FOUR
Bulganak
‘Now look, yous...’ Colour-Sergeant McGucken held the heavy rifle across his waist and pointed at the graduated rear-sight, ‘...it’s no good buggerin’ about adjustin’ the bloody thing if you don’t know how far away the target is, so you’ve got to be able to estimate the range accurately, or it’s all a waste of fuckin’ time.’
The Grenadier Company gaggled about him as the sun beat down on the eighty-odd men, all of whom swiped to keep the flies out of their eyes, ears and noses. They had been waiting in Varna on the west coast of the Black Sea for a fortnight or more whilst the politicians decided what to do next, nobody quite knowing whether they would be sent inland to help the Turks on the Danube or embark on their ships again.
‘Luff, tell us how we estimate range.’ McG
