Jack Windrush Collection - Books 9-12

Chapter 3-1

Next morning, Jack paused for a moment to listen to Sergeant Peebles encouraging a group of recruits as they assembled on the parade ground of Worcester barracks.

“You lot.” Peebles shook his head sadly as he slowly walked the length of the double line. The recruits were no different from any other intake, a mixture of scrawny youths from the city, blank-eyed countrymen and a few older men escaping from hopeless poverty or demanding wives. “You lot are beyond anything I have encountered before.” Peebles dropped his head as though in despair. “I have spent two weeks teaching you all I know, and you still know nothing. Nothing, and not much of that! You.” Peebles pointed to a nervous youth in the front rank. “What"s your name?”

“Morriston, sir,” the boy replied, wide-eyed.

“Morriston,” Sergeant Peebles repeated. “What sort of name is that for a soldier? Have you ever heard of a General Morriston? Or a Morriston winning the Victoria Cross?”

“No, sir,”

“Sir? I am not a sir. I am Sergeant Peebles. You should know that by now.” The sergeant moved on, searching for his next victim.

“You!” Peebles pointed to a tall, swarthy man. “You"re Lawrence!”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Lawrence admitted, startled to be addressed directly.

“Now that"s a name suitable for a hero,” Peebles said. “I can see you with a chest full of medals when you fight the Russians, or the Maoris, or whoever is unfortunate enough to face you.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Lawrence said.

“Have you heard of Samuel Hill Lawrence, who won the Victoria Cross at Lucknow in 1857? Or of Henry Montgomery Lawrence or Sir George Lawrence?”

“No, Sergeant,” Lawrence said.

“Heroes all. Do you want to be a hero and bring glory to your regiment?” Peebles asked innocently.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Then show us all, Lawrence! Show us how to be a hero!” Within a minute Peebles had Lawrence doubling around the parade ground holding his rifle above his head. “Double! You glory hunting bastard! You"re not fit to stand in the shadow of heroes! Double! And the rest of you, follow the VC hunter! Double!”

“Sometimes I think we drive these men too hard,” Elliot said.

“I don"t agree,” Jack said. “Better to get them fit and used to discipline when they"re safe in England than have them unfit in some stinking Burmese swamp when the dacoits are waiting to slice them up, or questioning orders in an African forest where the Ashanti are lurking behind every tree.”

Elliot produced two cheroots and handed one to Jack. “Light that,” he said. “You might need it.”

“Why thank you, kind colonel, sir.” Jack took the cheroot. “That"s the second time you"ve used that phrase. Why might I need sleep and a cheroot?”

“We have a visitor,” Elliot sounded worried.

“So you said. Who"s that, Arthur?” Jack knew Elliot well enough to know he would not be concerned without a good reason.

“General Hook,” Elliot said. “Your old nemesis.”

Jack flinched. Although he liked Hook well enough, the general was in the intelligence service and had sent him on various unpleasant missions. Jack had no desire to act the spy again. “I hope he"s not asked for me.”

“No,” Elliot said. “Or not yet anyway.”

“He"d better not,” Jack said. “I"m too old for the political service.”

Elliot smiled. “I"ll tell him that you"re toothless and decrepit,” he said. “Or even better, I"ll threaten to send Mary to him if he even thinks of using you.”

Jack forced a smile. “That would work.”

“We"re to assemble in the Officer"s Mess in an hour,” Elliot said. “Nothing formal, the general said.”

Jack reached for a cheroot. “That sounds even more b****y ominous.”

Major General Hook looked over the assembled officers, nodding to those he knew. Jack examined him; save for the grey at the sides of his hair and in his neat whiskers, Hook did not look much different from the man he had known during the Mutiny, some two decades ago. He was as tall, lean, and active as he had always been.

What had happened to the time? Jack had been a young lieutenant in the Mutiny with only a few years" army service behind him. Now he was a senior major, a veteran of four wars and sundry other campaigns, with the wounds and memories to go with them.

“Settle down, gentlemen,” Hook said, and the officers of the 113th Foot quietened down. From Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Elliot to raw Second-lieutenant Gifford, every man knew that Hook would only address them if he thought it strictly necessary.

Jack tried to catch Elliot"s gaze, but the colonel looked steadily ahead, leaning on the staff he had taken to carrying.

“The country may be in grave danger,” Hook spoke with level tones, as his eyes moved from officer to officer. “We may soon be at war with an old enemy. A few of you served in the Crimea and fought the Russians. Well, if events unfold the way they seem, the British Army may have the opportunity again.”

Jack took a deep breath as he remembered the horrors of that campaign when the British Army died in the mud and frost, and the 113th Foot found its soul at the b****y battle of Inkerman. The memories were not pleasant.

Hook frowned as the younger officers gave a loud cheer, and the older looked thoughtful. Elliot turned around to meet Jack"s gaze, raised his eyebrows and returned to face his front. Elliot and Jack were the only two officers remaining from the Crimea days, and neither needed to say more.

