A New Kind of War

‘Major Fattorini.’ The new colonel’s mask relaxed slightly, into a curiously old-maidish smile. ‘How are things with TRR-2?’

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Fred didn’t know how to answer that. ‘Sir – ?’

The smile tightened, but the eyes above didn’t change.

‘How have they taken what happened? How is M’Corquodale coping?’

Fred amended his first confused impressions radically.

Gunners (even if they weren’t sappers) were rarely old maids. But, more than that, this was a dyed-in-the-wool Clinton follower. And that called for extra caution.

‘Major M’Corquodale had things well in hand when I left this morning, sir.’

‘Oh yes?’ The gunner colonel cocked his head slightly.

‘And in the absence of Colonel Colbourne – as you put it so diplomatically – what is your official story? About what happened when you finally made contact with Number 16?’

So that was the way the land lay. ‘One of our civilian contacts was bringing in a German for questioning, sir.’ He carefully didn’t look at Clinton. ‘But we had some serious trouble with an armed band of Ukrainian DPs and Russian deserters who were holed-up in the forest. And that was when the adjutant and the RSM

unfortunately became casualties. And one of our German contacts was caught in the cross-fire. And we have one other German civilian in custody, pending further inquiries.’

‘And that is your story?’ The gunner also didn’t look at dummy4

Clinton. ‘And you’re sticking to it?’

‘Yes. Until I’m told otherwise.’ Fred went so far as to touch his battle-dress blouse, over his heart and his envelope. ‘Or until I’m demobilized back to civvy street, sir – whichever comes first.’

‘I told you, Tommy.’ Clinton seemed to speak from far away. ‘He is a sapper . . . and he comes from a long line of close-mouthed merchant bankers. And that’s a damnable mixture.’

‘Yes. Thank you, Freddie.’ The scrutiny still remained.

‘And if I told you that I’ve already talked face-to-face with Colonel Colbourne, major? And if I added my considered opinion that you made a pretty fair balls-up of your first assignment with TRR-2 – what would you say then, major?’

With his envelope safe in his pocket and his feet on English ground, Fred decided that he had nothing to lose, and maybe a lot to gain. ‘I’d say that’s a fair enough opinion – from someone who wasn’t there, sir.’

That just about burnt his boats, and his return ticket to Germany with it, he judged. ‘And then I’d say that maybe I’m due for demob sooner than I’d expected.

But now that I’m in England again at last . . . that won’t be too difficult, sir.’

‘Indeed?’ The gunner smiled his deceptive smile again as he turned at last to Clinton. ‘All right, Freddie: I give you the best with this officer. Or ... I’ll grant you dummy4

him, if not young Audley.’

Even without understanding what the man meant, Fred wasn’t going to let that pass now. ‘I’d also say that Captain Audley is a promising young officer, whatever Colonel Colbourne may say.’

‘You would?’ The gunner nodded slowly. ‘Very well.

So now I will say several things, major: First, Colonel Colbourne will not be returning to Germany. Second, as of this moment I am in command of TRR-2, and when I need your advice I shall ask for it.’

Fred stiffened automatically, and held his tongue.

‘ Third ... I need to promote a new senior NCO or warrant officer, in place of the late and unlamented Mr Levin. So who do you want, then?’ Colonel Stocker closed his mouth on the question, but then opened it again as Fred’s own mouth opened wordlessly.

‘Actually, that wasn’t quite in the right order. I should have said . . . third, you are my new adjutant and second-in-command de facto. Which makes the new RSM – or new senior warrant officer anyway, to run the show – fourth. So who do you want?’

‘Who do I want?’ Fred repeated the words almost automatically. But then they suddenly became a statement of fact, requiring nothing except an adjutant’s instant decision. ‘Sergeant Devenish, sir.’

‘Why Sergeant Devenish?’

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Fred toyed momentarily with Devenish’s conventional virtue of knowing how the army worked, allied to his initiative when it came to the crucial matter of disobeying suspect orders, which had helped to save his life recently. ‘I think I know which side he’s on, Colonel Stocker.’

‘Yes . . . that sounds reasonable.’ Stocker glanced to Clinton nevertheless. ‘Although, I shall want him properly checked out now, Freddie.’

‘Mmm . . .’ The sound deepened in Clinton’s throat.

‘Of course – yes!’

‘Agreed, then.’ Stocker nodded. But then cocked his head again. ‘But who looks after young Audley? He has a way of getting into scrapes, I gather.’

The burden of his new duties began to weigh on Fred before he’d accustomed himself to them. ‘You still want him, do you?’