Read Online A Good Clean Fight by Derek Robinson - Free Book Online

reason for using the Storch; he just wanted to create the impression of activity by flying hither and yon, seeking out his patrols one after another. That was not what he said. What he said was that he needed the plane so he could effectively liaise with and integrate the units carrying out his clean-up operation in the Jebel. The Storch would give him an essential overview of this. “I’ve got to have it,” Jakowski said. His shirt was black with sweat.
    â€œWrong place,” Schramm said. He was in a wheelchair. “The British raiding party is not in the Jebel. Not any more.”
    By now the pilot of the Storch had arrived. “You want an overview of the Jebel?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” Jakowski said.
    â€œWell, you won’t get it from this box of bits. She hasn’t got the ceiling. I flew her yesterday. She’s tired out, she needs a new engine. And look at this.” He took hold of an aileron and worked it up and down. “Soft as shit,” he said.
    â€œHow can I do my job without proper support?” Jakowski demanded, but the steam had gone out of him.
    â€œShe’ll fly, won’t she?” Hoffmann asked the pilot. Theman shrugged, but he didn’t say no. “Fly her today and we’ll service her tomorrow,” Hoffmann said.
    â€œYou’re absolutely sure there are no British in the Jebel?” Jakowski asked Schramm.
    â€œI didn’t say that. The men who came here two nights ago have left the Jebel, I’m sure. But there may be others.”
    Jakowski took off his cap and slashed at the flies. “This isn’t war,” he said. “They didn’t teach us anything about this at Staff College.”
    Four medics lifted Schramm out of the wheelchair and hoisted him into the cockpit. They packed cushions around his bandaged feet and fastened his straps. While the engine was warming up he showed the pilot where to go. The pilot folded the map and stuffed it down the side of his boot. “It’s none of my business,” he said, “but if you’re so sure you know where these Commandos are going, isn’t it possible they know you know, in which case they won’t go there?”
    â€œNot Commandos.” Schramm yawned. “SAS.” For the first time since he had escaped, his body was allowing itself to relax completely. “They think that because I know that they know that I know what they intend to do, then I’ll think they’ll change their plans. That would be the obvious thing to do, which is why I’m sure they won’t do it.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Schramm’s sleepy brain struggled to explain why not, and eventually succeeded. “Because,” he said, “it would be pointless for us both to do something different.” Now that he heard his explanation it seemed not quite right, but he couldn’t spot the fault. “Too confusing,” he said, and yawned.
    â€œYou know best,” the pilot said. “But if you think we’ll see much of anything in the desert at midday, you’d better think again.” He tested the engine until the Storch shuddered against its brakes, and then he let the revs fall to a grumble. “I’m told they built this thing out of whatsurvived from three wrecks,” he said. “Sometimes she feels as if perhaps they lost a few bits. But you’re not interested in that sort of technical detail, are you? No. We might as well leave before one of you has a small heart attack.”
    The Storch groaned and stumbled up to three thousand feet, hitting thermals that felt like hump-backed bridges. But once they were above the Jebel the air became cooler and smoother. The cockpit canopy had a canvas screen that kept the sun out; with the cabin ventilation wide open it was really quite pleasant. Schramm let his head rest against the side window and looked down on the landscape he had so painfully limped across: dusty green