A New Kind of War

‘Now then – ’ Audley addressed the German with that curiously formal voice of his ‘ – the sergeant is right, of course – as always: we are going to get you out of here, sir. Which is for your own good and safety – you have my word on that. Do you understand?’

What Fred understood was that, with Audley’s flashlight shining straight into the man’s eyes, never mind that British officer’s promise, the German could understand nothing at all – and least of all because of that strangely deferential ‘ sir’ which Audley had thrown in. Better by far, at this stage, to have stuck to Devenish’s approach.

‘No!’ The German dropped one hand from the Sten to shield his eyes. ‘Please – ’

‘Sir!’ Devenish barked the word from the doorway.

‘Major de Souza is here, sir – now! He is with the American officer, and he says to tell you that he has a dummy4

prisoner for us to escort to the assembly area . . . sir!’

The bark increased to a stentorian military shout, raised to reach the other side of any parade ground.

‘Thank you, Sar’ Devenish.‘ Audley matched Devenish’s shout. ’The corporal and I have processed everyone from here. So we’ll take the major’s prisoner!‘ Then his torch came back to the German.

’ We have to go, sir –now! So . . . you are a British NCO – non- commissioned officer ... You are

“Corporal Keys”, if anyone asks you who you are –

“Corporal Keys” – ?‘ He stepped forward and caught the German by the arm. ’Come on, sir – we must go –‘

‘No!’ The German resisted him, pulling away. No!‘

‘What the devil – ?’ The beam of Audley’s torch gyrated over the room, across sharp angles and damp-stained walls, down to the tangle of blankets in which a uniformed corporal in the British Army was now rummaging desperately.

‘ My spectacles! My spectacles – ! ’ The corporal was on his knees beside the ammunition box, scrabbling desperately with searching fingers in the blanket folds.

‘Without my spectacles . . . I cannot see!’ The search stopped suddenly. ‘I have them! Gruss Gott!’ The German held something up high, fumbling with it.

‘ Don’t put them on!’ Audley’s voice cut through the man’s action decisively. ‘ You mustn’t look like dummy4

yourself, sir – we can’t risk that! Put them in your pocket – don’t put them on: that’s an order!’

A light came in from the doorway, silhouetting Audley and the German before blinding Fred himself.

‘Sir . . .’ The slight pause encompassed Devenish’s surprise on finding Fred among the probably flea-ridden bedding ‘. . . if you please, sir – ?’

‘Right, Sar’ Devenish.‘ Audley started to move. ’Major Fattorini – Corporal Keys – MOVE!‘

Fred moved all the faster, to be free of the bedding before he inherited its inhabitants, pushing Corporal Keys ahead of him all the more unmercifully.

The corridor outside was crowded with people. And there was David Audley, using his size and weight to shoulder his way through them – bulldozing an opening down the passage to the entrance hall, with its an tiered trophies and cobweb-drooling heads at the top of the staircase –And there was Major Macallister too –

or was it the Crocodile? – with British and American soldiers in attendance, and a crowd of ghosts dressed and half-dressed, but all outraged and protesting their innocence as Audley smashed through them regardless

–

God! It was like Paddy’s Market on Quarter Day!

Except that he caught sight of Major de Souza dummy4

suddenly, at the head of the stairs with the hint of a smile on his face, holding back all the criminals and deserters, and displaced persons, and homeless bombed-out refugees who had found this roof over their heads, when there were so few roofs anywhere to be found umbombed in Germany; and alongside Major de Souza, larger and wider, and built like a brick shit-house, was Sergeant Huggins, with one meat-plate hand grasping the shoulder of one of the ghosts – a terrified ghost, draped in a field-grey blanket –

Audley reached the de Souza-Huggins block, and Huggins released his prisoner to him, and Sergeant Devenish accepted the prisoner, pushing him down the stairway just ahead of Corporal Keys and Major Fattorini: and Audley’s incongruous umbrella was lashing out ahead of them, to clear the way for the snatch-squad; and Fred could hear Sergeant Devenish swearing as they cut into the maelstrom of the hunting lodge with British and American uniforms like currants and sultanas in a swirling suet pudding of civilians –

The black opening of the main doorway gaped ahead of them, at the foot of the stairway where the main door had come off its hinges. But Audley wasn’t going that way: he was turning back round the last carved banister, to lead them again towards the passage to the rear entrance, through which they had come: that had been the way in, so now that was the way out – right?

dummy4

Right!‘ And . . . right, because Devenish was urging their new prisoner in that direction, relying on Major Fattorini to encourage Corporal Keys, with his useless Sten and clumping over-sized boots. And whatever blurred images of chaos and panic were left to Corporal Keys without his spectacles, whatever they were, they didn’t matter. What mattered was that their way was not impeded: either the inhabitants of the rooms in the passage were still inside them, or they’d been chivvied out to join the terrified crowd in the entrance hall – all that mattered now was that the passage was empty . . .

Or almost empty. For there in the doorway ahead of them, caught in the beam of someone’s torch, just inside it and silhouetted against the fierce mock-daylight of the searchlights outside, was an American soldier, rain-caped and armed.