With the surface of its aluminium armour beginning to bubble in places, with phosphorus and sodium dripping from it, the doors began to open again, and stopped after only a few inches. The heat that had deterred them before had welded the hinges into solid masses. Screams came from inside and a blistered hand was thrust through the gap between rear door and hull, only to be fused to the metal.
The remaining pair of amphibious tanks were trying to reverse past the wrecks to get out of the street, but the space available was narrow and they were getting themselves into all sorts of trouble as they collided first with shop fronts and then with the burning wrecks and finally with each other, a collision that cost both of them the thin aluminium splashguards over their tracks. ‘What’s the crew of those elderly brutes?’
Clarence had the answer for the officer of engineers. ‘Commander, driver, gunner and a section of infantry.’
‘Ah, then we’d better finish them now, before the blighters decide to abandon ship, or tank rather, and take to the hills. Be a damned sight harder to winkle them out then.’ From his pocket he took a small radio transmitter. ‘Hope the Ruskies aren’t jamming this frequency, that’s the risk of these things. Much prefer wire control, where it’s possible.’ His thumb flicked a control to the ‘on’ position.
Red flame flowed over the front of a building opposite the tanks as drums on its top floor were punctured and ignited by small charges. Another building began to go the same way, and then one across the street was followed by another that made four and the process continued until a whole block on either side presented the roaring face of an inferno.
‘Now this is a bit of a waste.’ The engineer returned the transmitter to his pocket. He had to shout to be heard above the fires. ‘This was planned to catch Russian infantry. We could have fried a whole battalion or more.’
Distorted by their rapid expansion, weakened by being heated until they glowed, the girders and reinforcing rods that kept the bomb-damaged buildings upright began to fail.
Giant chunks of concrete, whole sections of frontage, began to fall into the street, and the tanks’ crews saw the danger too late. Even as they started to leave by the escape hatches, braving the searing heat of the street, they were struck down by the rain of beams and masonry cascading from the upper floors. The hulls of the tanks were speared by white-hot steel, crushed beneath torrents of concrete, and as their fuel tanks were ruptured and ammunition ignited, their destruction became total.
‘Might be an idea if we made a move ourselves. Be silly to get roasted in our own oven.’
‘Hold it, eh, Major?’ Hyde had levelled his rifle at the engineer, and cocked the weapon. ‘I think we should have a word before we go anywhere.’
‘Hey, Sarge, you lost a screw?’ Dooley couldn’t make sense of what was happening. ‘This guy saved our bacon and broiled a platoon of Reds with their transport. You think he’s a spy or something?’
‘I don’t know, but something’s not right, so how about you go through his pack and find out just who we have here. Unless, that is, he’d like to save us the trouble and talk.’
The Royal Engineers major shrugged, then a quiet smile spread over his smoke-stained handsome face. ‘The name is Thorne.’
THIRTEEN
It was past mid-day when Revell woke, but only his watch told him that. The room was still dark, heavy shutters remained fastened over the windows. He groped for matches on the bedside table and lit the stump of candle.
With the pale illumination, memories of the night came pouring back, and with them the uncomfortable realisation that he was very sore. Rude noises came from the baby-oil bottle as he squeezed the last drop from it and gingerly patted it on to his red and flaccid penis. The contact was painful, but the coldness was soothing.
Noticing that Inga’s suit was missing from the chair, and hearing her moving about in the next room he hurriedly dressed, wasting some time in having to hunt for his scattered clothes.
‘Oh, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. I know it is a little late…’ She saw him as he came into the lounge. ‘No, I don’t want anything, thanks anyway.’ He hesitated. ‘About last night…’
‘Last night was last night. It is past, and I shall not talk of it if you do not want to, but,’ she leant against him and stroked behind his ears with long slim manicured fingers, ‘but I do not think you will be angry with me if I tell you it was lovely. I liked watching you do that, you came so many times, and when your fingers were inside me, and your tongue…’
‘Yes… but like you say, that was last night…I wouldn’t like anyone to know…not that I think you would…’
‘Shush.’ She put a finger to his lips. ‘It is forgotten, until the next time. Now, eat with me.’
‘I can’t, I must go back to be reassigned. That’s where I should have gone after I left the hospital, and I must check on Andrea.’
Inga didn’t argue, she could see that his mind was made up. ‘The reassignment office is closest, at least let me go there with you, won’t you?’
‘Sure, but I want to get away now, I’ve delayed too long already.’ He saw her hurt expression at that. ‘But I’ll admit it, I enjoyed it too.’
The sun was high in the sky and trying hard to break through the perpetual dust and smoke cloud that hung over Hamburg. It was blistering hot down in the street and the queues at the water tankers were longer than usual.
A familiar landmark was missing from the city skyline, but if the people shuffling endlessly forward with their buckets and jerry-cans noticed, they made no remark.
It was slightly cooler underground, but the sheer numbers of people lined up before the tables and waiting on the platform and tracks beyond kept the humidity high and the air stale. There appeared to be even more of them than there had the time before.
An hour passed before they even came within sight of the table: an hour of having their feet trodden on, of hearing petty squabbles all about them, of edging forward a half-pace at a time. If Inga had not been on his arm, helping to make the time fly, he would have barged his way to the front, using his strength, his rank or the 12-gauge to be attended to first. As it was he put up with the crowds and the noise and the bickering and the shoving because it stretched that much further the last few minutes he had with her.
‘You were not wounded?’ Andrea spoke to Revell, but her eyes were on Inga. ‘What the hell are you doing here, you’re supposed to be in the hospital.’ Revell was completely taken aback by her appearance. He noticed an assignment slip in her hand.
‘I could not stand being in that place. All that is wrong with me is that I have lost a little blood and I have some sutures in my leg. I reported here to get back into combat, but all they have given me is command of an old truck, an older man and some radio location equipment. Tomorrow I shall try again to return to a fighting unit. Who is she?’
The dislike generated between the two attractive women was instant and total. Revell would have liked to have thought that he was the cause of that, but he couldn’t believe he was. The introductions he made served only to ice the air further.
‘Did you know the squad was still intact?’ Andrea now ignored the tall blonde, acting as though she didn’t exist. She watched for the major’s reaction to the news.
‘Where are they?’ He tried to keep his voice casual, to give her no satisfaction by reacting with surprise.
‘At the Schauspielhaus, on Kirchenallee, resting. They were in action last night. I hear they crossed the Aussenalster and destroyed the big mortar that has been tearing Hamburg apart. It is only a rumour, but it is said they forestalled a Russian attempt to use a nuclear round on the city.’