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diff --git a/59011-0.txt b/59011-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b6902f --- /dev/null +++ b/59011-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,628 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59011 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + THE LAST CRUSADE + + BY GEORGE H. SMITH + + _It was part of a picture in part of a building that had + once been the Louvre. And somewhere back in his lost + memory, it was also a name for "Whitey"...._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1955. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +"Julius Caesar named this place 'Lutetia Parisiorum', which means 'the +mud town of the Parissii'. Later on people got around to calling it +'the city of light,'" Marty Coleman was saying. + +"Well, Julius was sure as hell a lot closer to the truth than those +others," I tell him. We was sitting in the mud in what's left of some +big building and me and Joe White was listening to Marty, our Sergeant, +talking like he always does. When I says the sergeant was talking I +mean he was talking over the C.C., the Company Communication Circuit +because what with having our mecho-armor on and the other side raising +a little hell, we couldn't of heard him any other way. + +"Yeah, I guess you're right, Ward. There isn't much light around here +anymore," Coleman admitted. + +"The only light you ever see around here these days is a flare or a +rocket going over," White says in that funny flat voice of his. + +From time to time Coleman would lift the headpiece of his armor above +the pile of rubble in front of us and take a quick look out over the +big open square toward where the enemy was holed up on the other side. +About half the time he'd draw small arm or automatic fire. + +"Those birds must have infrared eyepieces too," he says as he sets down. + +"Ah they ain't even got mecho-armor," I says. + +"No, but they have body armor and helmets with quite a bit of stuff in +them." + +"I'll bet they ain't got anything like we got." I was feeling pretty +fine right then thinking how much better off we was than the poor joes +in the infantry. We don't just fight in our suits, we live in 'em. They +ain't only a mechanized suit of armor, they're our barracks, messroom +and latrine and all radiation and rain proof. We got more fire power +than a company of infantry and more radio equipment than a tank. + +"You know there's lots worse ways of fighting a war," I says. "You +climb into one of these babies and they seal you up like a sardine +but at least you're warm and dry and you don't even have to use your +own feet to walk. You got a nice little atomic power pack to move you +around." + +"You couldn't move the legs of one of these things if you had to," the +Sergeant says. + +"It ... it just seems like a kind of funny way to fight a war," White +says, talking like he always did, as though he had to hunt for every +word before he said it. + +"What's funny about it? They been fighting it this way for ten years, +haven't they?" I demands. + +"I guess so ... I don't know...." + +"Yeah, ten years. And the last five of it we've spent crawling back and +forth in what used to be Paris," the sergeant was talking again. "Just +think ... in the old wars they used to call it Gay Paree." + +"It's gay all right," I says, following a movement on my ground radar +screen. A beep had shown up, indicating activity over where the enemy +was. Their guns was silent now but across the mud pools came their +voices, voices that from time to time cut in on our circuits and +competed with the voices of our own side. + +Suddenly a girl was talking, a girl with a soft voice that was like +warm lips against your ear. "Hello there, you fellows across the line. +It's not much fun being here is it? Especially when you know that some +non-draft back in the hometown walked off with your girl a long time +ago. + +"Honey Chile," the voice went on, "this is your old gal, Sally May, and +I know how you all feel 'cause I used to be on the same side myself +until I found out how things are over here in the Peoples Federal +Democratic Eastern Republics...." The bleat of a code message cut +through the syrupy tones, tore at our ears for a few moments and faded +away. Slowly the sweet voice drifted back. + +"Well, fellows, we're gonna play you some real homey music in a few +minutes, but first we're gonna tell you all about our contest. We know +you all Yankee boys like contests and this one is a real humdinger. + +"This here contest is open to every GI over there in the mecho-units. +And have we got prizes? Why, honey, we sure have! Listen to this big +first prize: $100,000 dollars in gold! And then we have an expense paid +vacation in the scenic Crimea and a brand new factory special Stalin +sportscar. And fellows, get this: A TV appearance on a nationwide +hookup with a dinner date afterwards with glamorous Sonia Nickolovich, +the famous ballerina. + +"Now I guess you boys are wonderin' what you gotta do to win these +wonderful prizes. Well, this is how easy it is. All you gotta do is +write out a thousand word statement on 'How my mecho-armor works' and +deliver it along with your armor to the nearest P.F.D.E.R. army unit. +Now ... isn't that easy? And this contest is open to everyone but +agents of the P.F.D.E.R. and their relatives." + +The soft voice faded away. + +"Why ... the dirty--What do they think we are?" + +Just on general principles I sent a half-dozen 75 mm shells in the +direction of their lines. + +"I don't--think I--understand that at all. What are they trying to do?" +White asks. "I thought the enemy was Reds." + +"You're in pretty bad shape, ain't you buddy?" I laughs. "Can't you +even remember who you're fighting?" + +"Leave him alone, will you, Ward," the sergeant orders. "If you +had been brain washed as many times as he has you'd have trouble +remembering things too." + +"Whatta ya mean?" + +Sarge swung the big headpiece of his armor around and looked at White +through his electric eyes. "How many times you been captured, Whitey?" +he asks. + +"I ... I don't know, Sarge. I don't remember. Twice ... I guess." + +"That's two brain washings from the enemy and two rewashings from our +own psycho units. Four electronic brain washings don't leave much in a +man's brain." + +"Well, I'll be damned. Which side was you on first, Whitey?" I asks. + +"I don't know ... I don't remember." + +"Ah come on now, you must know. Was you a Russian or an American? +Western Democratic Peoples Federal Republics or Peoples Federal +Democratic Eastern Republics--which side?" + +"I ... don't know. All I know is that they ain't good and we got to +fight them until we kill all of them." + +"How do you know they ain't good?" I demands. "If you don't know which +side you was on to start with, maybe you was shootin' at your own +brothers this morning ... or your mother." + +"You better watch your mouth, Ward. There might be a Loyalty Officer +tuned in on the band. You wouldn't want a probe, would you?" Coleman +asks. + +"Ah, they ain't listenin', Sarge. This guy gives me the willies. He +don't know nothin' but how to run that damn armor and how to fight. He +don't even know who he was to start with." + +"I wish I did know ... I wish I...." + +"You know, Whitey, maybe you was a big shot on the other side. Maybe +you was Joe Stalin's grandson or something." + +"_Remember!_" an eager voice whispered in our ears. "_Remember what you +are fighting for. In the WDPFR there are more washing machines than in +any place else in the world!_" + +I had to laugh. "You ever seen a washing machine, Sarge?" I asks. + +Coleman was looking back toward our lines. "Yeah. There used to be a +place called Brooklyn that was full of 'em. You know, there's something +going on back there. The whole company seems to be moving up. And +there's a big armored crawler there with a smaller one parked beside +it." + +He sits back down with a clanking of armor. "Must be some big shots +coming around to see how we're winning the war." + +"I wish someone would use a can opener on me right now and take me out +of this walking sardine can and plump me into a washing machine. I +ain't been clean in five years," I says. + +"Do they have washing machines on the other side?" Whitey wants to know. + +"Naw. They ain't got nothin' like that, nothin' at all," I tells him. +"Things like washing machines is reserved for us capitalists." + +"If we got washing machines and they ain't, then what are we fighting +for?" Whitey asks. + +"You better ask the Sarge that. He's the intellectual around here. He +reads all the comic books and things." + +"Why do you think we're fighting, Whitey?" Coleman asks. + +"Well, Sarge ... I don't know. If I could just remember who I used to +be, I'd know. Sometime I'm gonna remember. Every once in a while I can +almost ... but then I don't." + +"Well, why do you _think_ we're fighting?" I