'Tell him that he has wrecked a quarter of his armoured squadron. We've
got three runners left.' The Ras showed no remorse at this rebuke, but
turned to his commanders and launched into a long vivid account of his
exploits as a driver, his wide gestures describing the speed and dash
of his evolutions. The account was punctuated by loyal exclamations of
wonder from his officers, and it was some minutes before he turned back
to Jake.
'My grandfather says that three of these wonderful machines will be
enough to send the Italians running back into the sea.'
'I wish I
shared his confidence,' remarked Gareth, and Jake went on, 'There is
one other small problem, we are short of crews drivers and gunners for
the cars. We'll need a week or two to train your men.' The Ras
interrupted fiercely, almost as though he had understood Jake, and
there was a fierce murmur of agreement from his commanders.
'My grandfather intends to attack the Italian positions at the
Wells of Chaldi. He intends to attack immediately.' Jake glanced at
Gareth, who rolled his eyes to the heavens. 'Give him the word, old
son,' he said, but Jake shook his head.
'It'll come better from you.' Gareth drew a deep breath and launched
into a long explanation as to the suicidal futility of a frontal
attack, even with armoured support, against guns dug into a commanding
position.
'The Italians must advance. That is when our chance will come.'
It took all Gareth's eloquence to make the Ras agree, albeit
reluctantly, to wait for the enemy to make the first move, to watch
with his forward scouts for the moment when the Italians left their
fortified positions above the Wells and moved out into the open
grassland where they would be more vulnerable.
Once the Ras had agreed, scowling and muttering, to cool his ardour
that long, then Jake could take over from Gareth and suggest the
tactics that might best be employed.
'Please tell your grandfather that we come back to my original warning
we do not have crews for all three cars.'
'I can drive,'
interrupted Vicky Camberwell, suddenly aware that she was being
squeezed out of consideration.
Gareth and Jake exchanged glances again, and were both instantly in
complete agreement, but it was Gareth who spoke for them.
'It's one thing acting as a ferry driver, and another as a combatant,
my dear. You are here to write about the fighting, not get mixed up in
it.' Vicky flashed a scornful glance at him and turned to
Jake.
Jake she began.
'Gareth's right.' He cut her short. 'I agree with that all the way.'
Vicky subsided angrily, knowing there was no profit in arguing now not
accepting their lordly decrees, but willing to bide her time.
She listened quietly as the discussion flowed back and forth. Jake
explained how the cars should be used to shock the enemy and punch open
