There were only seconds in which to act and he gave Boyd a shove towards the other door. “Get out of it,” he shouted.
Boyd didn’t argue. He jumped to the ground and Lomax took the truck forward hi a burst of speed. A moment later, he opened the door and jumped.
The Germans seemed unaware of their danger until the last moment and then their driver swung the wheel of the troop carrier so sharply that the vehicle heeled over into the ditch as the empty truck rolled past. Fifty yards further on, it went over the edge of the road and disappeared from view as another troop-carrier came round the shoulder of the mountain.
As Lomax climbed out of the ditch and started across the road, a dozen soldiers ran towards him. He dropped to one knee and loosed off a long burst that sent them diving for cover and then continued across the road and began to scramble up the slope.
Behind him, the grey-clad figures fanned out as he ùworked his way up diagonally, keeping to the shelter of the boulders. He paused once and a bullet kicked up dirt uncomfortably close and he ducked and kept on moving.
They were close now, very close. He slipped, losing his footing, and slid back several paces on the steep slope and heard a cry of triumph behind him that was immediately followed by an explosion. As the echo died away, he heard not the sound of pursuit, but the cries of the wounded and dying.
As he got to his feet, Boyd appeared from behind a boulder a little further up the hill. His arm went back and a grenade curved through the air. Lomax ducked instinctively as it exploded and scrambled desperately up the last few feet and joined Boyd on a tiny shelf.
He turned, gasping for breath, and leaned against the boulder. Below them, the survivors of the first troop were still coming up the slope. At their backs, an exposed cliS lifted to the summit.
“Nikoli should have blown that bridge sooner,” he said.
Boyd nodded. “This whole thing’s beginning to stink.”
On their left, the mountainside lifted steeply to the tiny hollow in which stood the shepherd’s hut hi which they had spent the night. The men from the other troop-carrier were already well up the slope, moving to cut off their retreat.
Lomax didn’t hesitate. He moved out quickly and started across the slope, Boyd at his heels. Bullets thudded into the ground a few feet beneath them and he knew it could only be a matter of seconds until they found the range.
To keep going on the steep hillside was difficult enough, but Boyd paused and loosed off a wild burst to keep their heads down. The Germans didn’t even bother to look for cover. They halted and started to fire hi earnest and then, quite suddenly, one of them spun round and fell on his face and then another. Immediately, the whole group fanned out and dropped behind the nearest available cover.
Someone was firing at them from the hollow just below the rim of the mountain and Lomax slung his sub-machine gun round his neck and moved upwards, blood in his mouth, hands clawing at the loose stones.
He scrambled over the rim of the hollow, Boyd right behind him. Katina was lying behind a boulder, Boyd’s Winchester sporting rule to her shoulder. She fired two shots hi rapid succession and moved beside him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I was worried,” she said. “When I woke up this morning I had a bad feeling so I thought I’d come and wait for you at the hut. I found the rifle and the rest of your things and then everything started to happen at once.”
Boyd was sitting with his back to a boulder. He’d lifted his battle smock and shirt and was in the act of pressing a field dressing against an ugly, puckered wound.
Lomax dropped to one knee beside him. “Is it bad?”
Boyd forced a grin. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take my belt in another notch.”
Katina peered over the edge of the plateau and drew back quickly. “They’re very close.”