Read Online Harkaway's Sixth Column by John Harris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Harris
Tags: Fiction
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weapon in the cab.’
‘Two then, sir. But if a serious attempt were made on it, two men would hardly be enough.’
Guidotti frowned. ‘Very well then,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s have it accompanied by a second vehicle. Or have Jijiga send the lorry through every two days so they can travel in twos.’
‘Sir, General Forsci claims he hasn’t sufficient transport for that. I’ve already discussed it with his transport officer. It’s one lorry or nothing. It makes the journey here in the evening, unloads during darkness and returns in the early morning so that General Forsci has its use during the day.’
‘General Forsci is a narrow-minded -’ Guidotti stopped and smiled, remembering General Forsci was his superior in rank. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Then we’d better send something to Jijiga in the late afternoon which can return with the lorry in the evening and be available for our use during the following day. If General Forsci can do this, so can we!’
‘Sir, we have only one spare vehicle. A car. A Lancia. And at the moment that has a broken spring.’
Guidotti was growing angry. ‘Very well, then,’ he snapped. ‘As soon as the spring is repaired, send it to General Forsci to accompany our lorryload of petrol. Until then, we shall just have to take a chance. Perhaps this skirmish that worries you so much was nothing, anyway. We’ve seen no sign of enmity from the natives. The war’s over. The land’s at peace. There’s no more resistance.’
In that, however, he was dead wrong.
The need for petrol was growing urgent. Without it, they couldn’t move and they’d been prodigal in its use since they’d arrived at Shimber Addi. Nobody liked walking in the heat and they’d used the truck to collect water and meat, even for Tully and Gooch to visit the girls Yussuf had found for them. With Yussuf still hostile, they needed it more than ever.
Something had to be done and, since they’d already discovered that petrol went regularly from Jijiga to Bidiyu, they decided to find out exactly when. It was a risk they had to take if they were to survive.
Driving Tully and Harkaway to a spot near the main road before first light, Grobelaar dropped them and headed back to Eil Dif.
‘We’ll be here a week from now, Kom-Kom,’ Harkaway said as the lorry started to move. ‘And keep an eye on that stupid bastard, Gooch.’
As the lorry rattled off, they began to climb into the hills that overlooked Guidotti’s Strada del Duce. By afternoon, they were staring down at the Wirir Gorge, a slit in the red rocks where the road started to drop down to Bidiyu. Italian working parties had cleared the fallen rocks that had always plagued the road, a neat stone edge had been built and a concrete marker post had been erected.
‘Make a nice job of ‘em, don’t they?’ Tully said. ‘Roman eagle and the usual firewood and chopper.’
They found a niche in the rocks and erected a tarpaulin. It was cold enough at night to make them shiver as they huddled together to sleep, but there were stunted trees with which to make fires. They were always glad to see the sun next morning, however - just as they were glad to see it disappear after a whole day of its blazing heat watching the road.
Occasional camel trains plodded through the gorge, the cries of the drivers - ‘Ei! Ei! Huh-hu-hu-hu!’ -- drifting up to the watching men like the barking of the baboons they occasionally saw. For the most part, the Italian lorries from Jijiga or Berbera travelled in small convoys, guarded by soldiers, and once they saw a car roar past containing four men in different uniforms.
‘Germans,’ Tully said. ‘One of the buggers is wearing an iron cross.’
Harkaway nodded. ‘Watson said there were a few liaison officers with ‘em,’ he agreed.
The week dragged. His face coated with the dust which stuck to the sweat, Harkaway frowned as an Italian convoy roared past.
‘We can’t tackle that many,’ he said.
Then
‘Two then, sir. But if a serious attempt were made on it, two men would hardly be enough.’
Guidotti frowned. ‘Very well then,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s have it accompanied by a second vehicle. Or have Jijiga send the lorry through every two days so they can travel in twos.’
‘Sir, General Forsci claims he hasn’t sufficient transport for that. I’ve already discussed it with his transport officer. It’s one lorry or nothing. It makes the journey here in the evening, unloads during darkness and returns in the early morning so that General Forsci has its use during the day.’
‘General Forsci is a narrow-minded -’ Guidotti stopped and smiled, remembering General Forsci was his superior in rank. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Then we’d better send something to Jijiga in the late afternoon which can return with the lorry in the evening and be available for our use during the following day. If General Forsci can do this, so can we!’
‘Sir, we have only one spare vehicle. A car. A Lancia. And at the moment that has a broken spring.’
Guidotti was growing angry. ‘Very well, then,’ he snapped. ‘As soon as the spring is repaired, send it to General Forsci to accompany our lorryload of petrol. Until then, we shall just have to take a chance. Perhaps this skirmish that worries you so much was nothing, anyway. We’ve seen no sign of enmity from the natives. The war’s over. The land’s at peace. There’s no more resistance.’
In that, however, he was dead wrong.
The need for petrol was growing urgent. Without it, they couldn’t move and they’d been prodigal in its use since they’d arrived at Shimber Addi. Nobody liked walking in the heat and they’d used the truck to collect water and meat, even for Tully and Gooch to visit the girls Yussuf had found for them. With Yussuf still hostile, they needed it more than ever.
Something had to be done and, since they’d already discovered that petrol went regularly from Jijiga to Bidiyu, they decided to find out exactly when. It was a risk they had to take if they were to survive.
Driving Tully and Harkaway to a spot near the main road before first light, Grobelaar dropped them and headed back to Eil Dif.
‘We’ll be here a week from now, Kom-Kom,’ Harkaway said as the lorry started to move. ‘And keep an eye on that stupid bastard, Gooch.’
As the lorry rattled off, they began to climb into the hills that overlooked Guidotti’s Strada del Duce. By afternoon, they were staring down at the Wirir Gorge, a slit in the red rocks where the road started to drop down to Bidiyu. Italian working parties had cleared the fallen rocks that had always plagued the road, a neat stone edge had been built and a concrete marker post had been erected.
‘Make a nice job of ‘em, don’t they?’ Tully said. ‘Roman eagle and the usual firewood and chopper.’
They found a niche in the rocks and erected a tarpaulin. It was cold enough at night to make them shiver as they huddled together to sleep, but there were stunted trees with which to make fires. They were always glad to see the sun next morning, however - just as they were glad to see it disappear after a whole day of its blazing heat watching the road.
Occasional camel trains plodded through the gorge, the cries of the drivers - ‘Ei! Ei! Huh-hu-hu-hu!’ -- drifting up to the watching men like the barking of the baboons they occasionally saw. For the most part, the Italian lorries from Jijiga or Berbera travelled in small convoys, guarded by soldiers, and once they saw a car roar past containing four men in different uniforms.
‘Germans,’ Tully said. ‘One of the buggers is wearing an iron cross.’
Harkaway nodded. ‘Watson said there were a few liaison officers with ‘em,’ he agreed.
The week dragged. His face coated with the dust which stuck to the sweat, Harkaway frowned as an Italian convoy roared past.
‘We can’t tackle that many,’ he said.
Then
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