Craig and the Tunisian Tangle [antikvár]

Rebel guerillas spring a deadly ambush The carriers were roaring down the narrow track between the drainage ditches, the men * swaying from side to side. The helmets and gun barrels glittered in the bright sunlight. They were only sixty yards from the gate when it happened. There were two deep orange flashes, almost simultaneously, and two dense clouds of red dust and smoke which förmed even before the double crack of the explosions reached the ears of the watchers in the Renault. The commander carrier skidded and overturned, and the other, thirty yards behind, was blown to one side and crashed in the ditch. As the poliee tried frantically to puli their wounded comrades out of the wrecked vehicles there was a sudden, methodical rattle of gunfire from the windows of the farmhouse. The muzzle flashes of the automatic weapons could be seen clearly. Four, counted Craig. Jesus! he thought. At that rangé it's massacre.