"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

called cans, and they never went outside the town. We could move from
position to position around the town in them, which was great, especially
when it was pissing down.
The can crews themselves had a pretty shifty job. They just sat, and
the gunners just stood. The cans were essentially firm firebases for when we
had big contacts, with a turret-mounted machine gun. Their most useful
feature, however, was secured to the rear. It was a thing called a Norwegian
container, which held about two gallons of tea, with a plastic mug hanging
off. The can drivers used to fill them up before a patrol, so we could go
around the back for a brew. After about two hours it was lukewarm, stewy
stuff, but in the early hours of the morning it was nectar.
I was on foot patrol in Crossmaglen in the early spring of 1978, at a
time when the policy was to pull down any republican tricolors we saw. It
wasn't a question of just going up and lifting it. It had to be done
carefully, because there was always a possibility that it might be a come-on
or it could be a booby trap.
One had been put up on the Newry road leading out of Crossmagien by the
church, right on the edge of town, at the start of the cuds. It was a
typical rural scene of undulating fields and hedgerows. The road was lined
by telephone poles, from one of which hung a tricolor.
There were four patrols out from my platoon. On the net the commander
said, "When we get the changeover, one patrol will take down the tricolor
and we'll carry on patrolling."
My patrol was getting ready to go out. The weather was cold and damp.
All the concrete was wet, and there were unwanted puddles everywhere. We
were wearing nylon flak jackets on which each bloke had written his blood
group. I had a civilian duvet jacket underneath my combat jacket.
There was a quick five-minute briefing in one of the garden sheds by
the multiple commander.
"You take the center of the town; you take the left; you take the
right. The other patrol will stay out and take down the tricolor.
Once that's done, they'll come back in and we'll carry on our patrol."
It was no big deal; it was just another tricolor to be taken down.
We got by the main gate, and four at a time the patrols would come
forward into the loading bay and load their weapons. The guard commander
would then get on the radio to Baruki and tell them that the patrols were
ready. Their job was to cover us as we were coming out.
Patrol by patrol we bomb-burst out. It would be just another routine
patrol, three hours in the town, back for four, then go out again for
another three hours.
We were going to be the center patrol, around the town square, the
nearest patrol to the one that was going to take down the tricolor.
Nicky Smith, being search-trained, was told that he was going to go and
take it down. The plan was that once we had come out on the ground, we would
provide an outer cordon for his patrol, just be milling around the area.
They called for one of the cans that were on the opposite side of town.
The plan was for Nicky to climb up on the mesh, have a quick look at the
flag, and, if it was all right, bring it down. It was no problem. He'd done
it scores of times before, and it was in broad daylight.
The traffic was stopped either side in VCPS; we were manning the VCP