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Authors: Gerald Seymour
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fifty-plus years old. He’s an enthusiast.’
‘A bloody anorak? Like one of those idiots on a platform writing down train numbers?’
Willet said evenly, ‘He shoots very straight. He wins prizes for hitting targets at a range of up to a thousand yards.’
‘It’s one thing to hit targets. What about killing people?’
‘I found nothing to indicate that he has the slightest interest in the military situation in—’
‘So what the hell’s he doing there?’
‘She said the letter was passed on by his grandfather. Ask him.’
‘Can’t today. Health and Safety says we’re entitled to a full day off after a night call-out. I’ve a lieu day tomorrow. Have to be the day after.’
‘I thought it was urgent.’
‘We do have entitlements. Doesn’t the army?’
‘Do you mind if I have a cigarette?’ Willet was reaching into his jacket pocket for the packet and his lighter.
‘It’s Service policy that no cigarettes, cigars or pipes are to be used in our vehicles.’
Willet said brightly, ‘Aren’t we lucky? Where he is, stomping through northern Iraq, passive smoking would seem low down on the problem list.’
It was a cheap point. He should have, but hadn’t, apologized. He wanted, rather desperately, to know more of a man who had packed up his life and gone without training and without military background to fight in someone else’s war.
‘I’d like, Ms Manning, to be with you on this one and follow it through. I’d like to learn about him.’
Her eyes never left the road. She asked brutally, ‘How long do you give him?’
‘Not long. Sorry, not long at all, but he’d be an idiot not to know that. If he’s gone to fight, front line, as a sniper, alongside irregulars, against a trained modern army, then he won’t survive. No chance at all.’
Chapter Three
‘I have to leave you, Mr Peake,’ the voice whispered in his ear.
Gus had not been thinking of Meg, or of the office at Davies & Sons, or of his parents and the old wing commander (retired) who was his grandfather, and he had not been thinking of the Stickledown crew. They were all erased from his mind, as if a new life had replaced them.
He did not care whether Meg had slept that last night in bed at her home or whether she had been in his bed. He did not consider that his parents might have tossed through the last night, and those of the weeks before, in anxiety for his safety, or that they held his grandfather responsible for his going.
‘You have what you need, Mr Peake. You know what you will do?’
His view, through the fine netting over his face, stretched away from the rocky outcrop where he lay with Haquim across a slope of yellowed grass in which were set clumps of bright flowers, mauve, white and blue. There was then a ridge where the wind had eroded the soil and exposed more of the grey stone, then a valley gorge from which he could hear the tumble of a stream, then the further slope of the valley, pocked with more outcrops and more flower clusters. The sun was behind him, and intruding against the gentle blue of the sky was a single military pennant. Gus had a moment of doubt.
‘What if he doesn’t come?’
Gus could see a clean-cut low slit in the forward bunker’s facing wall of pale grey concrete, and further back was a similar shape over which the pennant flew. Between the forward bunker and the pennant was a narrow column of smoke, drifting haphazardly, but the pennant gave Gus an indication of the wind strength at what would be the end of the bullet’s flight, if he had a target to aim for. When his eye was off the sight, he watched the colours of the flowers and the movement of grass tufts, because the sway of the petals and the waft of the grass stems told him what would be the deflection of the bullet when it left the barrel at 2,970 feet per second, at 2,640 revolutions per second, if he had a target.
‘I know the way of officers. Each morning, however junior, if he has responsibility, he will
‘A bloody anorak? Like one of those idiots on a platform writing down train numbers?’
Willet said evenly, ‘He shoots very straight. He wins prizes for hitting targets at a range of up to a thousand yards.’
‘It’s one thing to hit targets. What about killing people?’
‘I found nothing to indicate that he has the slightest interest in the military situation in—’
‘So what the hell’s he doing there?’
‘She said the letter was passed on by his grandfather. Ask him.’
‘Can’t today. Health and Safety says we’re entitled to a full day off after a night call-out. I’ve a lieu day tomorrow. Have to be the day after.’
‘I thought it was urgent.’
‘We do have entitlements. Doesn’t the army?’
‘Do you mind if I have a cigarette?’ Willet was reaching into his jacket pocket for the packet and his lighter.
‘It’s Service policy that no cigarettes, cigars or pipes are to be used in our vehicles.’
Willet said brightly, ‘Aren’t we lucky? Where he is, stomping through northern Iraq, passive smoking would seem low down on the problem list.’
It was a cheap point. He should have, but hadn’t, apologized. He wanted, rather desperately, to know more of a man who had packed up his life and gone without training and without military background to fight in someone else’s war.
‘I’d like, Ms Manning, to be with you on this one and follow it through. I’d like to learn about him.’
Her eyes never left the road. She asked brutally, ‘How long do you give him?’
‘Not long. Sorry, not long at all, but he’d be an idiot not to know that. If he’s gone to fight, front line, as a sniper, alongside irregulars, against a trained modern army, then he won’t survive. No chance at all.’
Chapter Three
‘I have to leave you, Mr Peake,’ the voice whispered in his ear.
Gus had not been thinking of Meg, or of the office at Davies & Sons, or of his parents and the old wing commander (retired) who was his grandfather, and he had not been thinking of the Stickledown crew. They were all erased from his mind, as if a new life had replaced them.
He did not care whether Meg had slept that last night in bed at her home or whether she had been in his bed. He did not consider that his parents might have tossed through the last night, and those of the weeks before, in anxiety for his safety, or that they held his grandfather responsible for his going.
‘You have what you need, Mr Peake. You know what you will do?’
His view, through the fine netting over his face, stretched away from the rocky outcrop where he lay with Haquim across a slope of yellowed grass in which were set clumps of bright flowers, mauve, white and blue. There was then a ridge where the wind had eroded the soil and exposed more of the grey stone, then a valley gorge from which he could hear the tumble of a stream, then the further slope of the valley, pocked with more outcrops and more flower clusters. The sun was behind him, and intruding against the gentle blue of the sky was a single military pennant. Gus had a moment of doubt.
‘What if he doesn’t come?’
Gus could see a clean-cut low slit in the forward bunker’s facing wall of pale grey concrete, and further back was a similar shape over which the pennant flew. Between the forward bunker and the pennant was a narrow column of smoke, drifting haphazardly, but the pennant gave Gus an indication of the wind strength at what would be the end of the bullet’s flight, if he had a target to aim for. When his eye was off the sight, he watched the colours of the flowers and the movement of grass tufts, because the sway of the petals and the waft of the grass stems told him what would be the deflection of the bullet when it left the barrel at 2,970 feet per second, at 2,640 revolutions per second, if he had a target.
‘I know the way of officers. Each morning, however junior, if he has responsibility, he will
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