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Way of the samurai 1 money gone5/6/2023 I'm beginning to think that you can count yourself damn' lucky to have had even that much. "Four hours' sleep, Captain Mallory," he said quietly. "Just one little question, Squadron Leader. and order one of us to crash-dive it at four hundred into the mouth of the gun cave. Not," he added bitterly, "unless you cram a Mosquito full of T.N.T. But I do know that nothing we've got has a snowball's chance in hell. "Maybe a Dornier flyingboat with one of these new-fangled radio-controlled glider-bombs might do it and get off with it. At least, it's impossible for us." He drew a weary hand down his face. So are the lives of all these jokers." Torrance jerked a big thumb over his shoulder. 'We'd like to take with us the joker who thought this one up and shove him out at ten thousand over Navarone, without benefit of parachute." We were talking about it on the way home." Mallory caught the deep murmur of voices in the background, a growl of agreement. "But we'd like to go back again," he went on. A fair cow, it was, a real suicide do." He broke off abruptly, stared moodily with compressed lips through his own drifting tobacco smoke. Mallory looked furtively at the commodore. Scowling, wordlessly and without permission, he sat down in front of them, produced a pack of cigaottes and rasped a match across the surface of the table. He had an Anzac bush helmet crushed on the back of his head, and the word "Australia" emblazoned in white across each khaki shoulder. The commodore, flanked by Jensen and Mallory, was sitting behind this when the door opened abruptly and the first of the flying crews entered, blinking rapidly in the fierceness of the unaccustomed light They were led by a dark-haired, thick-set pilot, trailing helmet and flying-suit in his left hand. The furniture consisted of some battered wall-maps and charts, a score or so of equally scuffed chairs and an unvarnished deal table. The interrogation room, harshly lit by two powerful, unshaded lights, was uncomfortable and airless. "It is impossible, you say?" Jensen persisted. You represent one of the few that remain, none of which are as mighty as their ancestors. The old crate was still awash when we passed over, the big dinghy was out and it was as smooth as a millpond. Its 1878, and the samurai are all but gone. And McIlveen ditched just north of Alex?" "I know, I know." The commodore, nodded heavily. You don't have to ask."įor a long time Jensen stared at the holes and scars of the damaged machine, then shook his head and looked away. "Too bloody right, I don't!" Torrance growled.
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