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

Everything stopped; the whole effort switched to making sure I was all
right. Raymond got some rehydrates and boiled sweets down me, put a brew on,
and gave me lots of sweet tea. Fortunately the DS didn't see what was going
on; it was my fault I was dehydrating.
Within half an hour I was right as rain again, but I had learned my
lesson.
We came back in off the exercise and they checked our bergens for
plastic bags of shit. We weren't allowed to leave any sign, and that
included body effluents. We had to shit into plastic bags, and collect our
piss in plastic petrol cans.
They checked another patrol as we came in. "You've not got much shit
there," the DS said. "You constipated or something? Where's all your shit?"
The fellow made an excuse, and the DS just said, Okay."
Sometimes I wished they would just give us a bollocking, to get it out
of the way. They'd told us why not to shit in the field-because the enemy
would know people were there. They had even shown us how to shit into a
plastic bag by getting somebody to do it. If we weren't doing it, it was bad
discipline.
Sometimes we'd go back to an area we'd used that day to look at some of
the problems we had created.
They might say, "See the marks on the trees? Soft bark is easily
marked; hard isn't so you leave no sign."
Because they'd shown us that, they didn't expect it to happen again. If
we didn't learn it must mean we didn't want to learn or didn't have the
aptitude.
The jungle phase ended with a weeklong exercise that was a culmination
of everything we'd learned, involving patrolling, hard routine, CTRs (close
target recce), bringing everybody together at a troop RP, preparing to do an
ambush, springing the ambush, the withdrawal, going to caches for more
stores for the exfil (exfiltration). At some time in the future we might go
into a country before an operation and cache food, ammunition, and
explosives. We could then infil (infiltrate) later without the bulk kit,
because it was already cached. We had learned how to conceal it and how to
give information to other patrols so that it would be easy to find.
By now physically we were not exactly as hale and hearty as when we
first went in. We were incredibly dirty, our faces ingrained with camouflage
cream. Everybody had a month's beard, and we had been wearing the same
clothes all the time.
One thing I had never got used to was getting out of my A-frame or
hammock and putting my wet kit on. It was always full of bits and pieces
that gathered as we were patrolling along, and it was cold and clammy. It
grated against my skin for the ten minutes or so until it had got warm.
We had our belt kits on all the time, and some of the pouches,would be
rubbing on the sides and producing sores. I went through a phase of not
wearing any pants, to try to keep the sores from between my legs. I tried
little things that I thought might help, such as undoing my trousers,
tucking everything in, and - doing it up again.
I came to the conclusion that nothing worked. I was in shit state, and
in shit state I would stay.
Once the exercise had finished we all RP'd at a bend in the river; that