The detonators went in on the end of white Cordtex, linked with safety fuse. Detonator ends crimped to the Cordtex, safety fuse tied to the Cordtex. Every shot hole had its own detonator, and in minutes the pillbox was covered with a web of wire.

"Always run the Cordtex and the safety fuse out carefully.

Bastard if you get a kink in the stuff. You get a bloody misfire. What does a misfire mean? Means it's bloody dangerous when you get to dismantling the whole shooting match and starting all over. And another thing, Jack boy. You look a right prick if you've a shower of shit like that lot watching you…"

He was wiring his cables into the charger box. George and Jack were more than a hundred yards back, down in a dip in the field's contours.

"Get that lot under cover, and get your hat on. One minute."

Jack bellowed back to the watchers and heard a police sergeant repeat the instruction by megaphone.

"You're a bloody vandal, Mr Hawkins."

"Get your nose up, so's you see. Twenty seconds."

Jack had a hard hat rammed down on the top of his head.

He peered across the open ground to the pillbox.

"You all right, Jack? You're quiet today. Ten seconds."

"Fine."

He thought that if it had been put to the test the pillbox could have held up an infantry battalion for half a day.

Graceless, strong and seemingly indestructible.

"Here we go."

Jack saw the flashes, then the debris moving upwards and outwards, then the smoke. He heard the echoing rumble of the detonations. He felt the blast of air on his face. He ducked his head.

"Bloody good," George growled.

Jack looked up. George was hunched beside him. The fortification was a rubble of concrete loosely held together by twisted wire.