A New Kind of War

Devenish’s sub-machine gun in the pit of his stomach, which bent him double, and then muttered in agonized German.

‘Stop it!’ The umbrella rapped Devenish across the shoulder sharply. ‘That’s not the way – ’ Audley caught his anger too late as the German quickly started to disprove him by stripping his clothes off even before he had undoubled himself from the pain of the blow, throwing off the unbuttoned shirt and then ripping at his trouser buttons.

‘Sir – ?’ Devenish pivoted slightly between his target and Audley, but remained still balanced, ready to deliver more encouragement.

Now the shapeless trousers had joined the shirt, revealing spidery-thin hairy legs and genitals pathetically wizened in adversity, when fear out-ranked every other feeling.

dummy4

‘No matter.’ All the shame and embarrassment was Audley’s from his voice. ‘Just get on with it.’

‘Sir!’ The answering growl started with Audley, but continued over the German who was already busy proving that he understood English by fumbling with the unfamiliar khaki uniform with clumsy fingers.

‘Christ O’Reilly!’ exclaimed Devenish in sudden exasperation, thrusting his sub-machine gun into Fred’s empty hand. ‘Take hold of this, sir – and keep the light on the bugger – right?’ He threw himself down on his knees in front of the man, slapping the hands away, and addressed himself to the fly-buttons urgently. ‘Stand still, damn you!’

Fred watched, fascinated, as Devenish pulled and pushed and buttoned and tightened the man into the uniform, cursing and blinding in a continuous monologue undertone as he did so –

‘Christ O’Reilly – hold still! – if I hadn’t been born unlucky I wouldn’t be here – hold still! – where’s the other boot, then? – I had a good wife, and good kids, and I left ’em all – lift your foot then, for fuck’s sake –

and a good job in a safe reserved occupation – where’s the sodding gaiter? – but I was born stupid, as well as unlucky, wasn’t I! – that’s the bloody left one –

where’s the bloody right one? – oh no! I wanted to be a soldier didn’t I! – could have been building aeroplanes, I could – sleeping between sheets every dummy4

night – drawing good money – give us your bloody arm then – what am I doing, then? – I’m fucking-dressing fucking-Jerries in the middle of the fucking-night, is what I’m doing?

Finally he stood back and surveyed his handiwork for a moment, before stepping forward again to readjust the beret, tugging it round and down savagely until the cap-badge was at the regulation level above the German’s left eye.

‘I beg your pardon, sir!’ He glanced at Audley, and then bent down and came up with the Sten. ‘Best I can do, in the circumstances. Everything’s a size too big, but I’ve laced the boots up tight – and the belt too. So he’s not going to come apart right away, any road.’ He plucked the Beretta out of Fred’s grasp with his free hand and held up the Sten with the other. ‘Shall I give it to him, sir?’

‘Thank you, Sar’ Devenish – yes.‘ Audley spoke with curious formality as he moved to get a better view.

’Yes-esss ... he doesn’t look exactly like the spearhead of the British Liberation Army. But I’ve seen worse.

And it’s a dark night.‘ He sighed.

‘Huh!’ Devenish grunted throatily, and thrust the Sten towards the German. ‘Here you are, Jerry – take hold of this then!’

The ersatz Corporal Keys stared at them uncomprehendingly, breathing heavily as though he’d dummy4

been running to keep up with a forced march which had left him behind. And suddenly Fred felt for him, in his incomprehension.

‘Please – ?’ He spoke in English, ‘What is this – ?’

‘Go on, Jerry – take it.’ From the slight change in Devenish’s voice, from rough to gruff, there was also some human understanding. ‘We’re going to get you away from here, is what we’re going to do –

understand?’

The German took the gun unwillingly, looking at Audley as he did so.

‘Not like that!’ Devenish’s harsher voice came back as the German accepted the weapon. ‘Hold it properly –

not like a bleeding lavatory brush!’

‘Please – ?’ The German fumbled with the Sten, as though it was too hot to hold, blinking at them.

‘But. . .’ Then he took hold of it and himself, squaring his shoulders. ‘But I do not understand, I am telling you, sir –captain!’

‘Of course not.’ Audley accepted the appeal. But then he nodded to Devenish. ‘Jacko – get outside and see what’s happening . . . Look for Major de Souza – ’ In the half-light of their torches, he lifted his arm (with his umbrella hooked over it now) to consult his wrist-watch, shining his own beam directly on to it ‘ – we’re two minutes over schedule. So he should be in the dummy4

offing out there now – right?’

Fred realized that he had lost track of time altogether, ever since they had first moved out of the safe darkness of the forest into the naked light and confusion of the assault on the hunting lodge: there were, as always, two separate times – the fast time of pleasure and happiness, and the slow, elongated time of pain and fear, which seemed to last forever. And they had been in the stretched concertina of it, within this room, with six hundred seconds to every minute.