Recoil - Andy McNab [113]
I took the lamp from Silky so she could help Tim. I tried hard not to look down. I just wanted this out of the way, and to get on with what I had to do. ‘We can’t leave before first light. But they’ll hit us again – all depends how long it’ll take them to regroup.’
Tim glanced up and nodded.
‘So you’ve got a choice.’ I adjusted the lamp to keep the glow on Tim’s hands as he tried to repair the damage I had probably caused. ‘Back to the trench, or stay here and look after this lot.’
Silky smiled. ‘What do you think, Nick?’
Tim nodded again. ‘This is what I do.’ He and Silky exchanged a glance. ‘This is what we do. Besides, we need light. The moon doesn’t quite cut it.’
I couldn’t help smiling too. Fuck knows why, because there wasn’t anything to smile about.
Back outside, I ran to Sam’s trench. All three guns were facing forwards now. The top covers were up on the two they’d just brought, and Bateman’s was made ready, link in the feed tray.
I peered into the trench. ‘Where’s Sunday?’
Bateman didn’t bother looking up. He was cleaning the other two guns, and that took priority. ‘We put him in one of the tents, man. Fucking kid was in the way.’
Crucial joined us with his RPG, shoved it into the corner and disappeared again without a word.
I lifted the feed tray of the second gun and cleaned out the gunk underneath it. I checked there was no mud on my sleeve, then gave the inside a good wipe.
Crucial came back with an armful of RPG rounds, dumped them and pissed off again.
Standish and Sam jumped into the backblast channel. You could smell the friction between them.
Standish jabbed the air. ‘If we don’t use those kids, we’re all going to fucking die here. We need fire power, and that’s the solution, Sam. Why can’t you get that into your godly fucking head? Look, we have three guns, four RPGs. We take the guns, and Crucial trains up the kids on the RPGs.’ The words were tumbling out like spent cases from a feed tray. ‘If we’re all going to stay here and play Mother Teresa, we need to win the firefight, and that’s how we do it.’
‘Listen.’ Sam’s voice was dangerously calm. ‘You’ll only get this from me this one last time. I – will – not – arm – the – kids. We’ll stand our ground until we can move. With the extra casualties, first light is still the only option.’
Crucial reappeared with another load of RPG rounds. ‘No way the kids, man. I’m not here to sink to the level of those animals.’ He thumbed out towards the valley.
Bateman had had enough too. He jumped out of the fire trench, shaking his head like a wet dog. ‘For fuck’s sake, just get on and make a decision about the little shits, man, before sun-up. We’ve got a job to do here.’ He picked up his GPMG with about twenty link on it, grabbed two of the ammo boxes, and stormed off to his own trench.
Sam could see the cogs turning in my head. ‘No, Nick. It’s not going to happen. There’s enough of us – if we keep together, fight together, we’ll hold out. We know what to do with this stuff.’ He jerked his head down at the RPGs and the other two guns on the parapet. ‘We have three gunners, two RPG men – that’s me,’ he slapped himself on the chest and nodded at Standish, ‘and him.’ He turned to Crucial. ‘RPG rounds?’
‘Twenty-four.’
‘There you go – masses.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Fuck it. Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?’
5
Standish grabbed the RPG like a spoilt kid snatching back his football after the other side’s scored.
Crucial came and stood alongside me. Sam turned to us. ‘Right, take a gun each. We’ll handle the RPGs. Get everyone out of the tents and squeeze them into the trenches.’
I shook my head. ‘Silky and Tim, they’re staying. They need light to work on the casualties.’
He hesitated a beat. ‘OK, they’re big boys and girls.’ He glanced at Crucial. ‘Get the kids in now. Two in each trench.’
Crucial looked over at Bateman. ‘You sure, man?’
‘Why not? Let him see what we see every day.’
Standish began to shout at no one in particular, like an