Read Online The Levant Trilogy by Olivia Manning - Free Book Online
Authors: Olivia Manning
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the other on the other side of the road.
Transports
carried tanks that had lost their treads. Trucks towed broken-down aircraft or
other trucks. Troop carriers were piled with men who slept, one on top of the
other, a sleep of exhaustion. Guns, RAF wagons, recovery vehicles, armoured
cars, loads of Naafi stores and equipment, went past, mile after mile of them,
their yellow paint coated with sand, all unsteady, all, it seemed, on the point
of collapse. As they moved nose to tail, they gave an impression of scrapyard
confusion yet somehow maintained a semblance of order.
A staff car. that
had pulled on to the wrong side of the road, brought the convoy to a halt.
Major Hardy, striding towards it, shouted, 'What's going on? Is the whole
damned army in retreat?'
Another major looked
out of the disabled car, his face creased with weariness, and shouted back,
'No, it damn well isn't. The line's holding a few miles up the road. The Aussie
9th Division is rumoured to be on its way - and it better be. They're a mixed
bunch back there: 8th Army, Kiwis, South Africans, a few Indians. How long they
can hold out is anybody's guess.'
'But where's this
lot going?'
'Ordered to
prepare defences further east.'
'Where? The back
gardens of Abou Kir?'
'Likely enough,'
the major wiped the sweat from his face and gave a grin. 'We'll fight on the
beaches.'
This convoy's to
report to 7th Motor Brigade. Any idea where that is?'
'Search me. Could
be anywhere. It's hell and plain bloody murder where we came from.'
The obstructing
car was pushed off the road to await a mechanic and the convoy went on, moving
westward when it seemed that everything else in the world was going east. The
breakdowns become more frequent. Every few hundred yards there was a halt and
men were sent to push some vehicle away while Major Hardy questioned anyone he
could find to question. He became more flustered, finding no one who knew or
cared where the convoy might find its divisional headquarters. He shouted at
Simon, 'Don't dog my heels, Boulderstone. Get a move on or we'll have another
night on the road.'
They made what
progress they could. Structures appeared beside the road, temporary and flimsy
but suggesting that at last, among the muddle of wire and piled up stones, the
tired newcomers might find their destination. Some sappers were at work on a
crack in the tarmac and Simon, seeing them before Hardy had a chance to get to
them, ran to make the usual inquiries. From their manner, he was
uncertain whether they were telling him the truth or not. One sapper said, 'The
Auk's down the road. Been standing there all day without his hat, just watching
this ruddy circus go by. He'll tell you where to go.'
Simon doubted
that but asked, 'What does be look like?' The Auk? Great man, ruddy hero. Big.
Big chap. You can't miss 'im.'
The sappers,
still laughing, stood back to let the convoy bump its way across the broken
surface and drive on towards a red blur where the sun was beginning to set. The
booming that had disturbed Simon the night before, now started again; a much
more ponderous sound. Stars of red and green were rising into the sunset and
Simon asked Arnold: 'Is that the front line?'
'No, the front's
a good ten miles on.' They drove another mile. 'Think we'd better get down,
sir?'
It was time to
leaguer. The men sprang from the trucks, shaking the cramp from their legs,
cheerfully congratulating each other as though they had reached home. The
westbound traffic had been stopped by its own congestion and the dust had begun
to settle. The air cleared but there was not much to see; only a vast plain,
crimsoned by sunset, from which two columns of smoke, black as soot, rose into
the blood-red brilliance of the sky.
Two
At eight a.m., the
hour when the Egyptian sun exploded in at the edges of shutters and curtains,
Harriet Pringle heard an uproar outside her bedroom door. The noise was only
one woman's voice - the voice of Madame Wilk, the
Transports
carried tanks that had lost their treads. Trucks towed broken-down aircraft or
other trucks. Troop carriers were piled with men who slept, one on top of the
other, a sleep of exhaustion. Guns, RAF wagons, recovery vehicles, armoured
cars, loads of Naafi stores and equipment, went past, mile after mile of them,
their yellow paint coated with sand, all unsteady, all, it seemed, on the point
of collapse. As they moved nose to tail, they gave an impression of scrapyard
confusion yet somehow maintained a semblance of order.
A staff car. that
had pulled on to the wrong side of the road, brought the convoy to a halt.
Major Hardy, striding towards it, shouted, 'What's going on? Is the whole
damned army in retreat?'
Another major looked
out of the disabled car, his face creased with weariness, and shouted back,
'No, it damn well isn't. The line's holding a few miles up the road. The Aussie
9th Division is rumoured to be on its way - and it better be. They're a mixed
bunch back there: 8th Army, Kiwis, South Africans, a few Indians. How long they
can hold out is anybody's guess.'
'But where's this
lot going?'
'Ordered to
prepare defences further east.'
'Where? The back
gardens of Abou Kir?'
'Likely enough,'
the major wiped the sweat from his face and gave a grin. 'We'll fight on the
beaches.'
This convoy's to
report to 7th Motor Brigade. Any idea where that is?'
'Search me. Could
be anywhere. It's hell and plain bloody murder where we came from.'
The obstructing
car was pushed off the road to await a mechanic and the convoy went on, moving
westward when it seemed that everything else in the world was going east. The
breakdowns become more frequent. Every few hundred yards there was a halt and
men were sent to push some vehicle away while Major Hardy questioned anyone he
could find to question. He became more flustered, finding no one who knew or
cared where the convoy might find its divisional headquarters. He shouted at
Simon, 'Don't dog my heels, Boulderstone. Get a move on or we'll have another
night on the road.'
They made what
progress they could. Structures appeared beside the road, temporary and flimsy
but suggesting that at last, among the muddle of wire and piled up stones, the
tired newcomers might find their destination. Some sappers were at work on a
crack in the tarmac and Simon, seeing them before Hardy had a chance to get to
them, ran to make the usual inquiries. From their manner, he was
uncertain whether they were telling him the truth or not. One sapper said, 'The
Auk's down the road. Been standing there all day without his hat, just watching
this ruddy circus go by. He'll tell you where to go.'
Simon doubted
that but asked, 'What does be look like?' The Auk? Great man, ruddy hero. Big.
Big chap. You can't miss 'im.'
The sappers,
still laughing, stood back to let the convoy bump its way across the broken
surface and drive on towards a red blur where the sun was beginning to set. The
booming that had disturbed Simon the night before, now started again; a much
more ponderous sound. Stars of red and green were rising into the sunset and
Simon asked Arnold: 'Is that the front line?'
'No, the front's
a good ten miles on.' They drove another mile. 'Think we'd better get down,
sir?'
It was time to
leaguer. The men sprang from the trucks, shaking the cramp from their legs,
cheerfully congratulating each other as though they had reached home. The
westbound traffic had been stopped by its own congestion and the dust had begun
to settle. The air cleared but there was not much to see; only a vast plain,
crimsoned by sunset, from which two columns of smoke, black as soot, rose into
the blood-red brilliance of the sky.
Two
At eight a.m., the
hour when the Egyptian sun exploded in at the edges of shutters and curtains,
Harriet Pringle heard an uproar outside her bedroom door. The noise was only
one woman's voice - the voice of Madame Wilk, the
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