During the time that Pablo had ridden back from the hills to the cave and the time the band had dropped down to where they had left the horses Andr廥 had made rapid progress toward Golz's headquarters. Where they came onto the main highroad to Navacerrada on which the trucks were rolling back from the mountain there was a control. But when Gomez showed the sentry1 at the control his safe-conduct from the Lieutenant-Colonel Miranda the sentry put the light from a flashlight on it, showed it to the other sentry with him, then handed it back and saluted2.
"_Siga_," he said. "Continue. But without lights."
The motorcycle roared again and Andr廥 was holding tight onto the forward seat and they were moving along the highway, Gomez riding carefully in the traffic. None of the trucks had lights and they were moving down the road in a long convoy3. There were loaded trucks moving up the road too, and all of them raised a dust that Andr廥 could not see in that dark but could only feel as a cloud that blew in his face and that he could bite between his teeth.
They were close behind the tailboard of a truck now, the motorcycle chugging, then Gomez speeded up and passed it and another, and another, and another with the other trucks roaring and rolling down past them on the left. There was a motorcar behind them now and it blasted into the truck noise and the dust with its klaxon again and again; then flashed on lights that showed the dust like a solid yellow cloud and surged past them in a whining4 rise of gears and a demanding, threatening, bludgeoning of klaxoning.
Then ahead all the trucks were stopped and riding on, working his way ahead past ambulances, staff cars, an armored car, another, and a third, all halted, like heavy, metal, gun-jutting turtles in the hot yet settled dust, they found another control where there had been a smash-up. A truck, halting, had not been seen by the truck which followed it and the following truck had run into it smashing the rear of the first truck in and scattering5 cases of small-arms ammunition6 over the road. One case had burst open on landing and as Gomez and Andr廥 stopped and wheeled the motorcycle forward through the stalled vehicles to show their safe-conduct at the control Andr廥 walked over the brass7 hulls8 of the thousand of cartridges9 scattered12 across the road in the dust. The second truck had its radiator13 completely smashed in. The truck behind it was touching14 its tail gate. A hundred more were piling up behind and an overbooted officer was running back along the road shouting to the drivers to back so that the smashed truck could be gotten off the road.
There were too many trucks for them to be able to back unless the officer reached the end of the ever mounting line and stopped it from increasing and Andr廥 saw him running, stumbling, with his flashlight, shouting and cursing and, in the dark, the trucks kept coming up.
The man at the control would not give the safe-conduct back. There were two of them, with rifles slung15 on their backs and flashlights in their hands and they were shouting too. The one carrying the safe-conduct in his hand crossed the road to a truck going in the downhill direction to tell it to proceed to the next control and tell them there to hold all trucks until his jam was straightened out. The truck driver listened and went on. Then, still holding the safeconduct, the control patrol came over, shouting, to the truck driver whose load was spilled.
"Leave it and get ahead for the love of God so we can clear this!" he shouted at the driver.
"My transmission is smashed," the driver, who was bent16 over by the rear of his truck, said.
"Obscene your transmission. Go ahead, I say."
"They do not go ahead when the differential is smashed," the driver told him and bent down again.
"Get thyself pulled then, get ahead so that we can get this other obscenity off the road."
The driver looked at him sullenly17 as the control man shone the electric torch on the smashed rear of the truck.
"Get ahead. Get ahead," the man shouted, still holding the safeconduct pass in his hand.
"And my paper," Gomez spoke18 to him. "My safe-conduct. We are in a hurry."
"Take thy safe-conduct to hell," the man said and handing it to him ran across the road to halt a down-coming truck.
"Turn thyself at the crossroads and put thyself in position to pull this wreck19 forward," he said to the driver.
"My orders are--"
"Obscenity thy orders. Do as I say."
The driver let his truck into gear and rolled straight ahead down the road and was gone in the dust.
As Gomez started the motorcycle ahead onto the now clear right-hand side of the road past the wrecked20 truck, Andr廥, holding tight again, saw the control guard halting another truck and the driver leaning from the cab and listening to him.
Now they went fast, swooping21 along the road that mounted steadily22 toward the mountain. All forward traffic had been stalled at the control and there were only the descending23 trucks passing, passing and passing on their left as the motorcycle climbed fast and steadily now until it began to overtake the mounting traffic which had gone on ahead before the disaster at the control.
Still without lights they passed four more armored cars, then a long line of trucks loaded with troops. The troops were silent in the dark and at first Andr廥 only felt their presence rising above him, bulking above the truck bodies through the dust as they passed. Then another staff came behind them blasting with its klaxon and flicking24 its lights off and on, and each time the lights shone Andr廥 saw the troops, steel-helmeted, their rifles vertical25, their machine guns pointed26 up against the dark sky, etched sharp against the night that they dropped into when the light flicked27 off. Once as he passed close to a troop truck and the lights flashed he saw their faces fixed28 and sad in the sudden light. In their steel helmets, riding in the trucks in the dark toward something that they only knew was an attack, their faces were drawn29 with each man's own problem in the dark and the light revealed them as they would not have looked in day, from shame to show it to each other, until the bombardment and the attack would commence, and no man would think about his face.
Andr廥 now passing them truck after truck, Gomez still keeping successfully ahead of the following staff car, did not think any of this about their faces. He only thought, "What an army. What equipment. What a mechanization. _Vaya gente!_ Look at such people. Here we have the army of the Republic. Look at them. Camion after camion. All uniformed alike. All with casques of steel on their heads. Look at the _m嫭uinas_ rising from the trucks against the coming of planes. Look at the army that has been builded!"
And as the motorcycle passed the high gray trucks full of troops, gray trucks with high square cabs and square ugly radiators30, steadily mounting the road in the dust and the flicking lights of the pursuing staff car, the red star of the army showing in the light when it passed over the tail gates, showing when the light came onto the sides of the dusty truck bodies, as they passed, climbing steadily now, the air colder and the road starting to turn in bends and switchbacks now, the trucks laboring31 and grinding, some steaming in the light flashes, the motorcycle laboring now too, and Andr廥 clinging tight to the front seat as they climbed, Andr廥 thought this ride on a motorcycle was mucho, mucho. He had never been on a motorcycle before and now they were climbing a mountain in the midst of all the movement that was going to an attack and, as they climbed, he knew now there was no problem of ever being back in time for the assault on the posts. In this movement and confusion he would be lucky to get back by the next night. He had never seen an offensive or any of the preparations for one before and as they rode up the road he marvelled32 at the size and power of this army that the Republic had built.
Now they rode on a long slanting33, rising stretch of road that ran across the face of the mountain and the grade was so steep as they neared the top that Gomez told him to get down and together they pushed the motorcycle up the last steep grade of the pass. At the left, just past the top, there was a loop of road where cars could turn and there were lights winking34 in front of a big stone building that bulked long and dark against the night sky.
