A New Kind of War

had been deceived: he had taken de Souza for a civilized man and the large young dragoon for a major, and then for a typical subaltern. But neither of them was what he had at first seemed.

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‘Actually, I really feel quite comforted.’ Kyriakos stared at him. ‘I am comforted . . . comforted and surprised – or, comforted and much reassured, anyway.’

‘Reassured?’ After six weeks in Greece, never mind all those months in Italy, Fred regarded himself as a veteran, and an expert on war’s idiocies. It irritated him to be treated like an innocent.

‘This has reassured you, has it? About what?’

That you British are beginning to know your business.‘ Kyriakos gestured to stop him replying. ’Oh yes – I know you came to Greece – ‘ he nodded ’ – and that proves someone knew his business . . . which would be your Mr Churchill of course. But you did not really anticipate events, did you?‘

‘I didn’t?’ Whenever the Greek talked high politics he always addressed Fred as though he was personally responsible for War Cabinet decisions. But then, as he controlled the temptation to adapt his answer accordingly, he saw the truth of the question: in early December the brigade – indeed, the whole division – had been under orders for Palestine, and had actually had to re-possess all the equipment it had surrendered on the eve of embarkation. So Greece had plainly been an unforeseen emergency. ‘No, we didn’t.

But – ’ As he spoke, Kyriakos nodded past him, in de Souza’s direction again.

‘See there, old man.’

Much against his will, and fortified only by the thought that de Souza couldn’t be doing anything nastier than what he had already done, Fred obeyed the injunction –and instantly regretted his dummy4

decision.

‘Ah . . .’ The Greek caught his arm. ‘He has something – yes – he has something, indeed!’

Captain de Souza had been taking a dentist’s view of the shattered head, probing inside the gaping mouth with a sliver of bright metal.

And, until the Greek spoke, all Fred had been thinking was . . . at least he’s not just using his finger now!

‘Yes!’ Kyri’s fingers tightened, then relaxed as de Souza examined what he had found. ‘So now we know!’

Fred swallowed. ‘What do we know, Kyri?’ But in that instant, as he asked his question, he realized that he did indeed know something now, even if it had nothing to do with the beastliness he had been witnessing. Or, not directly, anyway. ‘What do we know?’

Kyriakos caught the change in his voice. ‘Are you shocked?’

‘Not by that.’ Comparatively, that was the truth.

‘You know what he’s found then?’ Kyriakos misunderstood him.

Fred faced a bitter truth. There had once been a Captain Michaelides he had known, who had been a Greek soldier much beloved by the Canadians with whom he was liaising, who didn’t love fools and cowards. And that had been his own Captain Michaelides, devoted to war and wine and women in whichever order the immediate circumstances allowed.

‘You lied to me, Kyri.’ He thought about the new Captain Michaelides, with whom he had made happy contact in Athens, who had seemed exactly the same as the first one, except for the moustache . . . and a slight tendency to talk politics, which had dummy4

seemed fair enough now that he was in his homeland.

Kyriakos frowned. ‘I lied to you?’

‘Yes.’ As always, thinking for himself paid dividends . . . even though this pay-out sickened him as he remembered how very interested Kyriakos had been in the morale of General Scobie’s troops, and their feelings about what they were doing in Greece; and although he had never thought about it until now, he didn’t know what Captain Michaelides had been doing . . . except that he always knew what was going on, and where (until this last hour or two) the safety line could be drawn.

‘Yes?’ To his credit, the second Captain Michaelides didn’t try to add to his deceptions. ‘When?’

‘Just now.’ Even as Fred knew he was right, he knew also that he had no right to judge the man in his own poor bloodthirsty, blood-stained and ruined country. ‘You said you and I were different from this lot – just another pair of simple soldiers, eh?’ He watched the Greek narrowly. ‘But you know exactly what is happening here

– don’t you?’

Kyriakos stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Not . . .

not exactly!’ Then he smiled. ‘If I knew that, then we wouldn’t be here.’ The smile vanished. ‘But you’re right, of course – I know what these men are, if not who they are, shall we say?’

This was the moment to ask questions, Fred sensed. ‘What did Captain de Souza find? Or would you rather let me guess?’

The Greek shrugged, aware that he had lost a friend, but also that his hospitality-invitation to an ally still obligated him. ‘A happy dummy4

pill.’ He let the memory of the shrug do its work. ‘When you don’t want to talk, but you think you may, then you crunch it ... and then you don’t talk ever again.’

‘Oh . . .’ He didn’t really know what he would have guessed. But he wouldn’t have guessed that. ‘And that’s happiness, is it?’

‘Compared with being tortured by experts – yes it is.’