A New Kind of War (14 page)

It occurred to Fred that Audley, if not Major McCorquodale, had already drunk deeply. Which was at once surprising, but also somewhat disquieting, if there was some sort of night-operation ahead of them, as the Colonel had indicated. And with the whisky warming his empty stomach his surprise and disquiet concentrated his mind on that.

‘There’s something on tonight, I gather.’

‘Yes—uh-huh.’ Audley buried his face in his glass. There’s a kraut-hunt tonight, crowning all our recent inquiries. It’ll probably end in nothing—or disaster. But at least the weather’s on our side.‘

‘The weather?’ Fred recalled Audley’s umbrella.

‘Yes.’ Audley craned his neck, peering into their ill-lit surroundings from his full height. ‘You know, we really ought to start eating soon, or Otto’s jolly old porker
will
be spoilt … and the Crocodile does seem sufficiently well-oiled now … But Caesar Augustus is jawing poor old Amos again!’ He gave Fred an accusing look. ‘What on earth did you say to set him off?’

‘If I told you, you’d never believe me!’

‘Oh yes, I would! Where Augustus Colbourne is concerned,
nothing
is unbelievable—’ Audley caught his tongue. ‘You’re not a friend of his, by any unhappy chance? But no … you are a Brigadier Clinton volunteer, aren’t you.’

That was too much. ‘I am
not
a volunteer.’ Fred felt his patience stretch thin. ‘I’ve only met your brigadier once, damn it—and it was you who introduced me. So I have you to thank for being here, when I could be sunning myself on a Greek beach—eh?’

‘Me?’ Audley blinked at him. ‘No—honestly … I only told him who you were, that time.’ The boy’s mouth twisted nervously. ‘And I actually told him mostly about Matthew—I’d never met
you
before … And that uncle of yours, who used to come down to the school, and give Matthew fivers at half-term and on Foundation Day. And he seemed to know all about
him
the moment I opened my mouth.’ The mouth turned downwards. ‘Maybe I did lay it on a bit thick … but I thought you wanted to get away, I mean—?’

‘I did. And you obviously did.’ The voices all around them sounded unnaturally loud, and full of alcohol-induced argument and bonhomie .But I haven’t, have I?‘

Audley looked crestfallen. ‘You must have impressed him. And I did warn you that he liked rich bankers, Fred.’

‘I’m hardly a banker.’ Fred felt himself weakening. ‘And I’m certainly not rich.’

‘Well, you are compared with me—I’ve just got debts, and mortgages, and things.’ The boy moved from defensive apology to bitter accusation. ‘So … if you don’t like it, you can always volunteer for the Far East. And then you can start a branch of Fattorini Brothers out there … It’s not
my
fault, anyway.’

There was no point in recrimination, thought Fred. And, in any case, young Audley was the nearest thing he had to a friend in this madhouse. ‘No—no, of course, David. I’m sorry … It’s just that I really don’t know what the hell is going on here tonight—’ He smiled ‘—like, why is the weather on our side, for a start?’

‘Oh … that’s simple.’ Audley relaxed. The rain drives the poor devils under cover—whoever we’re descending on. And it also damps down the sound of our elephantine approach, so we can creep up on ‘em more easily,’ He returned the smile as a grin. ‘Although, with the Yanks in attendance tonight, God only knows what’ll happen.’ The grin became almost ingratiating. ‘But it should be interesting. And as you and I are both in the front line we shall have a ringside seat, too—’

The silver sound of a tinkling bell somewhere out in the courtyard cut Audley off, also momentarily hushing the hubbub of loud conversation of the other officers in the shadowy room, of whom and of which Fred had been only half aware. Or less than half aware, he thought quickly, as the hubbub started up again.

‘Otto’s pig will be quite ruined by now. So there’s no need to hurry.’ Audley raised his glass. ‘Would you like a re-fill? I really am a terribly bad host … and I haven’t introduced you to anyone either, have I?
Otto!’

‘Hauptmann David
!’ The tray, with two fresh glasses on it, and then the white glove-and-arm-and-coat, appeared as if by magic, in that order. ‘One Islay malt—one Black Label … and the pig, as you say truly, is ruined, dried up, as a corpse in the desert of North Africa.’

‘You were never in North Africa, Otto.’ Audley swopped his empty tumbler for a well-filled one. ‘But you have been eavesdropping—eh?’

‘I already know all that there is to be known about the
Herr Major.’
Otto presented the tray to Fred. ‘I do not need to eavesdrop.’

Fred looked at Audley. ‘Since when have I been a major?’

