' The Longest Night ' & ' Crossing the Rubicon ': The Original Map Illustrated and Uncut Final Volume (Armageddon's Song) Read Free Page A

its two small semi-circular lugs into an old compo ration tin. He dropped them into two inches of clear fluid that was already in the tin where they fizzed. If the SASC frowned up the method of cooling the barrels that the Berkshire men employed, then they would be seriously upset with the regulator being immersed in rust remover. Nothing, however, removed carbon quite as quickly and thoroughly as an acid solution. The gunner was far more concerned with husbanding his limited supply of Jenolite than he was of the SASC’s wrath.
    The position had a field telephone with a direct line to a man-portable telephone exchange at company headquarters and he reported the death of their ammunition carrier to the D Company 2LI CSM.
    “What was his full name?” the CSM asked.
    “I dunno sir, his surname was Crowne.” Dopey replied, pausing to look at the other two, almost indiscernible in the dark.
    “ Fucknows .” Spider offered unhelpfully, and Rogers shrug went unseen in the darkness at the back of the shelter bay.
       A few months ago they would all have been greatly embarrassed at not knowing the name of one of their unit who had been killed, but that was then and this was now.
    “He was a new guy…and we are down to six boxes of mixed link.”
    “And smoke!” Spider reminded him.
    The CSM could be heard calling out to the Q Bloke at the other end but the company’s quarter master sergeant’s reply was a mere nod. He was a busy man this day.
    Dopey hung up the old fashioned handset and sat beside Spider on empty ammunition boxes in the entrance to the shelter bay, their boots squelching in the mud with each movement as the boxes of 7.62 ball ammunition were opened.
    They were all deathly tired, and not just from lack of sleep. Fear produces adrenaline and adrenaline has a toll on the body but they squatted, silently creating fresh belts using spent links. There would be no tracer rounds in these belts so they would be carefully stored in the boxes the rounds had come from and placed with similar belts as their final ammunition reserve.
    “Anyone got any scoff?” Roger asked “Me stomach thinks me throats been cut.”
    Dopey fished out a small tin from a cardboard ten man ration pack beside him, tossing it across.
    Roger worked his compo tin opener industriously in the dark interior of the shelter bay before giving the contents an exploratory sniff.
    “Bacon Grill? What kind of grub is that for a good Jewish boy?” he grumbled “Hasn’t this man’s army heard of religious diversity?”
    There was the usual banter that went on between soldiers who lived in each pockets day in and day out. Complete irreverence towards each other’s religions, football teams, school and home towns. Only family was sacrosanct.
    At the end of the day nothing outside of their small circle was going to save them from harm, they had only each other and the absolute trust that came with that. Professional motivators are fond of stating “There is no ‘i’ in Team” but if they had consulted each member of the team they would realise their error.
    “I trust them, and I won’t betray their trust in me.”
    Roger tried to feign offence at a remark, but he failed and joined the other two soldiers giggling like demented schoolboys at the bad, and very old joke, before bending the newly removed lid of the tin slightly and using it to scoop the contents into his mouth, taking care not let his tongue touch its jagged edge.
    When Roger finished his cold, al fresco repast he stamped the empty tin and lid flat.
    “Stick a brew on Spider”
    “Bollocks…what did your last slave die of?”
    “Disobedience” Roger replied “and make mine three sugars, mate.”
    As handy as the pocket sized army issue solid fuel cookers were, the hexamine fuel gave off poisonous fumes in confined spaces so Spider pulled his camping gas stove from a bergan side pouch and set it up. Each man contributed their water bottles to the filling of the ‘kettle’,