Part 10 (1/2)

'If your second bonce is no improvement on the first, in looks or brain power, I wouldn't bother if I were you.' Burke signalled the finale of the obscene double act with a thundering fart that almost lifted his backside off the ground.

Dooley just had to top that, and lifting each b.u.t.tock rapidly in sequence contrived to turn a long burst of pungent wind into an almost recognisable tune.

'If you two carry on for much longer, then the Communists are going to think we are using poison gas.' Boris sniffed the air.

'Take care, mate, one whiff of that and you'll be pus.h.i.+ng up the daisies.'

'Can the rest of you not smell it?'

'I hesitate to ask, but smell what?' Cautiously Clarence sampled the evening breeze, taking care to first check the reading on the chemical level indicator attached to his belt.

'Food, no not just food, meat, cooking meat.'

'Our pet Ruskie is going off his trolley.' Clarifying his meaning by tapping the side of his head, Burke suddenly stopped, and began to copy the others who were also testing the air. 'Christ, I must be going dotty as well. It must be the hunger.'

'Then we can all smell it. Either we're down wind of a Russian officer's preparations for a private party, or they've come up with a new stunt to drive us all crazy.'

'Not very likely, Clarence.' Revell was also enjoying the aroma of roasting meat. 'The Reds gave up subtlety long ago.'

A green star sh.e.l.l burst overhead and bathed everything in a ghastly light that turned healthy flesh a putrid colour.

Ripper held out his hands to examine the effect. 'Can't say I'm keen on what it does for me, but on Burke I reckon it's an improvement.'

'Silence from now on. We're moving up to our start line, that was the signal. There will be a barrage of sorts to cover the noise of the move, but the guns are short on ammo and we can't count on its smothering everything, so if you've got any last words, out with them now.'

'Or forever hold your...' A look from their NCO and Burke cut it short. '... Amen.'

'Can I just say you might have used a better form of words, Major.'

Corporal Thorne was unimpressed when Hyde turned his disfigured face to him.

Revell let it go. He could afford to, there was scant chance that the sapper would come through the night of fighting that lay ahead. Only the order to take up positions for the breakout had saved him from being handed over to the military police on a string of charges. But he was paying a price for that reprieve. The satchel he carried contained five homemade limpet bombs. Utilising a shaped-charge principle they were to be used to finish any disabled armoured vehicles that continued to resist, or any pill-boxes the flame throwers could not subdue.

From close behind them a battery of field guns opened a steady if none too rapid fire, managing to send another sh.e.l.l on its way as the echoes of the previous died.

There were other groups moving through the dusk. Some, like themselves, were armed with an a.s.sortment of weapons, a supply clerk's nightmare; others were equipped exclusively with Patchette submachine guns, or anti-tank rockets, or engineers' stores. Most of it had been produced in Hamburg's own underground factories, and much of it, long held back against this day, was being tried for the first time.

Down a side street they pa.s.sed several M60 and Challenger tanks. They were far too precious to be thrown blindly into the first a.s.sault on the enemy forces. The infantry and engineers would probe the Russian defences first, and then, and only then, when the ground was known and the enemy anti-tank weapons accounted for, would the tanks be unleashed.

The same did not go for some improvised armoured machines that stood hidden under thick camouflage netting immediately behind the start line.

Multi-wheeled civilian commercial vehicles had been fitted with rudimentary armour over their cabs and vulnerable tyres, and where their cranes or cement mixers had been there were now quick-firing cannon of every calibre.

Two huge bulldozers had also been fitted with sheets of plate and now waited with their accompanying engineers for the order to advance. Most poignant of all among the strange a.s.sortment of vehicles in which so much faith was being put, was a tiny Daimler Dingo scout car of World War Two vintage. Retrieved partially restored from some enthusiast's garage and fitted with a single general purpose machine gun, it was going to lead.

They were directed into a house whose suspended floor had been removed by fuel scavengers long before, and settled to wait again.

Spiders and other bugs and insects came to bother them, making them itch and adding to their cramped discomfort. Revell hardly noticed them. As he looked around his men his greatest satisfaction was that Andrea wasn't there. She was safe elsewhere, like Inga.

