A Fast Moving Story…
During WW2 An eighteen year old son of a Kenya farmer on his way from Nairobi to London, with a secret package, meets and copes with extreme danger and the attention of ardent females.
Then as an RAF bomber pilot has to cope, not only with a dangerously determined enemy, but two ballet dancers; one, feisty red-head, leopard-like goes headlong for her prey.
The other: cool, sophisticated, as a cheetah, stalks her prey till the final chase.
EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS:
- Jameson has written another exciting and fast-moving story.
- In WW2 it tells the life of a young pilot flying at night in the face of a dangerous enemy.
- The immediacy of death and the intense reaction to life and love are superbly conveyed.
- He responds to a different kind of danger tempered by a passionate love affair.
- Jameson’s lucid and often lyrical prose portrays wonderfully the rich scenery and varied life of Colonial Kenya in the 1940s.
- The author’s description of wildlife red in tooth and claw is conveyed so vividly I felt I was there with him facing the dangers.
Jameson’s love of Kenya, its animals, red in tooth and claw, the spectacular scenery and the juxtaposition of the wonder and yet the danger on safari, is written often with a lyrical prose that makes reader believe they are there experiencing the same nail-biting experiences of being among wild animals and the Masai warriors.
As Stuart banked the Lancaster, both Jock and Fred, upper and front gunners, opened up at the enemy E-boats in the sea below. Just as he levelled out at eight hundred feet the port inner was hit by a flak shell and burst into flames. Pieces of cowing broke off slicing through the port rudder and tail plane. The whole of Stuart’s port side perspex canopy shattered. He felt pain in his head, arm, chest and leg.
He lost height, but steadied the bomber as best he could with the one remaining racing engine and damaged tail. With fuel shut off and extinguishers used up, the fire blazed. His head was singing with pain, left arm and leg almost useless. He called on the intercom, “Anyone hurt?” The replies were negative.
“We’re five miles off Cromer. Won’t make it. We’re in for a ducking. Ditching stations – NOW!”
The lion cubs were playing together.
“Oh, the little darlings.” Penelope squealed, jumping out of her seat and running to them.
“Ye Gods!” Stuart exclaimed. He called; “Penny, get back in the truck!”
“Here, kitty kitty,” she called, taking no notice. “Aren’t they cute? Aren’t they gorgeous – aren’t they just Dinky!”
“Penny, for Christ’s sake, get back . . .”
Her yellow dress shone in the morning sun. The skirt swung in a little breeze. A huge, golden flash coughing and grunting came from the bushes and sped to her. She screamed. Stuart’s gun came up. It bucked on his shoulder. The heavy bullet thwacked into the lion’s ribs as it pounced. Bones and lungs were smashed. Its far shoulder exploded. The impact swung it in the air. It hit Penelope and bowled her over. It landed on top of her, reared spouting blood. Before reflexes enabled it to savage her, Stuart squeezed the trigger of the second barrel. The accurate brain shot into the back of its head, took its features away. It sank down and bled all over her, soaking her dress and underclothes from top to bottom. Stuart re-loaded while the shots were still ringing among the rocks. She screamed. “Get this filthy thing off me. Oh, God, get it off! Oh, my God!”
Outside the house, under the Kinangop peak and along the length and breadth of the Great Rift Valley, long shadows of mountains took form as the sky to the east grew pale, and a golden sun began to ascend. With it, the unique dawn chorus of birdsong spread nature’s musical magic across forest, lake and savannah, to serenade a new day, and to welcome the new lovers to the bosom of Kenya.
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