'Under!' to the next shot as it ploughed into the trees below them.
'And the third one right up the throat,' said Bruce. But it hit the rear
of the train. They were using armour-piercing projectiles, not high
explosive, for there was not the burst of yellow cordite fumes but only
the crash and jolt as it struck.
Anxiously Bruce tried to assess the damage. The men and women in the
rear trucks looked shaken but unharmed and he started a sigh of relief,
which changed quickly to a gasp of horror as he realized what had
happened.
'They've hit the coupling,' he said. 'They've sheared the coupling on
the last truck.' Already the gap was widening, as the rear truck started
to roll back down the hill, cut off like the tail of a lizard.
'Jump,' screamed Bruce, cupping his hands round his mouth. 'Jump before
you gather speed.' Perhaps they did not hear him, perhaps they were too
stunned to obey, but no one moved. The truck rolled back, faster and
faster as gravity took it, down the hill towards the village and the
waiting army of General Moses.
'What can we do, boss?' 'Nothing,' said Bruce.
The firing round Bruce had petered out into silence as every man, even
Wally Hendry, stared down the slope at the receding truck. With a
constriction of his throat Bruce saw old Boussier stoop and lift his
wife to her feet, hold her close to his side and the two of them looking
back at Bruce on the roof of the departing train. Boussier raised his
right hand in a gesture of farewell and then he dropped it again and
stood very still. Behind him, Andre de Surrier had left the
Bren gun and removed his helmet. He also was looking back at Bruce, but
he did not wave.
At intervals the field gun in the village punctuated the stillness with
its deep boom and gush of smoke, but Bruce hardly heard it. He was
watching the shufta running down towards the station yard to welcome the
truck. Losing speed it ran into the platform and halted abruptly as it
hit the buffers at the end of the line. The shufta swarmed over it like
little black ants over the body of a beetle and faintly Bruce heard the
pop, pop, pop of their rifles, saw the low sun glint on their bayonets.
He turned away.
They had almost reached the crest of the hills; he could feel the
train increasing speed under him. But he felt no relief, only the
prickling at the corners of his eyes and the ache of it trapped in his
throat.
'The poor bastards,' growled Ruffy beside him. 'The poor bastards.' And
then there was another crashing jolt against the train, another hit from
the field gun. This time up forward, on the locomotive. Shriek of
escaping steam, the train checking its pace, losing power. But they were
over the crest of the hills, the village was out of sight and gradually
the train speeded up again as they started down the back slope. But
steam spouted out of it, hissing white jets of it, and Bruce knew they
had received a mortal wound. He switched on the radio.
'Driver, can you hear me? How bad is it?'
Aw
'I cannot see, Captain. There is too much steam. But the pressure on the
