Men like Hewitt always knew everything, so there was no harm in admitting the truth. ‘We took a prisoner, though.’
‘So you did! An’ I saw Jacko Devenish wiv ‘im, wiv a blanket over ’is ‘ead – fair enough!’ Hewitt agreed quickly. ‘But I also ’eard tell there was a man shot down right in front uv you – ain’t that the truth – so you lost one of ‘em again?’
Not quite everything, then. ‘Again?’
‘Aye! Jus’ like the last time!’ Hewitt looked up at him unblinkingly. ‘An’ Mr Audley got a rollicking for that, too . . . Though it weren’t ‘is fault, as I can testify.
’Cause I were there that time, sir.‘
There was one hell of a lot he didn’t know about Colonel Colbourne’s operations, thought Fred bitterly.
But then he remembered Greece, and the indirect road to Delphi. ‘Do you mean ... in Greece, Hughie?’
‘In Greece – ?’ Driver Hewitt looked around shiftily, as though he had momentarily forgotten where he was.
‘Yes – in Greece, that would be – like you said.’ When the look reached Fred again it had become one of dummy4
pristine innocence. ‘But we ought to be goin’ now – if you want to get your ‘ead down, like Mr Audley an’
the adjutant wants you to, eh?‘
This wasn’t the moment to push his luck, Fred decided
– not only because Driver Hewitt wasn’t quite ready to be pushed, but also because there were engines revving up along the double line of transport which had gathered here, coming both from the hunting lodge and the Roman fort: Colonel Colbourne’s command was now united and in retreat, out of the American Zone and into somewhere safer, that engine-noise indicated.
‘Of course!’ He stretched his shoulders and yawned theatrically. But then, as he did so, he also saw his opening instinctively: either from self-interest or inclination, Driver Hewitt was David Audley’s man, so that was his way in. ‘But . . . you’re sure there’s nothing we can do to help Captain Audley – ?’
‘Captain Audley?’ Driver Hewitt glanced down the line. ‘Cor! You don’t need to worry about ’em! ‘E’s as artful as a cartload uv monkeys when ’e’s up against it . . . an‘ . . . ’ e’s also a friend uv the Brigadier’s –
Brigadier Clinton hisself!‘ Driver Hewitt accompanied that last confidence with a shameless theatrical wink as he started to follow his own finger. “E was born to be
’anged – not posted!‘
Well . . . there was the truth, pure and unvarnished as only an RASC driver could impart it, thought Fred: the dummy4
anomaly of young Audley’s presence here, among his elders and betters, could be explained as simply as that: he had influence!
‘Come on, then!’ Driver Hewitt gestured urgently, and disappeared in a gap between two of the vehicles.
Fred skipped after him smartly into the gap as he observed the reason for the little man’s urgency aproaching in the distance: Colonel Colbourne was waving a finger at Captain Audley (who for once seemed to be keeping his mouth shut), with the RSM
just behind them. And he felt a slight pang of conscience as he did so, but then allowed himself to be consoled by Driver Hewitt’s judgement of the young man’s ability to defend himself, added to the boy’s special relationship with Brigadier Clinton. And besides, as a new boy himself, what could he do, anyway?
More engines started up – and Hewitt was beckoning him into another gap – and there, sure enough, was another argument in progress: he glimpsed Major McCorquodale addressing an imperturbable Amos de Souza while (so it seemed) shaking his fist at Otto Schild, at the adjutant’s shoulder, and a Schild now British from the waist down, in battle-dress trousers, boots and gaiters, and German from the waist up, in a badgeless Wehrmacht jacket and forage cap. Better to avoid that encounter, too– !
dummy4
On the furthest side of the two lines of vehicles, under the dripping branches (and, presumably, discreetly avoiding both those disagreements), there were several other officers, whom he vaguely remembered from the night before, and two or three NCOs beside their transport.
‘Mornin’ Freddie – ‘ and ’Hullo there, Freddie – ‘ –
they seemed to know him better than he knew them; and the NCOs straightened up as he passed them; and the smartness of everyone’s turn-out made him feel crumpled and shabby: what was not least tantalizing about this unit was its mixture of extreme eccentricity and positively regimental smartness – even little Hewitt was marching stiff and straight ahead of him now, as though on a parade-ground – and that, with an RASC old sweat, was a commentary on Mr Levin’s standards which aroused admiration and incredulity equally.
‘ ’Ere we are!‘ Hewitt presented Captain Audley’s vehicle without a hint of apology. ’It don’t look much.
But it’s what they call in the motor trade “a nice little runner”.‘
What struck Fred first was the question of how Captain Audley ever fitted himself into such a small car; although, to be fair, the fact that it was parked in long summer grass which almost came up to its windows, and between two monstrous ten-tonners which dummy4
diminished it further, belittled it cruelly.
‘It’s what Jerry called “The People’s Car”.’ Driver Hewitt patted the little car’s sloping bonnet through the grass. ‘Before the war Hitler promised ’em they’d all
‘ave one like this – an’ took their money. But uv course
‘e didn’t divvy up – ’e just took their money an‘
scarpered wiv it. An’ what you’ve probably seen is the army version, what they called a “kooblewaggon”, wiv no top to it – ‘ He looked up at Fred ’ – like, it was their Jeep, wot the Yanks give us – ‘ He returned to the car, patting its sloping roof affectionately ’ – but this is the real thing, like a proper car. An‘ Major M’Crocodile sez this is one uv the very first wot they built, the Jerries did – ’ Pat-pat ‘ – wiv a lovely little air-cooled engine in the back, ’orizontally-opposed, what starts up a treat, no matter ‘ow ’ot or ‘ow cold it is ... A little bloody marvel, is what this is ... If you can get inside it, that is: we ’ave to take a shoe-‘orn to get Mister David in it, if there’s anyone in the back there –
wiv ’is knees up under ‘is chin. But ’e likes it, all the same, ‘e does.’
Fred bent down to look inside. ‘He does – ?’
‘But we ain’t takin’ anyone in the back,‘ Driver Hewitt reassured him quickly. That’s Mister David’s – Captain Audley’s – kit in there. An’ yours too – all cleaned an‘
pressed by Trooper Lucy last night, while you were busy –don’t you worry, sir!’ Now he looked Fred up dummy4
and down critically. ‘An’ if we get time, along the road, we can maybe change you up before – ‘ He blinked, the wizened features contorting suddenly ’ –
before we gets to the Schwartzenburg for dinner, like, tonight . . .‘ He looked away, up and down the lines, along which the men who had greeted them earlier were now mounting up, high above them ’– ‘cause we’ve got a long drive ahead uv us, round about... if they ’aven’t repaired that bridge what’s fallen down, by the viaduct at Munchen-what’s-it, on the river there
– ?‘ He came back to Fred. ’If you’d get in then –
right?‘ He opened the car door, pulling it against the tall grass.
There was a curious odour inside the tiny vehicle, like nothing he could put an origin to, which made him sniff interrogatively as he searched for its source.
‘You don’t want to worry about that smell.’ Driver Hewitt got in much more easily behind the wheel.
‘That was from last night, when Otto was making ’is deliveries in it ... I think ‘e may ’ave ‘ad something that was startin’ to go orf a bit, maybe.‘ Hewitt sniffed himself. ’But, then a lot of ‘is meat, it ain’t right until it’s been ’ung a few days – like pheasants an‘ rabbits, an’ such: they ‘ave to be goin’ orf before they’re just right – here we go!‘