Those two were so different, so completely opposite each other in every conceivable way that it was impossible to imagine any grounds on which they might come together.

One by one the guns were falling silent, leaving as the only sound the far distant boom of some Russian heavies firing on another part of the perimeter. It was clear the Russians had no clue as to what was about to be unleashed on them.

The attack was planned to go forward and peel away the successive rings of enemy positions, pus.h.i.+ng them back and away to either side to widen the gap until it was impossible for them to re-close it. Then they would dig in and hold that cleared ground until they got help from outside. There would be none until then.

The NATO High Command had not been told of the breakout, there had not been the time to involve them, or the wish to take the security risk of the lengthy communications that would have been necessary.

It was the desperate plight of the city that prompted so desperate a plan. The toll in human lives had been terrible so far; with the food situation becoming chronic it was going to get rapidly worse. They had nothing to lose.

FOURTEEN.

The old man noted the readings, and made a pencil dot on the plastic cover of the map. With irritating slowness and deliberation he took a ruler from a shelf, dusted it on his sleeve, and used it to join the last two marks. Halfway along, the line he made intersected another, and he ringed the junction.

'Now we must get the police.' He peered at the girl over the top of his cracked gla.s.ses.

'There is no need. Wait here, I will deal with it.' Andrea climbed from the back of the radio location vehicle and breathed deeply to clear her lungs of the foul smoke the operator's pipe had been giving off. She had not asked him what he was burning, she could guess.

The building so clearly indicated by the search aerials on the van's roof looked to be severely damaged, virtually uninhabitable. Slowly, to make as little noise as possible, she climbed the rubble-strewn stairs. A stray c.h.i.n.k of light escaped from beneath a soot-stained door. She leant her rifle against the wall and unholstered her pistol. A gentle push confirmed that it was locked, but a glance at its charred surround gave her reason to believe it might not be all that strong.

Taking a step back, and preparing for the pain that would come when for an instant her damaged leg took all her weight, she took a deep breath and kicked out at the wood just below the lock.

Pain was forgotten as it crashed open and Andrea levelled her pistol at the only person in the room.

'I do not have a gun.' Inga reached for the headphones and carefully took them off, letting them fall on to the radio that had been pulled from its place of concealment beneath the sofa.

'That is a great pity, I had hoped you had.' Without taking her eyes from the blonde, Andrea reached for her rifle, and used it to wedge the door shut. 'But now I think that this is best. Did you learn much from him?'

'From your Major Revell? No.'

'What did he do with you, I want to know all the details.' Andrea took the girl by the wrist and pulled her in through the open bedroom doorway. The sheets had not been changed, they were near transparent with the oil that had soaked into them. 'I see you played games. Now, everything. Tell me everything.'

Revell led his men at the head of the second wave, and they met little opposition as they pa.s.sed through the first belt of defences. Broken guns and bodies lay everywhere. Sandbagged positions burned along with the machine gun crews that had manned them, and there were screams coming from a burning armoured bulldozer.

The tiny Daimler had driven into a crater, and now the spitting barrel of its machine gun, firing over the rim, marked the furthest point of advance.

A monstrous eight-wheeler had been knocked out close by, but while its pulverised cab meant that it would be driving no further, the automatic weapons firing from its cargo platform were doing b.l.o.o.d.y execution among Russian troops trying to escape from isolated trenches where they found themselves trapped.

The hold-up was caused by a pair of anti-tank guns flanked by a complex of zig-zagging trenches from which enemy riflemen were keeping up a heavy protective fire against any infantry attempt to take the guns.

At fifty yards from their objective the squad had been forced to go to ground, and it seemed the attack had stalled. Every second's delay gave the Russians a longer breathing s.p.a.ce in which to make hasty preparations for a counter-attack that must succeed if the Hamburg forces were caught in the open.

'We've got to have the tanks up in support.' Revell was trying to make himself understood over the radio, but he wasn't the only one calling for help, and the Russians were already beginning to jam many frequencies.