James Rouch - Sky Strike

‘You will take us with you? You must It has taken us a week to get this far, travelling only by night. It could take as long again to finish the journey, and that will be too long.’

‘I’m sorry, that’s not possible. The Russians are looking for us, and we would only draw attention to you. Wait until a few hours after we leave, we will have drawn them off by then, and you should make good time. That’s the best I can offer. You must tell the others that, and then I will give you some dressings and send you back with my driver. He should be able to fix the battery. We can give you a tow to start, before we pull out.’

As they walked back to the APC she said nothing. It was as though she had been drained of emotion. She had known every one in the last few days and each more painful, more intense than the previous, they had leeched much of the spirit that had brought her and the others this far.

‘Sergeant Hyde.’ On their return Revell immediately noticed that the NCO had given the men tasks that would keep them away from the women. Except for Libby, who worked closely with Andrea, tending the injured. He hated seeing that, someone else close to her, when he couldn’t be. Damn her, his bitch of an ex-wife had always been able to sparkle when they were with others, and then had drooped or gone cold when they were alone together, usually at bedtime.

‘Major?’ Hyde could see where the officer was looking, and knew why. What the hell, he wasn’t going to arrange things especially to make an officer’s love life easier, or his frustration less.

‘Eh, yes.’ Damn, he must be getting tired, his attention had wandered, but then it often did towards Andrea. It was a good job none of the others noticed. ‘We’ve no way of knowing how that shot carried. Sound plays tricks at night. Put a watch on the track, just in case. Put Dooley on it first. He was only up the tree a short time before it got dark, and it’d be as well to get him away from the women.’

Crud, shitty crud. Fucking shitty crud. The shitty bastard. Dooley knew the order originated from the major. Shit. What harm would it have done for him to have stayed back there, trying to chat up the women? With everyone looking he’d have hardly been likely to have got anywhere, but it made a nice change, or would have, to have a bit of feminine company. He didn’t count Andrea. Apart from the fact she went off on her own and squatted when she had a pee, she was just the same as one of the men.

Three months she had hung around him, pumping him for knowledge, learning all there was to know about close-quarters fighting, even getting him to give her Kung-Fu lessons, and what had he got for it? A couple of crafty squeezes at a very nice firm tit, his face up against her arse a couple of other times and one lovely and all too brief grind on top of her before she’d realised what he was doing. He could still feel that hard contact with the tight-closed top of her legs, and then the beautiful slide forward to run his erection up her denim-covered crack. And he could still feel the pain as she had ripped out a handful of his hair in hurling him off, and the kick to his balls with which she had finished that lesson, and nearly his sex-life for good.

The last three weeks, though, she’d hardly come to him at all, she’d learnt all she could and pretty soon she’d be fastening on to someone else. Maybe it’d be Libby, he’d already noticed them together a couple of times, but somehow he didn’t think so. Whatever the reason though, it was getting up Revell’s nose, and in that at least Dooley could find some measure of revenge for the stinking, lousy, crappy numbers the major was pulling at the moment.

Clarence arrived to take over, and very stiffly Dooley vacated the warm soft depression he’d made in the grass. As he’d expected, the sniper chose his own spot and he watched him settle down, after first carefully laying out a groundsheet.

Taking a last look at the track, standing in the pale moonlight like a broad silver stream between the canyon walls of the trees, Dooley started back to the APC. He was tired, but had gone beyond the stage where he could sleep. If they made it back he’d sleep then, probably round the clock, and if they didn’t then he wouldn’t need it.

‘Can I talk to you?’

Coming out of the darkness, without warning, the voice made him jump. A woman stepped in front of him. The one whose eye he had been trying to catch. ‘Please, can I talk to you?’ She held her hands tight-clasped in front of her, crushing a silk scarf between them.

‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ He was wary, in case it was a trap. ‘I have three children with me, my daughters.’

Now Dooley was really on his guard. It sounded almost like an offer, but it couldn’t be. He said nothing, waiting to see what came next.

‘They are very pretty; very pretty.’ There was a catch in her voice. ‘I am afraid of what will happen if those Russian animals find them.’

She had leant against him, and he could feel the gentle warmth of her full body. ‘You’ll have to talk to the major, I can’t help you, I’m not in charge.’

‘Please, he will not listen to me. I have tried, but he says there will be greater danger if we go with you.’

‘He’s right’ Dooley put his arms around her and held her to him, comforting her by stroking her hair. ‘Someone in the Ruskie high command has got it in for us. Wherever we go, all hell breaks loose.’

‘It is not for me. All I have left is my girls. My husband was killed by the Communists when he stopped them from raping our youngest. Greta was only fifteen at the time. They are my life. I have kept them safe, and now I want only for them to reach the West and learn of freedom; freedom from fear and from want. You like me, I know you do. You must help me.’

No one, absolutely no one had ever got through to him like this before. He felt his eyes growing hot and moist as he hugged her close. In her he felt softness, warmth and compassion; all the things he had ever looked for in a woman. And there was nothing he could do, nothing.

‘Your officer says that we must follow some hours behind. Is there nothing else we can do?’

When she looked up at him it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. He kissed her, a kiss that started as a token and finished long afterwards as a passionate joining of two people who had found something they needed.

‘You don’t have to wait ‘til we’re over the hill.’ The embrace had taken his breath away and Dooley had to break and pause before he could speak. ‘He’s not going to shoot you off the road, Christ, we’re not shitty Commies. Soon as you get started, hang in behind us and we’ll lead you through, what can he do?’

This time her mouth sought his, and as they met her tongue forced contact with his. Dooley’s hand closed over her large soft breast and felt for the contours of her body beneath the layers of clothing.

As he fumbled with the fastenings of her clothing he caught the faint whiff of perfume and the thought occurred that perhaps she had engineered this, but he didn’t care. His penis was iron hard, she was ready for him and he wanted her.

He hated clothes, the delay and clumsy fumblings they brought to something that should be so natural and spontaneous, but with her hands reaching for his zip and her tongue snaking into his ear the ritual of disrobing was almost a part of pleasure.

The cold night air was suddenly on the lower half of his body and at the same moment he found the waistband of her knickers and began to ease them down over the wide swell of her hips.

Her momentary resistance was also a part of the ritual, and then the tip of his penis was pushing against the soft-backed bush of hair between her legs and he felt a moment’s cool dampness before he began to slide into her. He penetrated a little, then felt a barring roughness.