"You see," said Carruthers, fixing his monocle in place with the quiet steely grin of a man utterly in control of the situation, "Davidson knew that Maria would turn a Nelsonian blind eye to the change of swords. Something had happened and the swords had to be changed. And she would carry on regardless, because so far as she was concerned, the show must go on, the show must always go on."
It was the talk of the C Wing, he'd been in the hole for three weeks now, the last four days without food. Henderson had been sent in, to check that he wasn't dead, but he just sat there smiling, unmoving, silent and still.
At the end of the month, Burke went down to see him, had to leave his air conditioned office and walk all the way down to the bowels of D Wing to see Lou. The beating was a swift one, administered by professionals, and hurt but did not show.
But what was whispered about from block to block in the night hours was not the weeks or the lack of food, but what Lou had said after the beating, looking up at Burke with teeth lined with blood, his voice as soft as a whore's kiss.
"It is a pity Captain, that you will have to kill me, to ever know yourself."
It must be remembered that in dealing with Private Mosher, Major (then Captain) Uvarov did have the luxury of time. While he has been justly critised for putting such an inexperienced man in a position of important during Operation Hammer (Melborne, Stalin's Warhounds, Frank Cass Publishers, London, p111-113)he simply did not have time to make sure of his man.
That Operation Hammer worked despite Private Mosher's failure to do his duty is a testament to the resilience of the unit which worked well together from long experience (Fitzpatrick, Grenades & Glory, Cassell Military Paperbacks, London p254-256), but the ultimate responsibility for his failure must lie with the officer that put him there. It was a poor decision by an otherwise gifted officer, (O'Connor, Fighting Langers of the Red Army 1941-45, Osprey Publishing, Nottingham p36-37, 40-42, also see plates).
The General's smile hid a blade, "but surely we have God on our side, Father, they are abominable. Their behaviour is abhorrent to every living thing."
"That may be," said Father Strangelove quietly, "but General, one does not presume to judge to the intentions of the Almighty. And if you believe that your God shares your enemies, than you place your faith in nothing more than an idol. He has placed Reason in our hands so that we may better appreciate the wonder and glory of His creation. I suggest we make use of it."
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At the end of the month, Burke went down to see him, had to leave his air conditioned office and walk all the way down to the bowels of D Wing to see Lou. The beating was a swift one, administered by professionals, and hurt but did not show.
But what was whispered about from block to block in the night hours was not the weeks or the lack of food, but what Lou had said after the beating, looking up at Burke with teeth lined with blood, his voice as soft as a whore's kiss.
"It is a pity Captain, that you will have to kill me, to ever know yourself."
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It must be remembered that in dealing with Private Mosher, Major (then Captain) Uvarov did have the luxury of time. While he has been justly critised for putting such an inexperienced man in a position of important during Operation Hammer (Melborne, Stalin's Warhounds, Frank Cass Publishers, London, p111-113)he simply did not have time to make sure of his man.
That Operation Hammer worked despite Private Mosher's failure to do his duty is a testament to the resilience of the unit which worked well together from long experience (Fitzpatrick, Grenades & Glory, Cassell Military Paperbacks, London p254-256), but the ultimate responsibility for his failure must lie with the officer that put him there. It was a poor decision by an otherwise gifted officer, (O'Connor, Fighting Langers of the Red Army 1941-45, Osprey Publishing, Nottingham p36-37, 40-42, also see plates).
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Beat.
Stirred them.
Both and.
Beat.
He touched her.
Softly.
Beat.
Floating in.
The deep dark.
Beat.
They quickened.
With her.
Beat.
He felt her.
Need rising.
Beat.
And caressed.
Her.
Beat.
As the world.
Thrummed.
Beat.
Around them.
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"That may be," said Father Strangelove quietly, "but General, one does not presume to judge to the intentions of the Almighty. And if you believe that your God shares your enemies, than you place your faith in nothing more than an idol. He has placed Reason in our hands so that we may better appreciate the wonder and glory of His creation. I suggest we make use of it."
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