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the gaine was fired。 there was no magic or x ray that would tell anyone when some small capsule broke； when some wire would stop wavering。 those small mechanical semaphores were like a heart murmur or a stroke within the man crossing the street innocently in front of you。
what town was he in？ he couldn’t even remember。 he heard a voice and looked up。 hardy passed the equipment down in a satchel at the end of a rope； and it hung there while kip began to insert the various clips and tools into the many pockets of his tunic。 he was humming the song hardy had been singing in the jeep on the way to the site— they’re changing guard at buckingham palace— christopher robin went down with mice。
he wiped the area of fuze head dry and began moulding a clay cup around it。 then he unstopped the jar and poured the liquid oxygen into the cup。 he taped the cup securely onto the metal。 now he had to wait again。
there was so little space between him and the bomb he could feel the change in temperature already。 if he were on dry land he could walk away and be back in ten minutes。 now he had to stand there beside the bomb。 they were two suspicious creatures in an enclosed space。 captain carlyle had been working in a shaft with frozen oxygen and the whole pit had suddenly burst into flames。 they hauled him out fast； already unconscious in his harness。
where was he？ lisson grove？ old kent road？
kip dipped cotton wool into the muddy water and touched it to the casing about twelve inches away from the fuze。 it fell away； so it meant he had to wait longer。 when the cotton wool stuck； it meant enough of the area around the fuze was frozen and he could go on。 he poured more oxygen into the cup。
the growing circle of frost was a foot in radius now。 a few more minutes。 he looked at the clipping someone had taped onto the bomb。 they had read it with much laugh… ter that morning in the update kit sent to all bomb disposal units。
when is explosion reasonably permissible？
if a man’s life could be capitalized as x； the risk at y； and the estimated damage from explosion at v； then a logician might contend that if v is less than x over y； the bomb should be blown up； but if v over y is greater than x； an attempt should be made to avoid explosion in situ。
who wrote such things？
he had by now been in the shaft with the bomb for more than an hour。 he continued feeding in the liquid oxygen。 at shoulder height； just to his right； was a hose pumping down normal air to prevent him from being giddy with oxygen。
（he had seen soldiers with hangovers use the oxygen to cure headaches。） he tried the cotton wool again and this time it froze on。
he had about twenty minutes。 after that the battery temperature within the bomb would rise again。 but for now the fuze was iced up and he could begin to remove it。
he ran his palms up and down the bomb case to detect any rips in the metal。 the submerged section would be safe； but oxygen could ignite if it came into contact with exposed explosive。 carlyle’s flaw。 x over y。 if there were rips they would have to use liquid nitrogen。
“it’s a two…thousand…pound bomb； sir。 esau。” hardy’s voice from the top of the mud pit。
“type…marked fifty； in a circle； b。 two fuze pockets； most likely。 but we think the second one is probably not armed。
okay？” they had discussed all this with each other before； but things were being confirmed； remembered for the final time。
“put me on a microphone now and get back。” “okay； sir。”kip smiled。 he was ten years younger than hardy； and no englishman； but hardy was happiest in the cocoon of regimental discipline。 there was always hesitation by the soldiers to call him “sir；” but hardy barked it out loud and enthusiastically。
he was working fast now to prise out the fuze； all the batteries inert。
“can you hear me？ whistle。。。。 okay； i heard it。 a last topping up with oxygen。 will let it bubble for thirty seconds。 then start。 freshen the frost。 okay； i’m going to remove the dam；。。。 okay； dam gone。” hardy was listening to everything and recording it in case something went wrong。 one spark and kip would be in a shaft of flames。 or there could be a joker in the bomb。 the next person would have to consider the alternatives。
“i’m using the quilter key。” he had pulled it out of his breast pocket。 it was cold and he had to rub it warm。 he began to remove the locking ring。 it moved easily and he told hardy。
“they’re changing guard at buckingham palace；” kip whistled。 he pulled off the locking ring and the locating ring and let them sink into the water。 he could feel them roll slowly at his feet。 it would all take another four minutes。
“alice is marrying one of the guard。 ‘a soldier’s life is terrible hard；’ says alice！” he was singing it out loud； trying to get more warmth into his body； his chest painfully cold。 he kept trying to lean back far enough away from the frozen metal in front of him。 and he had to keep moving his hands up to the back of his neck； where the sun still was； then rub them to free them of the muck and grease and frost。 it was difficult to get the collet to grip the head。
then to his horror the fuze head broke away； came off pletely。
“wrong； hardy。 whole fuze head snapped off。 talk back to me； okay？ the main body of the fuze is jammed down there； i can’t get to it。 there’s nothing exposed i can grip。” “where is the frost at？” hardy was right above him。 it had been a few seconds but he had raced to the shaft。
“six more minutes of frost。” “e up and we’ll blow it up。” “no； pass me down some more oxygen。” he raised his right hand and felt an icy canister being placed in it。
“i’m going to dribble the muck onto the area of exposed fuze —where the head separated—then i’ll cut into the metal。 chip through till i can grip something。 get back now； i’ll talk it through。” he could hardly keep his fury back at what had happened。 the muck； which was their name for oxygen； was going all over his clothes； hissing as it hit the water。 he waited for the frost to appear and then began to shear metal off with a chisel。 he poured more on； waited and chiselled deeper。 when nothing came off he ripped free a bit of his shirt； placed it between the metal and the chisel； and then banged the chisel dangerously with a mallet； chipping off fragments。 the cloth of his shirt his only safety against a spark。 what was more of a problem was the coldness on his fingers。 they were no longer agile； they were inert as the batteries。 he kept cutting sideways into the metal around the lost fuze head。 shaving it off in layers； hoping the freezing would accept this kind of surgery。 if he cut down directly there was always a chance he would hit the percussion cap that flashed the gaine。
it took five more minutes。 hardy had not moved from the top of the pit； instead was giving him the approximate time left in the freezing。 but in truth neither of them could be sure。 since the fuze head had broken off； they were freezing a different area； and the water temperature though cold to him was warmer than the metal。
then he saw something。 he did not dare chip the hole any bigger。 the contact of th