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

Deep down I knew I was going to be late. I knew I had fucked up.
By the time I came out I had cuts on my face and hands, and I was
covered in blood. But I still went on.
There might be a chance.
As I made my way up to the next checkpoint, which was on the top of
Pen-y-Fan, my legs were aching something fierce. I was badly out of breath
and drenched with sweat, blood, and mud. But the worst injury was to my
pride. I knew I'd fucked up good style by being too cocky.
The sun was out, and it was quite hot. Half of Wales seemed to be
walking on the Fan with their famillessmall kids with two-liter bottles of
lemonade in their hands and mothers and fathers strolling along in shorts
and sandals, enjoying the view. I screamed through them, pissed off and
muttering to myself, trying to make up as much time as possible.
The DS looked at my cut face and torn trousers and said, "You all
right?"
I said, "Yeah, I've had a bad last leg."
"Never mind, just get down to the vehicle; that's your next
checkpoint."
I had been the last man to the top of Pen-y-Fan. Now I had to go back
down to the last checkpoint I ran. I ran faster than I'd ever imagined I
could, but when I arrived, there was only room on the third wagon.
That night my name was called. It was the day before Endurance, the
last big test, and I was binned. It was my fault, being cocky, thinking I'd
cracked it, rather than just going around the forestry block and being sure
of where I was.
Before you leave for Platform 4, you hand all your kit back to the
stores. Then there is an interview with the training major. You can try only
twice for Selection, unless you break a leg on your second attempt, in which
case they might be lenient.
As I waited to go into the office, I wasn't alone. Eight of us were
sitting on a long wooden bench. I felt very much as I had done as a kid,
waiting to see the headmistress or to go into a police station interviewing
room. It was a hive of activity, people walking purposefully past, doing
their own stuff. Nobody was taking any notice of us.
I felt dejected. Everything was happening around me, but I wasn't a
part of it anymore.
The major looked up from his desk and said, "So what was the problem?
Why were you so late on the last leg?"
"Too cocky. I went through the forestry block, and that slowed me down
severly."
"Ah, well." He smiled. "If you come back again, you'll make sure you go
around that one, won't you)"
"Yeah."
"Fine, maybe we'll see you again'n."
"I hope so."
An hour later I was standing on Platform 4.
We boarded the train to Paddington. When we got to London, I would go
to Brize Norton, and from there I'd get an R.A.F flight back to Minden.
As I lifted my holdall into the luggage rack and sat down, I found
myself looking straight at the word "Hereford" on the station sign. It hit