asks. + +"Well ... well ... I guess it's that there's bad guys and good guys ... +just like in the comics or on the TV shows. We're the good guys and +they're the bad guys. Is that right, Sarge?" + +"I don't know, Whitey. That might be some of it but I kinda think that +maybe it has something to do with when we won the last war or thought +we won it. We thought we had finished with the Nazi's but I guess +maybe we got fooled. In Europe the Nazi's all turned Communist and in +America the Commies all turned Nazi. Either way people like them have +always got the jump on the joes in between. In Europe they pointed at +them and called them Nazi's. In America they pointed at them and called +them Reds. Pretty soon people didn't know the difference, except that +it was better to be pointing than to be pointed at." + +"Now, Sarge, you're the one that better be careful. You wouldn't want +the Loyalty Officer to be hearing that sort of talk, would you?" I cuts +in. + +"Maybe you're right but I kinda think that that's why...." + + * * * * * + +Just then the command circuit in our helmets opened up with orders for +us to pull back and join the rest of the company. All the way back +Whitey doesn't say anything so I figure he's trying to remember who he +is. Well, we gets back to the command post without drawing more than a +little small arms fire and a couple of rockets, but things is really +popping there. The big crawler Coleman seen from our outpost is settin' +there in the middle of the street and the whole company is gathered +around it. + +"What's goin' on?" I say as I sidle up beside Fred Dobshanski. + +"Don't you guys know? There's a big drive comin' up. General Mac +Williams is gonna talk to us himself." + +Whitey was right beside me. He sure was a funny guy, always hanging +around and asking questions. Sometimes I used to wonder what he looked +like. You get used to not seeing any of the guys when you're in the +forward areas. Sometimes for weeks or months at a time a whole area +will be contaminated with bacteria or radiation and you don't open +your suit at all. Even if you're wounded the mecho-armor gives you a +shot and takes you back to a field hospital ... that is, if it's still +working. So you get used to not knowing what the guys look like and +not caring much. But with Whitey it was different. His voice had such +a dull someplace-else sound to it that you got to wondering if there +was really anyone in that suit of armor or not. You got to wondering if +maybe it just walked around by itself. + +"Mac Williams? Who's he?" Whitey asks as if in answer to my thoughts. + +"Hell, don't you know anything?" Fred says. + +"I guess I don't. I ... I ... don't even know who I was. I sorta wish I +knew who I used to be." + +"Mac Williams is Fightin' Joe Mac Williams. He's going to talk to us. +Look ... there he is now." + +I adjusted my eyepieces for direct vision and sure enough on the +kind of balcony on the back of this big armored crawler was a guy. I +mean to tell you he sure looked like something too. He was in full +battle armor with scarlet trimmings and gold rivets. He was wearing +a mother-of-pearl plated helmet with three stars set in rubies. Even +the twin machine guns that were fitted to his armor instead of the 75 +recoilless and 40 mm we had on ours was plated to look like silver. + +"Gosh! Imagine a General coming 'way up here in all this mud and stuff. +That guy must really have guts!" someone mutters on the company circuit. + +"Yeah. I bet he's only got one swimming pool in that land yacht of his." + +"Shut up! What's the matter with you? That ain't no way to talk. You a +sub or something?" + +"Say, did you guys see what I saw through the windows of that crawler? +Dames!" + +"Dames?" + +"Who you kiddin'?" + +"So help me. There was two of them. Two big, tall, willowy, blond WAC +Captains!" + +"Them's the General's aides." + +"Yeah? What do they aid him at?" + +"Shut up you guys," the Captain's voice cuts in. "The General is going +to speak." + +Well then he starts right in telling us about the great crusade we're +engaged upon and how civilization is at stake. And how proud the home +folks is of us. Of course, he admits we haven't had any direct word +from the States since last year when we had those big cobalt bomb +raids, but he just knows that they all love us. Right when he starts I +know we're in for trouble, 'cause when the brass start talking about +crusades, a lot of joes is gonna get killed. + +He goes on with this