Against the Tide by John Hanley Read Free Book Online

disappeared before we were arrested. That was another of life’s little puzzles: why officers were always there when not wanted, but invariably missing when needed. The police had forced us to hand our rifles to other squad members before they marched us off to the town hall. We still had our belts and bayonets though. We’d been told to wait until the duty centenier had finished his lunch. I supposed this was part of the punishment.
    The door squeaked open. ‘You’re for it now, you young hooligans.’ The poor haberdasher seemed more amused than angry as he ushered us out into the corridor.
    â€˜Wait. Come on you lot, smarten yourselves up.’
    â€˜Oh for Christ’s sake, Jack. It’s a bit late to start playing the sergeant, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Shut up, Lance Corporal Renouf, and do up your buttons. Let’s try and retain some dignity here, shall we.’
    They looked disparagingly at me but started to tidy their uniforms.
    I barked, ‘Squad – Ten – Shun!’
    Our boots crashed in the narrow corridor, making the honorary policeman jump.
    â€˜Left – Turn – Quick – March!’ I fell in alongside and marched them to the glass-panelled door at the end of the corridor. The haberdasher rushed after us and opened it wide. I wheeled them in and we clattered to a halt in front of a large, highly-polished desk.
    Centenier Phillips looked up. I silently mouthed several words, which would not have disgraced Saul at his worst. I should have expected it, even though there were several centeniers in this parish. Too late, I’d have to see it through. I’d rehearsed the moment and couldn’t back off.
    â€˜Squad – Off – Caps! Reporting as ordered, sir!’ I’d planned to demonstrate our discipline and hoped that the duty centenier would let us off with a short lecture. No chance with Phillips. It would be the rulebook, the whole rulebook and nothing but the bloody rulebook.
    He looked at us with not the slightest hint of amusement on his fat face. ‘I’ll not have weapons in my office. Take them off immediately.’
    I hesitated. ‘Are you sure, sir?’
    â€˜Don’t be impertinent, you young pup. Take them off now.’
    I looked at the others. There was a little smile playing about Alan’s lips. We’d practised grounding arms but never bayonets before. As our belts were attached to their scabbards through loops, they would have to come off. ‘Squad – ground – belts!’ The movement was almost synchronised as we flicked the heavy brass buckles on our leather belts. The weight of the scabbards and bayonets dragged on our battledress trousers and gravity did the rest. They clattered to the floor. Phillips would have found himself staring at five pairs of khaki underpants had Alan not decided to stay cool and discard his that morning.
    A crimson flush suffused Phillips’ face. His mouth opened and closed like a starving fish before he found the words he needed. ‘I suppose you find that amusing, but I can now add insulting behaviour and one case of indecent exposure to your catalogue of crimes.’
    â€˜We were merely following your orders, sir. I did get you to confirm them.’
    Phillips thumped his fist onto the metal desk, scattering paperweights, pens and paper onto the floor. ‘How dare you. You insolent, stupid boy! Take your scabbards off your belts and get dressed before I have you thrown into the cells. Help them, man, don’t just stand there!’
    The poor constable’s officer collected the bayonets and laid them carefully on the desk while we pulled up our trousers and re-buckled our belts. We were in deep manure, but I didn’t care anymore. I glared at Phillips, determined to find out about the fight he’d had with my father. I fought an urge to grab my bayonet and stick it up his fat arse, but I’d just have to dream on for the moment.