"MacDonnell, J E - 125 - Blind Into Doom UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacDonnell J E)

shouted:
"Commence commence commence!"
The port side of the gundeck exploded into action.
Into the fuse-setting machine went the first shell; out, across and
rattled into the breech. Rammed hard in by a fist with a leather pad
protecting the knuckles, the rim at the base of the cartridge met the
ejectors and freed them. At once, under tension of its spring, the
shiny solid breechblock greased shut. In a swift arcing movement
Lusby's hand slammed up under the interceptor, and his shout cracked
across the deck.
"Left gun ready!"
Three other voices yelled as one. There was a split second while
the director layer's mind said Fire and his muscles obeyed, then the
gun deck shook. Brightly yellow against the grey, four muzzle flames
lanced skyward and out from her side burst the brown smoke, to be
whipped astern by the thirty-knot wind she was making.
Lusby had not the slightest interest for all this. As though he
were starving and the breech-block were a plate of meat, his eyes
were riveted on it. There came the thud of closing, his hand whipped
up, and the guns roared again. From the time of loading that first
shell three seconds had passed. "Come on you bastards, get `em in!"
Lusby shouted but silently in his mind. He knew they were loading
fast.Again the guns recoiled and spat, and again and again. Now the
waiting was over, and the crews swung into a smooth cycle of rapid
efficiency. No man amongst them-not even the layers and trainers,
who were intent on their director pointers-had any idea where the
shells were bursting, or if they were bursting at all. There was no
time for sightseeing; time only to fuse them, to get them in and away.
At that moment their whole world was circumscribed to the small
area around the rear of the guns.
Petty-Officer Copeland could see where the shells were bursting,
- J.E. Macdonnell: Blind Into Doom Page 20 -



and Fawcett and Duncan, but none of these specialists uttered a word.
It was good shooting, but not good enough, with the black bursts
blossoming beneath the target. And now the Condor was alarmed;
banking to swing away, lifting one of its great pinions and dipping
the other. And exposing its belly.
Lusby swore it was a shell from his gun, which of course was an
absurd and indefensible claim. But they were all elated then, and so
with obscene chiacking they allowed his claim.
Duncan was not worried about which shell had "Condor" printed
on it. He felt extremely worried about the target's turn-away, for it
was futile to chase even with shells a target opening the range so
quickly. And then, in half a breath, his concern was swamped
gloriously in a surge of exultation.
It was either a direct hit or a very close near-miss. No matter.
Almost the whole of the Condor's belly became obscured by smoke.