"Let us go to ask there where the headquarters is," Gomez said to Andr廥 and they wheeled the motorcycle over to where two sentries35 stood in front of the closed door of the great stone building. Gomez leaned the motorcycle against the wall as a motorcyclist in a leather suit, showing against the light from inside the building as the door opened, came out of the door with a dispatch case hung over his shoulder, a wooden-holstered Mauser pistol swung against his hip36. As the light went off, he found his motorcycle in the dark by the door, pushed it until it sputtered37 and caught, then roared off up the road.
At the door Gomez spoke to one of the sentries. "Captain Gomez of the Sixty-Fifth Brigade," he said. "Can you tell me where to find the headquarters of General Golz commanding the ThirtyFifth Division?"
"It isn't here," the sentry said.
"What is here?"
"The Comandancia."
"What comandancia?"
"Well, the Comandancia."
"The comandancia of what?"
"Who art thou to ask so many questions?" the sentry said to Gomez in the dark. Here on the top of the pass the sky was very clear with the stars out and Andr廥, out of the dust now, could see quite clearly in the dark. Below them, where the road turned to the right, he could see clearly the outline of the trucks and cars that passed against the sky line.
"I am Captain Rogelio Gomez of the first battalion38 of the Sixty-Fifth Brigade and I ask where is the headquarters of General Golz," Gomez said.
The sentry opened the door a little way. "Call the corporal of the guard," he shouted inside.
Just then a big staff car came up over the turn of the road and circled toward the big stone building where Andr廥 and Gomez were standing39 waiting for the corporal of the guard. It came toward them and stopped outside the door.
A large man, old and heavy, in an oversized khaki beret, such as _chasseurs a pied_ wear in the French Army, wearing an overcoat, carrying a map case and wearing a pistol strapped40 around his greatcoat, got out of the back of the car with two other men in the uniform of the International Brigades.
He spoke in French, which Andr廥 did not understand and of which Gomez, who had been a barber, knew only a few words, to his chauffeur41 telling him to get the car away from the door and into shelter.
As he came into the door with the other two officers, Gomez saw his face clearly in the light and recognized him. He had seen him at political meetings and he had often read articles by him in Mundo Obrero translated from the French. He recognized his bushy eyebrows42, his watery43 gray eyes, his chin and the double chin under it, and he knew him for one of France's great modern revolutionary figures who had led the mutiny of the French Navy in the Black Sea. Gomez knew this man's high political place in the International Brigades and he knew this man would know where Golz's headquarters were and be able to direct him there. He did not know what this man had become with time, disappointment, bitterness both domestic and political, and thwarted44 ambition and that to question him was one of the most dangerous things that any man could do. Knowing nothing of this he stepped forward into the path of this man, saluted with his clenched45 fist and said, "Comrade Marty, we are the bearers of a dispatch for General Golz. Can you direct us to his headquarters? It is urgent."
The tall, heavy old man looked at Gomez with his outthrust head and considered him carefully with his watery eyes. Even here at the front in the light of a bare electric bulb, he having just come in from driving in an open car on a brisk night, his gray face had a look of decay. His face looked as though it were modelled from the waste material you find under the claws of a very old lion.
"You have what, Comrade?" he asked Gomez, speaking Spanish with a strong Catalan accent. His eyes glanced sideways at Andr廥, slid over him, and went back to Gomez.
"A dispatch for General Golz to be delivered at his headquarters, Comrade Marty."
"Where is it from, Comrade?"
"From behind the fascist46 lines," Gomez said.
Andr?Marty extended his hand for the dispatch and the other papers. He glanced at them and put them in his pocket.
"Arrest them both," he said to the corporal of the guard. "Have them searched and bring them to me when I send for them."
With the dispatch in his pocket he strode on into the interior of the big stone house.
Outside in the guard room Gomez and Andr廥 were being searched by the guard.
"What passes with that man?" Gomez said to one of the guards.
"_Est?loco_," the guard said. "He is crazy."
"No. He is a political figure of great importance," Gomez said. "He is the chief commissar of the International Brigades."
"_Apesar de eso, est?loco_," the corporal of the guard said. "All the same he's crazy. What do you behind the fascist lines?"
"This comrade is a guerilla from there," Gomez told him while the man searched him. "He brings a dispatch to General Golz. Guard well my papers. Be careful with that money and that bullet on the string. It is from my first wound at Guadarama."
"Don't worry," the corporal said. "Everything will be in this drawer. Why didn't you ask me where Golz was?"
"We tried to. I asked the sentry and he called you."
"But then came the crazy and you asked him. No one should ask him anything. He is crazy. Thy Golz is up the road three kilometers from here and to the right in the rocks of the forest."
"Can you not let us go to him now?"
"Nay. It would be my head. I must take thee to the crazy. Besides, he has thy dispatch."
"Can you not tell some one?"
"Yes," the corporal said. "I will tell the first responsible one I see. All know that he is crazy."
"I had always taken him for a great figure," Gomez said. "For one of the glories of France."
"He may be a glory and all," the corporal said and put his hand on Andr廥's shoulder. "But he is crazy as a bedbug. He has a mania47 for shooting people."
"Truly shooting them?"
"_Como lo oyes_," the corporal said. "That old one kills more than the bubonic plague. _Mata m嫳 que la peste bubonica_. But he doesn't kill fascists48 like we do. _Qu?va_. Not in joke. _Mata bichos raros_. He kills rare things. Trotzkyites. Divagationers. Any type of rare beasts."
Andr廥 did not understand any of this.
"When we were at Escorial we shot I don't know how many for him," the corporal said. "We always furnish the firing party. The men of the Brigades would not shoot their own men. Especially the French. To avoid difficulties it is always us who do it. We shot French. We have shot Belgians. We have shot others of divers49 nationality. Of all types. _Tiene mania de fusilar gente_. Always for political things. He's crazy. _Purifica m嫳 que el Salvars嫕_. He purifies more than Salvarsan."
"But you will tell some one of this dispatch?"
"Yes, man. Surely. I know every one of these two Brigades. Every one comes through here. I know even up to and through the Russians, although only a few speak Spanish. We will keep this crazy from shooting Spaniards."
"But the dispatch."
"The dispatch, too. Do not worry, Comrade. We know how to deal with this crazy. He is only dangerous with his own people. We understand him now."
"Bring in the two prisoners," came the voice of Andr?Marty.
"_Quereis echar un trago?_" the corporal asked. "Do you want a drink?"
"Why not?"
The corporal took a bottle of anis from a cupboard and both Gomez and Andr廥 drank. So did the corporal. He wiped his mouth on his hand.
"_Vamonos_," he said.
They went out of the guard room with the swallowed burn of the anis warming their mouths, their bellies50 and their hearts and walked down the hall and entered the room where Marty sat behind a long table, his map spread in front of him, his red-and-blue pencil, with which he played at being a general officer, in his hand. To Andr廥 it was only one more thing. There had been many tonight. There were always many. If your papers were in order and your heart was good you were in no danger. Eventually they turned you loose and you were on your way. But the _Ingl廥_ had said to hurry. He knew now he could never get back for the bridge but they had a dispatch to deliver and this old man there at the table had put it in his pocket.
"Stand there," Marty said without looking up.
