paradoxically Maksa's own personality also helped us. He was clearly a martinet and no enlisted man was going to question his orders. The guards entered on demand and were easy to deal with.
We looked round the warehouse. The soldiers were laid in a row behind the cotton bales, together with the body of Russ Burns. The door in the rear was opened with ease and we were ready to leave.
McGrath said, 'As soon as possible we get that signal off. You know the drill, Mister Mannix?'
I nodded. The back of the warehouse faced away from our camp so we'd have to go around it and might run into enemy soldiers at any moment. One group was to get the medical team and Dan Atheridge to the rig and then rejoin the rest of us, who'd be in cover as close to the bridge as we could get. We'd leapfrog one another to get in place, ready to protect McGrath and his tractor team-mate. There had been some doubt as to who that would be.
McGrath looked at Barry Lang speculatively. He had jibbed at knifing Mosira and this made McGrath uncertain of his mettle. But they usually teamed up, and it was safer to work with a man one knew, so McGrath said to him, 'Right then, Barry, you're with me in the cab. Just stick close, you hear me?'
'What's the signal for Sadiq to attack? The Very pistol?' I asked.
'Yes, a red flare the way you planned.'
The Very pistol's still in a suitcase by the rig, unless they found it.'
He grinned, swarmed up on top of the cotton and came down again with the Very pistol in his hand. 'Full of surprises, aren't I?' he said.
I didn't ask him how he knew where it was. He'd obviously been hiding nearby when I hid the thing. He might have seen me go off with the shotgun too, and I wondered again how Maksa had come by it.
'You take it,' McGrath said, handing me the signal pistol. 'You'll be in charge of this exercise, Mister Mannix.'
I said, 'Just what are you going to do?'
He grinned. 'I'm going to march Barry out of here at gunpoint. I still look like the Colonel, and I've got Sam as my sergeant. We're going to take Lang down to the bridge and when we're near enough we'll make a break for the tractor. Sam will get into cover and wait for you to come up, if you're not there already.'
It was audacious but it could work. Wingstead said, 'You'll have every eye on you.'
'Well, it's a chance, I'll grant you. But it should get us to the cab. You get off the signal the instant we make our break, so that Sadiq can keep those laddies too busy to think for a bit.'
As quietly as possible we barricaded the front doors with cotton bales, and were ready to go. I opened the rear door a crack and looked out. There was some moonlight, which would help McGrath in the tractor later on, and the night was fairly quiet. We left cautiously.
As we rounded the warehouse we could see the fires from the rebels' camp, and brighter lights around our rig. I could see soldiers in the light near the rig but there weren't many of them. There was plenty of cover all the way to the bridge, just as we had visualized.
'OK, Mick, start walking,' I whispered.
We moved away from the warehouse according to plan. McGrath and his party stepped out, Lang first with a submachine-gun jammed into his spine. Next was Wilson his sergeant's cap pulled well down over his face. McGrath followed with the shotgun. It looked pretty good to me. I paced myself so that I was not too far ahead of McGrath, and the rest passed me to fan out ahead.
The marchers were almost opposite the rig when a soldier called out. I heard an indistinguishable answer from McGrath and a sharp retort, and then the soldier raised his gun. He didn't fire but was clearly puzzled.
Then there came the rip fire of an Uzi from beyond the rig. Someone had been spotted. The soldier turned uncertainly and McGrath cut him down with the shotgun. Then he and Lang bolted for their tractor. Wilson disappeared into the roadside cover. The shotgun blasted again and then gunfire crackled all around us, lighting up the night with flashes. I pointed the Very pistol skywards and the cartridge blossomed as I ran for cover, Bert Proctor at my side.
Soldiers tumbled out everywhere and guns were popping off all over the place. Then there was an ear-splitting roar as engines churned and a confusion of lights as headlamps came on. The night was split by the explosions of mortar bombs landing in the rebels' camp.
