"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автораwearing a T-shirt with a motif on it, something to do with oranges. His big
bushy moustahe was full of snot, and he was in shit state. He said, "I'm having a bad time here, Andy. My timings are bad." H was well and truly out of it-as if he was drunk, but without the happiness. I nodded and said, "Sorry," but obviously I still had to crack on myself. That night he went. Out of the original six Green jackets three were left for the last three days of Test Week. Key went the next day. As usual, he wasn't that fussed. "I tried and failed." He grinned. "At least I don't have to think of it again. Back to football and a few good nights out at Longbridge, that's me." I was sad to see them all go. I would miss their friendship and banter. Johnny Two-Combs was still there, and no way was he not going to pass. I didn't see that much of him as he was in a different block and by now, if I wasn't tabbing, I was sleeping. "Just got to carry on the way I'm going," I kept saying to myself. "Just don't get an injury." I got a gypsy's the next day. We were on a thirty-five-kilometer tab in the Elan valley, and I'd had a really bad day. I had no injuries, but I just found it hard going. It was as If my legs didn't want to play; my body was going at 100 mph but my legs were moving at 50. I used to have a dream as a child that I was running away from something and though my whole mental state was in a frenzy, my body would be in slow motion. which was dodgy ground. The following morning we were waiting to be called on the vehicles. The chief instructor started to call out the names of people he wanted to see. I was one of them. "Your timings were not good enough yesterday," he said. "You will have to pull your finger out for the last two days or it's Platform four." It pissed me off, but there were only the Sketch Map and Endurance marches left. Sketch Map involved using a hand-drawn map rather than a proper one. We had to cover thirty-five kilometers over different checkpoints. No problem, I was cruising. I thought I'd cracked it. I knew the ground because I'd done all the recces, I'd been up there; I knew where I was going. I was coming up toward the Fan and came to a forestry block about a kilometer square that I would have to go around. It wasn't a fluffy little wood; this was a major Forestry Commission fir plantation. Looking down on it from the high ground, I could see that a firebreak went right through the middle. I started to push through, and made good progress for about the first two hundred meters. Then I got disoriented. I had to stop for several minutes and take a bearing. I was severely pissed off with myself. I had to get on my hands and knees and start pushing myself through because the trees were planted so closely together. I was shouting and hollering to myself. I'd gone too far in to come back out and go around; it was just a matter of cracking on. |
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