The Angry Hills by Leon Uris Read Free Book Online Page A

a beach not far from the city of Nauplion. The trek was called to a blessed halt in a woods behind the beach. Another group of a hundred men was already there and rumors flew wild.
    From their hiding place they could see the town beyond the stretch of beach—what was left of the town. Once it had been the capital of a republic. A picturesque ancient fortress jutted out into the Gulf of Argolis and once the fortress had been known as the Gibraltar of Argolis. But that was once upon a time in another age and another war. In this war the Gibraltar of Argolis was a useless pile of rock against the vultures in the sky. Nauplion was bombed to the ground.
    The Stukas were at it again, playing havoc, their scream overhead continuously.
    The group dispersed and sprawled on the ground in weariness. Mike Morrison had reached an exhaustion beyond exhaustion. The days without sleep hung over him like the blade of a guillotine. He crawled away from the soldiers until he found a clump of thick shrubbery and he buried himself under it. He lay there, unable to move. His eyelids fell like heavy weights. He was unable to fight any longer. A deep slumber overtook him.
    A beam of sunlight struck Mike’s eyes. He blinked them open and propped up on his elbows. He pushed aside a branch and saw the fading sun. He had slept most of the day.
    He yawned and stretched. His whole body ached, but his mind was clear. His gradual recovery from the stupor made him aware of the physical pounding he had taken in the past few days. He eased off his shoes and discovered that his feet were a mass of blisters.
    He removed the kidskin from his shoulder and took a long swallow, then splashed some water over his face. He ate some of the bread and cheese, then gently worked his shoes back onto his feet.
    The woods was strangely silent. There was no one in sight. He got to his feet unsteadily.
    A far-off sound of cheering and singing brought him to alert attention.
    He worked his way through the trees toward the sound as it continued to grow louder and more boisterous. Mike halted at the edge of the woods. Stretched across the shallow beach he saw hundreds of men. Units had been coming through the mountains for this rendezvous all day, he thought.
    The sun was sinking fast into the bay....
    A ship stood offshore, blinking out a message.
    Mike caught snatches of the men’s talk.
    “Prince Line steamer... An eight-thousand tonner...”
    “The Slamat ....”
    “We’ll evacuate as soon as it turns dark.”
    “I knew the bloomin’ navy would come through...”
    Michael Morrison closed his eyes and sighed. “Thank God... Thank God...”
    He retreated into the woods several yards, found a hiding place and waited. Best not to take a chance. There were a thousand men milling around. Mosley and the little man would certainly be there.
    The sun made a final burst into the horizon.
    Mike knew he had to be cautious, but he was filled with optimism now. He’d get aboard the ship, all right, one way or another. Mosley and the little man would be watching the boats load on the shore. He’d cross them up. He’d swim out part way to the ship and have one of the boats pick him up. Mike was a strong swimmer.... In the dark Mosley and the little man would never be able to spot him from the beach. Once aboard, he’d get to the ship’s captain—it would be all over soon.
    He began to think of the reunion with his children and he almost wept with excitement. Mike thought of other things too. A shave and a shampoo at Kastrup’s Barber Shop. He thought about a double filet mignon at Amilio’s and he thought of the Top of the Mark. Maybe he’d just sit up at the Top of the Mark for three or four hours and look down on the hills of San Francisco.
    The clothes and other things at the Kifissia Hotel weren’t too important—insurance would cover the loss. But the pipes... Mike hated to lose his pipes. Well, no matter. He’d find some good Barlings and Petersens in London.
    It