We left the cover of the bushes and charged towards our convoy. The nearest vehicle was Kemp's Land Rover and we flung ourselves down beside it. An engine rumbled as a vehicle came towards us and when I saw what it was I groaned aloud. It was a Saracen. Maksa's men must have already got it off the Bridge. It moved slowly and the gun turret swung uncertainly from side to side, seeking a target.
'It's coming this way!' Proctor gasped.
Behind us the deeper voice of our tractor roared as McGrath fired its engine. The Saracen was bearing down on it. We had to do something to stop its progress. The Uzi wouldn't be much good against armour but perhaps a Very cartridge slamming against the turret would at least startle and confuse the driver. As the Saracen passed us, already opening fire on the tractor, I took aim and let fly. The missile grazed the spinning turret and hit the armoured casing behind it, igniting as it landed. I must have done something right; there was a flash and a vast explosion which threw us sideways and rocked the Land Rover. When we staggered up the Saracen was on fire and inside someone was screaming.
I groped for my pistol but couldn't find it, and watched the Burning Saracen run off the road into the bushes as our tractor massed it. McGrath leaned out and yelled at me.
'Lang's bought it. Get him out of here!'
I ran to the passenger side of the cab. The Saracen had set Bushes burning and in the flaring light I saw blood on Lang's chest as I hauled him out of his seat. Proctor took him from me as we ran alongside the tractor.
McGrath yelled at me, 'Stay with me. Get in!' I clung onto the swinging cab door, hooked a foot over the seat and threw myself inside.
'Welcome aboard,' McGrath grunted. 'Watch our rear. Say if anything gets in our way.' He looked rearwards out of his own window. I followed suit.
Driving backwards can be tricky on a quiet Sunday morning in the suburbs. In these conditions it was terrifying. The tractor swayed from side to side, weaving down the road and onto the bridge. In the rear mirror I could see the second Saracen at the far end. There were heavy thumps on the tractor casing; we were being fired on by the Saracen as it retreated ahead of us. The driver had decided that he'd have more room to manoeuvre and fight off the bridge. We wanted to ram him before he could leave. We made it by a hair.
The Saracen's driver misjudged and reversed into the parapet; his correction cost him the race. The tractor bucked and slammed with an almighty wrench into the front of the Saracen, and there was a shower of sparks in the air. Our engine nearly stalled but McGrath poured on power, and ground the tractor into the Saracen.
'Go, you bastard, go!' McGrath's face was savage with joy as he wrestled with wheel and accelerator.
There wasn't much doubt that we'd won. The armoured car was a solid lump of metal but it didn't weigh much over ten tons to the tractor's forty. The impact must have knocked the Saracen's crew out because the shooting stopped at once. The turret was buckled and useless.
McGrath kept up a steady pressure and the tractor moved remorselessly backwards, pushing the armoured car. He judged his angle carefully and there was a grinding crunch as the Saracen was forced against the coping wall of the bridge. But we didn't want the bridge itself damaged and McGrath stopped short of sending it into the river, which would have shattered the wall.
The Saracen's engine was ground into scrap and wasn't going anywhere under its own power. The bridge was effectively blocked to the enemy, and Sadiq was free to get on with the job.
McGrath put the tractor gently into forward gear. There was no opposition as we travelled back across the bridge and stopped to form a secondary blockade. We tumbled out of the cab to an enthusiastic welcome.
'Where's Barry?' I asked.
'We've got him back to the rig. He's with the medics,' Proctor said.
McGrath stirred and stretched hugely. I said, 'That was damn good driving, Mick.'
'You didn't do too badly yourself. What the hell did you use on that first Saracen – a flame-thrower?'
'I fired the Very gun at it. It shouldn't have worked but it did.'
Looking around, we could see figures heading off towards the river downstream from the bridge. There was some scattered shooting. The remains of Maksa's force were intent only on escaping back to their own side. More mortars fired and the shooting stopped.