‘It was on Part Two orders yesterday, Herr Major,’ said Otto. ‘Captain Fattorini FA, RE, to T/Major—my congratulations, Herr Major, on your well-deserved advancement —’

‘ “Promotion”, Otto.’ Audley sniffed. ‘And now, will you kindly encourage the adjutant to get the CO to get us into dinner. Because, whatever the condition of your pig, I’m bloody starving. And we’ve got work to do tonight, while you’re safe and comfy in bed … and tucked up with whoever you’re tucked up with. So do be a good fellow—eh? Ring the bloody bell again—?’ Audley delayed for a moment. Then he raised his glass in Fred’s direction. ‘But, like the man says—congratulations,
Herr Major
! And … like
I
say … make the best of it—okay?’ He grinned. ‘“Give
strong drink unto him that is ready to perish”
—
Book of Proverbs, chapter something, verse something-else—okay?’

Fred drank, adjusting to undeserved promotion: who was he to argue with the British Army, right or wrong? ‘Thank you, David.’ And yet, he had never expected to make field rank, however temporarily. And certainly never like this, so equivocally, which made it not quite good enough, however good the Black Label was on his empty stomach. ‘But … make the best of what?’

‘What?’ Audley had been looking around, in the hope of dinner, while he had been thinking. ‘Oh … it’s not so bad—’ Using his full height again, Audley continued to look around for movement ‘—not if you’re like me … no soldier—’ He focused on Fred suddenly ‘—no soldier, by God! Because when it was real soldiering, I was bloody-scared most of the time … and when I wasn’t scared, I was bored—bored—b-b-bored …
bored
.’ The focussed look became fixed. ‘But this is different: we’re VIPs now—we can do what we bloody-like now!’ He nodded. ‘If we tangle with anyone, we pull “Colonel Colbourne” on ’em. And he pulls “Brigadier Clinton”—and that rocks ‘em back on their heels, I can tell you.’ He nodded again. ‘Believe me, I know. Because I’ve seen it happen.’ Audley drank and then grinned happily. ‘Did it myself once, actually. GSO I, all red tabs and face to match, wanted to court-martial Jacko Devenish—
my
Sergeant Devenish—for gross insubordination … probably quite justifiably, because Jacko can be quite extraordinarily rude when he sets his mind to it … and he hates staff officers … Yes, where was I?’ He drank again. ‘Good stuff, this malt: it completely dissolves my stutter. So I shall probably have to spend the rest of my life half-cut … Where was I? Ah … Sar’ Devenish versus this GSO I, that’s right!‘ Nod. ’Well, guilty or not, we can’t do without Sergeant Devenish. Or, more accurately,
I
can’t do without him. Because he sometimes does what I tell him to do—and I
always
do what he tells
me
to do.‘ Grin plus nod. ’Yes. So Temporary Hauptmann von Audley rips off a smart salute and begs to point out that the grossly-insubordinate is responsible to—and on a special mission for—Brigadier Clinton, at the behest of Colonel Colbourne—‘

The silver bell tinkled again.

‘Yes?’ inquired Fred.

‘Second bell!’ Audley downed the remains of his drink. ‘First bell—wait for the CO. Second bell—every officer for himself. Mess rules.’

‘Wait a moment.’ He would never get a better chance than now, Fred decided, with the young dragoon like this. Because, although Colbourne had instructed him to get an answer to his One Question from Audley, ‘no shop in the mess’ would undoubtedly inhibit him at dinner. And after that he might well be incoherent. ’I haven’t finished my drink, David.‘

‘Nor you have! I’m most frightfully sorry, old boy.’ Audley moved himself out of the doorway so that other officers might escape, shielding Fred from curious stares with his broad shoulders. ‘Do take your time.’

Fred took his time, judging that malt whisky and hunger in alliance might drive Audley to indiscreet frankness. ‘You were saying—?’

‘I was?’ Audley looked politely vague. ‘Saying what?’

Fred took some more of his time. ‘Sergeant Devenish versus the GSO I—?’

‘Ah! Well … “Instant Collapse of Empurpled Staff Officer” would be the
Punch
cartoon caption.’ Audley fidgeted slightly. ‘Lots of grunting, plus admonitions to me about the decline of discipline. And a ferocious threat about Devenish’s military future—empty as a hot-air balloon, of course.’ Another familiar nod. ‘
Colonel
Colbourne and
Brigadier
Clinton … between them, we’re all VIPs, like I said—okay?’ Audley looked at Fred’s glass, first hopefully, then with a hint of desperation in his ugly face.

It was about time to cash in on his opportunity, Fred thought, lifting his glass almost to his mouth, and then lowering it. ‘VIPs … doing what, David?’

Audley stared at him for a moment. ‘Christ, Fred—or is it “Freddie”—?’

