I let it go at that. The poor bastard! It wasn’t his fault. Decisions have to be made by the men in command and sometimes, inevitably, they’re the wrong decisions. It was something that he’d tried to get help to the survivors before nightfall. I wondered what my brother would have done. With all his faults, Iain was a man of action. His behaviour in an emergency was instinctive. ‘A pity you didn’t leave it to Major Braddock.’ I’d said it before I could stop myself. I heard his quick intake of breath. And then, in a stiff, cold voice, he said, ‘We’ll be with you under the hour.’ We! I remember thinking about that, sitting there, dazed with fatigue. Was Standing coming himself? But it didn’t seem to matter — not then. The life-saving gear was up there on the slopes of Keava and all we needed were the men to collect it and set it up. Men who were fresh and full of energy. I was tired. Too tired to move, my aching body barely reacting to the orders of my brain. Nerves, muscles, every part of my anatomy cried out for rest.
I woke Cooper, told him to keep radio watch and wake me in forty minutes’ time. Then I fell on to Pinney’s bed, not bothering to undress, and was instantly asleep.
‘Mr Ross. Wake up.’ The voice went on and on, a hand shaking my shoulder. I blinked my eyes and sat up. ‘Gawd Almighty! Yer didn’t ‘alf give me a turn. Thought you’d croaked. Honest I did.’ Cooper bending over me, staring at me anxiously. ‘You orl right, sir?’ And then he said, ‘They’re on the air now. Want ter know what conditions are like. I told ‘em: still blowing like ‘ell, but it’s clearer — only the top of Tarsaval’s got cla’d on it now.’
I got up and went to the radio. The time was twelve minutes to four. Adams’ voice came faint and crackling. He wanted an estimate of the wind speed, its direction, the strength of the down-draughts. I went to the door of the hut. It was certainly much clearer now; quite bright, in fact. The overcast was breaking up, torn rags of clouds hurrying across a cold blue sky and the broken water seaward shining white in patches of slanting sunlight. Keava and Malesgair, the two arms that enclosed Shelter Bay, were clear of cloud. So was Creag Dubh. For the first time I could see the Lookout where the tracking station radar had been housed. Only the summit of Tarsaval was still obscured, a giant wearing a cloth cap made shapeless by the wind. It was blowing harder, I thought, and the down-draughts were irregular. Sometimes there was a long interval in which the wind just blew. Then suddenly it would wham down off the heights, two or three gusts in quick succession.
I went back to the radio and reported to Adams. He said he could see Laerg quite plainly and estimated that he had about seven miles to go. ‘I’ll come in from the south at about four hundred,’ he said. ‘You know where the landing ground is — down by the Factor’s House. ‘I’ll watch for you there. ‘I’m relying on you to signal me in. ‘I’ll need about sixty seconds clear of down-draughts. Okay?’ I don’t think he heard my protest. At any rate, he didn’t answer, and I went out, cursing him for trying to put the onus on me. Did he think I could control the down-draughts? There was no pattern about them. They came and went; one minute I was walking quite easily, the next I was knocked flat and all the breath pushed back into my throat. Damn the man! If I signalled him in it would be my responsibility if anything went wrong.
But there wasn’t time to consider that. I’d barely reached the beach when I saw the helicopter, a speck low down over the water beyond the entrance to the bay. It came in fast and by the time I’d reached the Factor’s House I could hear its engine, a buzz-saw drone above the suck and seethe of the surf. A down-draught hit, beating the grasses flat and whistling out over the bay, the surface boiling as though a million small fry were skittering there It was gone almost as soon as it had come. Another and another hit the ground, flattening the long brown wisps of grass, whirling the dried seaweed into the air. They came like sand devils, spiralling down. The helicopter, caught in one, slammed down almost to sea level and then rocketed up. It was very close now and growing bigger every minute. the sound of its engine filling the air. In the sudden stillness that followed that last gust I thought I could hear the swish of its rotor blades.
No point in waiting, for every second he hovered there he was in mortal danger. I waved him in, praying to God that he’d plonk himself down in one quick rush before the next blast struck. But he didn’t. He was a cautious man, which is a fine thing in a pilot; except that this was no moment for caution. He came in slowly, feeling his way, and the next gust caught him when he was still a hundred feet up. It came slam like the punch of a fist The helicopter, flung sideways and downwards, hit the beach; the floats crumpled and at the same instant, with the rotor blades still turning, the whole machine was heaved up and flung seaward. It touched the water, tipped, foam flying from the dripping blades, and then it sank till it lay on its side, half-submerged, a broken float support sticking stiffly into the air like the leg of some bloated carcase.
Stillness then, the wind gone and everything momentarily quiet. A head bobbed up beside the floating wreck. Another and another. Three men swimming awkwardly, and then, the tin carcase rolled its other splintered leg into the air and sank. Air came out of it, a single belch that lifted, the surface of the water, and after that nothing; just the flat sea rippled by the wind and three dark heads floundering in to the beach.
Fortunately there was little surf. One by one they found their feet and waded ashore, drowned men gasping for air, flinging themselves down on the wet stones, suddenly exhausted as fear gripped them. I ran down to them, looking at each face. But they were men I didn’t know. They were alive because they’d been in the fuselage within reach of the door. Standing had been sitting with Adams up by the controls. They’d both been trapped.
It was only minutes before, a few short minutes, that I’d been talking to Adams. It didn’t seem possible. One moment the helicopter had been there, so close above my head that I’d ducked involuntarily — and now it was gone. I stood there with those three men moaning at my feet staring unbelievingly at the waters of the bay. Nothing. Nothing but the steel-bright surface exploding into spray and beneath it Standing and Adams still strapped into their seats, eyes already sightless…. Was it my fault? I felt sick right through to my guts, utterly drained.
‘Christ, man. What are you staring at?’
One of the figures, a sergeant, had staggered to his feet and was staring at me, wild-eyed, his hair plastered limp across his head.
‘Nothing,’ I said. It was nothing that he could see. The two dead men were in my mind and he wasn’t thinking.of them, only of the fact that he was alive.
‘Jesus! It was cold.’ He was shivering; moaning to himself. But then habit and training reasserted itself. He got his men to their feet and I took them up to the camp.
It was, I thought, the end of all hope for the survivors on Sgeir Mhor; three men killed and nothing achieved.
Standing’s death had a numbing effect on the rescue operation. It was not so much the man himself as the command he represented. It left a vacuum and there was only one man in Northton with the experience to fill it; that man was lying on his bed, nursing a hatred that no longer had any point. In the midst of the flood of teleprints back and forth nobody thought of informing him that Standing was dead. He heard about it from his escorting officer who had got it from the orderly who brought them their tea. It took time for the implications to sink in and it wasn’t until almost five-fifteen that he finally stirred himself, got to his feet and ordered Lieutenant Phipps to accompany him to the Movements Office. There he sent off a teleprint to Brigadier Matthieson: In view of Colonel Standing’s death presume I have your authority to take over command. Please confirm so that I can organise attempt to rescue survivors dawn tomorrow. This was despatched at 17.23 hours.