Mr Sturton, untrained and more or less supernumerary, was given to the Bedfordshires as liaison, to keep quick contact between them and the Fusiliers.
Richard returned to the barricade to discover Sergeant Grace and three men busily tying formal white dress shirts to the backs of tall wooden chairs.
“Got ‘em from the outfitters, sir. Putting them out down the road, sir. Pace off one hundred yards and put a chair on either pavement where we can see ‘em. Put another two out at two hundred. Give the men a mark for setting their sights. Should be able to pick ‘em out in moonlight, sir.”
“That’s a good trick, Sergeant Grace! Where did you learn that one?”
“India, sir. In the Shiny, ten years back; before we was sent across to Burma we was up on the Frontier, sir, in the passes. Always scrapping with the wogs there, sir. Had little forts up in the hills and we put out range markers all the way round them. They never did work out how come our rifles was more accurate than theirs, sir.”
“Good experience, Sergeant Grace. We are lucky to have you with us.”
Sergeant Grace evidently thought the same.
Sturton was also impressed. He had attached himself to Richard, being much the same age and wanting a friendly face to talk with.
“Only been in for less than four weeks, old chap. Don’t know too much about the military but me father pulled the strings so I wouldn’t miss out on the fun. My younger brother is Guards, joined last year. Don’t know where he is just now. I hope he’s not facing the same problems as we are – but it must be just a local thing, you know – we can’t be pushed back anywhere else. All the Germans must be here, can’t be any to prevent the march on Berlin by the rest of the BEF!”
Richard was less convinced, chose not to argue.
“Unusual name, Sturton. I sailed with a Sturton on St Vincent before I had to leave the sea. Found that I would never make a sailorman!”
“That’s bad luck, old chap. Still you’re here now. Not missing out on the fun. Don’t know any other Sturtons, except for the black sheep of the family, the uncle who ran off to the colonies twenty-odd years ago. Eloped, so they say. I suppose he might have come back with a son… Might be. I’ll ask the Pater when I next see him. Father’s the heir to Viscount Perceval. I’m next in line after him, but he’s got years in him yet, or so I hope. Quite like the old chap, in fact; wouldn’t want to see him dead even if it did give me the title that much sooner.”
There was a burst of fire from the most easterly of the barricades.
“Sounds like we are in business, Sturton. Sergeant, watch out for Germans trying to find a way round them.”
“Yes, sir.”
The outbreak died down, was followed by individual shots, presumably aimed fire. A minute and a machine gun began its chatter.
“While they’re firing that down the road, they can’t be sending solders in, sir. They’ll have to stop firing, unless they can get the thing up onto rooftops, maybe.”
“If they get up high then we shall be in trouble here, Sergeant.”
“We’ll need to pull back if they get a lodgement in the roofs, sir – but they’re steep and they won’t be easily climbed. No use their trying to fire from upstairs windows, because they face across the road and they’d have to hang out to aim, sir.”
“Add to that, if they try, we can set fire to the shops underneath them. Shouldn’t be impossible to arrange.”
“The Belgians might not like that, sir, burning their town down.”
Richard made a play of looking about him.
“Can’t see any Belgians hereabouts, Sergeant Grace.”
“’What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve about’, my old Ma was used to say, sir.”
“Well put, Sergeant. More importantly – what they don’t see, they can’t blame us for. Must be them nasty invading Germans what did it, Mr Frog.”
“So it was, sir. For sure!”
“Only if necessary, Sergeant Grace. If I’m not here to give the order, I’m telling you now to do it.”
The machine gun stopped.
“Coming again, I reckon, sir.”
They listened to a whole company loosing rapid fire.
“Twenty aimed rounds a minute from each man, sir, down a narrowish street without much by way of cover. I wouldn’t want to be the battalion advancing into that, sir.”
The rifle fire ceased and after a few seconds, the machine gun fired again.
“They didn’t make it that time, sir.”
“They won’t until we run out of ammunition.”
Over the remaining hours of daylight parties of Germans appeared in each of the northward streets and were driven back by the rifles.
“Will they try in the dark, do you think, Sergeant?”
“Depends, sir. If they are top-notch well-trained infantry, they might. But, from what I hear, sir, the Germans make every man do service when he’s nineteen or twenty and then send them back to work again. Then they call them up when a war starts, give a week or two of reminder, you might say, and march them off to the front. You don’t train up marksmen that way – not like our army where the soldiers might have ten or twenty years behind them. Add to that, those men can obey orders, but they don’t know enough to be let out on their own. Six months from now, then I’d take them out at night, but not two or three weeks after they’ve been called up.”
“Makes sense, Sergeant Grace. Split the night into two watches, Abbott’s platoon till midnight; Ekins till four o’clock stand to. The platoon on duty to keep four sentries awake at any one time, rotating them an hour apiece, more or less. With luck, all of the men will get six hours of sleep. Be sure that you get some sleep, Sergeant.”
“Cooks will have to be awake earlier, sir. I’ll arrange that. I got two hours of kip this afternoon, sir.”
“Very good. Will you send a pair of men down the road south, first thing in the morning? Might make sense to know what’s behind us, how far to go to the next sensible stopping place when we have to pull back.”
“Will do, sir. One battalion ain’t holding a whole town for too long, sir. Going to be fight and retreat until we get a lot of support, sir. Be lucky to hold for three or four days, sir.”
Sturton listened silently, learning how to speak to a sergeant and how to sound like an officer. He would model himself on Baker, he decided – he sounded exactly what an officer should be.
Chapter Eleven
Captain Smallwood came to the wardroom curtain, knocked on the bulkhead to announce his presence and beg permission to enter. He had a message flimsy in his hand.
“From onshore. Port Captain received it on his wireless. Delays the ship’s activities for twenty-four hours, and alters yours markedly, gentlemen.”
They were not surprised – orders changed frequently. Simon stood and offered his chair, there being no other space at their tiny table.
“Thank’ee, Mr Sturton. Aboukir’s senior lieutenant has gone sick, Mr Dacres. Carted off to the infirmary in Harwich, there to stay for a week or two, at least; heart problems, apparently, complicated by too much gin, from the little I saw of the man. Her captain and commander are both old and cannot take the extra burden between them, and her other lieutenants are variously ancient dugouts, failures dumped off better ships or reservists. Some of them have seniority, so you are going up to acting lieutenant-commander for the duration of your posting, which should be only a few weeks, with immediate effect. Report aboard Aboukir in Harwich ten minutes ago.”