yourself a coffee. I’ll be up here for a while.’
The young gunner-medic made a fussy last adjustment to the bandage he’d been replacing, then went out. His footsteps echoed back to Revell from the uncarpeted stairs.
It was darker than the fire-control room. Only white or very light coloured objects stood out in the breath-misted gloom. Bandages were clearly visible, as were the pale hands and faces of the men wrapped in their life preserving silver chrysalises. The hard rasping breathing of a chest case was the only audible sound.
Andrea was over on the far side of the room, struggling to fully fasten the zip of a silver cocoon. Carefully, Revell stepped between the bodies to go and help her.
‘It is done.’ With a last effort Andrea sealed the body into its crinkling shroud before Revell reached her. ‘He is the first, others will follow. I think that one is next.’
Revell followed her pointing finger to where a scrap of white cloth blended imperceptibly into the deadly pallor of a face it didn’t entirely cover. ‘I don’t know how he’s lasted this long. He lost a lot of blood when his arm was taken off. I’ll have the body moved as soon as the men have finished shifting the generator.’ There were other matters Revell wanted to talk about with her, but in the darkness he couldn’t be sure all of the casualties were sleeping.
He’d never managed to be alone with her for more than a few moments. Not that he’d ever been really conscious of her manipulating it that way, but on reflection he felt sure that she had. Never very communicative, she immediately stiffened and backed away from contact with any man she sensed showing an interest in her. With her looks, that kept her perpetually on her guard. The skills she displayed at holding men at a distance, and generally taking care of herself, were considerable; the way she managed Dooley was ample proof. Revell couldn’t tell whether the big man got anything from the relationship, other than having, and enjoying, the prestige of having her near. Several savage slap-downs he’d received in public suggested there was less than truth in many, perhaps all, of his private boasts.
Damn it, Revell had never felt so protective towards any woman, not since the early days of his marriage to the bitch, and that had soon been beaten out of him by spite and neglect and contempt. And now he had this irrational urge to take Andrea under his wing, a woman more able to take care of herself than any other he’d ever known. It was stupid, irrational, when he’d made up his mind to treat her no differently from any of the men. And it was dangerous as well. Dangerous because his preoccupation with her could affect the efficient running of the unit, because it could cost some or all of them their lives unless he could come to terms with it.
From where it lay on top of a pile of rags, Andrea picked up her scarred and chipped M16. The fat tube of the grenade-launcher below the barrel gave it a clumsy and ill-balanced look. ‘When do I use this? I am not a nurse, this is not where I belong.’
‘Perhaps you won’t need to. If the mission goes according to plan then we do the job and get out without firing anything but the heavy artillery. Command won’t be too happy if we start a big fire-fight with Swedish patrols. Why do you think they sent such a small escort group, with so few support weapons? It’s so that if we do start trouble we can’t cause too much of it.’
‘The West does not deserve to win this war.’ Andrea turned to the window, and stared out. ‘They expect their soldiers to die, but do not want them to win.’
‘That about says it.’ Revell moved to stand beside her. He liked her clipped German accent. Her manner was sharp, he could visualise an affair with her being very one-sided. She would dominate any man, he imagined her being very strict, very severe ... No, he backed away from the thought. That was a speculative road he didn’t like
The young gunner-medic made a fussy last adjustment to the bandage he’d been replacing, then went out. His footsteps echoed back to Revell from the uncarpeted stairs.
It was darker than the fire-control room. Only white or very light coloured objects stood out in the breath-misted gloom. Bandages were clearly visible, as were the pale hands and faces of the men wrapped in their life preserving silver chrysalises. The hard rasping breathing of a chest case was the only audible sound.
Andrea was over on the far side of the room, struggling to fully fasten the zip of a silver cocoon. Carefully, Revell stepped between the bodies to go and help her.
‘It is done.’ With a last effort Andrea sealed the body into its crinkling shroud before Revell reached her. ‘He is the first, others will follow. I think that one is next.’
Revell followed her pointing finger to where a scrap of white cloth blended imperceptibly into the deadly pallor of a face it didn’t entirely cover. ‘I don’t know how he’s lasted this long. He lost a lot of blood when his arm was taken off. I’ll have the body moved as soon as the men have finished shifting the generator.’ There were other matters Revell wanted to talk about with her, but in the darkness he couldn’t be sure all of the casualties were sleeping.
He’d never managed to be alone with her for more than a few moments. Not that he’d ever been really conscious of her manipulating it that way, but on reflection he felt sure that she had. Never very communicative, she immediately stiffened and backed away from contact with any man she sensed showing an interest in her. With her looks, that kept her perpetually on her guard. The skills she displayed at holding men at a distance, and generally taking care of herself, were considerable; the way she managed Dooley was ample proof. Revell couldn’t tell whether the big man got anything from the relationship, other than having, and enjoying, the prestige of having her near. Several savage slap-downs he’d received in public suggested there was less than truth in many, perhaps all, of his private boasts.
Damn it, Revell had never felt so protective towards any woman, not since the early days of his marriage to the bitch, and that had soon been beaten out of him by spite and neglect and contempt. And now he had this irrational urge to take Andrea under his wing, a woman more able to take care of herself than any other he’d ever known. It was stupid, irrational, when he’d made up his mind to treat her no differently from any of the men. And it was dangerous as well. Dangerous because his preoccupation with her could affect the efficient running of the unit, because it could cost some or all of them their lives unless he could come to terms with it.
From where it lay on top of a pile of rags, Andrea picked up her scarred and chipped M16. The fat tube of the grenade-launcher below the barrel gave it a clumsy and ill-balanced look. ‘When do I use this? I am not a nurse, this is not where I belong.’
‘Perhaps you won’t need to. If the mission goes according to plan then we do the job and get out without firing anything but the heavy artillery. Command won’t be too happy if we start a big fire-fight with Swedish patrols. Why do you think they sent such a small escort group, with so few support weapons? It’s so that if we do start trouble we can’t cause too much of it.’
‘The West does not deserve to win this war.’ Andrea turned to the window, and stared out. ‘They expect their soldiers to die, but do not want them to win.’
‘That about says it.’ Revell moved to stand beside her. He liked her clipped German accent. Her manner was sharp, he could visualise an affair with her being very one-sided. She would dominate any man, he imagined her being very strict, very severe ... No, he backed away from the thought. That was a speculative road he didn’t like
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