sir?”
“Any time.”
Roberts pretended to give this a great deal of thought. “Smokers’ cough,” he said finally.
“We’ve got a cure for that here,” said Markham with a sour grin. “Anything else?”
“I’m allergic to sadists,” said Roberts.
Markham looked thoughtfully at Roberts, then lit a cigarette and sat down. “Ever had V.D.?”
“What?” said Roberts and laughed.
“Have you or not?”
“I wouldn’t brag about it if I had.”
“Roberts. This is one place to answer a simple question with a straight answer. Try learning that golden rule. Now, drop your trousers.”
Roberts did so and Markham examined him. “Turn around ... Right. Get dressed.”
Roberts slipped into his vest then pulled his shirt over his head. “So I’m fit, sir?”.
“Yes. A.1.”
“Where are you sending me? To a stud farm?”
Markham lost his temper. “I’ll give you a week, Roberts. One week to curb that tongue of yours. Now, get out!”
“Yes, sir,” said Roberts and finished dressing, opened the door and walked into the bright sunshine. He screwed up his eyes then strolled over to the line of prisoners and joined them, then stood smartly to attention.
The R.S.M. looked at Roberts with seeming disinterest then turned to Williams. “Staff, suggest you take the prisoners on a short excursion.”
“Yes, sir.”
“To the hill, Staff. Suggest you take them to the hill.”
“Yes,” said Williams with a smile.
“Let them walk round it, Staff. Inspect it at their leisure. Then put them up and down it ... say half a dozen times ... no more. Just a sample run. But not Roberts, Staff.”
“Not Roberts, sir?”
“I’ll send one of my Staff to you. He can take the prisoners to the cells. But not Roberts, Staff.”
“Ah — not Roberts, sir.” Williams nodded.
“No. Keep him on the hill. Give him half an hour. That’s plenty for a start.”
“Yes, sir,” grinned Williams.
The R.S.M. nodded, turned and marched away. Williams faced the line of prisoners and gave the order, “Left turn. Double.”
The line of prisoners doubled away with Roberts leading them and McGrath close behind him. McGrath spoke to Roberts but kept his voice down. “You’re a clever bag of tricks you are, Roberts. No inside the glass-house half an hour and you’ve used your bloody influence and got us a ride on the hill. Aye, you’re a bonnie laddie. I bet there’s one Saturday night booze-up your father’s always regretted. Roberts, are you listening to me? If this ride on the hill leaves any marks on me, I’ll leave a bloody few on you.”
“No talking,” said Williams.
“Just thinking out loud, Staff,” said McGrath.
“Save it till you’re in your cell.”
“Aye, Staff, you’ve got something there.”
“But I don’t want the walls defaced with bloodstains, McGrath.”
“You have my word, Staff,” grinned McGrath. “I’m a great respecter of Government property.”
“Now shut your big trap,” said Williams.
“Aye, Staff. Is that the hill or bloody Mount Everest?”
“I said shut up,” said Williams. “This is my Cook’s Tour.”
The line of prisoners approached the hill and Williams, grinning, gestured towards it. “This is the north face, gentlemen.” He glanced sideways at Stevens. “I mean, Ladies and Gentlemen. On a clear day you can see Mother India from the north face. China from the south face. Timbuktu from the east, and right into your bedroom and a good view of your Missus having it off with a Yank from the west.”
“It’s magic,” marvelled McGrath.
“Still think there’s snow on the top, Roberts?” enquired Williams.
“No, Staff. Damn funny hill, though. Nothing seems to grow on it.”
“It’s full of surprises,” said Williams as they doubled round the hill. “The only thing that’s been known to grow on this hill, Roberts, is soldiers. They grow weary. Right!” he yelled, “double up it.”
Bokumbo kicked his legs into action and surged past the
“Any time.”
Roberts pretended to give this a great deal of thought. “Smokers’ cough,” he said finally.
“We’ve got a cure for that here,” said Markham with a sour grin. “Anything else?”
“I’m allergic to sadists,” said Roberts.
Markham looked thoughtfully at Roberts, then lit a cigarette and sat down. “Ever had V.D.?”
“What?” said Roberts and laughed.
“Have you or not?”
“I wouldn’t brag about it if I had.”
“Roberts. This is one place to answer a simple question with a straight answer. Try learning that golden rule. Now, drop your trousers.”
Roberts did so and Markham examined him. “Turn around ... Right. Get dressed.”
Roberts slipped into his vest then pulled his shirt over his head. “So I’m fit, sir?”.
“Yes. A.1.”
“Where are you sending me? To a stud farm?”
Markham lost his temper. “I’ll give you a week, Roberts. One week to curb that tongue of yours. Now, get out!”
“Yes, sir,” said Roberts and finished dressing, opened the door and walked into the bright sunshine. He screwed up his eyes then strolled over to the line of prisoners and joined them, then stood smartly to attention.
The R.S.M. looked at Roberts with seeming disinterest then turned to Williams. “Staff, suggest you take the prisoners on a short excursion.”
“Yes, sir.”
“To the hill, Staff. Suggest you take them to the hill.”
“Yes,” said Williams with a smile.
“Let them walk round it, Staff. Inspect it at their leisure. Then put them up and down it ... say half a dozen times ... no more. Just a sample run. But not Roberts, Staff.”
“Not Roberts, sir?”
“I’ll send one of my Staff to you. He can take the prisoners to the cells. But not Roberts, Staff.”
“Ah — not Roberts, sir.” Williams nodded.
“No. Keep him on the hill. Give him half an hour. That’s plenty for a start.”
“Yes, sir,” grinned Williams.
The R.S.M. nodded, turned and marched away. Williams faced the line of prisoners and gave the order, “Left turn. Double.”
The line of prisoners doubled away with Roberts leading them and McGrath close behind him. McGrath spoke to Roberts but kept his voice down. “You’re a clever bag of tricks you are, Roberts. No inside the glass-house half an hour and you’ve used your bloody influence and got us a ride on the hill. Aye, you’re a bonnie laddie. I bet there’s one Saturday night booze-up your father’s always regretted. Roberts, are you listening to me? If this ride on the hill leaves any marks on me, I’ll leave a bloody few on you.”
“No talking,” said Williams.
“Just thinking out loud, Staff,” said McGrath.
“Save it till you’re in your cell.”
“Aye, Staff, you’ve got something there.”
“But I don’t want the walls defaced with bloodstains, McGrath.”
“You have my word, Staff,” grinned McGrath. “I’m a great respecter of Government property.”
“Now shut your big trap,” said Williams.
“Aye, Staff. Is that the hill or bloody Mount Everest?”
“I said shut up,” said Williams. “This is my Cook’s Tour.”
The line of prisoners approached the hill and Williams, grinning, gestured towards it. “This is the north face, gentlemen.” He glanced sideways at Stevens. “I mean, Ladies and Gentlemen. On a clear day you can see Mother India from the north face. China from the south face. Timbuktu from the east, and right into your bedroom and a good view of your Missus having it off with a Yank from the west.”
“It’s magic,” marvelled McGrath.
“Still think there’s snow on the top, Roberts?” enquired Williams.
“No, Staff. Damn funny hill, though. Nothing seems to grow on it.”
“It’s full of surprises,” said Williams as they doubled round the hill. “The only thing that’s been known to grow on this hill, Roberts, is soldiers. They grow weary. Right!” he yelled, “double up it.”
Bokumbo kicked his legs into action and surged past the
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