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

forward, because he had a better chance of being caught. The bloke who had
gone forward would get the information, come back and brief us, and off we'd
trog.
We had our little tins and were supposed to be trying to catch rabbits,
but we had too much distance to cover for any of that nonsense. For
security, we were never going to put a fire on, we were never going to have
flame. We went hungry, apart from at one checkpoint where the PT instructor
came back with a dark plastic carrier bag with a knot at the top.
"They gave me some scoff!" He beamed. He undid the knot and looked
inside. His face fell. "What the fuck's this?"
I looked. "Tripe," I said. "My granddad used to live on the stuff. It's
heaving."
We ate it raw, and within an hour the navy character was piping us
aboard.
I had a premonition that things were going to go wrong. The P.T.I
fellow was jumping clumsily over fences, which would then twang for about
another fifty meters down the line. He was going at obstacles like a bull in
a china shop; he'd obviously never been taught that you take your time, take
it nice and gently. Every time I heard a twang I was flapping; I had it in
my mind that to be captured was to be binned.
The two navy guys had no sort of tactical sense whatsoever. They
weren't to blame; it wasn't their job, and passing the course didn't matter
for them; it was just a three-week embuggerance before they went back to the
wardroom for a few pink gins. So they were wanging over fences as well, and
all of them, even the PT instructor, were knackered.
"Don't forget," I said, "the drill is that as soon as we get bumped, we
split up to make it harder for all of us to get captured.
Then we regroup at the last emergency RP."
We were waiting at one particular RP, which was a rise of ground
overlooking a small road bridge over a river in the middle of nowhere.
It was cold just sitting still in the shadows. We were sitting within a
meter of one another in cover in a dip and had agreed that two of us would
stay awake and the other two would get some sleep. It was just a matter of
getting the collar up and retreating inside the greatcoat and dozing off.
I heard helicopters running around, but that was no problem as long as
we stayed still.
I was in a semidaze when I heard a voice bark, "Stand still!
Don't move!"
The two on stag had fallen asleep.
As I looked up, I saw a semicircle of guardsmen closing in on us with
pick handles. I thought, Fuck! I was really annoyed. I put my hands in the
air, yawned with exhaustion, got slowly to my feet, and bolted.
I ran and ran, but only as far as the cutoffs they'd put in. I was
brought to the ground by a rugby tackle and four of them piled on top. I
struggled, but one of them rammed a pick handle down on my neck and shouted,
"Stay still! Stay still!" That was me caught. They turned me over and kept
their feet on my neck while they tied me up with plasticuffs. They prodded
me and said, "what's your name? What's your name?"
I gave my name and number.
"What rank are you?"