"Listen, Comrade Marty," Gomez broke out, the anis fortifying51 his anger. "Once tonight we have been impeded52 by the ignorance of the anarchists53. Then by the sloth54 of a bureaucratic55 fascist. Now by the oversuspicion of a Communist."
"Close your mouth," Marty said without looking up. "This is not a meeting."
"Comrade Marty, this is a matter of utmost urgence," Gomez said. "Of the greatest importance."
The corporal and the soldier with them were taking a lively interest in this as though they were at a play they had seen many times but whose excellent moments they could always savor56.
"Everything is of urgence," Marty said. "All things are of importance." Now he looked up at them, holding the pencil. "How did you know Golz was here? Do you understand how serious it is to come asking for an individual general before an attack? How could you know such a general would be here?"
"Tell him, _tu_," Gomez said to Andr廥.
"Comrade General," Andr廥 started--Andr?Marty did not correct him in the mistake in rank--"I was given that packet on the other side of the lines--"
"On the other side of the lines?" Marty said. "Yes, I heard him say you came from the fascist lines."
"It was given to me, Comrade General, by an _Ingl廥_ named Roberto who had come to us as a dynamiter57 for this of the bridge. Understandeth?"
"Continue thy story," Marty said to Andr廥; using the term story as you would say lie, falsehood, or fabrication.
"Well, Comrade General, the _Ingl廥_ told me to bring it to the General Golz with all speed. He makes an attack in these hills now on this day and all we ask is to take it to him now promptly58 if it pleases the Comrade General."
Marty shook his head again. He was looking at Andr廥 but he was not seeing him.
Golz, he thought in a mixture of horror and exultation59 as a man might feel hearing that a business enemy had been killed in a particularly nasty motor accident or that some one you hated but whose probity60 you had never doubted had been guilty of defalcation62. That Golz should be one of them, too. That Golz should be in such obvious communication with the fascists. Golz that he had known for nearly twenty years. Golz who had captured the gold train that winter with Lucacz in Siberia. Golz who had fought against Kolchak, and in Poland. In the Caucasus. In China, and here since the first October. But he _had_ been close to Tukachevsky. To Voroshilov, yes, too. But to Tukachevsky. And to who else? Here to Karkov, of course. And to Lucacz. But all the Hungarians had been intriguers. He hated Gall63. Golz hated Gall. Remember that. Make a note of that. Golz has always hated Gall. But he favors Putz. Remember that. And Duval is his chief of staff. See what stems from that. You've heard him say Copic's a fool. That is definitive64. That exists. And now this dispatch from the fascist lines. Only by pruning65 out of these rotten branches can the tree remain healthy and grow. The rot must become apparent for it is to be destroyed. But Golz of all men. That Golz should be one of the traitors66. He knew that you could trust no one. No one. Ever. Not your wife. Not your brother. Not your oldest comrade. No one. Ever.
"Take them away," he said to the guards. "Guard them carefully." The corporal looked at the soldier. This had been very quiet for one of Marty's performances.
"Comrade Marty," Gomez said. "Do not be insane. Listen to me, a loyal officer and comrade. That is a dispatch that must be delivered. This comrade has brought it through the fascist lines to give to Comrade General Golz."
"Take them away," Marty said, now kindly67, to the guard. He was sorry for them as human beings if it should be necessary to liquidate68 them. But it was the tragedy of Golz that oppressed him. That it should be Golz, he thought. He would take the fascist communication at once to Varloff. No, better he would take it to Golz himself and watch him as he received it. That was what he would do. How could he be sure of Varloff if Golz was one of them? No. This was a thing to be very careful about.
Andr廥 turned to Gomez, "You mean he is not going to send the dispatch?" he asked, unbelieving.
"Don't you see?" Gomez said.
"_Me cago en su puta madre!_" Andr廥 said. "_Est?loco_."
"Yes," Gomez said. "He is crazy. You are crazy! Hear! Crazy!" he shouted at Marty who was back now bending over the map with his red-and-blue pencil. "Hear me, you crazy murderer?"
"Take them away," Marty said to the guard. "Their minds are unhinged by their great guilt61."
There was a phrase the corporal recognized. He had heard that before.
"You crazy murderer!" Gomez shouted.
"_Hijo de la gran puta_," Andr廥 said to him. "_Loco_."
The stupidity of this man angered him. If he was a crazy let him be removed as a crazy. Let the dispatch be taken from his pocket. God damn this crazy to hell. His heavy Spanish anger was rising out of his usual calm and good temper. In a little while it would blind him.
Marty, looking at his map, shook his head sadly as the guards took Gomez and Andr廥 out. The guards had enjoyed hearing him cursed but on the whole they had been disappointed in the performance. They had seen much better ones. Andr?Marty did not mind the men cursing him. So many men had cursed him at the end. He was always genuinely sorry for them as human beings. He always told himself that and it was one of the last true ideas that was left to him that had ever been his own.
He sat there, his moustache and his eyes focused on the map, on the map that he never truly understood, on the brown tracing of the contours that were traced fine and concentric as a spider's web. He could see the heights and the valleys from the contours but he never really understood why it should be this height and why this valley was the one. But at the General Staff where, because of the system of Political Commissars, he could intervene as the political head of the Brigades, he would put his finger on such and such a numbered, brown-thin-lined encircled spot among the greens of woods cut by the lines of roads that parallel the never casual winding69 of a river and say, "There. That is the point of weakness."
Gall and Copic, who were men of politics and of ambition, would agree and later, men who never saw the map, but heard the number of the hill before they left their starting place and had the earth of diggings on it pointed out, would climb its side to find their death along its slope or, being halted by machine guns placed in olive groves70 would never get up it at all. Or on other fronts they might scale it easily and be no better off than they had been before. But when Marty put his finger on the map in Golz's staff the scarheaded, white-faced General's jaw71 muscles would tighten72 and he would think, "I should shoot you, Andr?Marty, before I let you put that gray rotten finger on a contour map of mine. Damn you to hell for all the men you've killed by interfering73 in matters you know nothing of. Damn the day they named tractor factories and villages and co-operatives for you so that you are a symbol that I cannot touch. Go and suspect and exhort74 and intervene and denounce and butcher some other place and leave my staff alone."
But instead of saying that Golz would only lean back away from the leaning bulk, the pushing finger, the watery gray eyes, the graywhite moustache and the bad breath and say, "Yes, Comrade Marty. I see your point. It is not well taken, however, and I do not agree. You can try to go over my head if you like. Yes. You can make it a Party matter as you say. But I do not agree."
So now Andr?Marty sat working over his map at the bare table with the raw light on the unshaded electric light bulb over his head, the overwide beret pulled forward to shade his eyes, referring to the mimeographed copy of the orders for the attack and slowly and laboriously75 working them out on the map as a young officer might work a problem at a staff college. He was engaged in war. In his mind he was commanding troops; he had the right to interfere76 and this he believed to constitute command. So he sat there with Robert Jordan's dispatch to Golz in his pocket and Gomez and Andr廥 waited in the guard room and Robert Jordan lay in the woods above the bridge.
