The Hour of the Donkey

I hope you are well. Your Father and I are in the best of health and although business is slow we are in good spirits.

Since the 'Barnhill' was bombed off Beachy Head (it finally drifted ashore at Langney Point) we have had the cellar strengthened with timbers very kindly supplied by Mr dummy4

Stone, and when the practice warnings sound Mrs Stone comes to keep me company while your Father does his duty as an ARP Warden, so that I have someone to talk to now that Yvonne has joined the WRNS. Your Father said that Mr Smith, who is the ARP Controller, and Brigadier- General Costello, who is the Chief Warden, think that Eastbourne will not be bombed, because we do not have any War Industries, so you must not worry about us. That is exactly what Mr Taylor said at the Junior Imperial League meeting in the Hartington Hall before the war, and as a Member of Parliament, he should know! But if it happens we are ready!!

Please let me know if you have received the string vests I sent to you, but you must not put them on until the Autumn—

'Captain . . . Bast-abell?'

Bass-tabel or Bast-abell, there wasn't any denying that— not with Mother's letter, and with what they had taken out of his pockets, in their hands.

He nodded. The war had ended here for Captain Bastable.

'Of ... the Prince Regent's Own Fuziliers?'

That wasn't in the book of words. Name, rank and number was all he had to give—Wimpy had said as much.

Bastable held his head steady on name and rank.

The German pointed to his shoulder. 'Die Abuzsleine—die ....

Abuzsleine . . . the string, Hauptmann—Captain!'

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Bastable glanced sideways. His shoulder strap was undone, where his equipment had been stripped off him, and his lanyard was half-way down his aim. The disarray of his appearance added to his humiliation, contrasting as it did with the smartness of the German officer's uniform under its coating of dust. With clumsy fingers he buttoned the blouse together, as well as he could—half the buttons had gone—and pulled up the lanyard on to his shoulder again.

'That is right—die Abuzsleine, Captain,' said the German.

Bastable looked down at the lanyard in his hand, the proud primrose-yellow and dove-grey which had once taken the Prince Regent's fancy all those years ago.

Which every man wears as of right, as a South Downs Fusilier — the symbol of pride in his regiment and in himself for being privileged to wear it— Major Tetley-Robinson's words echoed out of the grave.

The lanyard marked him for what he was: he could no more deny being an officer of the PROs than he could fly to heaven with RAF roundels on his wings and claim they were swastikas.

He frowned up at his captor. So the enemy had identified his unit; but since his unit no longer existed that was hardly of any consequence to the German Army now.

'I must protest, sir!' said Wimpy. 'This officer is injured!'

'Your protest is noted, Doctor,' the German cut him off.

Doctor? Bastable looked at Wimpy in baffled surprise.

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'Under the Geneva Convention, sir—' Wimpy refused to be overawed '—under the Geneva Convention this officer cannot be interrogated.'

The German officer continued to look at Bastable. 'Under the Geneva Convention, Doctor, atrocities are punishable by death . . . Captain Bast-abell—you are an officer of the Prinz Regent's Fuziliers?'

Bastable blinked at the German. The pain in his head hammered on his brain.

'You are an officer of the Prinz Regent's Fuziliers,' said the German, dropping the question mark.

'Sir—!' exclaimed Wimpy.

'Be silent, Doctor. Do you know an officer named Willis, Captain Bast-abell? Captain W. M. Willis?'

Bastable rolled his eyes helplessly from the German to Wimpy, and then back again to the German.

'Captain—W. M.—Willis?' The German officer repeated the name carefully.

'I told you—Captain Willis is dead,' said Wimpy quickly.

'Captain Bastable and I were trapped in this cellar during the bombing and the attack on Colembert—we went to treat a wounded fusilier—it took us half the night to dig our way out

—Captain Willis was killed in the bombing—'

' Doctor!' The German officer's voice cracked with exasperation. 'One more word from you and I shall have you placed under arrest in spite of your status, Captain dummy4

Saunders!'

God! The battledress blouse— Captain Saunders's blouse—

Wimpy had been wearing it! thought Bastable feverishly.