Fletcher Layne stopped walking toward the Canberra on Southampton Dock to kneel and tie his boots. High-pitched shrill cheering from the crowd made him turn his head to see two women wearing tee-shirts that read, ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentine, We’re Gonna Knock the Piss out of You,’ jumping up and down, waving Union Jack flags, and cheering for all the boarding servicemen.
Canberra Corporal Alan Clegg took a few more steps before he realized his oppo had stopped. “Everything okay there, mate?”
“Yeah, these b****y boots don’t stay tied.” Fletcher finished and wiped his hands across his combat smock with a black polo neck. He hefted his mountain of equipment and rucksack onto his back again. “And could these black nasties be any less uncomfortable?”
Clegg snickered and cracked two knuckles