It is doubtful if the outcome of Andr廥's mission would have been any different if he and Gomez had been allowed to proceed without Andr?Marty's hindrance77. There was no one at the front with sufficient authority to cancel the attack. The machinery78 had been in motion much too long for it to be stopped suddenly now. There is a great inertia79 about all military operations of any size. But once this inertia has been overcome and movement is under way they are almost as hard to arrest as to initiate80.
But on this night the old man, his beret pulled forward, was still sitting at the table with his map when the door opened and Karkov the Russian journalist came in with two other Russians in civilian81 clothes, leather coats and caps. The corporal of the guard closed the door reluctantly behind them. Karkov had been the first responsible man he had been able to communicate with.
"Tovarich Marty," said Karkov in his politely disdainful lisping voice and smiled, showing his bad teeth.
Marty stood up. He did not like Karkov, but Karkov, coming from _Pravda_ and in direct communication with Stalin, was at this moment one of the three most important men in Spain.
"Tovarich Karkov," he said.
"You are preparing the attack?" Karkov said insolently82, nodding toward the map.
"I am studying it," Marty answered.
"Are you attacking? Or is it Golz?" Karkov asked smoothly83.
"I am only a commissar, as you know," Marty told him.
"No," Karkov said. "You are modest. You are really a general. You have your map and your field glasses. But were you not an admiral once, Comrade Marty?"
"I was a gunner's mate," said Marty. It was a lie. He had really been a chief yeoman at the time of the mutiny. But he thought now, always, that he had been a gunner's mate.
"Ah. I thought you were a first-class yeoman," Karkov said. "I always get my facts wrong. It is the mark of the journalist."
The other Russians had taken no part in the conversation. They were both looking over Marty's shoulder at the map and occasionally making a remark to each other in their own language. Marty and Karkov spoke French after the first greeting.
"It is better not to get facts wrong in _Pravda_," Marty said. He said it brusquely to build himself up again. Karkov always punctured84 him. The French word is _d嶲onfler_ and Marty was worried and made wary85 by him. It was hard, when Karkov spoke, to remember with what importance he, Andr?Marty, came from the Central Committee of the French Communist Party. It was hard to remember, too, that he was untouchable. Karkov seemed always to touch him so lightly and whenever he wished. Now Karkov said, "I usually correct them before I send them to _Pravda_, I am quite accurate in _Pravda_. Tell me, Comrade Marty, have you heard anything of any message coming through for Golz from one of our _partizan_ groups operating toward Segovia? There is an American comrade there named Jordan that we should have heard from. There have been reports of fighting there behind the fascist lines. He would have sent a message through to Golz."
"An American?" Marty asked. Andr廥 had said an _Ingl廥_. So that is what it was. So he had been mistaken. Why had those fools spoken to him anyway?"
"Yes," Karkov looked at him contemptuously, "a young American of slight political development but a great way with the Spaniards and a fine _partizan_ record. Just give me the dispatch, Comrade Marty. It has been delayed enough."
"What dispatch?" Marty asked. It was a very stupid thing to say and he knew it. But he was not able to admit he was wrong that quickly and he said it anyway to delay the moment of humiliation86, not accepting any humiliation. "And the safe-conduct pass," Karkov said through his bad teeth.
Andr?Marty put his hand in his pocket and laid the dispatch on the table. He looked Karkov squarely in the eye. All right. He was wrong and there was nothing he could do about it now but he was not accepting any humiliation. "And the safe-conduct pass," Karkov said softly.
Marty laid it beside the dispatch.
"Comrade Corporal," Karkov called in Spanish.
The corporal opened the door and came in. He looked quickly at Andr?Marty, who stared back at him like an old boar which has been brought to bay by hounds. There was no fear on Marty's face and no humiliation. He was only angry, and he was only temporarily at bay. He knew these dogs could never hold him.
"Take these to the two comrades in the guard room and direct them to General Golz's headquarters," Karkov said. "There has been too much delay."
The corporal went out and Marty looked after him, then looked at Karkov.
"Tovarich Marty," Karkov said, "I am going to find out just how untouchable you are."
Marty looked straight at him and said nothing.
"Don't start to have any plans about the corporal, either," Karkov went on. "It was not the corporal. I saw the two men in the guard room and they spoke to me" (this was a lie). "I hope all men always will speak to me" (this was the truth although it was the corpora! who had spoken). But Karkov had this belief in the good which could come from his own accessibility and the humanizing possibility of benevolent87 intervention88. It was the one thing he was never cynical89 about.
"You know when I am in the U.S.S.R. people write to me in _Pravda_ when there is an injustice90 in a town in Azerbaijan. Did you know that? They say 'Karkov will help us."
Andr?Marty looked at him with no expression on his face except anger and dislike. There was nothing in his mind now but that Karkov had done something against him. All right, Karkov, power and all, could watch out.
"This is something else," Karkov went on, "but it is the same principle. I am going to find Out just how untouchable you are, Comrade Marty. I would like to know if it could not be possible to change the name of that tractor factory."
Andr?Marty looked away from him and back to the map.
"What did young Jordan say?" Karkov asked him.
"I did not read it," Andr?Marty said. "_Et maintenant fiche moi la paix_, Comrade Karkov."
"Good," said Karkov. "I leave you to your military labors91."
He stepped out of the room and walked to the guard room. Andr廥 and Gomez were already gone and he stood there a moment looking up the road and at the mountain tops beyond that showed now in the first gray of daylight. We must get on up there, he thought. It will be soon, now.
Andr廥 and Gomez were on the motorcycle on the road again and it was getting light. Now Andr廥, holding again to the back of the seat ahead of him as the motorcycle climbed turn after switchback turn in a faint gray mist that lay over the top of the pass, felt the motorcycle speed under him, then skid92 and stop and they were standing by the motorcycle on a long, down-slope of road and in the woods, on their left, were tanks covered with pine branches. There were troops here all through the woods. Andr廥 saw men carrying the long poles of stretchers over their shoulders. Three staff cars were off the road to the right, in under the trees, with branches laid against their sides and other pine branches over their tops.
Gomez wheeled the motorcycle up to one of them. He leaned it against a pine tree and spoke to the chauffeur who was sitting by the car, his back against a tree.
"I'll take you to him," the chauffeur said. "Put thy _moto_ out of sight and cover it with these." He pointed to a pile of cut branches.
With the sun just starting to come through the high branches of the pine trees, Gomez and Andr廥 followed the chauffeur, whose name was Vicente, through the pines across the road and up the slope to the entrance of a dugout from the roof of which signal wires ran on up over the wooded slope. They stood outside while the chauffeur went in and Andr廥 admired the construction of the dugout which showed only as a hole in the hillside, with no dirt scattered about, but which he could see, from the entrance, was both deep and profound with men moving around in it freely with no need to duck their heads under the heavy timbered roof.
Vicente, the chauffeur, came out.
"He is up above where they are deploying93 for the attack," he said. "I gave it to his Chief of Staff. He signed for it. Here."