for half an hour, and all the time the TV cameras +is grinding away from this other crawler that is filled with newsers +and video people. He mentions blood 16 times and that ain't good. Sweat +he says 14 times and guts an even dozen. When it really looks bad, +though, is when he calls the Major and the Captain up and pins a medal +on each of the medal racks that officers wear on the front of their +armor. When they start passing out the medals ahead of time, brother, +it ain't good, it ain't good at all. + +When he gets through with all this, the old boy retires into his +crawler. + +"I guess he's going in to plan the battle," I says. + +"Ha," says Sergeant Coleman's voice in my ear. "All the blood and guts +in that speech wore him out so much he's got to retire to his bar for a +few quick ones with them two aides of his." + +"Now, Sarge," I says, "that ain't no way for a patriot to talk." + +"My patriotism is at a very low ebb at the moment. Do you know what +kind of a party we're going to have in the morning?" + +"No," I says, "but I would be interested in finding out." + +"You've seen that huge mile-long building that's across the square from +us?" + +"I've seen it and found little to like about it. The enemy has every +kind of gun in there that's been invented." + +"Well, the Captain says that that's it! Fighting Joe wants us to take +it." + +"_Remember boys, remember that the way of life in the W.D.P.F.R. is +better. Remember what you're fighting for--hotdogs and new cars, +electric refrigerators and apple pie, sweethearts and mother. Don't let +mother down boys!_" + +A voice that used to sell us bath soap is selling us war. + +"That kind of sounds like we're getting ready to move in, don't it +Sarge?" I says. + +Sure enough a half hour later we starts to move up. The whole company +of thirty men is on its way with the rest of the battalion close behind. + +"Say, maybe there'll be some dames up ahead," Dobshanski is saying. + +"What do you want with dames? You got the Waiting Wife and the Faithful +Sweetheart on your TV, ain't you?" the Sergeant says. + +"It ain't the same. It ain't the same at all," Dobshanski says. + +I cuts in with, "Hey, did you guys hear what I heard? Pretty soon we +won't really need women anymore. Those new suits of armor we're going +to get have got Realie TV sets in 'em. When a gal comes on it's just +like she was in the suit with you. Those suits is gonna take care of +everything and I mean everything." + +"Ah, who ya kiddin'? Who ya handin' that line to?" + +"Him and his inside dope!" + +Twenty minutes later we're in position among the wrecked buildings on +our side of the square and several kinds of hell is traveling back and +forth across it. As is usual, the enemy seems to have as good an idea +as to what we're about as we have. + +"Oh, brother," Coleman moans. "Did Mac Williams send them a copy of his +orders as soon as he got through writing them?" + + * * * * * + +Heavy shells and rockets is plowing up the already plowed up pavement +all around us. Geysers of mud and water are being lifted by shells +on all sides. I sees a couple of guys go down and I stumbles over a +tangled mess of armor and flesh as we break from cover and start across +the hundred yards or so of the square. + +Floater rockets are overhead, circling kind of lazy like and lighting +up the whole company as pretty as a summer's day with big magnesium +flares. It's real comfortin' to see guys on all sides of you, but not +so comfortin' when you sees them fallin' right and left. + +I know I'm running with the rest of the guys 'cause I can hear my power +pack rev up and feel the steel legs of my suit pounding along through +the mud. I can feel the suit automatically swerving to avoid shell +holes and to throw off the enemy aim. Not that they're really aiming, +they're just tossing everything they got into that square and bettin' +on the law of averages. The whole length of the big marble building +we're after is lit up now, but not with lights, it's lit up with gun +flashes. + +The company and battalion radio bands is a mess. Even the command +circuit is filled with guys yellin' and screamin', but there don't seem +to be much point to orders right now anyway. I keep on goin' cause I +don't know what else to do. Once or twice I recognise Coleman and White +by the numbers on their armor and I get one glimpse of Fred Dobshanski +just as half a dozen 70 mm shells tear his armor and him apart. + +Then I'm almost at the building, and