“When we last fought the Russians,” Hook said, “our two empires were a thousand miles apart. We had recently taken over Punjab in India, and the Russians stood at the head of the Caspian and the Aral Seas. Between the Russian Empire and India was the plain of Turkestan, the Kara Kum waste, the semi-arid Kizil Kum and the independent khanates of Khiva, Bokhara and Kokand.” He paused for effect. “Even then, the Hindu Kush and the Pamirs formed another barrier.”

Jack nodded, tracing the map of Central Asia in his mind.

“That reassuring distance no longer exists,” Hook said. “While we have remained static with our main base in Peshawar and outposts along the North-West Frontier, the Russians have advanced in leaps and bounds. In 1867 they annexed Tashkent. The next year they took Samarkand. In 1873, when we were fooling about in West Africa, the Russians captured Khiva.”

The 113th officers stirred restlessly, although Jack doubted most of them had ever heard of any of the places Hook had mentioned.

“As you will realise,” Hook continued, “that brings the Russians to the northern borders of Afghanistan. It has been a recurring nightmare for the powers-that-be that we will see hordes of Cossacks debouching through the Khyber Pass to wreak havoc in India.”

Jack expected the response from the younger officers, who clenched their fists and mouthed martial promises of how they would repel the Russians. He frowned, anticipating Hook"s next words.

“Naturally, the Russians would not come alone. They would prepare the way by fostering insurrection among the disaffected peoples of India, perhaps a jihad from the Islamic tribes or a rising from the princes who lost land and power after the Mutiny.”

Jack felt Hook"s gaze rest on him but remained expressionless. He refused to allow the intelligence officer to draw him into his little games. Reaching into the top pocket of his tunic, Jack extracted a cheroot, lit it, leaned back, and allowed the aromatic smoke to coil around him. So far, he had no idea why Hook had called them all together.

“Those few of you who experienced the Mutiny,” Hook continued, “Are aware how that episode shook India to the core.” Again, he looked at Jack, who held his gaze without speaking.

“However,” Hook said, “Until recently, I did not think that the Russians had any genuine plans to invade India. As we all know, the Afghans do not welcome foreign armies. I doubt the Pashtun tribes would be any less hostile to the Russians than to us. However, I do think the Russians like to twist the British lion"s tail by making threatening gestures and watching us react.”

Jack paid more attention. Hook"s two words, “until recently” were significant. What did the intelligence officer know that the 113th did not?

“Don"t tease us, sir,” Colonel Elliot said. “Give us the facts.”

Jack smiled. Trust Elliot to get to the heart of the matter.

“Last year, the Tsar sent a mission to Afghanistan. Sher Ali, the Amir of Afghanistan, and the third son of Dost Muhammad received the delegation, albeit with reluctance.” Hook paused to allow his words to sink in. “That could mean something or nothing. It could mean that the Russians intend to take over Afghanistan next, which would bring them up to the Khyber, or it could be an attempt to unsettle us, to draw our attention to India while they concentrate on their real objective.”

“Which is?” Elliot asked.

“Constantinople,” Hook said. “The key to Russia"s House as some Tsar or other called it. Russia has a longstanding enmity with the Ottoman Empire. Central Asia and Afghanistan might be Russia"s back door but capturing Constantinople would give them access to the Mediterranean. If Russia had a fleet in the Med, they"d be a major threat to Europe.”

Jack caught Elliot"s eye and nodded towards Hook.

“This is all very interesting, sir,” Elliot said. “But how does it concern the 113th?”

“You must have noted some recent developments,” Hook said. “Great Britain has moved troops around the globe, ready to counter Russia"s moves.”

Jack felt a surge of tension in the room.

“If the government considers that our main security threat comes from the Mediterranean, our focus will be on that part of the world.”

Elliot lit a cheroot, met Jack"s gaze, and raised his eyebrows again.

Ever since the Afghan War of 1839-1842, Britain had kept a wary eye on Russian expansion. Although France remained a colonial rival, most military minds expected a second confrontation with Russia, either over Afghanistan or in the eastern Mediterranean. The Crimean War had exposed weaknesses in both sides, and the armies had withdrawn, bruised, b****y and growling. As General Hook had said, the nightmare of the British administration in India was a Russian invasion through the North- West passes, coupled with another uprising in India.

“Where does the 113th fit in, sir?” Elliot persisted.

General Hook was quiet for a moment, allowing the tension to build. The man was a consummate actor, Jack thought and should be on stage.

“Our main base for the Eastern Mediterranean is Malta,” Hook said at last. “And that is where international attention will focus. You are not going there, Colonel Elliot. You"ll be in India in case trouble erupts in Afghanistan.”

“Do you expect trouble there, sir?” Jack asked.

“I do,” Hook said. “If the Russians feint to the left, they will swing to the right, and we know that, so they use a double bluff. The Czar may feint at Afghanistan, then follow through while we are preparing to block them at the Dardanelles.”