Read Online Project - 16 by Martyn J. Pass - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Martyn J. Pass
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you sleep on then?”
“ A hammock.” I stepped out into the daylight and slung my pack
over my shoulder. It was cool despite the sun and the line for
breakfast wasn't too long today. I joined it, reaching the orange
juice urn and filling a cup with it. Riley followed, still chewing
her toast and sipping her black coffee.
“ There ain't none,” she said.
“ No what?”
“ Tea, man. Don't you Brits drink tea?”
“ Not all of us,” I replied, looking for the percolator. I
couldn't find one and I realised they were dishing out spoonfuls of
instant instead. I grimaced.
“ Really?”
“ Really.”
The cook behind the grill wasn't the guy from last night and
he gave me a surly glance as he asked me what I wanted. Americans
could do a mean steak but when it came to bacon they seemed to have
dropped the ball. He loaded my plate with thin, streaky rashers of
the stuff - not like the kind I sometimes had at home where the
cuts were as thick as I wanted them to be. He slapped a spoonful of
reconstituted scrambled eggs on one side and a stack of pancakes on
the other, then ushered me onwards.
“ What time did the Colonel want to see us?” I asked, sitting
down.
“ Nine,” she replied. She took the seat next to me and sat
nursing her coffee, fidgeting and constantly turning the cup
clockwise with her fingertips. I suddenly longed for those quiet
moments in the hammock as the sun rose and I put a pot of water on
the stove to boil, listening to the birds high up in the trees
overhead. Quiet moments of peace and a sort of timeless zone where
life made complete sense and you realised that man should never
have left the embrace of the woods and rivers of his ancestral
youth.
“ Fucking cold here, man,” said Riley, pulling the hood of her
jumper up over her woolly hat until it almost covered her eyes.
“I'm freezing my tits off.”
“ Where did you think you were going when the plane took off?”
I asked, my patience suddenly aware of its anorexia.
“ I thought it would be... warmer, maybe a bit wetter. Nobody
mentioned how cold it would be. What is it? About minus 4 or
something?”
“ More like 8 degrees c,” I replied, biting into a rubbery
pancake. It went well with the rubbery bacon that I could use to
resole my boots. Riley was looking at my plate the way a starving
dog might and I shoved it across to her. She took my fork and began
shovelling the stuff into her mouth.
“ You not hungry?” she asked as bits of egg were flung from her
lips across the table.
“ Nah,” I said. “Enjoy.”
I drank my coffee and watched the military engine gear up
into life. There was a lot more order amongst the chaos than there
had been last night and now the prefab buildings were starting to
come apart to be loaded onto flat bed wagons. Cranes were being
driven into position and the steady droning noise of helicopter
rotors could be heard a little way off behind me. Between the
shouted orders and the rhythmic humming of machinery I could hear
Riley's jaw working the bacon and the screech of the fork as it
scraped across the plate. She'd cleared it in a few minutes and I
still had the foul instant coffee left in my cup. She belched under
her breath and patted her flat stomach with a grin.
“ Ready to rock and roll,” she said, getting up. “We'd better
get this show on the road, eh Miller?”
The Colonel was in his office and it didn't look like he'd
left it. There was a dark shadow across his jaw and the mountain of
paper work he'd been ploughing through seemed to have grown. He
gestured to the chairs and carried on scribbling across the pages
with his Biro. I made straight for his coffee machine and tipped
the remains of the instant into his bin before filling it again
with freshly ground goodness.
“ You sleep okay, Miller?” he asked without looking
up.
“ Yes thanks,” I lied. I went in the drawer and found the
biscuits, took two and handed three to Riley along with a cup of
coffee.
“ And you
“ A hammock.” I stepped out into the daylight and slung my pack
over my shoulder. It was cool despite the sun and the line for
breakfast wasn't too long today. I joined it, reaching the orange
juice urn and filling a cup with it. Riley followed, still chewing
her toast and sipping her black coffee.
“ There ain't none,” she said.
“ No what?”
“ Tea, man. Don't you Brits drink tea?”
“ Not all of us,” I replied, looking for the percolator. I
couldn't find one and I realised they were dishing out spoonfuls of
instant instead. I grimaced.
“ Really?”
“ Really.”
The cook behind the grill wasn't the guy from last night and
he gave me a surly glance as he asked me what I wanted. Americans
could do a mean steak but when it came to bacon they seemed to have
dropped the ball. He loaded my plate with thin, streaky rashers of
the stuff - not like the kind I sometimes had at home where the
cuts were as thick as I wanted them to be. He slapped a spoonful of
reconstituted scrambled eggs on one side and a stack of pancakes on
the other, then ushered me onwards.
“ What time did the Colonel want to see us?” I asked, sitting
down.
“ Nine,” she replied. She took the seat next to me and sat
nursing her coffee, fidgeting and constantly turning the cup
clockwise with her fingertips. I suddenly longed for those quiet
moments in the hammock as the sun rose and I put a pot of water on
the stove to boil, listening to the birds high up in the trees
overhead. Quiet moments of peace and a sort of timeless zone where
life made complete sense and you realised that man should never
have left the embrace of the woods and rivers of his ancestral
youth.
“ Fucking cold here, man,” said Riley, pulling the hood of her
jumper up over her woolly hat until it almost covered her eyes.
“I'm freezing my tits off.”
“ Where did you think you were going when the plane took off?”
I asked, my patience suddenly aware of its anorexia.
“ I thought it would be... warmer, maybe a bit wetter. Nobody
mentioned how cold it would be. What is it? About minus 4 or
something?”
“ More like 8 degrees c,” I replied, biting into a rubbery
pancake. It went well with the rubbery bacon that I could use to
resole my boots. Riley was looking at my plate the way a starving
dog might and I shoved it across to her. She took my fork and began
shovelling the stuff into her mouth.
“ You not hungry?” she asked as bits of egg were flung from her
lips across the table.
“ Nah,” I said. “Enjoy.”
I drank my coffee and watched the military engine gear up
into life. There was a lot more order amongst the chaos than there
had been last night and now the prefab buildings were starting to
come apart to be loaded onto flat bed wagons. Cranes were being
driven into position and the steady droning noise of helicopter
rotors could be heard a little way off behind me. Between the
shouted orders and the rhythmic humming of machinery I could hear
Riley's jaw working the bacon and the screech of the fork as it
scraped across the plate. She'd cleared it in a few minutes and I
still had the foul instant coffee left in my cup. She belched under
her breath and patted her flat stomach with a grin.
“ Ready to rock and roll,” she said, getting up. “We'd better
get this show on the road, eh Miller?”
The Colonel was in his office and it didn't look like he'd
left it. There was a dark shadow across his jaw and the mountain of
paper work he'd been ploughing through seemed to have grown. He
gestured to the chairs and carried on scribbling across the pages
with his Biro. I made straight for his coffee machine and tipped
the remains of the instant into his bin before filling it again
with freshly ground goodness.
“ You sleep okay, Miller?” he asked without looking
up.
“ Yes thanks,” I lied. I went in the drawer and found the
biscuits, took two and handed three to Riley along with a cup of
coffee.
“ And you
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