Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (90 page)

Wait for me and I’ll come back !
Wait in patience yet
When they tell you off by heart
That you should forget.
Even when my dearest ones
Say that I am lost,
Even when my friends give up,
Sit and count the cost,
Drink a glass of bitter wine
To the fallen friend -
Wait ! And do not drink with them !
Wait until the end !

Wait for me and I
’ll come back,
Dodging every fate !
“What a bit of luck!” they’ll say,
Those that would not wait.
They will never understand
How amidst the strife,
By your waiting for me, dear,
You had saved my life.
Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply - you knew how to wait -
No one else but you.

[Courtesy of www.simonov.co.uk, with my thanks.]

Rosignoli, Guido

The Allied Forces in Italy 1943-45

ISBN 0-7153-92123

Kleinfeld & Tambs, Gerald R & Lewis A

Hitler’s Spanish Legion - The Blue Division in Russia

ISBN 0-9767380-8-2

Delaforce, Patrick

The Black Bull - From Normandy to the Baltic with the 11th Armoured Division

ISBN 0-75370-350-5

Taprell-Dorling, H

Ribbons and Medals

SBN 0-540-07120-X

Pettibone, Charles D

The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II

Volume V - Book B, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

ISBN 978-1-4269-0281-9

Pettibone, Charles D

The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II

Volume V - Book A, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

ISBN 978-1-4269-2551-0

Pettibone, Charles D

The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II

Volume VI - Italy and France, Including the Neutral Conutries of San Marino, Vatican City [Holy See], Andorra and Monaco

ISBN 978-1-4269-4633-2

Pettibone, Charles D

The Organisation and Order of Battle of Militaries in World War II

Volume II - The British Commonwealth

ISBN 978-1-4120-8567-5

Chamberlain & Doyle, Peter & Hilary L

Encyclopedia of German Tanks in World War Two

ISBN 0-85368-202-X

Chamberlain & Ellis, Peter & Chris

British and American Tanks of World War Two

ISBN 0-85368-033-7

Dollinger, Hans

The Decline and fall of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan

ISBN 0-517-013134

Zaloga & Grandsen, Steven J & James

Soviet Tanks and Combat Vehicles of World War Two

ISBN 0-85368-606-8

Hogg, Ian V

The Encyclopedia of Infantry Weapons of World War II

ISBN 0-85368-281-X

Hogg, Ian V

British & American Artillery of World War 2

ISBN 0-85368-242-9

Hogg, Ian V

German Artillery of World War Two

ISBN 0-88254-311-3

Bellis, Malcolm A

Divisions of the British Army 1939-45

ISBN 0-9512126-0-5

Bellis, Malcolm A

Brigades of the British Army 1939-45

ISBN 0-9512126-1-3

Rottman, Gordon L

FUBAR, Soldier Slang of World War II

ISBN 978-1-84908-137-5

Schneider, Wolfgang

Tigers in Combat 1

ISBN 978-0-81173-171-3

Stanton, Shelby L.

Order of Battle – U.S. Army World War II.

ISBN 0-89141-195-X

Forczyk, Robert

Georgy Zhukov

ISBN 978-1-84908-556-4

Fig#116 – Impase paperback end cover.

Read the opening words of ‘Counterplay’ now.

God rest ye merry Gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

Remember, Christ, our saviour

Was born on Christmas Day

To save us all from Satan’s power

When we were gone astray

O tidings of comfort and joy

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy.

Anon.

Smoke poured from the two outboard engines, leaving parallel lines in the sky as the crippled B24 Liberator tried to make the nearest friendly territory.

Despite the obviously fraught situation, everyone aboard the Coastal Command aircraft was calm
, and there was even laughter amidst the serious activity of their real mission.

It fell to the navigator to
bring failure or success, for his skill would bring the Liberator directly to the precise point where they would achieve the task set them… or they would fail.

There c
ould be no repeats, so it was imperative that the B24 hit its mark right on the button.

He thumbed his mike.

“Navigator, Pilot. Come left two degrees, Skipper, course 89°.”

“
Roger, Nav.”

After a short delay, the navigator, sweating despite the extremely cold temperatures, spoke again.

“On course, Skipper. Estimate seven minutes to game point.”

“
Roger, Nav. Bombs?”

“
I’m on it, Skipper.”

The bombardier shifted to one side of the modified nose and checked for the umpteenth time that the internal heating circuit was functioning.

“Bombs, Pilot. Ready.”

The pilot looked across to his co-pilot.

“Time for you to play.”

It was Christmas Day
, and most of those still asleep bore all the hallmarks of heavy encounters with the local brews, Russian and Irishmen alike.

A few, an unlucky few, had literally drawn short straws and found themselves sober and alert, providing the security whilst others spent the day acquainting themselves with their blankets or, in the case of a few, the latrines.

Seamus Brown was one of the selected few, and it was he who first heard the sounds of an aircraft in trouble.

The staccato sound of misfiring engines and the drone of their fully working compatriots mingled and grew loud enough to be a warning in their own right.

The camp was occasionally overflown, so there were procedures for this moment, and Brown instigated them immediately.

A large bell was rung, only a few double blows from a hammer were needed to warn the base what was about to happen. It was a question of keeping out of sight for most, but balancing that with having a few bodies in sight so as not to make the place seem deserted which, quite reasonably, they had all agreed might make the camp suspicious, even though half of it could not be seen from the air.

Brown dropped his rifle into a wheelbarrow and started to move across the central open area, his eyes searching the sky for the noisemaker.

“
Nav, Pilot. Twenty seconds.”

“
Roger. Bombs, over to you.”

The Bomb Aimer looked through the unfamiliar sight and decided that he could proceed.

The finger hovered above the button, pressed down hard, and the shooting commenced.

Brown kept walking, his eyes taking in the smokey trails from two of its engines, his ears adding to the evidence of his eyes.

‘The fucking bastards are in trouble’.

“
Crash, you fucking English shites! Go on! Merry fucking Christmas, you bastards!”

A couple of his men chuckled and shared the sentiment, although not quite as loud as Brown.

His raised voice brought a response from some of those aching from the night’s exertions and windows were opened, the oaths and curses directed his way not always in Irish brogue.

He heard the window open behind him and knew the stream of Russian was for his ears
, but he kept his attention firmly on the dying aircraft, shouting louder to make sure his new allies were even more agitated.