Bomber. Len Deighton
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Название: Bomber
Автор: Len Deighton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007347728
isbn:
His desire to be a strategist had not diminished with time as had the desire to be a professional cricketer, nor had it become unreal like his hopes of being six foot tall. The war would continue for at least ten more years, Sweet had decided. There was time enough for this ambition. When we had conquered the Germans the Japs would be next on the list, and look how long the Chinks had spent trying to hold them off: since 1931. After that we’d probably have to put the Russians in their place. It was going to be a long war and Sweet had decided to spend the greater part of it on the staff side: making decisions, formulating plans, forging strategy. These were the things of which wars were made. Naturally a young ambitious staff officer would have had a dangerous war behind him and a couple of gongs. These would be his credentials, his way of making the old-timers listen to reason. Two tours of bombers, DFC and bar and a job at High Wycombe: this was Sweet’s ambition.
He could handle a bit of schoolboy German and French. Next he’d learn some Russkie or Jap, or perhaps even Mandarin. He bought two whiskies and walked across to the solemn-faced Education Officer, an elderly schoolteacher who had joined the station only that week. Education officers were often called ‘schoolmasters’, and never more aptly, for this bespectacled pilot officer had, until ten weeks before, been teaching History and Languages at a secondary school in Harwich.
‘How are you finding things, sir?’ said Sweet deferentially.
‘Splendid,’ said the Education Officer, wondering why he should have been sought out by this gay young hero.
‘Wizard,’ nodded Sweet. ‘That’s wizard. My name’s Sweet, Flight commander B Flight. Look, sir, I would appreciate your advice. Considering the way the world is going – the war and everything, you know – I’d like to hear a broader view than we’ – quick look round – ‘get in the Mess.’
The Education Officer looked at Sweet with interest. It was quite amazing that these boys – in spite of their rank badges and medals – were only a year or two older than his sixth form back in Harwich. Younger in a way, for the war had prevented their minds expanding in the normal manner. They thought of nothing but the technical skills of their job. Most of them failed to realize how narrow and uncommercial those skills were. After the war the poor devils would suffer when they started looking for a job, just as he had, as a young infantry officer, after the previous war. A brilliant first year at Oxford with its crowning achievement a commission in a yeomanry regiment. My God, what a fool!
It goes without saying we are all proud of the sacrifices you have made, Captain, and the decoration you won, but when there are so many men after so few jobs, it would be irresponsible and unfair to our shareholders to take anyone without experience or even a degree.
He had gone out and joined the Peace Pledge Union. ‘I remember war, and I will never support or sanction another.’ And yet here he was supporting another, with these curious young men. How different they were from the chaps he soldiered with in 1914. Half these kids hadn’t even got their matriculation exam. He was amazed at the superficial nature of their conversation: flying, booze-ups and bints. Even their cynicism was ingenuous. He said, ‘I’d be glad to help if I can.’
‘It’s not really for me,’ said Sweet. ‘It’s for my cousin. He’s a pretty clever chap. No degree, but he could get one at any time, just like that.’ Sweet clicked his fingers. ‘He was asking me a few questions the other day. He thinks my advice is worth taking. Can’t think why.’ Sweet laughed. ‘He’s in the Army, he stands a good chance of a job on staff. They are putting together the real brains now to start planning the invasion.’
‘Really,’ said the Education Officer.
‘Yes. This chap will be a brigadier in no time at all. Anyway this fellow …’
‘Your cousin.’
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