He handed Gomez the receipted envelope. Gomez gave it to Andr廥, who looked at it and put it inside his shirt.
"What is the name of him who signed?" he asked.
"Duval," Vicente said.
"Good," said Andr廥. "He was one of the three to whom I might give it."
"Should we wait for an answer?" Gomez asked Andr廥.
"It might be best. Though where I will find the _Ingl廥_ and the others after that of the bridge neither God knows."
"Come wait with me," Vicente said, "until the General returns. And I will get thee coffee. Thou must be hungry."
"And these tanks," Gomez said to him.
They were passing the branch-covered, mud-colored tanks, each with two deep-ridged tracks over the pine needles showing where they had swung and backed from the road. Their 45-mm. guns jutted94 horizontally under the branches and the drivers and gunners in their leather coats and ridged helmets sat with their backs against the trees or lay sleeping on the ground.
"These are the reserve," Vicente said. "Also these troops are in reserve. Those who commence the attack are above."
"They are many," Andr廥 said.
"Yes," Vicente said. "It is a full division."
Inside the dugout Duval, holding the opened dispatch from Robert Jordan in his left hand, glancing at his wrist watch on the same hand, reading the dispatch for the fourth time, each time feeling the sweat come out from under his armpit and run down his flank, said into the telephone, "Get me position Segovia, then. He's left? Get me position Avila."
He kept on with the phone. It wasn't any good. He had talked to both brigades. Golz had been up to inspect the dispositions95 for the attack and was on his way to an observation post. He called the observation post and he was not there.
"Get me planes one," Duval said, suddenly taking all responsibility. He would take responsibility for holding it up. It was better to hold it up. You could not send them to a surprise attack against an enemy that was waiting for it. You couldn't do it. It was just murder. You couldn't. You mustn't. No matter what. They could shoot him if they wanted. He would call the airfield96 directly and get the bombardment cancelled. But suppose it's just a holding attack? Suppose we were supposed to draw off all that material and those forces? Suppose that is what it is for? They never tell you it is a holding attack when you make it.
"Cancel the call to planes one," he told the signaller. "Get me the Sixty-Ninth Brigade observation post."
He was still calling there when he heard the first sound of the planes.
It was just then he got through to the observation post.
"Yes," Golz said quietly.
He was sitting leaning back against the sandbag, his feet against a rock, a cigarette hung from his lower lip and he was looking up and over his shoulder while he was talking. He was seeing the expanding wedges of threes, silver and thundering in the sky that were coming over the far shoulder of the mountain where the first sun was striking. He watched them come shining and beautiful in the sun. He saw the twin circles of light where the sun shone on the propellers97 as they came.
"Yes," he said into the telephone, speaking in French because it was Duval on the wire. "_Nous sommes foutus. Oui. Comme toujours. Oui. C'est dommage. Oui_. It's a shame it came too late."
His eyes, watching the planes coming, were very proud. He saw the red wing markings now and he watched their steady, stately roaring advance. This was how it could be. These were our planes. They had come, crated98 on ships, from the Black Sea through the Straits of Marmora, through the Dardanelles, through the Mediterranean99 and to here, unloaded lovingly at Alicante, assembled ably, tested and found perfect and now flown in lovely hammering precision, the V's tight and pure as they came now high and silver in the morning sun to blast those ridges10 across there and blow them roaring high so that we can go through.
Golz knew that once they had passed overhead and on, the bombs would fall, looking like porpoises100 in the air as they tumbled. And then the ridge11 tops would spout101 and roar in jumping clouds and disappear in one great blowing cloud. Then the tanks would grind clanking up those two slopes and after them would go his two brigades. And if it had been a surprise they could go on and down and over and through, pausing, cleaning up, dealing102 with, much to do, much to be done intelligently with the tanks helping103, with the tanks wheeling and returning, giving covering fire and others bringing the attackers up then slipping on and over and through and pushing down beyond. This was how it would be if there was no treason and if all did what they should.
There were the two ridges, and there were the tanks ahead and there were his two good brigades ready to leave the woods and here came the planes now. Everything he had to do had been done as it should be.
But as he watched the planes, almost up to him now, he felt sick at his stomach for he knew from having heard Jordan's dispatch over the phone that there would be no one on those two ridges. They'd be withdrawn104 a little way below in narrow trenches105 to escape the fragments, or hiding in the timber and when the bombers106 passed they'd get back up there with their machine guns and their automatic weapons and the anti-tank guns Jordan had said went up the road, and it would be one famous balls up more. But the planes, now coming deafeningly, were how it could have been and Golz watching them, looking up, said into the telephone, "No. _Rien a faire. Rien. Faut pas penser. Faut accepter_."
Golz watched the planes with his hard proud eyes that knew how things could be and how they would be instead and said, proud of how they could be, believing in how they could be, even if they never were, "_Bon. Nous ferons notre petit possible_," and hung up.
But Duval did not hear him. Sitting at the table holding the receiver, all he heard was the roar of the planes and he thought, now, maybe this time, listen to them come, maybe the bombers will blow them all off, maybe we will get a break-through, maybe he will get the reserves he asked for, maybe this is it, maybe this is the time. Go on. Come on. Go on. The roar was such that he could not hear what he was thinking.
