Death In Captivity (20 page)

‘How long do these messages take to come in?’ he asked.

‘It’s difficult to say, sir. It’s not a quick system, you know. That message might have originated two or three months ago.’

‘That’s rather what I thought. I take it that no one else knows about this?’

‘Actually two of my chaps got it independently. I’ve shut both their mouths, I hope. I’m the only other person in camp who knows about it.’

‘It had better stay that way for a bit,’ said Colonel Lavery. His eyes again sought the calendar on his wall. July 21st.

‘Come in,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘Oh, yes. The Adjutant told me you wanted to see me. Do you think you could make it after lunch, I’m a bit rushed—?’

‘It won’t take a minute, sir,’ said Rolf-Callender.

‘All right, then.’ Colonel Lavery repressed an inner sigh.

It was soon apparent, however, that Rolf-Callender was not in an aggressive mood. On the contrary he appeared to find it difficult to start.

In the end he said, rather abruptly, ‘I wanted to clear up a bit of a misunderstanding.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s about Overstrand, sir. Some time ago – you may have heard – we had a bit of a row. It wasn’t anything much, just one of those things that happen.’

‘I did hear something about it,’ admitted Colonel Lavery.

‘Well, I lost my temper, and – among a lot of other nonsense – I hinted that he knew something – that he had something to do with killing Coutoules.’

Colonel Lavery looked up sharply, but said nothing.

‘I thought I ought to tell you, sir, that it was nonsense. It was just one of the stupid things people say when they’re in a temper. There was nothing to it at all. In view of what happened—’

‘If it’s any comfort to you,’ said Colonel Lavery, arriving with some skill at the real heart of Rolf-Callender’s discomfort, ‘I can assure you that Overstrand’s attempt to escape had nothing to do with your accusation. We’re pretty sure now that he could have had nothing to do with Coutoules’ death and presumably he knew that he himself was innocent.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘In fact,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘If anyone was to blame for his death, in the last analysis it was probably me.’

‘Come in, all of you,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘There’s one chair, but I expect some of you can get on the bed – it’s a bit of a squash, but I won’t keep you long.’

Besides the Colonel there were seven men in the room: the five hut commanders, Colonel Baird and the Adjutant.

‘I expect,’ he went on, ‘that you’ve all heard what’s happened. It’s a bit difficult to straighten out, but I gather that Mussolini’s out of office, and his personal gang are on the run. General Graziano has taken over, nominally still under orders from the Fascist Grand Council. I imagine, however, that there’s no doubt about his real position. He’s only got one brief – and that is to get Italy out of the war, by hook or by crook.’

‘How soon, do you think, sir?’

‘As soon as he can – but I don’t imagine it’s a thing that can be done in a matter of days. Getting out of a war is a two-sided business. They’ve got to get in touch with our military headquarters, and fix up some sort of terms, and I don’t imagine that the Germans are going to sit by and watch that happening – it’ll all have to be done very carefully under cover.’

‘How long do you think, sir?’

‘I give it a month. But that may be two weeks wrong in either direction. It’s that interval we’ve got to use to the best advantage. We’ve got to get on with the tricky business of ousting the Italians and taking the real control into our own hands. We can’t go the whole hog yet’ – Colonel Lavery grinned – ‘but it will be instructive to see how far they do let us go. First of all, I intend to make the evening parade for roll-call a British parade rather than an Italian one. You all know how it’s run at the moment – people slope on to parade just in time to have their names called and get away as soon as they are allowed to. As from tomorrow that’s going to be changed. Huts will parade, as companies, under their Company Commanders, five minutes
before
the time fixed by the Italians for roll-call. Moreover, no one will dismiss until I give the word.’

Of the five hut commanders, four made no attempt to conceal their satisfaction at these rather startling orders. The fifth, a small major from a Heavy Anti-aircraft Regiment, looked so upset that Colonel Lavery made a mental note that he would have to be replaced immediately.

‘We don’t want to run before we can walk,’ he went on, ‘so I’m not going to risk a full-dress inspection at once. I’ll give you ample warning when it is going to come off, and by that time’ – he allowed himself another fleeting smile – ‘I don’t want to see
any beards
. That’s as far as I’ve got at the moment. Has anyone else got any suggestions?’

