(1978) Strike From the Sea by Douglas Reeman

Author:Douglas Reeman [Reeman, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, War & Military, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781448150779
Google: vlovY1MhAn0C
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2012-08-30T23:00:00+00:00

He returned to the screen, the thick glass still dripping with salt water.

Halliday must have been waiting for the order. The diesels were connected now, drumming throatily through the water, shaking the conning tower in a regular vibration.

An hour should do it. The last run-in, the hard bit. It was best not to contemplate the hull below his feet, crammed with every sort of ammunition you could think of.

He wondered momentarily what his mixed company thought about it, of their rapidly changing role. Cottier, the French officer, was asking to come to the bridge, as he always did when surfaced, to check the communications systems. It was strange to think of him and Lucas and their handful of Free French sailors ending up in Soufrkre like this. There were no longer any clear margins to the war. They were vague and obscure, like the invisible coastline they were heading for.

According to the best information available, the enemy were still advancing, but at a slower pace. Whether this was due to stiffening resistance or to lack of support, it was hard to say, but the Japanese advanced units were within three hundred miles of Singapore itself. It still sounded a lot when you thought of England and the Channel. But there were no white cliffs of Dover across the Johore Strait.

‘Steady on two-seven-zero, sir.’

‘Very well.’

Ainslie stared into the darkness, feeling the lazy rise and roll of the bows. He could just discern the two long guns pointing forward as they cut across the bow wave like tusks.

Farrant and his crews were in their turret. The gunnery officer would be even more full of himself now, knowing he was the submarine’s only defence.

‘Time to turn, sir.’

Ainslie peered at the luminous dial of his watch, feeling the drifting spray plastering his hair across his forehead.

‘Carry on.’

Quinton and Forster were in charge down there. They were more than capable.

The alteration was so slight it barely registered. But that was how it had to be, this way and that, a whole series of dog’s legs all the way to the inlet. If it were daylight the sea would appear placid and friendly, but the charts said otherwise. Sudden shal

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