Read Online Knife Edge (2004) by Douglas Reeman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Douglas Reeman
Tags: Navel/Fiction
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been as young then as some of the marines around him now.
So where do I stand?
He screwed up his eyes and opened them again very slowly.
It was still no lighter. Or was it?
He tried to imagine what it would look like. Bare rock, and some narrow crevasses, a central spread of water, hardly worthy of the name of anchorage, and several channels that led eventually to the open sea. As if the island had once been one great boulder which had dropped from heaven and splintered into pieces.
The channels were deep enough for small craft in favourable conditions.
Taunton
’s skipper had said, “If the time and tide were wrong, you could wade across some of those without getting your knees wet!”
Taunton
drew six clear feet of water. He would be very aware of that.
He felt his stomach rumble. He had been too tense to eat any of the huge meal the galley had provided.
“All in position, sir.” A whisper, but he might haveshouted it. Ross saw the gleam of teeth in the camouflaged face. One of the two corporals.
“Thanks, Laker. Still quiet everywhere.”
The corporal wriggled closer, one hand protecting his submachine-gun from the ground and its loose pebbles. They had all waded ashore with every strap, buckle and clip firmly taped to prevent any unnecessary sound or accidental shot.
“Cap’n Irwin’s on a little recce with Sarn’t Boyes.” He chuckled. “Rather them than me, sir!”
All those drills and exercises. Backing up the police and dodging bricks. And seeing some one die to no good purpose.
But these men, who will look to me, will have to face far worse.
He imagined he could feel the wound on his back. But it was nothing.
I was lucky. Next time . . .
Another voice from the past. An old W.O.2 instructor somewhere.
“In this mob, Mister Blackwood, we don’t rely on luck. It’s skill wot saves yer bacon!”
“’Ere comes your dawn, sir!”
He reached out and touched the corporal’s arm, but did not see his surprise.
“So be it, then!”
Sergeant Steve Blackwood eased his back against a slab of rock and arranged a pack between his legs where he could reach it without changing his position. The rock was surprisingly smooth, as if it had been hand-made. Wind and weather: it must have lain here for generations.
The sky was still overcast, but within hours this island would be like a furnace. Nothing seemed to grow here, hethought; no wonder it was avoided. It was getting lighter, and he imagined he could see one of the channels which had been marked on the map and described by a ship’s officer at the conference. Out there, like something black and solid, was the sea. Amongst the fallen rocks you couldn’t even hear it. But it never left you. Instinct, experience, call it what you like. It was there.
He heard a clink of metal, probably somebody taking a sip from his water flask, despite all the warnings. There was always one. When the sun came up, he’d know all about it.
It might all be a waste of time and effort. He had known a few setbacks in his time. Then it came, when you were least expecting it.
Three officers, two sergeants, two corporals and some ten marines. All different; only the uniform was the same. The injured man in
Taunton
’s sick bay was no doubt looking forward to another gargantuan breakfast in comfort. But he would not be allowed to forget it.
He touched his pocket and tried to feel the badge, which he had wrapped in a handkerchief. He should have left it on board for safekeeping.
Then he thought,
if anything happened, who’d care anyway?
He remembered the moment exactly. The badge on the desk, in the cabin with the cracked wedding picture. His feelings: cheated, betrayed, humiliated, it was none of them. Like the photograph some one had neglected to remove from its silver frame prior to the auction at Hawks Hill.
He peered at his hand, upturned on the pack. He could see the shape of it, the grit and blood left there when he had thrown himself from the boat.
So where do I stand?
He screwed up his eyes and opened them again very slowly.
It was still no lighter. Or was it?
He tried to imagine what it would look like. Bare rock, and some narrow crevasses, a central spread of water, hardly worthy of the name of anchorage, and several channels that led eventually to the open sea. As if the island had once been one great boulder which had dropped from heaven and splintered into pieces.
The channels were deep enough for small craft in favourable conditions.
Taunton
’s skipper had said, “If the time and tide were wrong, you could wade across some of those without getting your knees wet!”
Taunton
drew six clear feet of water. He would be very aware of that.
He felt his stomach rumble. He had been too tense to eat any of the huge meal the galley had provided.
“All in position, sir.” A whisper, but he might haveshouted it. Ross saw the gleam of teeth in the camouflaged face. One of the two corporals.
“Thanks, Laker. Still quiet everywhere.”
The corporal wriggled closer, one hand protecting his submachine-gun from the ground and its loose pebbles. They had all waded ashore with every strap, buckle and clip firmly taped to prevent any unnecessary sound or accidental shot.
“Cap’n Irwin’s on a little recce with Sarn’t Boyes.” He chuckled. “Rather them than me, sir!”
All those drills and exercises. Backing up the police and dodging bricks. And seeing some one die to no good purpose.
But these men, who will look to me, will have to face far worse.
He imagined he could feel the wound on his back. But it was nothing.
I was lucky. Next time . . .
Another voice from the past. An old W.O.2 instructor somewhere.
“In this mob, Mister Blackwood, we don’t rely on luck. It’s skill wot saves yer bacon!”
“’Ere comes your dawn, sir!”
He reached out and touched the corporal’s arm, but did not see his surprise.
“So be it, then!”
Sergeant Steve Blackwood eased his back against a slab of rock and arranged a pack between his legs where he could reach it without changing his position. The rock was surprisingly smooth, as if it had been hand-made. Wind and weather: it must have lain here for generations.
The sky was still overcast, but within hours this island would be like a furnace. Nothing seemed to grow here, hethought; no wonder it was avoided. It was getting lighter, and he imagined he could see one of the channels which had been marked on the map and described by a ship’s officer at the conference. Out there, like something black and solid, was the sea. Amongst the fallen rocks you couldn’t even hear it. But it never left you. Instinct, experience, call it what you like. It was there.
He heard a clink of metal, probably somebody taking a sip from his water flask, despite all the warnings. There was always one. When the sun came up, he’d know all about it.
It might all be a waste of time and effort. He had known a few setbacks in his time. Then it came, when you were least expecting it.
Three officers, two sergeants, two corporals and some ten marines. All different; only the uniform was the same. The injured man in
Taunton
’s sick bay was no doubt looking forward to another gargantuan breakfast in comfort. But he would not be allowed to forget it.
He touched his pocket and tried to feel the badge, which he had wrapped in a handkerchief. He should have left it on board for safekeeping.
Then he thought,
if anything happened, who’d care anyway?
He remembered the moment exactly. The badge on the desk, in the cabin with the cracked wedding picture. His feelings: cheated, betrayed, humiliated, it was none of them. Like the photograph some one had neglected to remove from its silver frame prior to the auction at Hawks Hill.
He peered at his hand, upturned on the pack. He could see the shape of it, the grit and blood left there when he had thrown himself from the boat.
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