Authors: Ray Rigby
“Eh? The — I didn’t start nothing.”
Another prisoner interrupted. “Where’s the mutiny?”
“Then what’s all the noise in aid of? Exercising your lungs?”
“Who killed Stevens?”
The R.S.M. gave his full attention to this prisoner now. “Staff,” he said quietly.
“Sir.”
“Double this man over to the mortuary. Show him the body. If he finds any marks, abrasions, or bullet wounds on the body then take him to the Commandant’s office and stay with him while he writes out his statement. Then let him see the Commandant on his own so he can speak freely. Now double out, lad.”
The prisoner doubled out of the cell. The R.S.M. looked at the other prisoners. “Any man got any complaints?” No one answered. “Anybody want to see the Commandant?” Still no one spoke. “Anybody witnessed any murders recently?” A prisoner shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Scared to open your traps or what? Right. If you want to see the Commandant see Staff Harris. He’s an easy man to speak to.”
He walked out of the cell and into the corridor and Burton handed him the K.R.R.S and he paced slowly along the corridor holding the book in his hand. “You’ve all been making a hell of a racket. I’ll not stand for any more of it.”
This remark was greeted with jeers and cat-calls. He waited until the noise subsided a little.
“Or I’ll have you over the hill. Every damn one of you.” The prisoners’ shouts of derision turned to shouts of rage. “If you’ve any complaints you’re free to see the Commandant.” The prisoners laughed and jeered. “Give your names to the Staff in charge of the block. But make sure your complaints are genuine and you’ve got your facts right.” The laughter and jeers became an ugly murmur. “Any more trouble and I’ll read the Riot Act.” He held up the book. “And I’ll charge the ringleaders with mutiny.”
“Who’s the ringleaders?” jeered a prisoner.
“Every fifth man,” the R.S.M. shouted back. “That should work out to about one man in each cell. You know me. I don’t waste my breath on idle threats.” He threw the book to Burton and walked quickly along the corridor. At the door he met Harris.
“I’ve got all the Staff I could muster, sir, outside.”
“We won’t need them.”
“Then do we keep the prisoners locked in until they’ve cooled down, sir?”
The R.S.M. smiled. “Staff, they couldn’t radiate enough heat to light a match. Unlock the cells and keep them moving.” He nodded curtly to Harris and walked away.
Harris unlocked the first cell and yelled “Double away and get cleaned up.” He moved to the next cell.
Bartlett looked at his tin cup. “Blimey, I’ve dented it.” He moved away from the cell door.
“Any more trouble, Roberts, and it’s mutiny,” said McGrath. “One in five.”
“Be four outa four in this rosy dell,” said Bartlett.
Harris unlocked the cell door. “Get doubling.”
“Permission to see the Commandant,” said Roberts.
The other prisoners held back and looked at Roberts. Harris pushed Bartlett. “Double away, you three.” The prisoners ran down the corridor carrying their towels and soap.
“Making a complaint, Roberts?” Harris enquired.
“Yes.”
“Let’s have it then.”
“I’m accusing Williams of murder.”
Harris walked into the cell. “Over here.” He walked to the window and Roberts followed him. “Murder, did you say?”
“Yes, Staff.”
Harris nodded. “It’s a damn queer way to try and get your ticket out of here but it might work. How did Williams murder Stevens? Shoot him with a Smith and Wesson, did he, and government ammo? Or hit him with a blunt instrument?”
“He cracked him on the hill.”
“And you and the rest of them in this cell will testify to it in Court?”
“I will, Staff.”
“And the others?”
“I can’t speak for them.”
Harris squinted through the bars at the hill and shook his head. ‘He really wants to have a go at Williams,’ he thought. ‘Roberts wants him. So do I but Roberts wants him even more than I do. So what happens if Roberts gets as far as the Commandant? Be an official enquiry anyway, and Roberts’s complaint won’t help matters. Will the Commandant pay any attention to Roberts’s complaint? Might. But will it be taken seriously?’
Harris almost laughed out loud. ‘Lined up against Roberts will be, now let me see. The Commandant, after the R.S.M. has got at him. Then there’s the M.O. of course. He wants to keep his nose clean and the R.S.M. of course, and Williams and any screws the R.S.M. wants to detail as witnesses to swear that Williams treated Stevens like his own son. And then there’s me. Now where do I stand?’
Harris bit his underlip. ‘Well, I’ve always tried to do my best by the R.S.M. and the prisoners, but why the hell should I stick my chin out when I haven’t got a hope in hell of winning.’ He looked at Roberts. “So you’re not counting on the other prisoners?”
“You’d better ask them.”