Fred didn’t want him sidetracked. Take your pick, David.‘ He lifted the glass again. ’Go on—?‘

‘Well—’ Audley willed him to drink ‘—it’s … it’s rather like peeling an onion if you ask me.’ He thought for another moment. ‘Fred.’

‘An onion?’ Fred decided that he didn’t wholly dislike David Audley. But, in the circumstances, he could only reward him with a sip. ‘Peeling an onion?’

‘Yes.’ Audley glanced into the open doorway, beyond which the rain still glinted in the lamplight as it fell. ‘Shall we go—?’

‘In a moment.’ Another sip. ‘An onion—?’

‘Yes.’ Audley hated him for an instant, fiercely but impotently, trapped by Good Manners and youth. ‘I mean … officially I’m supposed to be researching German tank development.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Which is bloody stupid, really … ’

‘Yes?’ Knowing that he still had a lot of Black Label, Fred took another sip. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ Another twist downwards, on both sides. ‘I hate … tanks—if I never saw another tank—
or
“Panzer-Kampfwagen” … if I never saw another of the bloody great things … and the Germans were into
bloody
great things, so far as my researches go—my
ersatz
researches … Because they don’t give a damn about that actually.’ Twist. ‘Colbourne doesn’t, Clinton doesn’t … If I never saw another fucking
PanzerKampfwagen
, or
Panzer-Befehlswagen
, or prototype
Panzerjager Tiger Elefant
, or whatever … I saw enough German tanks in Normandy, to last me a lifetime … although there were few enough of them, thank God! Few enough of them … and lots and lots of
us
—
us
being bloody cannon-fodder—’ Twist ‘—if I never see another one, that’ll be too-bloody soon!’

‘Officially.’ Fred cut through the whisky blur quickly. ‘What d’you really do then?’

‘Ah … well—’ Audley stopped suddenly. ‘You really don’t know?’ He frowned. ‘Didn’t Amos tell you? And you were in with Caesar Augustus long enough, for God’s sake—didn’t he tell you?’

‘No.’ Audley wasn’t as drunk as he had seemed, Fred decided. ‘Nobody has told me anything.’

‘Then perhaps I’d better not. If my elders and betters —’

‘But Colonel Colbourne told me to ask you.’ Fred barely avoided snapping. ‘And he also told me “no shop in the mess”. So if you want your share of Otto’s pig before it’s cold, David … ’ He lifted his glass tantalizingly. ‘I can wait.’

‘It isn’t really a pig. It’s a wild boar.’ Audley’s voice was no longer slurred, and he was staring at Fred. ‘He hunts them in the forest with an illegal high powered hunting rifle. The Germans aren’t allowed guns, of course—not now. But rules don’t apply to Otto, because Colonel Augustus Colbourne likes wild boar for his dinner.’

Fred stared back at him without replying, aware both that he was every bit famished as the young dragoon and that the young dragoon was neither as drunk as he had seemed nor as young, in experience if not years.

‘Okay.’ Audley completed his scrutiny. ‘Officially, we’re related to the T-forces—the old SHAEF Target Subdivision. You’ve heard of them, maybe.’

Fred hadn’t. ‘Maybe. But you tell me, David. Just in case I haven’t.’ He smiled. ‘Now that I’m here.’

‘Yes.’ If not drink, then hunger and the prospect of a long night ahead of him had wearied Audley. ‘German military and technological material and research. All the stuff they were throwing at us latterly—V-1s and V-2s and jet-planes—and rocket planes—all the new weapons. But also, and rather more importantly, the stuff they hadn’t quite perfected—what’s called “the next generation”.’ He cocked his head slightly. ‘“The next generation”—?’

Fred waited until it became obvious that Audley expected some sort of reaction. ‘“The next generation”?’ He decided to frown.

‘Yes.’ Audley accepted the frown. ‘It’s a pretty term, isn’t it! Here we are, all buddy-buddy and United Nations … and a Labour Government back home, to welcome us back to a Land Fit for Heroes. But here we are—“we are” meaning
us
, in this instance … but the Yanks and the Russians too, just the same … Here we are, scrabbling for German tit-bits with which we can equip the next generation—the call-up class of 1955 Conscripts. Or, maybe ’56—the Crocodile’s money is on ‘56, mathematically. Mine’s a bit later, in our mess sweepstake. The Alligator is betting on 1950. And Amos refuses to bet—he only bets on cards and horses, he says. Because he likes to enjoy his winnings, he says—and he says he won’t enjoy ours.’ He smiled. ‘But … anyway … we’re not actually responsible to T/HQ, anyway. But don’t ask me who we’re responsible to—Colbourne’s responsible to Clinton, and God only knows who he’s reporting to. Probably God Himself, is my guess. But I don’t know.’