从巴勃罗打山间骑马回山洞，到那一队人马下山到达他们安放马匹的地方的期间，安德烈斯快速向戈尔兹的司令部前进。他们来到通向纳瓦塞拉达的公路干线，公路上有不少卡车从山区开回来。他们遇到一个关卡。戈麦斯向关卡哨兵出示米兰达中校签发的通行证，哨兵用手电照在通行证上,给跟他在一起的另一个哨兵过过目，就交还证件,行了个礼。“往前走。”他说。“可不准开灯。”
庠托车又噗噗噗地响起来，安德烈斯紧抓住前座，戈麦斯在车流中小心地沿着公路驶去。没有一辆卡车开着灯，长长一列车队在路上迎面开来。路上还有满载的卡车向山区驶去，每一辆都掀起了一片尘土，安德烈斯在黑暗中看不见,只觉得尘土随着风扑在脸上，弄得牙缝中都是。
他们紧踉着一辆卡车的后挡板,摩托噗噗作响，接着戈麦斯如快速度，超过这辆卡车，再超过一辆又一辆，而对面开来的别的卡车在他们的左侧隆隆驶过去。这时他们后面来了一辆汽车，喇叭接连地狂鸣，和卡车的噪声以及尘土混在一起；接着车灯倏的亮起来，把尘土照成了一极黄色柱体，在尖厉的换挡声中在咄咄逋人、恶意威胁的喇叭声中，汽车在他们身边一掠而过。
接着,前面的所有车辆都停下了，他们钻空档继续朝前驶,越过了几辆救护车、几辆参谋部用车和一辆装甲车，接着又是一辆，接着是第三辆，所有的车子都停着，停在那尚未沉落在地的尘土中，好象一只只笨重的、插着枪炮的金屑乌龟。他们发现前面又是一个关卡，那里发生了撞车事故。有一辆卡车停下时,后面的一辆没有发觉，因此后车向前驶去，撞坏了前车的尾部，使几箱轻武器弹药掉在路上。有一箱落地时摔碎了，当戈麦斯和安德烈斯停下来推车穿过那些被阻塞的车辆、向关卡出示通行证的时候，安德烈斯踩着散布在路面尘土中的成千上万颗子弹铜壳。第二辆卡车的散热器全被撞毁了。第三辆紧顶着它的后挡板。还有一百多辆车子排列在后面。一个穿套靴的军官在路上往回跑着,大声喝令司机们打倒车，以便把那辆被撞毁的卡车从公路上拖开，卡车多得没法打倒车，除非那军官跑到这越来越长的车队最后面，阻止后面的车子再驶上前来。安德烈斯看到他跌跌撞撞地跑着，打亮了手电，又叫又骂，而卡车在黑暗中还是不断驶上前来。
关卡上的哨兵不肯交还通行证。哨兵一起两个，背上背着步枪,手里拿了手电，他们也在叫喊。手拿通行证的那跨过公路,朝一辆从山上驶下来的卡车走去,吩咐司机开到下一个关卡时通知他们截住那儿所有的卡车，直到交通畅通为止。卡车司机听完就继续朝前开。哨兵手里仍拿着通行证，嘴里叫嚷着，走到那个车上东西被捶落在地上的司机身边。
“别管它了，着在天主面上，往前开吧，让我们保持交通杨通 ”他冲着那司机喊道，
“我车上的传动器撞坏了，”司机说，他俯身在卡车的后边。“去你的传动器。往前幵，听到没有。““差速齿轮撞坏了，没法往前开，”司机对他说,又俯下身去。“那么叫人家把你的车拖走，好让我们把另“辆弄走。”司机阴沉地望着他，那关卡人员把手电直射在这卡车被撞毁的车尾上。
“往前开。往前开，”他手里仍拿着通行证大声说。“我的证件。”戈麦斯对他说。“我的通行证。我们荽赶路。”“你的通行证见鬼去吧，”那人说，把证件交还他，就横穿过公路，跑去阻挡一辆下行的卡车。
“在十字路口拐弯，倒过来拖走这辆玻车，”他对司机说，“我奉的命令是一，“去你的命令。照我说的办。”司机换了档,在略上笔直驶去，消失在尘土里。戈麦斯发动摩托车，越过那辆破卡车，开上这时没有车辆行驶的公路右侧，安德烈斯又抓紧前座，看见关卡上的哨兵叉拦住了一辆卡车，那司机从驾驶室里探出身来听他讲。
这时他们飞速行驶，顚着朝山上一步步升高的公路进发。所有上行的车辆都被阻在关卡上，只有下行的卡车在左边不断地开过，而摩托车不停地迅速往山上开，开始赶上早在关卡交通堵塞前就驶过去的上行车辆。
他们仍没开灯，又超过了四辆装甲车,接着超过了一长排运载士兵的卡车。士兵们在黑暗中默木作声，安德烈斯经过时起初只觉得在尘埃飞扬中高髙的卡车上有些槟糊的人形。接着，他们后面来了一辆参谋部的汽车，噶叭嘟嘟地叫，车灯一明一暗，每次亮灯的时候，安德烈斯看到这些士兵头戴钢盔，直握着步枪，机关枪直指黑黝勘的天空,轮廓分明地呈现在黑夜中，等灯光一熄灭，就倏的消失。有一次，当他们驶近一辆装载士兵的卡车而后面亮灯的时侯，他在这突然的闪光中看到他们死板而悲伤的脸。他们戴着钢盗，坐在卡车里,在黑暗中驶向某处地方，他们只知道要在那儿发动一场进攻，各自心事重重，耷拉着脸，这突来的灯光显示了他们的神情，换了白天，他们羞于给同伴着到，是不会流瀑的，除非到开始轰炸和攻击的时候,那时谁都顾不上自己的脸色了，
安镰烈斯和戈麦斯的摩托车超过一辆又一辆镛载士兵的卡车，仍旧在参谋郁汽车前面行驶着，戈麦斯可一点也没有想到他们的脸色问题。他想的只是:“多了不起的军队。多了不起的装备，多了不起的机械化啊。瞧啊！瞧这些人。这就是我们共和国的军队。瞧他们。一辆又一辆卡车。一式的制服。头上全都戴着钢盔。瞧卡车上架着机枪准备对付敌机。瞧我们已经建立的军队"
这些髙高的灰色卡车满载着士兵，车上有很髙的方形驾驶室和难看的方形散热器,摩托车趄过它们，在尘土中不停地烦着公路朝山上行驶,紧跟在后面的参谋部汽车的灯光时明时灭，部队的红星标志在摩托车经过卡车后挡板的时侯在亮光中闪现着，当车灯照在沾着尘土的卡车车身一侧的时侯闪现着。他们这时不停地向山上驶行，空气更寒冷了，公路开始常常拐弯，呈之字形，卡车艰难地嘎吱嘎吱地爬行，在车灯的闪光中有的卡车的水箱冒着汽雾,庫托车这时也在艰难地爬行，安德烈斯紧抓着前座，这时想。”这次乘摩托车时间太长了。实在太长了。他以前从没乘过摩托车，现在他们俩正在即将举行进攻的部队谏动中爬山，当他们向上驶行的时候，他知道，现在要赶回去袭击哨所是根本不可能的了。在这种调动和浪乱中，他第二天晚上能赶回去就算运气了。他以前从没见过进攻和进攻的准备工作，当他们在公路上行驶的时候，共和国所建立的这支军队的规模和力董，使他惊讶不已。
他们这时驶上了斜贯山坡的一长段又陡又斜的山路，接近山顶的时候，坡度更陡了，戈麦斯只得叫安德烈斯下了车，两人一起把庫托车推上这一段最后的陡坡。越过山顶，左面有一条汽车可以调头的回车道，夜空中出现了一幢又宽又黑的巨大的石头建筑物，门前闪烁着灯光。
“我们到那儿去问问司令部在什么地方吧，”戈麦斯对安德烈斯 他们就把庠托车推向那巨大的石头建筑物，只见关闭的大门前站着两个哨兵。戈麦斯把车子靠在埔上，那建筑物的门这时开了，从里面透露出来的灯光中可以看出有个身穿皮上衣的摩托车司机走出来，肩背一只公文包，腰后挂着一支有木壳的毛瑟枪。就在灯光消失的时候，他在黑暗中在门口找到了他的摩托车，把它一直推到引擎发动起来，突突地响着，接着就在公路上噗噗地驶去。
戈麦斯在门口跟那两个警卫中的一个说话。“第六十五旅的戈麦斯上尉，”他说。“请问指挥第三十五师的戈尔兹将军的司令部在哪里?”
“这儿没有，”蒈卫说。“这儿是什么地方？”“指挥部。”“什么指挥部?”
“哎,就是指挥部嘛。”
“是什么指挥部啊?”
