“Is that right?”
“f**k no, another boy with no pulse.” Nearby others were fighting to stem the bleeding, and still they came in. “Here, give this bloke another shot and put him to sleep.” They worked feverishly. This was nothing like a city trauma ward; this was condoned mayhem and s*******r. At last there was an almighty c***k as they blew the trees and in they came. “Thank b****y Christ!” The grenades had exploded among the HQ of Second Platoon. Stroller, the lanky radioman, was only just with them, with much of his skull cap missing. One had terrible blast damage and was just a bloodied muddle of perforated flesh.
Although I remained hunched over my weapon, at least I had survived. Somewhere to the rear, a dust-off was taking place, and now they had all day to fly in and out. The flar
