A New Kind of War

‘Yes?’ The youth was staring at Fred again. ‘Well, in these parts that would also be very sensible . . . And that’s why you’re still

“reaching for the sky” as they say –is it?’ He nodded. ‘But I think we can dispense with the precaution now, Sergeant Devenish.’

‘Sir – ?’ The doubt in Sergeant Devenish’s voice kept Fred’s arms up.

‘It’s all right, sergeant.’ Another nod. ‘You were quite right to be careful – they do look a dodgy pair, I agree.’

‘We spotted them on the hillside. And I think they spotted us, too.’

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That was careless of you! So – ?‘

They were lurking behind this rock, sir – ‘ Doubt and anger filled the sergeant’s voice.

‘We weren’t “lurking”,’ said Kyriakos. ‘We were just taking the short-cut to the village. And then we heard the firing. So we took cover.’

‘Ah!’ Another nod. ‘But may one ask why you were going to the village, Captain Michaelides?’

Fred had been waiting for his chance. ‘Captain Michaelides was taking me to see Delphi. But our jeep broke down two or three miles back –’ Not knowing the youth’s name and rank inhibited him ‘ – you are ... who?’

‘Audley – David Audley, West Sussex Dragoons.’ The youth grinned. ‘Lieutenant – strictly expendable cannon- fodder . . .

Hughie.’

‘Mr Audley, sir?’ It was the little wireless operator who answered.

‘Hughie – be a good fellow and tell Sunray that everything’s okay here . . . Tell him that Charlie Three was defective. But also tell him that we’re bringing in two innocent bystanders for him to meet

– got that?’

‘Right-o, Mr Audley.’ The little man shambled away, uncomplaining although the sweat shone on his face. ‘ Hullo, Sunray – hullo Sunray! Charlie One to Sunray –’

‘Do please lower your arms, gentlemen . . . And Captain Michaelides – ’ Lieutenant Audley nodded at Kyriakos, and then carried the nod to Sergeant Devenish. ‘It’s all right, sergeant, I can dummy4

vouch for Captain Fattorini personally – don’t worry!’

Kyriakos looked questioningly at Fred. ‘You’ve met before – ?’ As he observed Fred’s incomprehension he stopped, and transferred the question back to the ugly Dragoon.

‘No. But the face is familiar.’ Audley grinned once more at Fred, hugging his secret knowledge to himself as warmly as his sheepskin jacket. ‘Right, Captain Frederick Armstrong Fattorini?

Border Armstrong – which side, Captain Fattorini?’

Who the hell was he? ‘Scottish – of course.’ Who the hell was he?

‘Could have been either. But in your case – Scottish.’ Audley nodded his delight at Kyriakos. ‘Border family – English and Scottish, but all brigands of the worst sort ... No surprise meeting one here – all brigands here – right, Captain Michaelides?’

Kyriakos stared at him for a moment, and then knelt down to retrieve his buried identity while Fred frowned at the Dragoon, trying to place him at one remove from actual acquaintance.

Kyri stood up again, with his papers and his torn-off epaulets in his hand. ‘Do you wish to see – ’ But then the expression of idiotic pleasure on the youth’s face stopped him even before the youth waved his offering away.

‘Good Lord, no!’ The pleasure almost transformed the Dragoon’s ugliness into beauty as he continued to grin at Fred. ‘ Thought I knew that face – no bloody mistaking it, even without the name – ’

He stopped suddenly, as he remembered his sergeant, who was still holding the owner of the face at unmoving gunpoint. ‘It’s okay, Sar’ Devenish – you can relax – I can vouch for this officer, even dummy4

though I’ve never met him in my life – right?‘

The Thompson remained pointing at them. ‘Sir – ?’ The Dragoon’s happiness tortured the question from his careful sergeant.

‘It’s all right.’ The youth nodded positively at Sergeant Devenish.

‘I’ve played rugger with this officer’s brother, Sar’ Devenish –

same name . . . not a lot of Fattorinis in the British Army . . . but also same face.‘ He took the nod to Fred. ’I’ve seen blood pour out of a Roman nose just like that one – Matthew Fattorini’s blood, from his nose – a family nose, that is, Sar‘ Devenish: three peas from the same pod – Matthew, Mark and Fred . . . God knows what happened to “Luke” and “John”, if they were baptizing ’em out of the New Testament!‘ Another grin. ’Lower your arms, Captain Fat-O’Rhiney!‘

The Thompson still didn’t move. ‘And the Greek . . . officer, sir?’

The sergeant’s voice was still doubtful.

‘Captain Michaelides,’ said Fred. ‘And, as it happens, my father’s name was John. And I have an uncle named Luke.’

‘Yes?’ The Dragoon looked from Fred to the sergeant, and then back again. ‘Well, I’m sure Captain Michaelides is ... whoever he says he is, in Captain Fattorini’s company.’ He spoke lightly, quite unaware that he was unnecessarily humiliating a good NCO. ‘How are things on the ridge, then?’