Dennis Wheatley - The Secret War

Christopher was staring down at the ruin they were leaving behind them. `How quickly it burnt once it caught fire,' he muttered to Lovelace.

One of the airmen overheard him and said in English: `I used explosives first just to scare them out but once we saw you running from the village I dropped one of our new incendiary bombs to finish it.'

`I thought as much,' Lovelace nodded. `From the frightful glare it must have been a pretty big chap.'

`No, no, quite small.' The Italian smiled. `They weigh only one kilo, about two English pounds, but they are thermite and develop a heat of 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Anyone within ten yards of one when it bursts would be scorched to death instantly. They would bore a hole through the steel decks of your most heavily armoured battleships, and come straight out through the bottoms too, as easily as a rifle bullet would go through an orange.'

Lovelace would have liked to have heard more of this new weapon, but the Italian excused himself with the plea that he and his comrades must continue the reconnaissance upon which they were engaged.

The war plane was now well above the level of the towering cliff, and turned north by west in the direction of Dessye. As further ranges of cliffs appeared, they climbed higher and higher while the observers took innumerable photographs of the wild gorges, and hardly discernible goat tracks, beneath them.

The three passengers had fallen silent. They were now feeling the reaction from the excitement of their escape and the minor misfortunes resulting from their grim ordeal. All of them were badly bruised from the blows they had received, and had numerous small cuts from knives and spears upon their backs and thighs.

Many of the fleas which had attacked them in the hut were still upon them, and although they had not been exposed to the sun for any length of time, its rays were so strong that they had been badly scorched about their necks and shoulders.

As the reconnaissance progressed they lapsed into a semi stupor. Their bodies ached, itched and burned intolerably, yet they were too dead beat to do anything but crouch on the narrow seats they had been given and pray that the flight would soon be over.

Once the English speaking Italian roused them and, pointing downwards with a grin, said, `Look, we are over Dessye.'

Lovelace peered down. From the air the place appeared much as Diredawa had that morning except, that it was somewhat larger and set in a valley among mountains instead of in a plain. There were the wine round native tuculs; the same cluster of whitish tin roofed buildings and churches in its centre; the same lack of plan in its straggling outlay. In the rarefied mountain air, however, this land map stood out with startling clearness, and he could see swarms of ant like creatures moving about their business below. To one side of the town several hundred white tents and marquees had been erected; regular lines of little oblong things near them could only be rows of stationary tanks and lorries. The rumour that the Italians had taken. Dessye was true, then.

As they flew on they passed over an artillery park and veering northward saw a long, long, snake like stream of slowly moving transport emerging from the entrance of a mountain pass. Evidently the invaders were forming a new base at the Emperor's old headquarters before pushing on again. They still had a hundred and fifty miles to go, though, Lovelace reckoned, before they could enter Addis. Their recent progress had been remarkable, but they were very far from having won a yet.

He closed his eyes and dropped back in his seat: too tired and ill to watch the scene beneath them any longer. Valerie and Christopher were huddled up in an uneasy doze opposite to him. None of them noticed when the plane changed its direction again, after having made three quarters of a great circle from Assab, over Diredawa and Dessye, to head back towards the Red Seq.. They did not open their eyes again until it landed at a large, military aerodrome.

Lovelace climbed stiffly out and, seeing the rows of hangars with the white houses of quite a considerable town beyond in the distance, asked where they were.

'Assab, our port in Southern Eritrea;' said Count Dolomenchi. `It is a devilish place, but while the war lasts one must put up with such discomforts.’

'Assab,' repeated Lovelace dully. `Then we're only just over the border from French Somaliland. Jibuti, from where we started this morning, can't be much more than a hundred miles along the coast from here. We could get there overnight if there's a steamer sailing, and make a fresh start for Addis Ababa tomorrow.'

Dolomenchi shook his handsome head. `Observe the condition of the Signorina and the young man who supports her. Yourself, too, you look almost all in.'

It was true. Lovelace glanced behind him and saw that Christopher was now holding Valerie up, although he could hardly stand himself.

`Come.' The Count took Valerie's other arm. `In one of the Air Force cars I shall take you all to the hospital. Bed is the place for you at the moment.'

The hospital to which he took them was a brand new building on the edge of the town. It was airy, clean and equipped in the most up to date manner. Its personnel was entirely military, but Lieutenant Count Dolomenchi seemed to know them all.

The doctors greeted him with Fascist salutes and a hearty welcome; the Italian nurses smiled and lingered as long as they were able in his vicinity. His request for beds which, as they were for foreign civilians might well have been rejected had it come from a lesser personality, was instantly granted. Was he not Dolomenchi of the Death Squadron, one of the heroes of the Italian Expeditionary Force, the gay and gallant airman who had been twice decorated for his feats of valour at the taking of Adigrat and the storming of Mount Aradam?

Valerie was taken to the nurses' ward and the others to a ward for officers. Willing hands assisted them to remove their tattered clothing. Their bruised and blistered bodies were washed, bandaged, and poulticed with witch hazel.

Christopher, utterly played out, submitted to the ministrations of the orderlies in silence. His whole body was racked with pain, the skin of his neck, shoulders, arms and back was stretched so taut it looked as though it might burst, and it burned intolerably.

When he had been put in the next empty bed to Lovelace he rallied a little, and said: `First thing tomorrow we'll have to see about buying another plane.'

The Italian doctor overheard him and smiled. 'I think it will be some time before you need bother about that.'

'But we can't stop here,' Christopher protested. 'It's of vital importance that we should reach Addis Ababa at the earliest possible moment.'

The doctor shrugged. `That is unfortunate, as it is quite impossible for you to resume your journey in your present state. Give me your arm, please.

`We must,' insisted Christopher feverishly. 'We must! So much depends on our arriving there in time. How long did you mean to keep us here?'

'You have had a ghastly grilling, and some of your wounds may be septic, but, if no complications set in, I'll have you up and about again in a fortnight or three weeks.' The doctor plunged the hypodermic needle into Christopher's arm and sent him, still muttering, off to sleep.

19

The secret of the second Nile

For seven days they were kept in bed. Both Valerie and Christopher had second degree burns, and, for the first forty eight hours, suffered the same agony as if they where being grilled before a slow fire, but, as thousands similar cases had passed through the hands of the hospital staff since the opening of the campaign, they received expert treatment and were able to get some sleep without the assistance of morphia on the third day. Lovelace was burnt, too, although less badly, owing his previous acclimatization in the tropics, and he could have recovered earlier than the others had it not 'been for a small wound in the calf of his leg which gave considerable trouble because it had been inflicted by a poisoned Danakil spear.