behaved more pragmatically, as the Russians and the French are doing ... I would agree there. But – ’
‘But it isn’t our job to run this country.’ (Amos de Souza’s tone poured oil on troubled waters, in default of imposing ‘mess rules’
on his brother officers in a more generalized grey area of argument.) ’Our job ... is to obey our orders as best we can, with things as they are.‘
(Pause.) ‘And there are still people who can help us, you know, dummy4
Alec.’ (Audley sounded eager and very young suddenly, and ingratiating with it; but that might be to keep the Crocodile away from Sergeant Devenish and Driver Hewitt!) ‘I found a super policeman, just the other day. And he said – ’
‘Shut up, David!’ (Colonel Colbourne’s sharp command belied its own ‘mess rules’ friendliness.) ’That’s enough.‘
‘You were saying, Alec – ’ (De Souza moved in smoothly behind his commanding officer, to obliterate Audley’s gaffe.) ‘ – you met this AMGOT fellow, who was shitting bricks ... so what did he have to say, then?’
‘Eh?’ (The Crocodile struggled with de Souza’s direct question for a moment, unable to avoid it.) ‘Listen to the rain, man – do ye no hear it?’
(For another moment they all listened to the sound of the rain splashing distantly over brimming gutters.) ‘So it’s raining?’ (Amos de Souza smiled.) ‘According to Gus’s American friend, Major Austin, it’s raining all the way from here to London
– and Land’s End in Cornwall ... So what?’
‘Aye. And that’s the sound of Europe starving this winter, man.’ (The Crocodile had forgotten his Nazis, and Sergeant Devenish and Driver Hewitt with them. But suddenly he was looking at Fred now.) ‘Was it England ye flew from this day, man
– ?’
‘What – ?’ (The memory of the hair-raising flight was equally best-forgotten!.) ‘No. It was . . .’ (Best forgotten!)
‘Oh aye! From Greece, it was – ?’ (Pause.) ‘Are they starving dummy4
there?’ (Pause.) ‘If it goes on raining, and the harvest fails . . . then the Americans will be feeding us by the autumn – aye, and feeding the Geairrmans too, if they’re lucky – the Nazis and all the rest, as well as Number 21 in the picture tonight – ’
‘Alec!’ (Colbourne didn’t say ‘Shut up!’ to Major McCorquodale, but he came close to doing so.)
‘I was in England not so long ago, actually.’ (A new voice came from down the table, almost as lazy as de Souza’s, from one of the faceless officers outside Fred’s direct range of vision.) ‘In London ... it was quite dreadfully . . . threadbare, you know. So I thought about Paris. But, apparently, it’s just as bad there – the fellow at the Embassy I spoke to said that you had to bow and scrape to head waiters to get any sort of decent meal . . . and as I wasn’t going to do that I ended up going down to our place in the country, where my wife is ... where I thought I might at least get a square meal – away from the rationing with no bowing and scraping – ?’
‘Oh aye?’ (The Crocodile leant forward to fix an insulting eye on the interrupter.) ‘And, of course, your family does own half of Wiltshire, doesn’t it, Johnnie. Or is it Berkshire? So they wouldn’t be starving, then.’
‘Starving – ?’
They say – ‘ (Amos overbore the beginnings of Johnnie’s outrage diplomatically, like the good adjutant he was.) ’ – they do say that the hunting in the shires will be exceptionally good this autumn. Is that true, Johnnie?‘
dummy4
‘Is that a fact?’ (The Crocodile got in first.) ‘And how do they eat the foxes down in Wiltshire? Da they roast them over a slow fire?
I’d have thought fox-meat would be a wee bit tough, and stringy . . . Maybe you should ask Otto how he cooks foxes, man?
That is, unless Oscar Wilde knew what he was talking about – “the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable”, didn’t he say?’
(Christ! The Colonel must do something now! Because that was as naked an insult as might be imagined in this company – not even Amos de Souza’s diplomacy could gloss over the Crocodile’s deliberate scorn!) ‘
‘Eh – ?’ (Down among the candles and the silver and the glasses
‘Johnnie’ wasn’t quite sure he’d heard what the Crocodile had said.) ‘Who – ?’
‘My ancestors ate rats,’ said de Souza. ‘The rats ate the ship’s biscuits – and then they ate the rats. But that was in Nelson’s time, in the navy. But they used to say that a biscuit-fed rat was as good as a rabbit. So maybe rabbit-fed fox isn’t so bad, perhaps?’
That’s a most interesting proposition, you know.‘ (The mention of food enlivened Philip Macallister’s otherwise dry, academic delivery.) ’Dog, which I ate in Shanghai . . . dog is perfectly edible
– even potentially delicious. And rat certainly has a long and honourable history of consumption in the extremities of siege-warfare.‘ (Now the voice was gourmet-academic.) ’Human flesh is preferable to both, I’m told. But I’ve never been reduced to that extremity.‘ (Horribly, the voice was characterized by faint regret, rather than distaste.) ’I believe that sailors ate it often enough in the old days. But as it was usually uncooked; they left no recipes dummy4
