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

One of the DS, a fellow called Dave, was in the seat in front of me.
The four drug smugglers got out of their seats and gave him a cuff on the
head. I was just wondering what I was supposed to do about it when Dave
turned around and grinned, "All right, mate?"
It was four blokes coming back from a team job, routed through Hong
Kong.
"Good shirts!" Dave said. "Good job?"
Yep.
They'd obviously done their job somewhere in the Far East, and now they
were settling down with their gin and tonics for a nice flight home. I
thought again, I really hope I get in. I need to be here!
"Any chance of a lift back?" they asked the DS. "You got your wagon
there?"
"Yeah, we can sort that out."
Then they chatted away to us, which was wonderful.
it was my first real contact with strangers from the squadrons.
"How did you find it?"
"Oh, it was good." I didn't know what to say. I just sat there smiling,
not wanting to commit myself.
"Have they told you if you've passed yet or not? Go on, Dave, tell
them, don't be a wanker!"
But he didn't.
We arrived back in Hereford on a Friday morning and were given the rest
of the day off.
"Be back in the training wing eight o'clock tomorrow morning," the
training wing sergeant major said That night everybody went out on the piss
and had a really good night. Again, for all any of us knew, it might be the
last time we'd ever be there. We turned up on Saturday morning with bad
heads, stinking of beer and curries.
The sergeant major said, "Right, combat survival, Monday morning, half
eight. All the details are on the board. However . . . the following people,
go and see the training major."
We were sitting in the training wing lecture room, in three rows.
I was at the end of one of them.
He started reading out the names. He called out Mal's first. I couldn't
believe it. Mal was good; as far as I was concerned, he was really switched
on. I had to stand up to let him pass, and we exchanged a knowing glance. He
shrugged his shoulders and smiled. While I was still standing, the sergeant
major called Raymond's name.
Then Tom's. That was that then. Everybody from my patrol was getting
binned. I just stayed standing up.
There didn't seem much point in sitting down.
My name wasn't called. Then I realized-maybe these were the people that
had passed. Maybe it was the knobbers like me left behind that were going to
be binned.
Out of twenty-four who went to the jungle, there were eight of us left
on the benches. The sergeant major made eye contact with each of us, then
said, "Well done, That's another bit over with. Next is combat survival.
Monday morning, half eight. Anybody got any medical problems?
No, okay. Remember, you're not in yet."