The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,163

He’s a good man but cracked under pressure – war affects some men like that.’

Mohammed Ali Khan looked at him, puzzled. ‘No, no. Captain Thomas Lomax was a hero. My grandfather says Lomax Sahib was a lion among men. He risked court-martial to save the life of a sepoy.’

‘Saved a sepoy?’ Andrew repeated in confusion.

The risaldar nodded. ‘One of our kin. He had fought all through the war. Very brave man. But he went mad and threw away his rifle. Lomax Sahib refused to allow a firing squad.’

Andrew stared at him. ‘Are you saying that my father was court-martialled for refusing to execute one of his own men?’

‘Yes, sahib. Thanks to Captain Lomax my kinsman was spared.’

Andrew’s chest tightened. Why had his father never spoken of this? All these years he had been led to believe that his father – when put to the test – had been weak and cowardly. But here was a Pathan warrior – one of the fabled Peshawar Riflemen – who had grown up hearing about the gallantry of Captain Lomax.

Andrew put a hand on the officer’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for telling me that, Risaldar Khan. That means a great deal to me.’

Khan put his hand to his breast. ‘I am greatly honoured to meet you, Lieutenant Lomax.’

‘And I you.’ Andrew smiled. ‘Please convey greetings from my father to your grandfather when you next see him.’

Minutes later, they were on their feet and back to their duties. Andrew was shaken by the encounter. He’d never thought to challenge the slurs on his father’s character that he had heard in his childhood. They had just sat within him, all these years, part of his thinking about who his father really was. In a large part, he had to admit, he’d been influenced by his mother’s jaundiced opinion about her former husband. But as a youth he’d been desperate to win her love and was prepared to believe whatever she told him.

Yet it seemed that the truth was that his dad had shown true courage in standing up for one of his men, even when his own nerves were shattered and he must have known the punishment would be severe. His admiration for his father soared, and Andrew vowed that if he survived this battle, he would make it up to him for all the wasted years of misunderstanding.

Further air drops came in the afternoon, which Andrew and all of the men were grateful for. Then, just as the light was beginning to wane, there was an enormous explosion in the heart of the camp by Ammunition Hill. Andrew, two hundred yards away, felt the heat of the blast and staggered back as earth and metal fragments rained down. Thick black smoke filled the air and sucked out the oxygen in his lungs. Coughing, he got up and ran to help. An ammo dump had taken a direct hit.

As others rushed to try and put out the fire, Andrew ordered a detachment of his men to help with bamboo stretchers to seek out the wounded in the billowing smoke. The screams of the victims filled the air and the smell of charred flesh was nauseating. They ran back and forth, ferrying the injured to casualty dressing stations.

To Andrew’s horror, he saw that one of the wounded was Mohammed Ali Khan. His hands and half his face were burnt and blood was seeping from a chest wound. Instantly, Andrew ripped off his shirt and stuffed it over the wound to staunch the blood. As he was stretchered, Andrew ran along beside the risaldar, encouraging him.

‘You’re in good hands, Khan. Don’t worry, we’ll soon have you patched up.’

The young officer gritted his teeth stoically, though Andrew could tell he was in agony. He fixed his gaze on Andrew as he spoke, though his eyes were glazing over with shock and pain.

At the dressing station it was pandemonium. Doctors were rushing about assessing the casualties and shouting for assistance. Orderlies followed with bandages and pain relief. Andrew stayed with the risaldar until he was carried further into the makeshift hospital dugout and out of sight.

As the light drained away beyond Mayu Range, the guns that had pounded the Admin Box all day fell silent. Andrew knew it was only a temporary reprieve – the night patrols harrying their perimeter would pour down the surrounding slopes under cover of dark and attempt to breach their defences.

Andrew retreated to a bamboo bivouac under a tree, lay down half-clothed and fell into exhausted