He awoke to the sound of shouts and sharp commands. A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him and making the narrow cot on which he rested quiver and tremble.
“Comain! Wake up man. Wake up!”
“What?” He opened his eyes, blinking, trying to focus on the pale blob of a face which loomed above him. “What’s the matter?”
“Hurry. Wake up.”
He grunted, fumbling for his spectacles, hooking them behind his ears and blinking at the Colonel’s worried expression. He felt ill, overtired, his head a mass of cotton wool and mouth tasting like the discharge end of a sewerage pipe. He gasped, feeling his clammy body shiver as the Colonel dragged off the sweat-soaked sheets, and he swung his thin legs over the edge of the bed as he struggled to regain full awareness.
“Adams! What’s the matter?”
“Get up,
