"Andy McNab - Bravo-Two-Zero" - читать интересную книгу автора (McNab Andy)

"We've got a task for you," he said, handing us a mug each of tea.
"You'll be working together. Andy will command. Vince will be 2 i/c.
The briefing will be tomorrow morning at 0800--meet me here. Make sure
your people are informed. There will be no move before two days."

My lot were rather pleased at the news. Quite, apart from anything
else, it meant an end to the hassle of having to queue for the only two
available sinks and bogs. In the field, the smell of clean clothes or
bodies can disturb the wildlife and in turn compromise your position, so
for the last few days before you go you stop washing and make sure all
your clothing is used.

The blokes dispersed, and I went to watch the latest news on CNN. Scud
missiles had fallen on Tel Aviv, injuring at least twenty-four
civilians. Residential areas had taken direct hits, and as I looked at
the footage of tower blocks and children in their pajamas, I was
suddenly reminded of Peckham and my own childhood. That night, as I
tried to get my head down, I found myself remembering all my old haunts
and thinking about my parents and a whole lot of other things that I
hadn't thought about in a long while.

2

I had never known my real mother, though I always imagined that whoever
she was she must have wanted the best for me: the carrier bag I was
found in when she left me on the steps of Guy's Hospital came from
Harrods.

I was fostered until I was 2 by a South London couple who in time
applied to become my adoptive parents. As they watched me grow up, they
probably wished they hadn't bothered. I binned school when I was
15-and-a-half to go and work for a haulage company in Brixton. I'd
already been bunking off two or three days a week for the last year or
so. Instead of studying for CSEs (Certificate of Secondary Education) I
delivered coal in the winter and drink mixes to off-licenses in the
summer. By going full-time I pulled in 8 a day, which in 1975 was
serious money. With forty quid on the hip of a Friday night you were
one of the lads.

My father had done his National Service in the Catering Corps and was
now a minicab driver. My older brother had joined the Royal Fusiliers
when I was a toddler and had served for about five years until he got
married. I had exciting memories of him coming home from faraway places
with his holdall full of presents. My own early life, however, was
nothing remarkable. There wasn't anything I was particularly good at,
and I certainly wasn't interested in a career in the army. My biggest
ambition was to get a flat with my mates and be able to do whatever I
wanted.

I spent my early teens running away from home. Sometimes I'd go with a