shufta that were already playing havoc along the main roads: ambushing
all unprotected traffic, beating up lucky travellers and murdering those
less fortunate, raping when they had the opportunity, and generally
enjoying themselves.
'No, boss. I don't think so, those three are good boys.
They'll be down in the cite indigne having themselves some fun; guess
they just forgot the time.' Ruffy shook his head. 'Take us about half an
hour to find them; all we do is go down and visit all the knock-shops.
You want to try?'
'No, we haven't time to mess around if we are going to make Msapa
junction before dark. We'll pick them up again when we get back.' Was
there ever an army since the Boer War that treated desertion so lightly,
Bruce wondered.
He turned to the radio set beside him and depressed the transmit button.
'Driver.'
'Oui, monsieur.'
'Proceed - very slowly until we approach the United Nations barrier.
Stop well this side of it.'
'Oui, monsieur.' They rolled out of the goods yard, clicking over the
points; leaving the industrial quarter on their right with the
Katangese guard posts on the Avenue du Cmieti&e intersection; out
through the suburbs until ahead of them Bruce saw the U.N. positions and
he felt the first stirring of anxiety. The pass he carried in the breast
pocket of his jacket was signed by General Rhee Singh, but before in
this war the orders of an Indian general had not been passed by a
Sudanese captain to an Irish sergeant. The reception that awaited them
could be exciting.
'I hope they know about us.' Mike Haig lit his cigarette with a show of
nonchalance, but he peered over it anxiously at the piles of fresh earth
on each side of the tracks that marked the position of emplacements.
'These boys have got bazookas, and they're Irish Arabs,' muttered
Ruffy. 'I reckon it's the maddest kind of Arabs there is - Irish. How
would you like a bazooka bomb up your throat, boss?'
'No, thanks, Ruffy,' Bruce declined, and pressed the button of the
radio.
'Hendry!' In the leading truck Wally Hendry picked up his set and,
holding it against his chest, looked back at Bruce.
'Curry?'
'Tell your gunners to stand away from the Brens, and the rest of them to
lay down their rifles.'
'Right Bruce watched him relaying the order, pushing them back, moving
among the gendarmes who
crowded the forward trucks. Bruce could sense the air of tension that
had fallen over the whole train, watched as his gendarmes reluctantly
laid down their weapons and stood empty handed staring sullenly ahead at
the U.N. barrier.
'Drived' Bruce spoke again into the radio. 'Slow down.
Stop fifty metres this side of the barrier. But if there is any shooting
open the throttle and take us straight through.'
