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

all times. Princess Anne was going to visit the camp one day, and there were
yellow marks where some boxes and bits of wood had.been resting on the
grass. The management ordered it to be painted green.
I realized then that all the royal family must think the world smells
of shoe polish, floor wax, and fresh paint.
We were practicing for the sake of practicing, and the soldiers were
getting pissed off. When we'd got the promise of a posting to Germany, it
sounded very attractive: local overseas allowance, tax-free car, petrol
concessions, all this sort of thing. But at the end of the day the quality
of life for a single soldier was not that good. We hadn't really got the
time to go out and explore the place. It wasn't as if we could just jump in
a car and travel down to the south of Germany to go skiing for a weekend;
chances were we'd be on some weird and wonderful duty, such as being the
barrier technician on the gate.
Life in Germany was unpleasant in other ways. There were a few rows
with the other battalions and plenty of rows with the Turks, who ran all the
sex operations, bar, and discos. Then there were all the interbattalion
horizontal maneuvers. As soon as a battalion was away over the water, all
the singlies were straight over to check out the wives. Boxes of OMO
appeared in the windows to advertise "old man out." I didn't find it funny.
None of the married blokes did.
The army seemed to promote smoking and drinking because the only
recreational facilities available were cheap fags and drink at the NAAFI and
the company clubs. If weight-training facilities had been available, the
lads would have used them-not because they thought that upper body strength
would make them better soldiers but because of a reason far more fundamental
to an eighteen-year-old: If you look fit, you'll pull more.
I felt my morale being slowly eroded. I sat down one day and asked
myself: What am I going to do? Am I going to stay here or fuck off? I was
doing pretty well, I was coming up toward platoon sergeant, but I felt
compelled to make that decision. It was a right pain in the arse sweeping up
unwanted puddles, painting grass that had been discolored by boxes, and
maintaining vehicles that were falling apart.
By this time Debbie had got a job at the local military hospital.
She enjoyed it very much, but we really didn't get much time together.
If I had free time, I'd be training for Selection, coming home late at
night. It just wasn't really happening between us. The social life was fine,
and we had become good friends with Key and his wife.
He was in B Company and now a corporal. His wife worked in the same
hospital as Debbie.
By now Dave was back in battalion after a posting and we'd all go out
together. Key's idea of a good Saturday would be football and a few pints.
He was a fair player himself and represented the battalion in the same team
as Johnny Two-Combs. He'd joined the army when he was in his mid-twenties
and had a flat, a car and a good j'oh. We thought he must have joined for a
bet.
I became obsessed with getting into the Regiment. In the long term it
would be beltter for our relationship because the Regiment was permanently
based in Hereford. We'd be able to buy a house and settle down.
There would be continuity in Debbie's life, and she could get a decent