Читать книгу Quartered Safe Out Here - George Fraser MacDonald - Страница 10

“Aye-aye, Jock lad, w’at fettle?”

“Not bad, sergeant, thank you.”

“Champion! They tell us yer a good cross-coontry rooner?”

“Oh … well, I’ve done a bit …”

“Girraway! Ah seen ye winnin’ at Ranchi – travellin’ like a bloody trail ’oond w’en the whistles gan on. ’Ere, ’ev a fag.”

“Ta very much, sarn’t. M-mm, Senior Service …”

“Sarn’t’s mess issue, lad. Tek anoother fer after. Aye, ye can roon … woon a few prizes in Blighty, did ye?”

“Well, now and then … seven and six in savings certificates, that sort of thing …”

“Ah’ll bet yer the fastest man in’t battalion, ower a mile or two. Aye, in the brigade, likely – mebbe the division –”

“Oh, I dunno about that. There must be some good runners –”

“Give ower, Jock! A fit yoong feller like you? Honnist, noo – wadn’t ye back yersel agin anybuddy in 17th Indian? Well aye, ye wad! Ootroon the bloody lot on them, eh?”

“Well, I’d be ready to have a go …”

“Good for you, son. An’ yer a furst-class shot an’ a’, aren’t ye? Good … yer joost the man tae be sniper-scout for the section.”

“Eh? Sniper-scout? What’s that?”

“Weel, ye knaw w’at a scout does. W’en the section cooms till a village, the scout ga’s in foorst, t’see if Jap’s theer.”

“To … er, draw their fire?”

“Use yer loaf, man, Jap’s nut that bloody stupid! Usually, ’e let’s the scout ga through, or waits till ’e’s reet inside the position an’ then lays ’im oot, quiet-like. So the scout ’es tae keep ’is wits aboot ’im, sista, an’ as soon as ’e spots Jap, ’e fires a warnin’ shot … an’ boogers off. So ’e’d better be a good rooner, ’edn’t ’e?”

“Does it matter? I mean, if he’s surrounded by bleeding Japs, he might as well be on crutches –”

“Doan’t talk daft! If ’e’s nippy on ’is feet ’e can git oot, easy! Didn’t ye play Roogby at that posh school o’ yours?”

“Yes, but the opposition wasn’t armed. Oh, well. Here – you said sniper-scout. Where does the sniping come in?”

“Aye, weel, that’s w’en we’re pullin’ oot of a position, nut ga’in’ in. Sniper-scout stays be’ind, ’idden in a tree or booshes or summat, an’ waits till Jap cooms up …”

“And then snipes one of them?”

“Aye, but nut joost anybuddy. ’E waits for a good target – an officer, or mebbe one o’ the top brass, if ’e’s loocky –”

“Bloody lucky, yes.”

“… an’ then ’e nails ’im –”

“– and boogers … I beg your pardon … buggers off.”

“That’s reet, son! ’E gits oot an’ ga’s like the clappers –”

“Being a good long-distance runner. I see. Flawless logic. Well, it must be a great life, as long as it lasts –”

“Well, it’s a job for a slippy yoong feller, nut owd fat boogers like Grandarse, or ’alf-fit sods like Nick an’ Forster. Ah’m glad ye volunteered, Jock. ’Ere, ’ev anoother fag.”

“Thanks, sarn’t, but I wouldn’t want to spoil my wind. By the way, does a sniper-scout get extra pay? You know, danger money?”

“Extra peh! Danger mooney! Ye’ve been pickin’ oop sivven an’ six at ivvery cross-coontry in Blighty, an’ ye’re wantin’ mair? Ye greedy lal git! It’s reet enoof w’at they say aboot you Scotchies, ye’re a’ways on the scroonge …”