![]() ![]() "Four hours' sleep, Captain Mallory," he said quietly. The old crate was still awash when we passed over, the big dinghy was out and it was as smooth as a millpond. "May I have a word with the Squadron Leader?" "To total four hours' sleep in three days is not," Mallory said feelingly. Bill, these gentlemen here-Captain Jensen of the Royal Navy, Captain Mallory of the Long Range Desert Group-have a very special interest in Navarone. Squadron Leader Torrance," he added unnecessarily, "is an Australian." Mallory had the impression that the commodore rather hoped this would explain some things, Squadron Leader Torrance among them. "Gentlemen, this is Squadron Leader Torrance. "Thanks." Jensen looked across at the burly Australian and smiled faintly. Because I'm not God and I can't do the impossible." There was a flat finality in Torrance's voice that carried conviction, that brooked no argument.įor a long time Jensen stared at the holes and scars of the damaged machine, then shook his head and looked away. Because I don't believe in sacrificing good blokes for nothing. "It is impossible, you say?" Jensen persisted. The commodore nodded again, and Jensen touched his sleeve. 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. has often been questioned, but even we aren't given to sending a flying-boat for the sole purpose of enabling junior officers to spend a month wasting their substance among the flesh-pots of Cairo," be finished dryly. But where you got the idea about leave I don't know. I'm sure you are-I was pretty sure you were before I pulled you out of Crete. Just wanted to find out if you were the man for the job. "Of course you didn't!" Jensen cut in briskly. ![]()
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