The Map Of Honour - Max Carmichael

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really up to. It would put him in an impossible position. He would feel duty bound to report the situation to his superiors, and that, of course, would jeopardise the whole scheme.’

      ‘Your attachment will be for eight, maybe ten weeks,’ Law continued. ‘By the end of that time, if we’ve heard nothing more from our people behind the lines regarding the Colonel, you will come back here. However, during the next eight weeks, we expect the British Reserve Army Commander, General Gough, to launch a major offensive at Pozieres. That attack is almost certainly going to attract the attention of Colonel Nicolai. We don’t expect that he will be too near the front line, but with luck, he will visit an area where you can deal with him. The attack will also provide you with the opportunity to infiltrate the German front line. You will be contacted once we hear any meaningful information.’

      Green smiled. ‘Sounds like a plan that I can work within,’ he said. ‘When do I leave?’

      ‘Tomorrow,’ Law replied. ‘The Sergeant at the desk where you reported in has all you travel documents and so forth.’

      Green chuckled. ‘You must have been pretty sure I’d take the job.’

      Monash did not share his mirth. ‘Robert, believe me, I am sorry to have involved you in this, but when they asked for my help, you were the first person I thought of. Good luck, make sure you return in one piece. I will always have work for a man with your talents.’ He shook Green’s hand and moved to the door. ‘Keep me informed, Law.’

      ‘Of course, sir.’

      Monash left the room, closing the door behind him.

      Green set his cup on the desk top. ‘I’d better get going too, sir,’ he said to Law. ‘I’ll go and see the MP Sergeant and get my administration stuff sorted.’

      Law shook Green’s hand. ‘Good luck, Sergeant. Get to 3rd Brigade as quickly as you can and then be prepared to move quickly. I’ll be in touch.’

      Green left the room, and Law was left alone with his thoughts. Things had gone rather well, he thought. Monash seemed pleased and Green very suitable for the task. All that remained now was for fortune to favour them with just an ounce of luck and Colonel Walter Nicolai would be no more. However, whether that death would shorten the war, Law very much doubted. In his opinion, the German war machine was too strong, and he was sure Nicolai’s loss would be simply absorbed. During the initial planning for the operation, Law had given voice to these concerns, but he had been ignored. Now there was nothing more he could do but progress his part in the mission toward a successful outcome. He hoped Green was every bit as good as he believed him to be.

      Chapter 6

      As soon as Green left Law’s office, he began to have second thoughts about the mission, and he realised he had allowed his own vanity to colour his decision. Ruefully, he acknowledged that his association with Monash made him feel important, that he was making a difference. ‘You would think,’ he said angrily to himself, ‘that you would fucking learn, you idiot!’

      A senior officer overheard the remark and balked away in alarm. He turned toward Green to reprimand him, but Green had already disappeared around a corner of the corridor. For a moment, the officer thought of pursuing the strange sergeant, but with a shrug he thought better of it. Besides, he was already late for his next meeting.

      As Green approached the MP Sergeant’s workstation, he took a deep breath and exhaled with a calming sigh. He realised there was now nothing he could do about the situation he found himself; he would just have to make the best of it. For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he went back to Law and told him he had changed his mind, but instantly decided at the very least such a decision would at the very least land him in some military prison. No, it would be better to die in France than be locked up in some bloody hell hole.

      The MP Sergeant regarded him unhappily. ‘Next stop France, eh?’ he said as he pushed a bulging envelope across his desk toward Green.

      For a moment, Green stiffened in alarm. Was his mission already compromised? But then he remembered his cover story and relaxed. ‘Looks like it, and all of a rush too. Bugger of a job, but someone has to do it.’ He picked up the envelope. ‘What’s in this?’ he asked.

      ‘Travel warrants, money, and some 3rd Division colour patches. You’re booked in at the local pub for tonight…give the old girl behind the bar a couple of bob and she’ll sew them on for you.’

      Green laughed. ‘Bloody colour patches! I’m not sure if the damn things aren’t the General’s prime objective!’

      The MP Sergeant smiled. ‘Could be,’ he agreed, ‘but all the same, if I were you, I’d get ‘em stitched on. The same car as brought you here is waiting outside; tell the driver to take you to the pub. You’ll have to make your own arrangements to get to the railway station tomorrow.’

      Green pocketed the envelope and gathered up his baggage and weapons. ‘I’d best be off,’ he said. ‘Thanks for your help.’ The car and its driver were waiting where Green had left them.

      ‘You were quick, Sarg,’ the driver commented as he saw Green. ‘They told me to wait for you, but I thought you’d be a while.’

      Green threw his gear onto the back seat of the vehicle. ‘I don’t suppose they told you where to take me?’

      ‘The boss said I was to take you wherever you said.’

      It made sense, Green thought. Had he turned Monash down, they would have provided him with a posting order to a battalion and an address to where the driver could take him. As things had turned out, the driver would now take him to the local pub. He wondered briefly who the boss was that the driver referred to and decided it would be either Monash, or Law. Given the sensitivity surrounding this mission, they would not have involved anyone else with any kind of information regarding Green or his choices of employment. He climbed into the front seat. ‘The pub,’ he directed flatly.

      ‘Sure,’ the Driver responded. He did not ask which pub. Clearly, he knew where to deliver Green and he did so quickly and without further conversation.

      Green’s stay at the pub was entirely uneventful. He was shown to a sparsely furnished room and given directions to the bar and the dining room. As soon as he had settled in, he approached the elderly land lady regarding the 3rd Division colour patches. Grudgingly, she accepted two shillings and took his tunics and his hat puggaree away to sew the new patches in place. Clearly, she thought the task was worth more, and Green agreed, handing over another two shillings when she returned the garments. The extra money was evidently well received, for when Green repaired to the hotel dining room, the old woman served him herself and provided him with beer ‘on the house.’

      The next day, Green began his short, yet complicated move to France. The first leg of the journey was to be accomplished by train to Dover, where he would board a ferry for Calais. From Calais his means of travel was less certain, but he had first to reach a place called Albert and from there, Pozieres. He leaned back against a wall of the extremely crowded railway station and contemplated the next few hours with distaste. He disliked train travel. He was of course impressed by the speed and the capability of a train, but after a while, cooped up in a carriage with so many others, he found it boring and stifling in the extreme. The station was crammed full of khaki dressed soldiers bound for the Front, and their families who had come to wave one last farewell. A melodramatic feature was imposed to an already poignant scene when somewhere along the platform, a woman could be heard tying to sing the popular tune “Tipperary” accompanied by an inexpertly played piano accordion. If the lonely vocalist had hoped to have the crowd join her in some kind of patriotic mass choral episode, she was to be disappointed. Men in uniform were slowly pushing their way toward the train. Women and children were either attempting to walk with particular soldiers for one last goodbye, or were standing like tiny islands in a khaki sea staring bewildered and tearful after someone who had already been swallowed up in the crowd.

       It’s a long, long, way to Tipperary,

      

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