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

of it.
Al Slater was having a wash in the river one morning.
We heard a couple of five-round bursts going down the river and rushed
to see what was going on. It was Al with big Hissing Sid coming up to him,
now deceased.
We ate it that night. It tasted shit but was fine after being marinaded
in Tabasco.
Tiny and Eddie made a friend that they refused to eat.
His name was Stan the Scorpion. He lived in a hole below Tiny's pole
bed and seemed to like the Spam that was fed to him.
We were sitting on the floor in the middle of nowhere one day. It was
pissing down with rain. I was drenched, rivulets of rainwater running
through my matted hair and trickling from my chin. I put up a little shelter
sheet to stop the embuggerance of everything dripping off my nose while I
was trying to brew up.
As I stood up, trying to sort my belt kit out, I felt something drop
down my leg. I didn't think much of it; there's always beasties making best
friends with you in the jungle. Then I felt a warm and wet sensation around
i my bollocks and thought, right, I'll have a look and see what's going on.
I pulled my trousers and pants down and found that the whole of my groin
area was covered in blood. Fuck! It was capillary bleeding, exacerbated by
the fact that the skin was so wet with -all the rain and sweat.
I was flapping good style trying to see what was going on and pulled my
trousers right off. Down by my boots was the world's fattest, happiest
leech, as big as my thumb. It had got inside my clothing somehow, attached
itself to my cock, and then drunk so much it fell off.
When leeches bite, they put in an anticoagulant and anesthetic twist
ball, so you keep bleeding and you don't feel a thing. I had instant visions
of other leeches crawling up my pride and joy, so one of the boys had to
have a quick look inside to make sure everything was all right.
The leech was very proud of himself, very full up. I kept him to one
side for ten minutes or so while I tried to decide what to do with him.
Eventually I gave him a burst of mozzie rep, which really pissed him off.
Then he died, poor soul.
It took ages for the bleeding to stop. Afterward I had a bite mark that
looked like a cigarette burn, which would stay there for life. It was quite
a shock, and the blokes were very solicitous. Then they spent the next week
reminding me that the leech was considerably bigger than the morsel it had
eaten for dinner.
We had an American with us called Dan Dan the Chain Saw Man. On
secondment from Delta Force, the U.S equivalent of the Regiment, he was in
his late thirties and deeply macho. The problem with Dan was that he was
running around too much, trying to impress everybody, when there was no need
to. He'd brought a chain saw with him and wanted to chop the whole forest
down for everybody so they could build things.
Hammocks or A-frames were not for Dan. "The jungle floor is good," he
drawled.
Within a week he was in shit state. He wouldn't use a poncho; he
built'a sort of tepee with leaves and branches. He would scream and shout,
"Goddamn shit!" in the middle of the night as things bit him.