Читать книгу England, Their England онлайн

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"Four. Two red and two green; we might try them first."

The adjutant reached them, with the usual request for an S.O.S. "It might be an attack," he explained.

The two gunners struggled through the mob to the door, carrying their clumsy rocket-apparatus. Outside was a maelstrom of noise and mud and death.

"God Almighty!" exclaimed Davies as he peered out. "If they don't see the rockets, Cameron, one or other of us will have to run for it. No one in the world could mend a wire in all that."

"Let's hope the damned things work," said Cameron, feverishly propping the rocket-stand against what was left of a parapet. A moment or two later the first rocket soared up into the dripping twilight and burst into a rain of green stars. The second, the red one, followed at once and failed to burst.

"Damnation!" exclaimed both gunners simultaneously. The S.O.S. signal was green followed by red. Green alone would not be enough. They fitted the other red rocket, and then the matches wouldn't strike. The matchbox was soaked. Cameron rushed inside and came out with another box. The rocket spluttered and soared away and broke into a beautiful red shower.