The Red Baron: A World War I Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

bunker. Dirt rained down from the ceiling, creating a knee-high fog in the bunker. The pinned man cried harder.
    “It’s a trick! They stop the bombardment long enough to lure us out, then they hit us again. Lieutenant Eisen saved your life!” Dieter said to his captive, who’d given way to sobs.
    Eisen pressed his ear against the bunker door, and then blew his whistle as he opened the door. The ear-rattling call to battle shook Manfred more than the bombardment; the safety of the bunker was about to end.
    Manfred followed Eisen out into the trenches, fumbling with the ill-fitting helmet. Whistles from other commanders reverberated up and down the trench line. Twilight gave a glimpse of the partially collapsed communications trench leading away from no-man’s-land. A wall had blown out, flooding the passageway with earth. The air reeked of ozone and old death, disinterred from the beginning of the war.
    Soldiers raced past Manfred and took up positions on the foot-high fire step at the base of the trench. He drew his pistol and locked the hammer back. A jagged chunk of metal the length of his forearm stuck from a trench wall. He reached to pull it out, and then snatched his hand back as the metal burnt his fingers.
    Someone chuckled behind him. Haas was there, holding a spade in one hand, a grenade in the other.
    “What are you going to do with that? Dig to Paris?” Manfred asked.
    Haas pushed the spade toward Manfred’s face; it was sharpened to a razor’s edge.
    A machine gun cackled from the French lines, green tracer rounds zipped over the trench line. Soldiers, Manfred included, crouched against the wooden slats of the trench, seeking protection from the earth’s bosom.
    “Here we go,” said Haas.
    A roar erupted from the French lines. Thousands of voices raised as men went over the top and charged the German lines.
    “Fix bayonets!” Eisen said. The blades hissed as they came from their scabbards, followed by the sound of dozens of clicks as the bayonets were attached to the rifles. Manfred looked at his meager pistol and felt like he’d gone to a formal ball only half-dressed.
    Manfred stood up to look over the parapet, but was jerked back by Eisen.
    “Not yet, there’s—”
    A burst of machine gun fire cut Eisen off. A bullet kicked through the dirt where Manfred’s head would have been and impacted the rear of the trench with a thud. Eisen tightened his grip on Manfred’s uniform, his face stern as he opened his mouth to chastise the other lieutenant, when machine guns in the German lines opened up. Red tracer rounds burned through the air. Eisen let Manfred go and took a lightning-fast glimpse over the parapet.
    “Open fire!” he ordered.
    Soldiers pushed their rifles through small openings in the parapet and lashed out at the French. Manfred, emboldened by the chance to finally do something meaningful, looked into no-man’s-land.
    The final rays of sunlight stung Manfred’s eyes, the timing of the French attack meant for precisely that advantage. Inconsistent lines of barbed wire filled the space between shell holes, some of it gnarled into clumps from the indiscriminate shelling. An undulating mass of French troops made their best speed toward him, their bodies striated by red pants and blue tunics.
    French soldiers fell as bullets found their marks. Manfred aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger. The blast from the shot was almost lost in the din from the rifles firing around him. No idea if his bullet hit someone. He fired until his gun clicked empty, and a mortar round landed among the French advance before he could retreat behind the parapet. The explosion flung a body into the air and erased a segment of the attackers. He ducked back into the trench before the body could land.
    Manfred fumbled with the bullets as he attempted to reload. He’d perfected reloading his pistol while galloping on horseback, but trying to reload while men, determined to kill him, were approaching added an