“Afraid justice won’t be done, Roberts?”
“Justice, are you kidding?”
“You bloody idiot. British justice is a shining example to the world,” said Harris, and the moment he said that he almost believed it. He had always tried to believe it. ‘It’s not perfect perhaps,’ he thought, ‘but it’s near enough. Stevens had a raw deal but he wasn’t murdered. Williams, bastard though he is, didn’t set out to murder the lad, and there would be an enquiry so stop Roberts in his tracks now. He shouts too much.’
“Let the enquiry decide the rights and wrongs of the case, Roberts,” Harris said.
“Good,” said Roberts. “Then Williams won’t get away with murder.”
“He ran him up and down a hill. That ain’t murdering a man. That’s giving him exercise.”
“You shake me, Harris.”
“The sun killed Stevens. The blinding sun. That’s official.”
“So that’s the vet’s verdict is it, Harris?”
“Doubting his word, are you?”
“Will there be an enquiry, or will that interfere with the Commandant’s tennis?”
“Roberts. This is the British Army. If a soldier loses his spare pair of socks it goes down on paper and there’s an enquiry.”
“That’s good news,” Roberts said. “But how many fatal doses of sunstroke is a screw allowed to dish out before ... ”
“Roberts, watch that tongue of yours.”
“Williams may get away with this,” said Roberts, “but — ”
“Double out, Roberts.”
“This time. But I’m having him.”
Roberts doubled out of the cell and along the corridor, boiling with an inner rage. Harris, he thought, with his free fags and his easy manner. Useless, bloody useless. He’s the same as the rest. Not a bastard like Williams, not a hard man like Wilson, but he’s still a screw and all screws are bastards and you can’t trust any of them. They’re on one side of the fence and we’re on the other, and they’re just as afraid to make a wrong move as we are.
McGrath held his head under the tap and soaped his short cropped hair and rinsed it and snarled “Get back!” to the jostling prisoners queueing up behind him, then he soaped his face and body and rinsed himself again. He breathed water up his nostrils and, holding his nose with his fingers blew downwards and spat into the zinc gulley.
“Dirty bastard,” someone laughed behind him and McGrath shoved back viciously and sent the prisoner staggering a pace or two. McGrath next put his head under the tap again and held it there and enjoyed the sensation of the cold water hitting the back of his neck.
Roberts pushed forward and looked down at the bullet shaped head under the tap. He placed his towel on the wooden bench and slipped out of his shirt, then put his head down until it was on a level with McGrath’s and water splashed on to him. McGrath looked up and found himself eye to eye with Roberts on the other side of the bench. He pushed his head further under the tap and Roberts drew back a few inches.
“Going on Commandant’s request, Roberts?”
“Aren’t you, Mac?”
McGrath lunged forward and tried to butt Roberts in the face with his head but Roberts was too quick for him. He stepped back smartly and punched McGrath hard in the mouth with his fist. McGrath staggered back and fell against Staff Burton.
Burton grabbed hold of McGrath. “What the hell’s going on here?”
“Sorry, Staff,” said McGrath. “I tripped over some lunatic.” He moved back to the wash bench and put his head down. “Tonight I’ll have you, Roberts, and they can do what they like with me after that.”
Roberts nodded. “O.K. But watch your head or I’ll crack it like a soft-boiled egg, with a boot.”
The R.S.M. walked into Cell 8 with Harris close on his heels. He saw a dead cockroach and moved it with his stick. He kicked Bartlett’s kitbag and watched several more cockroaches scuttle away. “This place is lousy with cockroaches, Staff.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harris. “They haven’t got the brains to make a dash for freedom.”
The R.S.M. glowered at Harris. “Have it scrubbed out and throw a few pounds of bug powder around.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anybody requested to see the Commandant, Staff?”
“Roberts, sir.”
The R.S.M.’s mouth hardened. “Roberts — right.”
“And you can guess why he wants to see him, sir.”
“I’m not a bloody fool, Harris.”
“Then — ” Harris hesitated. “Mind if I ask you again, sir. Will you give Williams another job?”
“Why?”
“You know what I’m getting at, sir.”
The RJS.M. nodded his head and thought, ‘I do, Charlie. I bloody do. Williams has put the fear of Christ up you, hasn’t he? You reckon the castle’s going to crumble now, don’t you, and we’ll all be out of work just because Stevens dropped dead? We’ll all be exposed as bloody murderers. Oh yes, I know you, Charlie. You’re a soft article. You’re a soft bloody article and Williams is an iron man and you’re none too clear about how to handle him, are you? You can’t handle him, Charlie. You can’t even handle prisoners ... coming whining to me about Williams ...
