BB
From “Rendezvous at dawn” — first published 29 March 1951
At 08:10, Mac fired his last cartridge. Charles borrowed two from me. I had two left. We were all soaked to the skin, but the excitement kept the cold at bay. By now, our dyke was untenable. The geese were no longer coming from the sea, but small lots were moving all over the place. All were low, fighting the wind, and one big skein came battling straight for us. Charles had a long shot which missed. I had the leader, a great pink which thumped into a field of kale, and another pink, hard hit, crashed half a mile away. I never saw this, but the hawk-eyed Mac, powerless and fuming, marked it down and we picked
