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We were soon deep in an examination of their weapons one of them had a beautiful Mauser sporting rifle, hair-sighted, of which he was extremely proud; altogether we had quite a friendly chat.
The Japanese, long centuries before, had proven the fist less than the most effective manner in which to pursue hand-to-hand combat. Joe Mauser, working coolly, fast and ruthlessly, now, a trained combat man exercising his profession, moved in for the kill, his shoulders hunched slightly forward, his hands forward and to the sides, choppers rather than sledges.
Freddy Soligen asked, at long last, tilting his head to one side and taking Joe in critically. "You know one of the big reasons you're only a major?" Joe Mauser looked at him. The Telly reporter said, "You haven't got any mustache." Joe Mauser stared at him. The other laughed cynically. "You think I'm drivel-happy, eh? Well, maybe a long scar down the cheek would do even better.
The troops were now in extended open order, and advanced towards the foot of the hill by rushes, taking advantage of the ant-hills that studded the plain and afforded an excellent cover, being high enough to cover them while lying down, and thick and compact enough to resist the passage of a Mauser bullet.
Only Max Mainz, his batman during his last fracas and now permanently attached to Joe, knew that he might be found at this address. Joe said to Nadine, "Would you pardon me for a moment? I assume it's something important, or I wouldn't be disturbed." She said, demurely, "Undoubtedly one of the feminine members of a Joe Mauser buff club."
"And what are your needs, Captain Mauser?" Joe said evenly, "If I can bring this off, I'll be a fracas buff celebrity. I don't have any illusions about the fickleness of the Telly fans, but for a day or two I'll be on top. If at the same time I had your all out support, pulling what strings you could reach " "Why then, you'd be promoted to Upper, wouldn't you, captain?"
Still the dark-blue line was steadily advanced, sometimes by quick rushes, and again by a crawling on hands and knees through the high, hot grass. Always over the heads of the troopers and among them streamed a ceaseless hail of bullets from Mauser rifles and machine-guns. Men fell with each minute, some not to rise again, some only wounded; but the others never paused to note their fate.
The mauser rifles were not so very much unlike our own, and he set us to drilling with them, giving us patient instruction but very little rest until evening. During the longest pause in the drill he sent for knapsacks and served us one each, filled down to the smallest detail with everything a soldier could need, even to a little cup that hung from a hook beneath one corner.
Kelly-Kenny was informed that the position in front of him had been abandoned, and four regiments, the Buffs, the Essex, the Welsh, and the Yorkshires, were advanced against it. They were passing over the open when the crash of the Mauser fire burst out in front of them, and the bullets hissed and thudded among the ranks. The ordeal was a very severe one.
Two Rank Privates with 45-70 Springfields and wearing the Haer kilts in such wise as to indicate permanent status in Vacuum Tube Transport came to the salute as they approached. The Upper preceding Joe Mauser flicked his swagger stick in an easy nonchalance. Joe felt envious amusement. How long did it take to learn how to answer a salute with that degree of arrogant ease?
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