Dig Two Graves: A WWII Submarine Adventure Novel (USS Bull Shark Naval Thriller series Book 9) by Cook Scott

Author:Cook, Scott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spindrift Press
Published: 2024-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

The rain that rolled in from the slate gray wool that spat it down was so heavy that even several hours after sunup a man could hardly see more than a hundred feet in front of him. The solid blanket above cast the sodden world below in dull shades of gloomy steel, only broken occasionally by brilliant forks of actinic blue flame.

The going was also slowed. The roads, muddiest near the end of the rainy season, were now deep, rutted slurries that the six-wheeled truck had to negotiate at hardly more than a walking speed. More than once, Archer lost the road and had to swerve into fields or sparse trees in order to avoid being swamped.

After the first hour, the moldy canvas over the bed began to drip in several spots. The men in back shuffled about, finding drier places and hunkering down. At first, it was actually pleasant. Two days before Christmas, even the tropics were somewhat moderate in their swelter and the heavy storm had sapped much of the warmth and left behind a cool damp that hovered below eighty. However, as the storm went on, its own damp seeped into the men’s bones with the same slow but inexorable progress it made in locating and saturating the canvas until there seemed to be more leaks than dry spots.

Finally, perhaps three hours after leaving the barn, the British soldier pulled the truck into a stand of leafy trees and killed the engine. With the added cover, the leaks in the canvas slackened and the damp men in back lowered the tailgate, allowing more of the four inches of rainwater inside to sluff away.

“What’s on?” Turner asked.

“Just around that bend,” Archer said, “is a bridge we must cross.”

“Do we need to?” Turner asked. “Is there a ford or another way up the river or stream?”

He couldn’t see, but if there was a bridge, then there must be a substantial water course ahead. All Turner could really see outside were trees. An open space where the narrow road cut between them and more trees on the other side.

“Indeed, we must,” said Archer. “There’s a trail that leads up into the hills on that side. However… there is also a village on the far side of this river and if the old intelligence I possess remains accurate… a Jap outpost there. Which means…”

“Which means they control the bridge,” Turner cranked. “Swell. How far is it?”

“Hundred yards around that bend,” Archer pointed.

“Well,” said Turner, hefting his Thompson. “Let’s roll in and give them a surprise, Colonel.”

Archer smiled wryly, “That eager, eh? I think perhaps a bit more caution is required here.”

Turner shrugged, “We’re in a Jap truck, it’s raining cats and dogs… and they’ll be wet, miserable, and inattentive. Sounds like a perfect time to strike to me, Percy.”

The soldier smiled, “Indeed. However, I feel we should have ourselves a bit of a look-see first, what? Which one of your poor lads do you think we can con into taking a stroll in the wet?”

Turner snorted, “Being wet is nothing new to a sailor, Percy.

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