pouches to make sure his mags, frag and smoke grenades were secure. Once he was sorted, he couldn't resist having another quick squeeze of a zit.
All I had to check was the field dressing in the left map pocket of my cargos, same place everyone kept one. That way we knew where to grab it if someone took a hit and started leaking.
The ear pad of my PRR crackled as guys blew into their mikes to test their radios were working and on the right channel.
Dom turned to me. The guys were around us so he kept his voice low. 'They are so young.'
I pointed to Terry, now pulling on his gloves – maybe to stop himself attacking his face. 'That little fucker there's first through the door tonight.'
Dom moved a few steps to check he really was seeing teenage spots on the man leading the attack.
'That's how it is.' I shrugged. 'They're infantry, they're all young fuckers.'
Dom was still brooding as Terry clambered into the back of his Bulldog. Maybe he was thinking how lucky that stepson of his was in comparison. I guessed he'd be tucked away in a nice warm university bed right now, probably not his own. Good for him. I always wished I'd had the chance of college instead of running round like Terry, with a tin hat on, getting shot at.
Pete returned with three white cups and caught the fag end of the conversation. 'That kid who's first through the door tonight is only nineteen.'
I took my brew but Dom shook his head.
'Take it, you'll like this one. I got us some real coffee. I told 'em vampires can't drink tea, it kills them. Go on, it'll calm you down. You shouldn't go chasing after those fuckers. It winds you up too much.'
I took a sip of the strong, milky brew as Dave came on the PRR. 'All call signs. Ten minutes.'
Around us, working parts were cocked.
''Ere, Drac, you get any one of those spooks to interview yet? We got a busy day tomorrow?'
Dom's mobile rang before he got the chance to answer. 'Baz! You sure?' He jammed a finger in his other ear and shouted: 'Is that better? I said, are you sure it's him? That's great news. When did you find out?'
He closed down and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked at Pete. 'I've got a lead.'
'Want me to come with you?'
'No, I'll go first thing – should only be a few days. Just get lots of footage. You know, the boys emailing home, that sort of thing. Bread-and-butter stuff. Cover for me with Moira. You know how much she hates me doing my stuff on her dime.'
Pete was frowning. 'What are you—'
There was an explosion two hundred away, followed closely by another.
'Take cover!'
As if anyone needed telling. Cups dropped to the tarmac as we legged it into our Bulldog.
Pete grabbed my arm. 'Something's wrong, Nick. This is about more than an interview.'
'Personal?'
'Very.'
Dave was already on the net. 'Soon as all call signs are complete, we're mobile.'
Thirty seconds later, the company rolled out of the tank park in their nine wagons, just as another Katyusha piled into the compound. The explosion sounded much closer this time. Yet another whooshed over the open mortar hatches, its rocket even louder than the wagon's engines and tracks.
The Bulldog was essentially the old APC (armoured personnel carrier) that had been rumbling over the Westphalian plains of Germany for thirty or forty years as part of the BAOR and during the Cold War. I'd spent two years in them myself as mechanized infantry, and remembered them as slow and sluggish. But this lot had been geared up with a brand-new power pack so they could scream along at fifty m.p.h., keeping pace with the Challengers and Warriors. They also had brand-new armour all round, including bar armour to keep the RPGs at bay, and a turret with a GPMG had been mounted where the wagon's commander would normally sit and poke his head out to watch thousands of Russian tanks screaming towards him.
Ours was the command vehicle, at the rear of the column. Dom, Pete and I were crammed into the back, along with Dave, two medics, the company commander and his signaller.
The company commander, a major, was on the net to another rifle company, Chindit, to tell them we were leaving early. Chindit were from 2 Lancs, who were defending the OSB (Old State Building) in the centre of the city.