he lay beside the hedge. He came back and handed me the pistol.
“The son of a bitch,” he said. He looked toward the sergeant. “You see me shoot him, Tenente?”
“We’ve got to get the brush quickly,” I said. “Did I hit the other one at all?”
“I don’t think so,” Aymo said. “He was too far away to hit with a pistol.”
“The dirty scum,” Piani said. We were all cutting twigs and branches. Everything had been taken out of the car. Bonello was digging out in front of the wheels. When we were ready Aymo started the car and put it into gear. The wheels spun round throwing brush and mud. Bonello and I pushed until we could feel our joints crack. The car would not move.
“Rock her back and forth, Barto,” I said.
He drove the engine in reverse, then forward. The wheels only dug in deeper. Then the car was resting on the differential again, and the wheels spun freely in the holes they had dug. I straightened up.
“We’ll try her with a rope,” I said.
“I don’t think it’s any use, Tenente. You can’t get a straight pull.”
“We have to try it,” I said. “She won’t come out any other way.”
Piani’s and Bonello’s cars could only move straight ahead down the narrow road. We roped both cars together and pulled. The wheels only pulled sideways against the ruts.
“It’s no good,” I shouted. “Stop it.”
Piani and Bonello got down from their cars and came back. Aymo got down. The girls were up the road about forty yards sitting on a stone wall.