‘All you can do, Charlie, is tuck the bloody prisoners up in bed and read them fairy stories and give ’em a smoke to calm them down when they get naughty. You can’t keep discipline, Charlie. That’s your trouble. You’ve got too easy a way with you and I’m coming round to thinking that, much as I like you Charlie, you’re bloody useless to me.’ He looked at Harris and made up his mind. “Give Williams another job, eh? I will. I’ll make him Senior Staff on the block.”
Harris’s face reddened then he blurted out, “I know you’re a bloody marvel but the Commandant decides who’s up for promotion.”
The R.S.M. smiled. “On my recommendation. As from now you’ll take orders from Williams.”
Harris had a wild impulse to punch the R.S.M. in the face and put an end to everything, to the stinking job, the taunts and the insults. ‘Christ,’ he thought, ‘Williams here less than a week and he’s promoted over me. What kind of a bloody fool does the R.S.M. take me for? Does he think I’m going to stand for that? Stand for a bastard like Williams giving me orders? Is the R.S.M. going mad? Can’t he smell trouble any more? What the hell does he think the prisoners will do when they hear the good news? We’ve nearly got a mutiny on our hands now. Calm down,’ he told himself. ‘Before he’s much older he’s going to find out the hard way just how wrong he is. Well, let him learn for a change. He’s going to have some real trouble on his hands the way he’s going, and when I think of the way I’ve stood by him. The one bloody man whose loyalty he can count on.’
Harris seethed with anger again. “Right, sir. If that’s the way you want it.”
“Not me, Staff. You. Sooner be anybody’s dish rag, wouldn’t you? Filling in any awkward duties thrown your way.”
“I’d sooner be out of it, sir. Well out of it.”
“Yes. There’s N.C.O.’s junior to you on establishment getting their rightful pay and credit for the job. You’re getting passed over, Staff.”
“I’ve been aware of that,” said Harris.
“You know the answers then. Keep discipline. Put some iron in your orders. Williams hasn’t been here five minutes and I’ll tell you he’s well known.”
It was warming-up in the cell and Harris felt that he was suffocating. He took his cap off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wanted to throw his cap against the wall. Tell the R.S.M. what to do with his bloody job. Explode into violent action but an inner voice, the voice of survival, warned him to remain calm. Have a dig at the silly blind old bastard, he thought, but keep calm. He replaced his cap on his head. “Yes. Williams is well known inside here, sir. Nearly as famous as Crippen.” Then on an uncontrollable impulse. “Request to be posted out of here, sir, and back to my Regiment.”
The R.S.M. laughed. “You and Burton longing for action and the kiss of death, eh, Charlie?”
Harris somehow kept his temper. “I’d like a straight answer to a straight request, sir.”
The R.S.M. smiled and shook his head. “Charlie, you’re past your best. Young kids can sleep in foxholes and march next day and fight next day. But you, Charlie, you’re past your best.”
Harris saw the R.S.M.’s face through a red film. He stared at the grinning face until his eyes watered. He shook his head and blinked his eyes but the red film was still there. “I could bloody do it again,” he shouted.
The R.S.M. shook his head, a pitying smile on his lips. “No, Charlie. You’re past your best.” He turned and walked out of the cell.
Harris glared about him. Sweat trickled down into his eyes and he let out a groan of anger and threw his cap against the wall, then in a mad rage he kicked the prisoners’ equipment and blankets all over the cell, swearing like a maniac as he tried to destroy everything in sight. Then he moved to the open window and leaned his throbbing head against the bars and slowly calmed down. He moved away from the window and looked about him as he picked up his cap. ‘That’s the way a good screw behaves,’ he thought. ‘Williams will put them over the hill for this. Maybe I’d get promotion if I went out of my bloody mind more often. Wreck their cell. Put them over the hill. Double them till they drop. So that’s the secret, is it? Is this what the R.S.M. wants? A lot of bloody maniacs under him? Christ. If this is the easy road to promotion, Williams will be a General in six months.’
He walked out of the cell feeling a lot better.
*
Burton shouted to the prisoners, “Get fell in,” and the prisoners doubled towards him and pushed and shoved and finally got into line facing him. Burton was about to call them to attention and double them away for P.T. when he saw the R.S.M. standing with his arms behind his back watching him. Burton yelled “Attenshun” and slammed to attention facing the R.S.M. “Prisoners from B Wing. All present and correct, sir.”
The R.S.M. nodded and faced the prisoners. “Any man wishing to see the Commandant, step forward.”
There was a pause then Roberts marched out of line and halted.
“Why do you want to see the Commandant, Roberts?”
“Wish to report, sir, that Staff Williams was responsible for Stevens’s death.”