"你是谁，问这问那的’?”蓍卫在黑喑中对戈麦斯说。这里，山路顶点的上空非常晴朗，星星都露面了，现在没有了尘土,安德烈斯在黑暗中能看得很清楚。他们下面，公路向右转弯，他能清楚地看到卡车和汽车行驶到那里时被天空衬托出来的轮麻。
“我是第六十五旅第一营的罗赫略‘戈麦斯上尉,要打听戈尔兹将军的司令部在哪儿。”戈麦斯说。
那哨兵把门推开一点，朝里面喊道,“叫瞥卫班长。”正在这时，一辆参谋部的大汽车在公路的拐角处一个大转弯，朝这石头大建筑物驶来，安镩烈斯和戈麦斯正站在那儿等待瞀卫班长。车子开到他们面前停下。
一个年老肥胖的大个子和两个身穿国际纵队制服的人从车子后座下来。他戴着一顶过大的卡其贝雷帽，就象法国军队里轻步兵戴的那种，还穿着大衣，拎着一只地图包，大衣歴带上系着一支手枪。
他说的是法语，安德烈斯听不慷，戈麦斯当过理发师，能听憧几句。他吩咐司机把车子从门口开到车房里去。
他和其他两个军官进门的时候，戈麦斯在灯光中清楚地看到他的脸,认出他是谁。他曾在几次政治会议上见到过他,并且经常在《工人世界报》上看到从法文翻译过来的他的文章。他认出他那毛茸茸的眉毛、水汪汪的灰眼睛、肥胖的双下巴，他知道他是当代法国伟大的革命者之一，曾经领导过在黑海的法国海军起义。戈麦斯知道这个人在国际纵队的崇髙的政治地位，他—定知道戈尔兹的司令部所在地,并且能够指引他到那儿去。他不知道岁月的流逝、失望、家庭和政治那两方面的怨恨、挫伤了的抱负在这个人身上产生了什么变化；他不知道向他问讯是最最危险的事情之一。他一点也不知道这情况，径直朝这个人走去，握紧拳头敬，“个礼，说 “马蒂同志①，我们带有给戈尔兹将军的急件。你能指引我们到他司令部去吗？事情很紧急。”
这个髙高的肥胖的老人伸出了脑袋望着戈麦斯，一双水汪汪的眼睛仔细打量着他。即使在这儿前线，在这没有灯罩的灯泡的光线下，在凉爽的夜晚乘了敞篷汽车刚回来，他那张灰脸上还是露出了一副枯衰的神色。他的脸使你觉得象是一头十分衰老的狮子爪下的废料所组成的。
“你带着什么，同志?”他问戈麦斯，说的是带有很重的加泰隆语②口音的西班牙语。他从眼角上向安德烈斯扫了一眼，随即又回头望着戈麦斯。
“到戈尔兹司令部给他送一份急件，马蒂同志。”“哪儿来的急件，同志？”“从法西斯阵线后方来的。”戈麦斯说。安德烈〃马蒂伸手拿了急件和别的证件,赘了一眼,就放进衣袋里。
“把他们抓起来。”他对警卫班长说。“把他们身上拽査一下,等我吩咐再把他们带来。”
他衣袋里装着急件,大步走进那幢石头大房子。戈麦斯和安德烈斯在外面的聱卫室里受一个警卫搜查。
①法国共产党领导人安德烈 马蒂生于一八八六年。“九一九年,他领导法国水兵在黑海起义,失敢后被捕，至一九二三年才被释放。一九二四和一九三六年,两度当选为法国国民议会议员，他是国际纵队的主要银导人之―，但革命窻志逐渐衰退，于一九五三年初正式被幵除出党。
②加泰隆语为西班牙东北喘加泰罗尼亚地区的语言。法国南部沿地中海和西班牙接壤的东比利牛斯雀居民也讲这种语3，而马蒂的家乡正是该省雀城佩皮尼昂。
“这个人怎么啦？”戈麦斯对其中的一个瞀卫说。“神经病，”那蝥卫说。
“不。他是政界要人，”戈麦斯说。“他是国际纵队的第一政
“尽管这样，他还是有神经病，”警卫班长说。“你们在法西斯阵线后方是干什么的？”
“这位同志是那儿的游击认员，”戈麦斯对搜他的身的人说。“他给戈尔兹将军带来了一份急件。要保管好我的证件啊。别弄丢了这些钱和这颗串在带子上的子弹。这是我在瓜达拉马第一次挂彩时从伤口中取出来的。”
“别担心，”那班长说。“所有的东西都放在这只抽斗里。你干吗不问我戈尔兹在哪儿？”
“我们原想问的。我问了警卫，他把你叫来了。”“可是接着来了这个疯子,而你问他了。谁都不该问他什么事。他疯了。你要我的戈尔兹在从这公路上过去三公里的地方，在右边树林中的山岩间。”
“你现在不能放我们到他那儿去吗？”“不行。这等于要我的脑袋。我只能把你们带到疯子那儿去，再说,你的急件在他手里。”“你不能跟别人说一说吗？”
“行。”班长说。“我一看到负责的领导就对他说。谁都知道他疯了。”
“我一直以为他是大人物，”戈麦斯说。“以为他是值得法国夸耀的人物之一。”
“也许他是个信得夸耀的人物吧，”班长说，伸手放在安德烈斯肩上 “可是他疯狂透顶了。他得了枪毙人的狂热，“
“真的枪毙人吗,
“一点不错，”班长说。“这老家伙杀的人比鼠疫还多。不过,他跟我们不一样，不杀法西斯。不是说笑话。他杀古怪的人。”托洛茨基分子、异己分子、各种各样的怪人。”这些话安德烈斯一点也不懂。
“我们在埃斯科里亚尔的时候,不知道为他杀了多少人。”班长说。“我们老是派行刑队。国际纵队队员不愿枪毙自己人，尤其是法国人。为了避免麻烦，总是由我们来执行。我们枪毙过法崮人、比利时人、各种国籍的人、各种各样的人。他有枪毙狂。都是出于政治原因。他疯了。他清洗得比六〇六治梅毒还凶“可是你能把急件这事跟谁说一说吗？”“能,伙计。当然。这两个旅的人我都认得。人人都要走过这儿。我甚至也认得俄国人，虽说只有少数人会讲西班牙话。我们不让这个疯子枪毙西班牙人。”“但是那份急件。”
“急件也“样。别担心，同志。我们知道怎样对付这个疯子。只有他的部下遇到他才危险。我们现在了解这家伙了。”“把两个俘虏带来，”传来了安德烈“马蒂的声音。“要喝口酒吗？”班长问。“干吗不?”
