"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

He had lumps and bumps all over him, but there was no way he was going
to submit.
One of squadron HQ came down and said, "Look, here's a poncho."
"Naw, don't need it."
One of the blokes was down on his haunches making a brew one day.
He looked up and could see into Dan's atap shelter. Dan had been using
the poncho after all, but he'd covered it with leaves so he wouldn't lose
face.
Gotcha, Delta!
Dan lived in his own little world in more ways than one. 0 . the day
Tiny, who was well into demolitions, was preparing a thing called an A-Type
ambush. it was an explosive ambush, tripped by any patrol that walked into
it. Dan had made a DIY claymore mine out of his little soap dish, and he
wanted Tiny to try it out. This A-Type ambush consisted of about forty
pounds of P.E (plastic explosive), plus about five or six 81 MM mortar
rounds, claymores, and homemade claymores.
It was a massive accumulation of explosive, to which Dan in also sisted
on adding his soap dish. The explosion took the top off the spur, flattening
an area of about twenty meters square so it looked like a landing site.
Dan came up and said to Tiny, "So, how did the soap dish do?"
Tiny said, "Ever watched a mouse rape an elephant?"
We finished the trip and had six days off. A lot of blokes were going
to go to Thailand and to see the Burma railway. The Kiwis were going to
sponsor the rest of us in Singapore. Dan couldn't wait to get there.
When we reached the base area at Kluang, the SQMS (squadron
quartermaster sergeant) had laid on tables of beers and food. But everybody
knew he had to clean his weapons first. Well, everybody except Dan.
I had the GPMG at that stage. It was a section weapon, so everybody was
responsible for cleaning it, not just the person who carried it. In my
battalion days a corporal had to dish out the weapons, because everyone
selfishly just did his own. Tiny came over and started to help me, then
another bloke came over and took another bit, and somebody took another,
which was all rather nice. It made me feel a bit more part of the group.
We'd been together now for about two months, but I was still on probation. I
could still be fucked off if these blokes didn't want me.
Meanwhile Dan Dan the Chain Saw Man was nowhere to be seen. He was too
busy throwing two-pint bottles of Heineken down his neck, and had gone on
overload. Instead of sorting his kit out, he just went straight on the piss
because he thought it was the manly thing to do.
It was nice to have a party after work, get the barbecue going, have a
few beers, but there were priorities. Everybody was looking forward to
having a couple of beers, then going downtown and having a proper shave.
Nobody, however, wanted to get stinking and out of his head; you just lose
the day.
We got a wonderful picture of Dan to be put up in the squadron interest
room when we got back to the UK.
After an hour on the Heineken Dan was out on the floor. We heard later
that about two weeks after he returned to the States, he shot his neighbor's
son for ljumping over his fence. Nothing about Dan would have surprised me.
We went down to the local town of Kluang. It was the first time I'd