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

isolated in our own little world.
Seeing these guys suddenly made me think, Hey, what else is going on
that we'll never get to hear about? I felt what was almost a pang of
jealousy.
I went into the briefing room to pick up a patrol report. There were
masses of kit strewn everywhere on the floor. The thing that really struck
me was an Armalite that was painted weird and wonderful camouflage colors,
dappled with bits of black and green. In the infantry there was no way we
could tamper with our weapons like that.
Weapons were sacred; we could clean them, but that was about it.
There was a torch mounted under the Armalite, held on with bits of
masking tape on the furniture stock. I thought, That's quite Gucci; I
wouldn't mind one of those.
As I turned, I found myself face-to-face with one of the regiment
blokes. Or rather, face to arse. He had no kit on, and all I could see was
the crack of his bum as he was bending over to put his trousers on. I could
see he had a fearsome suntan and had obviously been away somewhere nice
before he'd come on this job.
He turned around and said, "All right, mate?"
I went, "Hello."
He said, "You can go now if you like."
I said, "Okay, I think it's time for me to go now."
That was the last time I saw any of these particular S.A.S men.
Again, I was surprised at how they looked.
One of them was positively skeletal; he was the only man I'd ever seen
with the veins on the outside of his body.
We were patrolling one Saturday evening as a multipletwo four-man
patrols. The multiple commander was Dave, a corporal, and I was the 2
i/c (second-in-command), in command of the other brick.
I had first met Dave in XMG but didn't have too much to do with him as
he was in another platoon. On promotion I was sent to 6 Platoon and became
his 2 i/c.
Dave was known as a maverick and was always on the edge of being
demoted or fined. He came from the East End of London and kept very close
contact with his family and friends. He was in his mid-twenties, and his
arms were covered in tattoos. He had a girlfriend back in London, but the
more I got to know him, the more I saw him as single for the rest of his
life, wrecking any car that he had after two months and having dealings with
dodgy people from the Mile End Road. We got on very well, and he became a
close friend.
We were going out at six o'clock in the evening and assembled for a
quick five-minute brief. Dave told us the direction we were going to go out,
whether we were going to use the front gate or the back gate, information on
any activity in the town, anything that we needed to know from the patrol
that had just come in.
"There seem to be a lot more people running around the community center
than usual," he said. "And perhaps some activity in the derelict house on
the corner of Liam Gardens. We'll check it out as we pass."
Derelicts were usually to be avoided since they were natural draw
points for booby traps. Something had looked different in that house to the