snatched only a few hours sleep he was awake again just after dawn. Doyle entered the tent with hot black coffee.
“Here you go Sir.”
“Thanks Harry,” Rushton said slurping the hot liquid. They had all got used to coffee without milk or sugar. Coffee that tasted of petrol. The whole of the allied forces in North Africa were drinking it.
“Did you sleep well?” Rushton asked.
“Not really. Did you?”
“No.”
Rushton poured himself a basin of clean water and began washing his face.
“Have you checked on the two Engineers?”
“Both awake last time I looked.”
Rushton reached for a towel and quickly dried his face.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Sir I’ve only just been told that you were awake.”
“Well then why the hell didn’t you bloody wake me.”
“Sorry Sir I thought you should rest. I’ve posted guards on them so that no one talks to them.”
Rushton simmered down at this.
“Very well,” he cleared his throat “Very well Harry thank you. I don’t want anyone talking to them except me. Theoretically they are under house arrest. They could still turn out to be spies or deserters. We don’t know yet. I want them closely watched until I can speak to them.”
Much as he wanted to speak to the two right away Rushton knew they had to be fed while he himself had delivery reports to deal with. He took his coffee and stepped outside his tent. It was still cold, the sky to the East bright, twilight to the West. The vehicles used the day before were being refuelled. Men holding cans of petrol to the fuel necks. He wandered across to the nearest Jeep and spoke to the maintenance men. The smell of petrol was overpowering. All of the vehicles reeked of it, from the many spills that covered the bodywork.
One man had removed, cleaned, serviced and was now replacing a Vickers ’K’ machine gun. These were mounted on the backs of the Jeeps, they stood above the heads of the Jeeps inhabitants and had a 360 degree turning circle, were very lightweight and good for bringing down enemy aircraft. Bren guns were mounted on the front.
Rushton had four such Jeeps at his disposal. He also had threee trucks and fifty men. He left the first of the Jeeps and quickly examined the others.
Albert Simmonds, George Potts and Dougie Thomas were recovering supplies that had been dropped by transporters the afternoon before. The sacks and canisters, most of them still attached to their parachutes, were scattered over a wide area. Once gathered there was not enough room to store anything so the majority of it stayed in its containers and was piled near the supply tent. Each had a label attached to it describing the goods inside.
“Hey,” Bert said as they handled a large packet “This one contains sausages.”
“Sausages?” from George.
“Sausages,” Bert repeated.
“I haven’t had sausages for ages,” Dougie said licking his lips at the parcel.
“I’ll bet they’re thick pork sausages,” Bert said feeling his stomach rumble.
“Big, thick, juicy, succulent, glistening pork sausages with a hint of seasoning, sizzling in a pan, bursting out of their skins, tender….”
“That’s enough you two,” Doug said “You’re enough to make a man sick.”
“Think of those poor bastards on the front line who don’t get food like this.”
“Yeah right. Glad I joined the L.R.D.G. “
“’Ere look out the Major’s coming. Better shut up and get on with it.”
“Good morning gentlemen,” Rushton said in a friendly voice.
“Good morning Sir,” The three replied pretending to have just seen him. They saluted smartly. Rushton returned the salute.
“At ease. How’s it going?”
“Not too bad Sir,” Bert always seemed to find himself to be the spokesman of the three, “Because the drop was made late afternoon and the light wasn’t too bad the pilots were pretty much able to target the drop zone. Our supplies weren’t spread too much.”
“Good. Well don’t let me keep you from your work.”
The three saluted again and Rushton returned it once again.
“What’s in that canister?”
“Sausages Sir.”
“Sausages eh! Lovely.”
“Sir,” they saluted again as he left.
“He’s not so bad you know,” Bert said to his comrades when Rushton was safely out of earshot.
“He’s all right.”
“Have you ever met the Colonel?”
“Yes he’s all right too.”
“I’m liking the way this war’s turning out,“ Bert said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we have a good job. We go out with a blank sheet of paper and chart everything we see. Sometimes hundreds of miles from the front line. We always receive good supplies. I’ve promised myself that I’m coming out of this man’s war alive