班长从食柜里拿出一瓶茴香酒,戈麦斯和安德烈斯都喝了。班长也喝了。他用手抹抹嘴 “咱们走吧,他说。
呷下了火辣辣的茴香酒，他们嘴里、肚子里和心里都热呼呼的,他们走出警卫室，顺着过道走去，来到马蒂的房间里,只见他坐在一只长桌子后面，面前摊着一张地图,手里摆弄着一支红蓝铅笔，做出一剖将军的样子。对安德烈斯说来，只是增加了一件麻烦事罢了。今天晚上的麻烦事不少。麻烦事总是很多。只要你的证件没问题，心脏没毛病,你就不会遇到危险。他们最终会放你过关，你走你的路。但是英国人说过要抓紧时间，他现在明白，自己不可能回去炸桥了，但是这份急件得送到，而桌边的这个老家伙把它装在衣袋里。
“在那儿站着，”马蒂头也不抬地说。“听着，马蒂同志，”戈麦斯脱口而出地说，茴香酒加强了他的气愤。“今天晚上我们被无政府主义者的无知阻挠了一次。接着被爿个法西斯官僚的怠惰阻挠了一次。现在又被你这个共产党员的过分怀疑阻挠住了，“
“住口，”马蒂头也不抬堆说。“现在不是开会。”“马蒂同志，这是件极其紧急的事，”戈麦斯说。“头等重要的事啊。”
押他们来的班长和士兵发生了珙大的兴趣，他们好象在看一出已看过好多遍的戏，伹戏中的精采部分总使他们感到趣味无穷。
“样样事情都紧急，”马蒂说，“所有事情都重要。”他这时才抬起头来望着他们,握着铅笔。“你怎么知道戈尔兹在这儿？你难道不知道，进攻前来找某一个将军本人是很严重的事吗？你怎么知道有这样一个将军在这儿?”
“你对他说吧。”戈麦斯对安德烈斯说。“将军同志，”安锤烈斯开口说一他弄镥了头衔，安德烈 马蒂没有纠正他。”~“我是在火线另一边接到这个信件的一”“在火线另一边？马蒂说，“不错，我听他说你是从法西斯阵线那边来的，“。。。
“给我信件的人，将军同志，是个叫罗伯托的英国人,他到我们那儿来当炸桥的爆玻手。明白了吧?”
“把你的故事讲下去，”马蒂对安德烈斯说；他用了“故事”这个词儿，正如用撒谎、胡诌或捏造一样。
“好吧，将军同志,英国人叫我尽快把信送给戈尔兹将军。就在今天他要在这一带山区发动一场攻势，我们只要求马上把信送给他，要是你将军同志同意的话。”
马蒂又摇摇头。他正望着安德烈斯，但是视而不见，戈尔兹啊，马蒂想，心里又惊又喜，就象一个人听到自己事业上的敌手在一次极惨的车祸中毙命，或一个你所憎恶但对他的正直品德从没怀疑过的人却犯了挪用公款罪时所感到的一样。敢情戈尔兹也是他们中间的一个，戈尔兹竟然和法西斯分子这样明目张胆地勾勾搭搭。他认识了差不多有二十年的戈尔兹。那年冬天曾和卢卡茨在西伯利亚拦劫那列运黄金的火车的戈尔兹。曾和髙尔察克作战的、在波兰作战过的戈尔兹。在髙加索,在中国，自从去年十月以来,在这儿作战。伹是,接近图哈切夫斯基。①对，也接近伏罗希洛夫。但主要接近，“‘切夫斯基。另外还有谁？在这儿当然接近卡可夫，还有卢卡茨。可是匈牙利人一向全是阴谋家。他过去恨髙尔。戈尔兹过去恨髙尔。记住这一点。把这个记下来。戈尔兹一贯恨商尔。但是他喜欢普茨。记住这一点。社瓦尔是他的参谋长。瞧瞧产生了什么后果。你听他说过，考匹克是个笨蛋。那确实无疑。那是事实。而现在这份急件来自法西斯阵线那边。只有剪除这些腐朽的枝叶，才能使树木健康成长 必须使枯枝烂叶清楚地 露,才能消灭。但怎么会是戈尔兹呢。戈尔兹怎么会也是个叛徒呢。他知道，谁也不能信任。谁也不能信任。永远不能。即使是你妻子。即使是你兄弟。即使是你最老的同志。谁也不能信任。永远不能。
①这里 到的一些国际纵队的领导人，都是西欧各国的共产党人，有的在苏联建国初期曾和红军一起向髙尔察克等匪帮作过战。伏罗希洛夫当时为军长，以保卫察里津著名。图哈切夭斯基为旧俄军人，笫一次世界大战中曾被德军俘虏。.一九一七年投身革命，入了梵，先后在高加索及西线任红军指挥员，后来担任伏龙芝军事学院院长，一九三六年得元帅衔。
“把他们带走，”他对警卫说。“小心看管着。”班长望望那小兵。就马蒂的一贯表现来说，这一次是着实温和的。
“马蒂同志，”戈麦斯说。“别发疯。听我说说，我是个忠心耿耿的军官和同志。这急件非送到不可。这位同志越过法西斯阵线,把这份急件带来给戈尔兹将军同志。”
“把他们带走，”马蒂这时亲切地对那蕾卫说。作为人，假如非消灭他们木可,他可怜他们。伹是,使他慼到沉重的是戈尔兹本人的悲剧。他想。”怎么会是戈尔兹呢。他要立即将这个法西斯的情报向伐洛夫报告。不,还不如把这急件交给戈尔兹本人,看他收到时的反映。
收听单词发音 |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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hulls
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| 船体( hull的名词复数 )； 船身； 外壳； 豆荚 | |
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cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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radiators
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| n.（暖气设备的）散热器( radiator的名词复数 )；汽车引擎的冷却器，散热器 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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43
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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45
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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48
fascists
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| n.法西斯主义的支持者( fascist的名词复数 ) | |
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49
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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50
bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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51
fortifying
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| 筑防御工事于( fortify的现在分词 )； 筑堡于； 增强； 强化（食品） | |
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impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anarchists
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| 无政府主义者( anarchist的名词复数 ) | |
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54
sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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bureaucratic
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| adj.官僚的，繁文缛节的 | |
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56
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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57
dynamiter
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| n.炸药使用者（尤指革命者） | |
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58
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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59
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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60
probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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61
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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defalcation
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| n.盗用公款，挪用公款，贪污 | |
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63
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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definitive
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| adj.确切的，权威性的；最后的，决定性的 | |
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65
pruning
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| n.修枝，剪枝，修剪v.修剪（树木等）( prune的现在分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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66
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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liquidate
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| v.偿付，清算，扫除；整理，破产 | |
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69
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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71
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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72
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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exhort
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| v.规劝，告诫 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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78
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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initiate
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| vt.开始，创始，发动；启蒙，使入门；引入 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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84
punctured
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的过去式和过去分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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85
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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88
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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89
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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90
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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skid
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| v.打滑 n.滑向一侧；滑道 ，滑轨 | |
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deploying
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的现在分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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96
airfield
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| n.飞机场 | |
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propellers
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器( propeller的名词复数 ) | |
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crated
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| 把…装入箱中( crate的过去式 ) | |
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99
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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100
porpoises
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| n.鼠海豚( porpoise的名词复数 ) | |
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101
spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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102
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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103
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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104
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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105
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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106
bombers
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| n.轰炸机( bomber的名词复数 )；投弹手；安非他明胶囊；大麻叶香烟 | |
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