Revell lunged forward to prevent Burke from reversing them off whatever it was that had at last arrested their mad career. ‘Let’s see where we are first.’
The driver’s screen was still working, but with its limited field of vision revealed nothing but a section of steeply rising bank immediately in front of them. It was liberally dotted with substantial trees whose gnarled exposed roots bound the mossy slope together.
The view he obtained using the all round infra-red facility in the turret was more informative.
They had come to rest in a shallow stream bed, against the still massive remains of a storm-toppled elm, at the bottom of a steep-sided ravine. Behind them, a. number of uprooted trees marked their descent.
Using the periscopes, Hyde had been carrying out a similar inspection. ‘Looks like as good a place as any, Major, to stop and see what the damage is.’
‘I agree. Post two men with the MG at the top of the slope behind us, where they can keep a watch on that track. Then I want a damage report, and fast.’
The beam of a torch flickered across Corporal Howard’s ruined torso to his white, blood-flecked death mask. His body still lay where it had originally come to rest, wedged between the ammunition boxes and a bench. For a while the light hovered about the wide-eyed face, then moved on as Hyde turned to the holed scanner board.
‘He was our only electronics man. Burke’s OK with engines, and Libby knows the hardware of any weapons system, but circuits and silicon chips…’ Hyde shook his head.
‘Cohen…’ Revell didn’t get to finish the sentence.
I’ll get on it right away, Major, but I can’t promise a lot. Shit,’ another pencil line of light flickered on as Cohen sat in the operator’s seat. ‘This looks like an MBT has been driven through it. I think maybe a heartfelt prayer would be as useful as a soldering iron.’
Cool clean air flushed the interior clear of smoke and stench as Libby and Collins went out. They splashed through the ankle-deep water and then immediately tackled the steep slope.
Encumbered as he was by six one-hundred-round belts of ammunition, as well as his own rifle and a satchel of grenades, plus a spare barrel for the machine gun, Collins was trailing by some yards before they were out of sight of the skimmer.
While Dooley and Rinehart set about extricating Howard’s body from its awkward resting place, the others began the inspection of their transport. The lists of damage suffered became steadily longer.
Hyde’s finger tapped the edge of the large irregular hole below the port engine pod. ‘Looks like it was deflected when it hit the engine-mounting bracket. The shell went down and ripped the skirt panels off, the bracket went through here travelling upwards at about forty-five degrees, penetrated the inner hull and went straight through the guts of Howard’s scanner.’
‘And then straight through Howard’s guts.’
‘Shut up, Burke.’ Hyde stood up. ‘We can replace the damaged and missing skirt panels, but there’s nothing we can do about the engine mounting. It’s not just that we don’t carry any, the studs were snapped off, it’ll be a workshop job.’
‘She’ll still motor alright though?’ Looking closely, Revell could see bright unpainted metal where the bracket had been ripped away.
Hyde let Burke answer.
‘Might be a bit more vibration, and if we start clouting a load more trees then I can’t say how long the other four will hold, but she’ll motor. I’d prefer not to go above fifty though, if it can be avoided. If it does break loose it’ll tip us over and we’ll burn for sure.’
‘How about you, Cohen, what’s your news ?’ It was only because he could see the unnaturally humped shoulder line, the distinctive silhouette of a flak jacket, that Revell could identify who was on the ramp. The darkness beneath the overhanging foliage of the trees was almost total.
‘Some good, some bad, Major. You could say our eyes are gone but our ears are still working. We’ve lost all visual systems except the turret and cupola infra-red, and the driver’s image intensifier. But if I rig up what’s left of the hostile fire locator and active radar detector so they’ll give an audio signal instead, we’ll still know when someone is looking at us, or chucking shit in our direction. We just won’t know where from and how much, but it’ll be better than nothing.’
‘How long will it take?’ Sparks trailed behind the red dot of the major’s cigarette butt as he flicked it away. It died with a faint hiss among the damp stones at the water’s edge.
‘If someone holds the torch for me, (and provided I don’t run into any fresh problems), an hour, it won’t be pretty, but it’ll work. Only someone of my genius could do it, it ain’t exactly a standard conversion.’
‘Save the patting yourself on the back for when you’ve made it work. OK, you can have Rinehart.’
The major bent down, cupped his hands under the surface of the shallow water and splashed his face. He dried himself on the sleeve of his camouflage jacket. ‘How long ‘til dawn, Sergeant.’
‘Two hours. Are we still trying to make it tonight, Major?’
‘Can we get to safe ground in the time we’ll have left after Cohen has fixed the board ?’
‘If we don’t run into any more problems, yes. But there won’t be any margin for error.’
‘Then we’re still trying to make it tonight.’ Revell looked up at the invisible umbrella of leaves eighty feet above their heads. ‘That won’t give us any cover from multi-spectral reconnaissance if the Reds send over sky-spies, and there’s a chance they will after tonight. Our best bet is to be far away when they get round to looking.’
A match flared beside them as Burke lit a cigarette. ‘What the hell are you still standing about for?’ Hyde turned on him. ‘Get those spare skirt panels off the roof. Are you waiting for me to bloody do it for you?’
‘On me own? By me self? Those things weigh a ton.’
‘Seventy-nine pounds each,’ Sergeant Hyde corrected. ‘And what about the water ? I’ll catch me death of cold.’
‘You’ll catch something in a minute.’
Revell was just going back into the skimmer, and heard the exchange. ‘He can have Dooley to help him, Sergeant Hyde.’
The big man came splashing through the water muttering obscenities. ‘I was just going to have a crap. Why didn’t you lot keep your mouths shut till I’d finished?’
‘Because at the moment I don’t want the stream dammed. Now stop the backchat and get on with it.’
‘Do you think you can make me if I don’t want to?’ Dooley straightened up to his full six-foot-four and towered over the sergeant. Burke’s voice floated down from above. ‘If you want to start chucking weight about, give me a hand. I’m fucking rupturing meself up here.’
Dooley didn’t look up. When he turned away from the sergeant to unfasten a tool locker, out of the corner of his eye he saw Burke standing on the skimmer’s roof with two of the heavy metal-bound skirt panels held high above his head.
‘That’s enough arsing about. Fetch that stuff down here on the double and do the ruddy job.’ As Hyde turned to leave, there was a huge splash behind him and a fan of water hit his back and showered past on either side. ‘Sorry, Sarge, it slipped.’
Although, being much closer to the point of impact, Dooley must have been absolutely soaked by the ‘accident’, Hyde could hear him fighting to suppress a laugh, and mostly failing. He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and kept going. There would be other times, if the Ruskies didn’t get them first, when he would be able to get those two back into line, and he’d enjoy doing it.