into the fuel tank. ‘Petrol’s frozen. What do I do now, light a fire under it?’
‘You do and the major will light one under you, if you don’t blow yourself up first.’ Dooley stopped work and looked up from his chest-deep excavation. ‘The first three feet it’s like going down through concrete, keeps you warm though.’
‘But what the fuck do I do with this?’ Not wishing to add to his work load, Burke resisted the strong temptation to kick the generator.
‘You’ll have to shift it inside, won’t you?’ Using pile-driver force Dooley drove his pick into the bottom of the trench, twisted it and then reached in to haul out a lump of half-frozen earth that must have weighed fifty pounds.
‘You’re joking. It took four of us to get the bloody thing here, and now the runners are welded to the shitty ground.’ ‘Why aren’t you working, Burke?’ Hood thrown back, his artificially precise hairline accentuating the featureless expanse of his face Hyde looked unreal, like a watery painting of a portrait by a child too immature to put in any but the simplest of details.
‘Can’t do any more outside, Sarge. It’ll have to go inside if we’re to have a chance of keeping it in action.’
‘Alright, you heard him, Dooley, up out of your pit and give a hand here.’ ‘The major said I was to finish this before I did anything else.’ ‘You should have done already. Now if you’d pretended you were digging up one of the old women you like poking you’d have been down six feet already.’
‘Heads I lose, tails I can’t win.’ Using the pick as a grappling iron, Dooley hauled himself from the hole.
‘Give the runners a clout first, to break them free. A clout I said,’ Hyde had only just ducked in time as the wildly swung pick whistled back between him and Burke, ‘not an attempt at bloody wrecking it. Alright, we’ll pull, you push.’
Ripper and Libby appeared and added their efforts. The heavy piece of equipment began to move, thrusting a wall of snow before it that constantly had to be shovelled aside.
‘This weather is really something.’ Almost sprawling as his foot slipped, Ripper prevented himself from going over by grabbing at Dooley.
‘Gives you the urge to pull Dooley’s pants down, does it?’ The enjoyment Burke got from the scene was of short duration as he almost fell himself.
‘Aw shut it. No, I mean the cold, it really gets to you. I reckon I’d have been a solid lump of ice by now, if I hadn’t been too busy sweating, trying to get that foxhole dug.’
Standing back as Libby scuffed another bank of snow aside, Hyde looked out over the still countryside. ‘It’s not a night for standing around, that’s for certain. Not that I’m likely to let you. Alright, now three more heaves and we’ll have it lined up with the kitchen door. One last effort, and we’re in.’
‘I bet the lieutenant is regretting he was so fast to volunteer now. Him and Clarence must be wishing they were back here.’
Libby nodded agreement. ‘You’re probably right. No fun in being out there at the moment, no fun at all.’
‘Radio batteries are OK, Major. My sets use only a fraction of the juice those tubes do. Even if the generator is no good, used sparingly I can keep us in contact with the big outside world for two or three days.’
Revell had asked the question almost for the sake of something to do. He felt like the spider sitting at the centre of an intricately constructed web, waiting for his prey. The work was done, and the hours until the first of their Russian targets appeared would be long, and seem even longer. This wasn’t the sort of war he liked. The real war was what you saw in the sights of your rifle, or felt at the end of a bayonet. Hanging around a command room, unable to move far from it, unable to do anything in it... that might be war for staff officers, for generals, it wasn’t for him.
To fill in, to give himself something to do, he could have gone outside,
‘You do and the major will light one under you, if you don’t blow yourself up first.’ Dooley stopped work and looked up from his chest-deep excavation. ‘The first three feet it’s like going down through concrete, keeps you warm though.’
‘But what the fuck do I do with this?’ Not wishing to add to his work load, Burke resisted the strong temptation to kick the generator.
‘You’ll have to shift it inside, won’t you?’ Using pile-driver force Dooley drove his pick into the bottom of the trench, twisted it and then reached in to haul out a lump of half-frozen earth that must have weighed fifty pounds.
‘You’re joking. It took four of us to get the bloody thing here, and now the runners are welded to the shitty ground.’ ‘Why aren’t you working, Burke?’ Hood thrown back, his artificially precise hairline accentuating the featureless expanse of his face Hyde looked unreal, like a watery painting of a portrait by a child too immature to put in any but the simplest of details.
‘Can’t do any more outside, Sarge. It’ll have to go inside if we’re to have a chance of keeping it in action.’
‘Alright, you heard him, Dooley, up out of your pit and give a hand here.’ ‘The major said I was to finish this before I did anything else.’ ‘You should have done already. Now if you’d pretended you were digging up one of the old women you like poking you’d have been down six feet already.’
‘Heads I lose, tails I can’t win.’ Using the pick as a grappling iron, Dooley hauled himself from the hole.
‘Give the runners a clout first, to break them free. A clout I said,’ Hyde had only just ducked in time as the wildly swung pick whistled back between him and Burke, ‘not an attempt at bloody wrecking it. Alright, we’ll pull, you push.’
Ripper and Libby appeared and added their efforts. The heavy piece of equipment began to move, thrusting a wall of snow before it that constantly had to be shovelled aside.
‘This weather is really something.’ Almost sprawling as his foot slipped, Ripper prevented himself from going over by grabbing at Dooley.
‘Gives you the urge to pull Dooley’s pants down, does it?’ The enjoyment Burke got from the scene was of short duration as he almost fell himself.
‘Aw shut it. No, I mean the cold, it really gets to you. I reckon I’d have been a solid lump of ice by now, if I hadn’t been too busy sweating, trying to get that foxhole dug.’
Standing back as Libby scuffed another bank of snow aside, Hyde looked out over the still countryside. ‘It’s not a night for standing around, that’s for certain. Not that I’m likely to let you. Alright, now three more heaves and we’ll have it lined up with the kitchen door. One last effort, and we’re in.’
‘I bet the lieutenant is regretting he was so fast to volunteer now. Him and Clarence must be wishing they were back here.’
Libby nodded agreement. ‘You’re probably right. No fun in being out there at the moment, no fun at all.’
‘Radio batteries are OK, Major. My sets use only a fraction of the juice those tubes do. Even if the generator is no good, used sparingly I can keep us in contact with the big outside world for two or three days.’
Revell had asked the question almost for the sake of something to do. He felt like the spider sitting at the centre of an intricately constructed web, waiting for his prey. The work was done, and the hours until the first of their Russian targets appeared would be long, and seem even longer. This wasn’t the sort of war he liked. The real war was what you saw in the sights of your rifle, or felt at the end of a bayonet. Hanging around a command room, unable to move far from it, unable to do anything in it... that might be war for staff officers, for generals, it wasn’t for him.
To fill in, to give himself something to do, he could have gone outside,
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