Heck pulled out the dagger blade and pushed it in again, and again. Stabbing with all the speed he could muster, to make the man die before he could call out to his comrades. The blade snapped off deep inside the dying body, but it mattered nothing, for the German had already crumpled. Heck was on his knees now and had dropped the useless hilt of the dagger, taking hold of the carbine with his uninjured left hand and cracking it down hard into the enemy’s face.

The German lay silent. His torch had fallen to his side but was still alight, illuminating his face, now no more than a bloody pulp.

Heck picked up the torch and stabbed it into the earth to extinguish it. The dead German’s friends were certain to be close by and he had to move from here fast.

He hadn’t seen the second man.

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

At first Wilde didn’t understand what he was seeing. Two men struggling with low groans in the light of a torch flame, fizzling in a soft damp cushion of pine needles. One of the men had to be Heck, but which one? Wilde used his own flashlight sparingly, afraid that it would be seen.

He descended to his belly and crawled wormlike through the forest. Then, at last, he saw one of the men stand up and knew instantly that it was Lieutenant Heck. He watched appalled as Heck smashed a rifle butt into the prone man’s head. Wilde flashed his own electric torch and whispered urgently, ‘Heck, it’s me – Wilde.’

Heck turned in his direction. He was holding the gun with one arm. Wilde spoke a little louder. ‘It’s OK, Lieutenant, it’s me.’

‘I need your help.’ He was stumbling and seemed about to fall.

Wilde rose to his feet and loped across to his companion. His flashlight showed the bloody remains of the German but also the vicious cut that Heck had suffered.

‘You have to bandage it.’ He nodded to the corpse. ‘His shirt.’

Wilde tore open the dead man’s tunic and ripped some of the blood-soaked material from his shirt and quickly bandaged Heck’s arm, stemming the flow of blood. He also found a rusty bayonet in the waistband and transferred it to his own belt.

‘The carbine?’

Heck shook his head. ‘It misfired. That’s why I’m still here. Tell me, did you see anything? Did I kill Boden?’

‘I saw it all, but I’m not certain he’s dead. Jesus, Heck, what were you thinking?’

‘I wasn’t thinking. I could just smell the gas, feel the panic and terror of my mother and father and brother and sisters. The gas flowing into their poor, beautiful lungs. I felt the tears running down their cheeks and I felt their hands holding mine . . .’