Take or Destroy by John Harris

Author:John Harris [Harris, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: War & Military, Thrillers, General, Action & Adventure, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9780755127900
Google: yKiXDQAAQBAJ
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2011-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

3

Embarkation took place after dark, the ships leaving in the early hours of 30 October.

In Cairo the evening was warm, so that Hockold’s neck ran and he felt stupidly - unendurably - hot. There was a radio playing somewhere, full of the sentiment that the people at home loved -- ‘Here’s one for Private Dogsbody from his ever-loving wife’ -- and he wondered if Private Dogsbody out in the desert was asking himself bitterly if it were just to keep him happy while his ever-loving wife slipped into bed with a gunner from the 8th Air Force. The tragedy in North Africa, he felt, was growing stale.

He tried to push his thoughts away. There was no time for the luxury of introspection. He knew he was going to see men die and finally die himself; and since 1940 he’d seen it so often he’d learned to keep his dismay private, a detached thing which could easily be hidden under his normal brusque exterior.

As his thoughts ran on, he realized his glass was empty and he put it down, reluctantly because in his heart of hearts he had no wish to go. Despite his care, it clattered against the table.

‘I must be frightened, Kirstie,’ he said, trying to make a joke of it.

She followed the pretence and laughed with him, but she had the feeling that he was near the end of his tether, that he’d been living on his nerves too long.

Hockold’s smile died. He was certain he was looking at her for the last time and was wondering if he could face death with a measure of dignity as he’d seen so many other men face it.

He looked up to find her eyes on his face. ‘Well,’ he said briskly. ‘This is it. I’ve got to get moving.’

She nodded. She had said goodbye to so many men in the past eighteen months, there was nothing unusual in the parting. She was showing no excitement or anxiety but inside she was a tumult of unhappiness. Quite by chance in a book she’d been reading in bed the previous night she’d come across a disturbing quotation. ‘A tree with a straight trunk is the first to be chopped down,’ it had said. ‘A well with sweet water is the first to be drawn dry,’ and she knew it meant men like Hockold. Not necessarily the most personable or the most handsome, but always the most honest, truthful and steadfast, who had a sense of rightness and, despite their dread, selflessly believed in living by it.

She found difficulty in replying to him. ‘Be careful, George,’ she managed.

‘I’ll be back, Kirstie.’

Oh, God, please yes, she prayed. She’d waved off so many men she’d never seen again, it was like having part of herself cut away. Most of them hadn’t meant a thing to her; a few had meant a little; one or two like Hockold, for one reason or another, had meant a lot; but it was always the same.

Hockold was hitching at his belt now.

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