An uneasy murmur from the ranks and Burton marched down the line of prisoners shouting, “That’s enough. No talking. No talking in the ranks.”
The R.S.M. waited until all was quiet again. “Serious charge that, Roberts. I hope you’ve got proof.”
“I’ll be content to let the Court of Enquiry decide that, sir.”
“Are you accusing Staff Williams of murdering Stevens?”
“Yes, sir.”
An ugly murmur from the prisoners and Burton walked down the ranks again shouting for silence. The prisoners quietened down and listened intently.
“Any witnesses, Roberts?”
“All the men in my cell know what happened, sir.”
“Good. Then with any luck we’ll see Staff Williams face a firing squad. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Roberts?”
“Yes, sir,” said Roberts.
“Don’t forget to repeat it to the Commandant then. He’ll be interested to hear you say that.” The R.S.M. looked along the line of prisoners. “Bartlett, double over here.”
Bartlett doubled over to the R.S.M. and stood to attention in front of him.
“You saw Staff Williams murder Stevens. Is that right?”
“Didn’t see nothing of the kind, did I, sir?”
“Don’t lie to me, lad. You saw him with bloodstained hands, didn’t you now?”
“No, sir. Didn’t see nothing. Request, sir, to be moved to another cell. Roberts is sending me bonkers. He’s round the bend and wants company.”
“Request refused. Get back in line.”
“Sir, please.”
“Double,” barked the R.S.M.
Bartlett doubled back.
The R.S.M. looked at Roberts and smiled. “Witness number one claims you’re out of your mind, Roberts.”
“Take some proving, sir.”
The R.S.M. looked towards the line of prisoners again. “McGrath double over here.” McGrath doubled towards him and halted. “You’ve heard Roberts accuse Staff Williams of murder, McGrath?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“What do you expect me to say?”
‘I’m trying to find out the truth, McGrath, and I’m enlisting your help. Now tell me all you know.”
“About how Williams murdered Stevens, you mean, sir?” The R.S.M.’s mouth hardened. “Yes,” he said softly. “But think before you speak.”
“If it will ease your mind, sir, I don’t know a damn thing.”
“I told you to think before you spoke, McGrath.”
“I did, sir, believe you me.”
“So you never saw a murder committed, McGrath?”
“No, sir, but I’ll be committing one if Roberts doesna shut his big gate.”
“If he’s harmed then I’ll know who to pin it on, won’t I? Double away.”
McGrath doubled back to the line of prisoners and the R.S.M. turned to Roberts. “That’s two witnesses. Still going through with your accusation, Roberts?”
“Yes, sir.”
Williams marched from the cells and halted and stood next to the R.S.M. who glanced at him. “I don’t remember sending for you, Staff.”
“Staff Harris just tipped me off, sir, that there’s some kind of bloody nonsense going on out here.” Williams nodded to the entrance to the cells and the R.S.M. saw Harris leaning against the door with his arms folded. He gestured to Harris with his stick and when Harris was about five paces away from him he gestured for Harris to halt, then turned to Williams. “Yes, Staff. You may find this interesting. Bokumbo. Double over here.” Bokumbo halted facing the R.S.M. “You’ve heard Roberts accuse Staff Williams of murdering Stevens, Bokumbo?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right Now let’s hear from you.”
“Williams killed Stevens right enough,” said Bokumbo. “My only worry right now is how the hell we’re going to prove it.”
An ugly murmur rose from the ranks and a prisoner shouted. “That’s the bloody truth.” Burton ran up and down the line glaring at the prisoners and shouting. “No talking. I said no talking in the ranks. Hear me. No talking.” The prisoners quietened down again and waited expectantly. The R.S.M. turned to Williams. “Did you hear that, Staff?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Serious allegation that is.”
“He’s lying.” Williams glared at Bokumbo. “I never laid a finger on Stevens.”
Two,’ thought the R.S.M. ‘We’ve got the nigger as well now, have we? I didn’t think we’d have the nigger as well. It’s getting ugly and something will have to be done and damn quick. Have two and you can soon have three, then four. No, not Bartlett, never Bartlett, and McGrath’s got the needle to Roberts. Two against two and I’ve got the M.O. and the official death certificate and I’ve got Williams, but I’ve got him on my back. Move him? No, I can’t put him on the gate or post him out. Be as good as confessing that I think he murdered Stevens. I’d better keep Harris on as Senior Staff. Well, that’s sure to cheer up Harris anyway ... ”
He turned to Harris with a friendly smile. “Staff, I want Roberts and Bokumbo on Commandant’s parade. Special Enquiry at 10.30 hours.”