Young Lions by Andrew Mackay Read Free Book Online Page A

sir?” Zorn remained rigidly at attention.
    “You’ve been given a second chance to redeem yourself. Don’t let me down. Dismissed.”
     
    The boys entered Hereward in the early afternoon and walked through the streets. There was very little evidence of any fighting having taken place. Hereward had been captured more or less intact. Hardly any houses or shops had been damaged. There were no burnt out or bombed to bits buildings. There were no windowless or door less houses. It was if Hereward had been untouched. Suspended in a time warp. Hereward was an island and the tide of war had washed on by. The shops were open and the birds were singing. Housewives wandered along the streets carrying shopping baskets in one hand and holding onto children’s hands in the other. But there were some changes. There were German soldiers everywhere. Manning roadblocks; sandbagged positions; walking around in pairs on patrol, rifles slung on shoulders; strolling around in groups, taking photos of the sights and sounds like typical tourists. A massive swastika flag fluttering from the flagpole above the Town Hall. Housewives shopping, soldiers shopping. But one thing was missing. Young men. Or more accurately, young British men. They were fighting in the Middle East, spiritually rotting in prisoner-of-war camps in Germany or physically rotting on the beaches of Dunkirk or rotting on the fields of Fairfax. The only males left in Hereward were too young, too old, or too unsuitable for military service.
    “We stand out, Sam,” Alan whispered out of the corner of his mouth as they strode self-consciously through the Town Square. People were staring at them.
    “I know,” Sam forced the words out through tightly clenched teeth. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
    Alan nodded. “Let’s head home. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”
    They both stopped walking.
    “I’ll see you when I see you,” Sam said.
    “Not if I see you first.” They both shook hands.
     
     

Chapter Four  
    “I protest, sir!”
    “What do you mean ‘you protest?’?” Schuster demanded.
    “I do not consider being reduced in rank a suitable punishment for the crime of mutiny!” Von Schnakenberg bared his teeth as if he was about to bite. He was as mad as a rabid dog.
    “And I do not consider it suitable behaviour for a junior officer to question the decisions or orders of a senior officer!” Schuster was leaning on his knuckles on his desk, stretching up to his full height like a grizzly bear confronting a rival in a forest.
    “I will protest through the appropriate channels.”
    “Would those ‘appropriate channels’ include running crying to your daddy, the General?” Schuster asked. Schuster’s words were dripping with sarcasm.
    Von Schnakenberg took an involuntary step backwards. He felt as if he had been physically punched in the stomach. He found it difficult to breathe. Schuster smiled with satisfaction that his finely chosen words had hit a raw nerve.
    “Why you-” von Schnakenberg started before Lindau clamped a hand over his superior’s mouth
    “That’s right, von Schnakenberg. It would be wise to think before you open that insubordinate mouth of yours. If you give me any more trouble I’ll have you up in front of a court martial so quick that it will make your head spin. Get out of my sight and take your lap dog with you. Dismissed!”
    Von Schnakenberg stood there with steam virtually coming out of his ears. It took a supreme effort of will to control his emotions. He wanted to jump across Schuster’s desk and rip his throat out. Instead he clicked his heels, saluted, about turned and marched out of Schuster’s office. Lindau did likewise.
    Von Schnakenberg walked quickly down the stairs slapping his leather gloves in his hands, swearing to himself under his breath. Lindau hurried after him, struggling to keep up. Von Schnakenberg’s face was scarlet with barely concealed rage. They left the Town Hall and entered the