‘Are we going to adopt any sort of uniform dress?’

‘I think not – not yet, anyway. It would attract attention, and would be asking for trouble. You might make sure that everybody has one serviceable outfit for an emergency.’

‘Can’t we introduce some proper system for requests and complaints. At the moment anyone who wants anything comes straight up and starts blowing his head off.’

‘I entirely agree,’ said Colonel Lavery, remembering his encounters with Rolf-Callender. ‘We’ll have the army system put into force – complaints to be put forward through the usual channels.’

‘Security,’ suggested Baird.

‘I was coming to that,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘I think that for the next few days you can chance your arm to almost any extent – I mean, over sand disposal and that sort of thing. They’re bound to be disorganised, with Benucci and his trained thugs gone, and it’s going to take them time to sort themselves out.’

‘I was thinking the same thing myself,’ said Baird.

‘It is my destiny,’ said Roger Byfold, ‘to do the right thing at the wrong time. I am told that I grinned fatuously whilst I was being christened, and I broke into loud howls during my wedding. No doubt at my funeral—’

‘What’s all this about?’ said Goyles.

‘I was referring to my recent incarceration. Normally a period in the condemned cell will set a man up for life. He can sell his life story to the
Daily Yell
and his love story to the
Daily Smell.
Serial rights alone should be enough to keep him in modest comfort for the rest of his life – or his widow, should his appeal fail – but look at me!’

‘If you insist,’ said Long agreeably.

‘What sort of rake-off have I got from my harrowing ordeal? When I was coming back to the hut this morning I met Dopey Gibbon. He had almost got past me when he stopped, came back, and said, “Weren’t you going to be shot this morning, or something?” “They’ve postponed it,” I said. “Oh, good,” he said, “it just occurred to me to wonder if you had any spare
vino
tickets. You won’t have been able to use yours lately, I suppose?” ’

‘Never mind,’ said Goyles. ‘Tony and I are glad to see you back.’

‘Did you pick up any ideas about what’s going to happen to us – all of us, I mean?’

‘I’ve no doubt in my mind at all,’ said Byfold, speaking, for him, fairly solemnly. “This country’s heading for one great big typical Italian shambles, with everybody screaming and waving their hands and shooting their best friends, and it’s going to be up to us to take the best advantage of it. As from tomorrow morning I propose to do PT twice a day and to spend the rest of the time brushing up my Italian.’

The other two looked at him.

‘Are you serious,’ said Long, ‘or is that just a line?’

‘Dead serious,’ said Byfold. ‘I got a good many chances to talk to those characters who were guarding me, and they all said the same thing, carabinieri and all. Once Italy gives up the war you can go anywhere you like in this blessed countryside and count on help. Now that the Fascists are going, that’s doubly true. If you were outside these walls now, you could walk the length and breadth of Italy, and count on a meal and a bed every night.’

‘And when do they think the shambles is going to occur?’

‘As soon as Allied Troops land in Italy. And I reckon that that’s going to be the time when we all have to prove whether we’re mice or men. It’s going to be the sort of chance no prisoner of war is ever going to get again.’

‘If he can get started.’

‘Yes,’ said Byfold. ‘If he can get started.’

‘You don’t sound too happy about that,’ said Goyles. ‘Any special reason? The tunnel’s five-sixths done. It’s well past the outer wall. We three are almost first on the roster to go out of it. It ought to be money for old rope.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Byfold.

‘What’s on your mind?’ said Long.

‘I – look here, you’ve got to keep quiet about this, because I may be quite wrong. I didn’t say anything to the S.B.O. or Baird, although they both asked me – but something
did
happen whilst I was in the carabinieri hut. It was the first morning I was there. I wasn’t in the end cell, where they put me later, but in a room next to Benucci’s office. It hadn’t got a spy-hole, so I couldn’t see who went past, but there was a good deal of coming and going, and I couldn’t help thinking that some of it was probably on my account, so I listened as carefully as I could to see if I could pick up anything that was being said next door. It wasn’t at all easy,” and you couldn’t hear anything very distinctly, but I suddenly realised something rather odd was going on. At least one of the voices was English.’