I'm being hit by pointblank light +machine-gun fire. I'm blazing back with my 40 and 75, pouring tracers +through the windows and being thankful my armor can take machine gun +fire even at close range. + +There's other guys all around me now and we're smashing through doors +and crashing over window sills into the building. The place is full +of enemy joes and they're hitting us with everything they can throw. +I take a couple of 40 mm shells that knock me off my feet, but Whitey +blasts the gun crew two seconds later. We fight our way up a pair of +marble stairways and they're really pouring it on us from up above, +when suddenly they take a notion to rush us and come rushing down the +steps ... about three hundred of them. + +What we did to them ain't pretty. That light plastic battle armor of +theirs don't even look like stopping our stuff; and packed together +like they are on those steps, it's murder. A lot of them get to the +bottom, but there ain't much left of them when they get there. + +It's all over then. Guys are yelling for the Medic robot and for the +Ammo robots and others are just slumped down in their suits waiting for +something else to happen ... and it ain't long in happening. It can't +be more than ten minutes after we chased the last Red out the back of +our objective before their heavy guns're trying to knock it down around +our ears. + +Armor or no armor, what's left of the battalion takes refuge in the +cellars where a few hours before the Reds were playing possum from our +guns. Coleman, Whitey and I find us a nice heavy beam and are standing +under it. Coleman is talking, as usual, and Whitey is wondering who he +is and I'm watching the Major and Captain take inventory. Our assets +ain't what they used to be. There's about twenty guys left in our +company and maybe about sixty-five in the whole battalion. + +I guess that's why the Major ain't very friendly when some of the guys +dig out a couple dozen women and children who've been hiding in the +building. + +"Well, I'll be damned! Look what's comin' in!" I says to Coleman. +There's maybe twenty women and the rest is kids. + +"Why do the kids always seem to outlast the rest of the people, Sarge?" +I asks. "Every place we been in this town, there's always more kids +left alive than older folks." + +"I don't know, Ward. Maybe they make a smaller target." + +They've already got the kids lined up and we've given 'em the candy +bars wrapped in propaganda leaflets that we all carry. Like all +foreigners, they ain't very polite or grateful. They can't even +understand what I'm saying even when I turn up my outside amplifier +full power. + +"What's the matter with them punks? Don't they appreciate candy?" I +asks the sergeant who is muttering to one of them in some of their own +gibberish. + +"They say the Russians didn't give them anything but lumps of sugar and +we don't give them anything but candy. They'd like something else." + +"Now ain't that just like people like them," I says to White. "No +gratitude to us for liberating them or for feedin' 'em." + +"I think I would know what it's all about if I could just remember. +You know, Sarge, for a few minutes up above there I almost remembered. +Then the shelling started and ... and ... I don't know...." Whitey is +still harping on his favorite subject so I turns back to the sergeant +and the kids he's talkin' to. + +"What's with these punks? What they got to complain about? If it wasn't +for us they wouldn't have no country." + +"They say that the Russians was about to take them away to a camp and +make soldiers out of them and they're afraid we'll do the same." + +"Well ... what in hell do they want to do? Spend the rest of their +lives hiding in a hole while we do their fighting?" + +"This youngster says he doesn't want to be brain washed. He doesn't +want to be a soldier." + +"He's right," Whitey pipes up. "He don't want to be like me. You know, +I had a dream ... or did I remember? Anyway in this ... dream ... of +mine, I remembered that I had been an important person like you said, +Ward. But not on the enemy side. I knew something and wanted to tell it +to the whole army but they didn't want me to. That's why they sent me +to the psycho machines. That's why they made me like I am." + +"What was it you knew, White?" the sergeant asks. + +"I'm not sure. It was something ... something about there not being any +more Western Federation or any Eastern Republics ... no more +America ... no more Russia ... just two self-perpetuating armies ... +like hoards of maggots crawling across the corpse of Europe." + +"That's a funny sort of dream ... a very funny sort of dream," the +sergeant says. + +"Why would you have any sort of crazy dream like that?" I demands. "You +know we hear broadcasts about how things are getting along so fine back +home all the time." + +"How long's it been since you got a letter, Ward?" Coleman asks. + +"Letter? I don't remember. Who'd write to me anyway? What's the matter +with them kids? Do they want the Russians to come back and rape their +mothers and sisters?" + +"I'll ask them," Sarge says, and starts gibbering again through his +outside amplifier to a skinny brat that's doing the talking for all of +them. Pretty quick the kid gabbles back just like he understood. + +"He says that their mothers and sisters have been raped so many times +by both sides that it don't make any difference anymore." + +"They ain't got no grat...." I starts to say but the Major is yelling +at the Captain so I stops to listen. + +"Where are their men? Where are they hiding?" He shakes his fist under +the noses of these French women and the Captain questions them. + +"Why did they permit the Russians to hide out in this building? Don't +they know that being here is collaborating with the enemy? Where are +their men? I'll have them hung!" The Major is really hopping mad. + +"I beg your pardon, sir." The Captain interrupts him. "This woman says +that their men are on the second floor and...." + +"Good! Send six men up there and hang every one of them." + +"Sir, they say that the Russians have already hung them. As American +collaborationists, sir!" + +"What! Humph! Well ... send some men up there to cut them down and hang +them again. No! Wait, Captain! We'll wait until the TV cameras get +here." + +It was just then that the word came for us to pull back, for us to give +up this building and fall back to our old positions. + +"My God! What's the matter with them?" Whitey says. "After all the guys +we lost taking this place, why do we have to give it up?" + +"Maybe they want us to do it over again for the TV," the Sergeant says +as we watch the other two companies pull out, herding the civilians +before them. + +"I don't want to go," Whitey says suddenly. "If I stay here I might +remember." + +"To hell with it, Whitey," Coleman tells him. "Maybe you wouldn't like +it if you did remember. Maybe you're better off this way." + +"I like it here. There used to be pictures up above.... I found a piece +of one during the fighting ... it was ... beautiful." + +"Come on, Whitey! Let's get going! Don't you see what the Captain's +doing?" I says. The others look and start moving fast. The Captain +must have been mad about giving up our objective 'cause he'd set up +a disruptor bomb on the floor and started a time fuse. Maybe you've +never seen a disruptor bomb and maybe you wouldn't want to. In a way +they're an improvement on the atomic bomb. They cause individual atomic +explosions that keep blasting for hours after you start them. When +that bomb gets through, there won't be anything left. + +Pretty quick we're out in the open and running as fast as our mechos +legs can carry us. We're about halfway across the square when I see +Whitey suddenly break away from Coleman and head back toward the +building. + +He gets there and is heading in the door just as the disruptor bomb +lets loose. That building started doing a dance, a kind of strip tease +I guess, 'cause it's shedding roof and walls right and left. + +Later on, when we're back in our lines, I'm sitting beside Coleman +while our mecho-armor is whipping up some X-rations for us. + +"Why did he do it, Sarge? Why'd Whitey go back?" + +"I don't know. There was something about that building that he thought +he remembered. It reminded him of something. That picture he found kind +of set him off. He said maybe it was the last one there was in the +world." + +"Did ... did he remember who he was?" + +"I guess at the last he did ... or at least he remembered some thing." + +"Did he remember his name?" + +"I guess so." + +"Well, what was it?" + +"He didn't tell me. Maybe his name was Man." + +"Man? That's a funny name. Well ... his name sure is mud now." + +"Maybe the two names are the same, Ward," he says. The sergeant always +was a funny guy. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Last Crusade, by George H. Smith + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59011 *** |