On Her Majesty's Behalf Read Online Free PDF Page A

even as he surged upward . . .
    He broke the surface of the water with a shocking gasp and saw that he was not twenty feet from the gunwale of the trawler.
    â€œHere! He’s over here!” he heard a voice cry as he sucked in great lungfuls of life-­giving air and shook his head to clear the fuzziness. Something splashed into the water in front of him and he reached for it instinctively, discovering only once he had it in hand that it was a rope.
    â€œHold on,” the voice shouted and this time he recognized it as Montagna’s.
    For once, Burke did as he was told and in a matter of moments he found himself bumping up against the wooden hull of the fishing trawler. Hands reached down to pull him up and he dropped down over the side and into the boat, wet and bedraggled but alive.
    The British soldier . . .
    The fuzzy form bending over him solidified into that of the private who had just dragged him out of the drink and Burke knew he startled the younger man by grabbing him and gasping out, “The Tommy! Where’s the Tommy?”
    â€œTake it easy, Major,” Montagna said, grabbing Burke’s shoulders as he struggled to get up. “We fished the Tommy out of the drink a few minutes before you popped up like a cork from a bottle. Cohen’s doing what he can.”
    Doing what he can?
    That didn’t sound encouraging to Burke, and when he looked in the direction Montagna was pointing, he understood why.
    The Tommy was lying flat on his back on the deck, unmoving. Private Cohen knelt beside him, pumping up and down on the other man’s chest with both hands. With each compression a thin stream of water bubbled out of the man’s mouth and onto the deck. Burke had seen men revived with the same process so for a moment he was hopeful that it would turn out all right, but after a long moment where the Tommy failed to respond, he began to have his doubts.
    Then Cohen did a strange thing.
    He bent over the wounded man and kissed him!
    Burke’s jaw dropped open and he stared at the two soldiers in shock. The young American’s lips were pressed completely over the drowned man’s, his fingers were pinching the other man’s nostrils shut, and he seemed to be blowing deep into his throat.
    If that’s a kiss, it’s the strangest one I’ve ever seen . . .
    Burke was about to say something—­he wasn’t sure what, maybe order the younger man away perhaps—­when the Tommy suddenly coughed up a lungful of seawater right into Cohen’s face and began thrashing his arms about in a panic, no doubt thinking he was still in danger of drowning.
    Cohen looked up and caught Burke’s stare. “A hand here, please, Major,” he asked calmly, as he struggled to hold the other man down.
    Burke scrambled to his side and grabbed hold of the British soldier’s arms, keeping them from flailing wildly about, while Cohen gently turned the man’s head to one side. He was just in time, too; the Tommy suddenly convulsed and vomited up a puddle of seawater.
    â€œEasy now,” Cohen said to the man, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Easy. You’re safe now; we left the shredders behind.”
    The Tommy looked wildly about, his face drawn with tension, but that began to ease up a bit as he took in the scene around him and seemed to recognize them as fellow soldiers. His gaze focused on Burke and he tried to say something, but all that came out was a low mumble.
    Frowning, Burke leaned closer.
    â€œWhat was that?”
    Another mumble.
    The man’s head drooped down against his chest, the demands the day’s events had placed on his body having finally surpassed his limits.
    Yet whatever it was that the soldier was trying to say must have been important, for he visibly fought back against the encroaching darkness, grabbed the front of Burke’s uniform blouse with one hand, and dragged him closer.
    With his ear half