Goyles remembered Meynell’s story.

‘Could it have been the wireless?’ he suggested.

‘It didn’t sound a bit like a wireless. You could hear that all right, when it was on. Dance music and announcements and so on. This sounded quite different.’

‘Educated or uneducated?’ said Long.

‘Educated, I thought. You could only pick up the general tone of it, but there were occasional words – I heard “roll-call” more than once. No Italian says “roll-call” in just that way.’

‘Could it have been the S.B.O.?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Byfold. ‘According to Pat the only time he’s ever gone over there to talk to them was when I saw him on the morning after the shooting. Before that, Benucci always used to come in here.’

‘Was it distinct enough?’ said Goyles, ‘for you to pick up any sort of intonation?’

‘Yes,’ said Byfold, ‘that’s just it. There was. I’m prepared to swear it was either an American or a colonial speaking.’

He paused, and added unhappily, ‘That’s what makes me wonder about our tunnel.’

That afternoon, as he had half been expecting, Colonel Lavery was summoned to a conference by the Camp Commandant.

‘No doubt,’ said Colonel Aletti, after the preliminary courtesies had been exchanged, ‘you will have been thinking about the somewhat startling news which was received this morning.’

Colonel Lavery agreed that he had been thinking about it. Conversation was not easy. Colonel Aletti spoke slow, grammatical English, but he had nothing like Benucci’s smooth competence. Nevertheless he seemed to understand Colonel Lavery fairly enough.

‘I am not a man who interests himself in politics,’ went on Colonel Aletti. ‘I am a simple soldier. I receive orders from my superiors. I carry them out to the best of my ability.’

Colonel Lavery indicated that this was roughly the system in the British Army, too. As he spoke, he was weighing up the man in front of him. He thought that Byfold’s diagnosis might prove to be reasonably accurate. Colonel Aletti did not look to him like a strong man. He had the long, sad, aloof, slightly petulant face which many Englishmen imagine to be typical of the Italian upper class because it is the face they most often see, in the good clubs in Rome, the villas above Firenze, and the
salles privées
in casinos up and down the Corniche. With his well-pomaded grey hair, his correct carriage, his bemedalled uniform and his thin, neatly booted legs he looked, thought Colonel Lavery, quite strikingly like the late Sir Henry Lytton in his rôle of the Duke of Plaza Toro. He also reminded himself that this was the man whose decision, or lack of it, might mean the difference for all of them between a chance of liberty and an unthinkable prolongation of their imprisonment, and chose his next words carefully.

‘I take it,’ he said, ‘that the case against Captain Byfold may be assumed to be at an end.’

‘Certainly,’ said Colonel Aletti. ‘The process was conducted, at the instigation of Captain Benucci, under the orders of the Fascist hierarchy; such orders are no longer effective.’

‘I am glad to hear it. Now, with regard to the camp. Have you any idea what will happen to us?’

‘My orders, at the moment, are to carry on as before. Marshal Badoglio has published a communiqué, proclaiming Italy’s unalterable intention of fighting on until victory is won.’

‘Yes,’ said Colonel Lavery, ‘I read it in the
Corriere.
Might I suggest, however, as men of the world, that we are entitled to look beyond the words and consider the realities behind them.’

‘Certainly,’ said Colonel Aletti cautiously. ‘What particular realities had you in mind?’

‘When the English land in Italy, what will the Italians do?’

‘Since you ask the question frankly, I will answer it frankly. Much depends on where they land.’

‘Yes,’ said Colonel Lavery. There was plain sense in that. He shifted his ground slightly. ‘I take it that pending this happy outcome, it should now be possible for us to co-operate more than we have done in the past.’

‘Nothing will give me more pleasure. It has often pained me in the past that we could not conduct affairs with more amiability.’

‘I agree,’ said Colonel Lavery, rather grimly.

‘Such trouble as there has been, you must realise, has not been of my making. I was under the necessity, in many respects, of taking orders from Captain Benucci. Nominally, he was my subordinate. But being of the Party, he had authority exceeding mine in many matters. Many of his actions I did not approve of, but could not prevent.’