A New Kind of War

‘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 dummy4

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.‘

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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.

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‘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” – ?’