Heroes of the South Atlantic. Shaun Clarke
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Название: Heroes of the South Atlantic
Автор: Shaun Clarke
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780008154868
isbn:
Parkinson returned the smile, but to the back of his wife’s head, knowing that she would snatch a few more minutes of sleep, yet instinctively wake up before the tea was cold. After gently squeezing her shoulder, which made her purr like a cat, he turned and left the bedroom, automatically glancing into the other two bedrooms, where his children, now both married, had once slept and played. Reminded of his age, but certainly not feeling it, he returned to the kitchen to have breakfast and a quick scan of The Times.
His breakfast was frugal: orange juice, one boiled egg with brown toast, then a cup of black coffee. Parkinson did not believe in overeating; nor did he smoke or drink.
Opening his newspaper, he read that yesterday Argentina had invaded the Falkland Islands, overwhelming the single company of Royal Marines guarding the capital, Port Stanley. An emergency session of Parliament had been called – the first Saturday sitting since the Suez crisis – and the Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, was scheduled to make a statement detailing Britain’s response to the invasion.
Parkinson immediately picked up the telephone and called his Commanding Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Michael Pryce-Jones, at Stirling Lines, the home and heart of the SAS.
‘I’ve just read the morning paper,’ he said. ‘It sounds serious, boss.’
‘Quite serious, old chap,’ Pryce-Jones replied, making no attempt to hide his delight at the prospect of war. ‘In fact, damned serious. A bunch of bloody Argies trying to steal a British territory and we’re supposed to sit back and take it? Not likely, I say!’
‘Mrs Thatcher won’t let them,’ Parkinson replied. ‘We all know what she’s like. She’ll insist that it’s her duty to defend and preserve British sovereignty, no matter how small the territory involved. I think we’re in for some action.’
‘Damned right, we are. A task force of 40 warships, including the aircraft-carriers Invincible and Hermes, with 1000 commandos, is already being assembled, though the fleet hasn’t yet been given orders to sail. The usual political posturing will have to be endured first, thus wasting valuable time, but war with Argentina is inevitable. By tonight, the United Nations Security Council will almost certainly be compelled to demand a cessation of hostilities and an immediate withdrawal of the Argentinian invasion force. Then there’ll be negotiations. But cheering crowds are already gathering outside the presidential palace in Buenos Aires to celebrate the recapture of the so-called Malvinas, so it’s unlikely that General Galtieri – he’s the head of the military junta – will voluntarily back down. War it will have to be – and we’ll be part of it. You’d better get in here.’
Parkinson hurried out of the house, climbed into his car and drove off at high speed, heading for Stirling Lines.
‘I don’t think I have to tell you men why you’ve been called back to camp on three hours’ notice,’ Major Parkinson said to his men on Sunday morning, 4 April, 1982, as he stood beside Captain Michael ‘Mike’ Hailsham of the Mountain Troop and Captain Laurence E. Grenville of the Special Boat Squadron (SBS), in the briefing room of the ‘Kremlin’, the SAS intelligence section at Stirling Lines, in Redhill, Hereford. ‘Suffice to say that since its forced surrender to the Argentinians in Port Stanley on Friday, the unfortunate company of Royal Marines has been further humiliated by being forced to lie face down on the ground to be photographed for propaganda purposes. That’s why you’ve all been called back. We can’t let the bloody Argies get away with that, let alone their damned invasion of the Falkland Islands.’
‘So why are we still sitting here?’ Sergeant Ricketts asked.
‘Right, boss,’ Corporal Jock McGregor added. ‘Our arses are freezing on these chairs while the Navy goes gung-ho.’
‘True,’ Major Parkinson said calmly, immune to their expected sarcasm, since the SAS not only used the informal ‘boss’ instead of ‘sir’, but also encouraged free thinking and initiative. ‘A Royal Navy Task Force is set to sail from Portsmouth for the Falklands tomorrow. That task force will include frigates, destroyers, troop carriers, landing ships and supply vessels. Its two aircraft-carriers, HMS Invincible and HMS Hermes, will be crammed with Harrier jump-jets and helicopters, as well as with Royal Marines and Paratroops. Although she carries mainly Sea Harriers, HMS Hermes also has Sea King HC4s of 846 Naval Air Squadron, equipped to land the commandos with whom they normally train. At the same time, other ships will be leaving Plymouth to link up with yet more forces from Gibraltar. All in all, it will be Britain’s greatest display of Naval strength since Suez.’
‘But not including us,’ Taff Burgess complained, grinning laconically at his fellow SAS troopers.
‘Right,’ Sergeant Ricketts snapped, not grinning at all. ‘I’ve heard that the Royal Marines’ special Boat Squadron have already asked for two divers – one a former Marine – to complete a team flying to Ascension Island, where they hope to join a British submarine in the South Atlantic.’
‘We’ve heard, also,’ SBS Captain Grenville said in his familiar terse way, ‘that two members of G Squadron joined 2 SB Section at RAF Lyneham.’
‘Yet there are still no movement orders for this Squadron,’ Trooper Burgess said. ‘What’s going on, boss?’
Major Parkinson smiled. ‘Oh, ye of little faith. In fact, earlier this morning our OC called the senior officer in command of the Falklands operation – Brigadier Julian Thompson, Commander of 3 Commando Brigade, Royal Marines…’
‘Now on seventy-two hours’ notice to sail for the South Atlantic,’ Ricketts interjected sarcastically.
‘…and insisted that he include us in the Task Force. He was informed by the brigadier that Naval and Royal Marine staffs are working around the clock to arrange the embarkation of the men and war stores needed to spearhead any reconquest of the islands. This operation has been code-named “Corporate” and we’ll be part of it.’
‘How?’ Trooper Andrew Winston asked, rubbing his hand against his cheek and displaying an unwavering gaze that could make grown men tremble.
‘Oh, dear, you trust us so little!’ said the formerly renowned mountaineer and still dashingly handsome Captain Hailsham of the Mountain Troop.
Major Parkinson let the derisive laughter die away, then said in a graver tone: ‘The Task Force has been gathered together to show the world, and particularly Argentina, that Britain is serious about the fate of the so-called Malvinas. It will therefore be leaving to military music and a lot of patriotic flag-waving, in full view of the assembled international media.’ He paused for emphasis, before adding: ‘But we’ll be leaving as well. We will simply go quietly – flying out tomorrow.’
This time his men whistled and applauded, obviously pleased. Parkinson raised his hands to silence them. When they had calmed down, one of them, Trooper Danny ‘Baby Face’ Porter, put his hand up and asked: ‘Do we have anything on the Falklands, boss?’
Major Parkinson nodded to Captain Hailsham, who said: ‘Yesterday the Kremlin’s staff gathered together all the information they could find about the islands in the MOD map-room – most of it from СКАЧАТЬ