, sir, there’s no need for you to come with us.”
    But Boisfeuras was without nerves; he had proved this. He simply seemed indifferent to what was happening, as though he was reserving himself entirely for the second part of the drama.
    The counter-attack had been feeble and difficult to get under way. Nevertheless, the men had managed to regain the position, dug-out after dug-out, by means of hand-grenades. At four in the morning the last Viet pinned down on the edge of the crater of the mine had been wiped out; but half the men of the small garrison had lost their lives.
    A sudden silence ensued, isolating Marianne II like an island in the midst of a sea on fire. To the west of the Song Ma, the Vietminh artillery was pounding away at General de Castries’ H.Q. and for a few seconds the glow of the firing alternately spread and faded in the darkness. To the north, Marianne IV, assailed on all sides, was still holding out.
    Cergona, the wireless operator, had been killed at Captain Glatigny’s side. But his set, a PCR 10 , which he carried strapped to his back, was still working and crackled gently in the silence. Suddenly the crackling gave way to the voice of Portes, who was in command of the last reserve company centred on Marianne IV. This unit had been made up of the survivors of the three parachute battalions to come to the assistance of Marianne II:
    â€œDouble Blue, I repeat. I am still at the foot of Marianne II. Impossible to break out. The Viets hold the trenches above me and are chucking grenades right on top of us. I’ve only got nine men left. Over.”
    â€œBlue Three, I’ve told you to counter-attack. Get a move on, for Christ’s sake; we’re also getting grenades tossed at us. You should have reached the summit by now.”
    â€œDouble Blue Three, message received. I’ll try and advance. Out.”
    Silence, followed by another voice insistently repeating:
    â€œDouble Blue Four, reply. Double Blue Four?”
    But Blue could not reply any longer; old Portes had been shot to pieces attempting to gain the summit. His huge frame lay stretched out on a slope and a tiny Viet was going through his pockets.
    Glatigny had listened to this strange wireless conversation with the indifference of a sports professional who has gone into retirement and tunes in to the broadcasts of the matches by sheer force of habit. But this meant that no one now could come to the aid of Marianne II since Marianne III was lost.
    Glatigny could not even summon up enough strength to