Free Take or Destroy! by John Harris Page A

all down one side. Who’s that feller think ‘e is, anyway? Bew Guest?’
    By this time a lot of Jacka’s assault course had been put up and there was a contrivance of derricks and wires stretching across the sand from one of the huts. ‘What’s yon for?’ Keely asked.
    ‘You’ll soon find out!’
    The words had an ominous ring and there were no further questions. They’d already learned that the commandos weren’t in the habit of enlarging on things too much, and asking them for explanations was about as rewarding as trying to nail jelly to a wall. It seemed safer to wait and see.
     
    Training was no part of Hockold’s business at this stage because he had too many other things to attend to in Cairo.
    Kirstie gave him the best smile she could manage as he appeared. In Murray’s office he was brisk, keen and to the point. With her he was grimly silent and she felt it her duty - even more than her duty - to give him a degree of encouragement. It had clearly worked so far because, instead of crashing past, taking half the furniture with him as he had the first time he’d appeared, he stopped by her desk.
    ‘How about a drink when we’ve finished?’ he barked.
    She beamed at him, and he blushed and vanished into Murray’s room. Murray was on the telephone. He seemed to spend half his life on the telephone. He waved Hockold to a chair and went on with his conversation. When he’d finished, he seemed to surface slowly, lit a cigarette, and smiled.
    ‘Things are looking up,’ he said. ‘There’s another meeting and Bryant telephoned to say he’s got you half a dozen launches and something to go alongside the pier.’
    Hockold didn’t reply and Murray looked quickly at him.
    ‘It’s a beginning,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, sir. But I’m a bit worried about those guns.’
    ‘So am I. But we’ll come up with something.’
    Hockold drew a deep breath. ‘I was thinking of tanks, sir,’ he said.
    Murray’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Tanks?’ he said. ‘Tanks can’t operate in the dark.’
    ‘They might, sir. After all, we always used the dark to get into position, so why not use it to fight? We did at Beda Farafra last year. Jerry was all round us, so we took off the black-out shields and switched on the lights. They were so surprised, it worked.’
    ‘You’ll need more than headlights,’ Murray grunted.
    ‘We could arrange for the RAF to drop flares and fit extra lights on the turrets. We don’t need anything big. Or anything very new. Honeys, for instance. They’re fast. There’s a wide slip alongside the mole and if we could get them on to the beach they could go up there. If they’re quick, all those 47s could well be facing the wrong way.
    Murray pressed a bell and Kirstie appeared. She didn’t look at Hockold.
    ‘Get me Alec Gatehouse,’ Murray said. ‘If anyone knows whether it can be done, he will.’
     
    Bryant and de Berry were more forthcoming this time but not much more friendly towards each other. ‘So far I’ve got you half a dozen launches,’ Bryant said. ‘Three naval Fairmile Type Bs, and three RAF high-speed rescue jobs which are under naval command. There’s also an Egyptian water-boat, Horambeb, to go alongside the pier for your troops to land across. She draws only four feet unladen. We can mount guns.’
    ‘How about the launches?’
    ‘MLs - three-pounders and machine guns. HSLs - stern-mounted Oerlikons and waist-mounted point-threes in turrets.’
    It didn’t seem much and Bryant seemed to recognize the fact. ‘At the moment that’s as far as I can commit myself,’ he said.
    ‘They won’t get us ashore,’ de Berry pointed out. ‘And we have to bridge the water gap.’ He smiled. ‘Like Jonah and the whale which vomited him on to dry land. He formed a neat parabola through the air, I believe.’
    ‘Something that’s impractical with tanks,’ Murray interjected sharply.
    Bryant’s head jerked round. ‘When did we start talking about tanks?’
    ‘Just now.’