The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

I keep my eye on the older man as we drive. He watches the coach as we pass. His eyes meet mine through the side window before he drops behind us, and I feel my spine turn to ice.

  I don’t like being this vulnerable.

  I turn to the driver. “How much longer? When do we get there?”

  “About half an hour,” he says, cheerfully.

  That’s a long time to wait for an ambush.

  I settle back in my seat. There’s nothing else I can do.

  *****

  Half an hour later, we’re pulling into the car park at the castle. It’s still early, but there are marquees and colourful gazebos on the lawn in front of the castle gates, and people in historic costumes are preparing for the schoolchild invasion. I leave Jackson and the recruits on the coach, and walk through the tents to the ticket office.

  “Oh, you’re here!” The woman behind the desk looks thrilled to see me. “You’ve brought us some brave recruits to guard the gates?”

  She seems much too relaxed to understand what we’re here for. She doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously, and the chaos outside on the lawn is going to be very difficult to patrol effectively.

  I can’t help sounding cold and humourless. “I’ve got fifty recruits on a coach outside. They need a place to change, and space to store their personal belongings. I’ve got radio equipment that needs power and a place to set it up. I’m hoping you know where I can find all this.” I don’t smile.

  My demands don’t put a dent in her cheerful attitude.

  “No problem at all! We’ve set up a marquee for you. Round the corner, at the far end of the car park. You can park the coach down there as well, out of the way.” She waves her hand to indicate the general direction of the marquee, and starts ticking off points on her fingers. “We’ve run a cable, so you’ve got power and lights, and we’ve set it up exactly as we were told to. Changing areas, seating, tables, portaloos. You should find everything you need!” If anything, her smile gets broader.

  I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She might have set up the marquee as requested, but the castle itself is not a secure area. We’ll be patrolling without a proper perimeter. There’s no way we can keep everyone safe.

  “Are we the only patrol you’ve got, today?”

  She looks confused. “Oh, no. We’ve got some soldiers here as well. They’ve got a marquee next to yours. Smaller, but that’s what they asked for.”

  I resist the urge to start shouting, and force myself to be polite.

  “Perhaps I could talk to them about patrolling today’s event?” I wave my hand vaguely at the door.

  “Oh, they’re expecting you. They’ll be waiting in the marquee. In your marquee.” She smiles again.

  I take a deep breath, and then flash her an unfriendly smile. “Thank you,” I manage, teeth clenched, before turning on my heel and leaving the office. I have to control the urge to punch something on my way out.

  I walk quickly back to the bus, ignoring the people in costume who seem to have time to wander about and gossip. I head straight along the path, fast enough that I force people to step out of my way.

  Get used to it. You’ll be moving out of the way for my tiny fighters all day, or you’ll be answering to me.

  I climb back to my seat, and direct the driver to the far end of the car park. We park next to two marquees, and a row of army vehicles. The woman in the ticket office was right – we’re a long way from the castle gate. We’re expected to keep everyone safe, but we have to keep our distance.

  Jackson directs the unloading of the coach while I head into the larger marquee. It’s a huge space, with partitions for changing areas and storage, and lines of power sockets on the ground along one canvas wall. There are tables and chairs for two or three coachloads of recruits, and at one of them Brigadier Lee is waiting.

  Are you here to spy on us? Or is this a personal visit?

  “Lead Recruit Smith! Good to see you again.”

  “Sir!” I walk to the table and salute.

  “At ease.” I relax, hands behind my back, and stand up straight. “Welcome to Wales. We’re looking forward to working with you.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “So, what have you brought us today?”

  “Fifty trained recruits, all with armour and guns. One radio operator. One radio assistant. One assistant for me.”

  “Very good, Lead Recruit.” He smiles.

  I nod, and wait to see what he’s here to tell me.

  “Obviously you’re here to be the visible deterrent.” I nod. “We’ll need your recruits to patrol along the edge of the car park – from the driveway, past the castle gates, up to here, and back. While you’re out there, we’ll be securing the grounds to the rear of the castle, and keeping an eye on your patch as well. We expect the recruits to call in anything that requires our attention, and we’ll make sure we’re there inside a minute or two. But we’re not here to babysit them.”

  I nod again. “I understand, Sir. No problem.”

  “We’ll talk to your radio operators, when they’ve set up their equipment. We’ll make sure we can contact you, and you can contact us. If we run into anything out back, we’re going to need you to run an evacuation out front. Get everyone into the car park and away from the castle. Can you manage that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Thank you, Lead Recruit.” He stands. “Perhaps you could notify us when the radios are ready?”

  “I will, Sir.”

  I stay where I am while the brigadier leaves the marquee, then head back to the coach.

  No awkward questions for me this time?

  Jackson and the kids have unloaded the boxes, and they’re waiting for me to tell them what to do next. I send them into the marquee to get changed, and help Jackson with the radio boxes. Taylor and Brown are sitting at a table together when we walk in. They haven’t brought armour or guns. Like us, they’ll spend the day in fatigues, supporting the recruits on patrol.

  I send all three of them to set up the radios, and head to the back of the tent. The changing rooms and storage areas are separated by canvas dividing walls, and the noise of fifty recruits getting changed is loud in the enclosed space.

  As the first recruits emerge with their uniforms in their crates I send them into the storage area and then direct them to find a table and sit down. The other recruits follow, and soon they are all sitting at tables, waiting for me.

  I walk to the front of the marquee.

  “Tiny fighters!”

  “Sir!”

  No one reacts. It’s as if they don’t even hear the insult any more.

  “Today, you are offering your expert protection to a swarm of schoolchildren. Seeing as you all used to be schoolchildren, I don’t think I need to tell you that these children will be loud, unpredictable, and undisciplined. They will likely be allowed to run round on their own, without supervision. They will go into places they are not supposed to go. They will jump out from places when you least expect them. They will find you, and your armour and guns, particularly fascinating.

  “For this reason, your guns are to remain deactivated while you are on patrol. Your first response to a dangerous situation today will not be to fire your guns. Your first response will be to use your radio and report to Senior Recruit Jackson. He and I will assess the situation, and we will tell you what to do.

  “Anyone firing an unauthorised shot will face serious consequences. Please remember that.

  “We are sharing today’s patrol duties with soldiers from the army.” There’s a murmuring from the recruits. “Yes, tiny fighters. The actual army. Real soldiers.”

  “It goes without saying that any orders given to you by a soldier must be obeyed instantly, even if they directly oppose the orders given by me or Jackson.” I look around the room, making eye contact where I can. “Instantly. Without question. In a situation like this, obeying or not obeying could mean the difference between life and death for you, for the soldiers, or
for the schoolchildren in your care. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. When the radio equipment is ready, I’ll call you up in pairs. I’ll explain the patrol route, and the places you are not permitted to go. Make sure you pay attention – in here and out there. I don’t want to be making apologies for your behaviour to anyone later – not to the organisers, not to the army, not to someone’s parents. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Questions?”

  Even though this is only my second patrol with these kids, it’s already starting to feel routine.

  Amy

  The process of sending the recruits out goes smoothly. The first team calls in when they reach the end of the driveway and turn back, then the second, and the third. They’re walking at a suitable pace, keeping other patrols within sight, and staying out of the way of the soldiers. So far, so good.

  Jackson and Lee are confirming the radio protocols for the day, and we have an emergency procedure set up and ready to use. Taylor is rising to the occasion, sitting up straight, clipboard in hand, waiting for the brigadier to finish speaking. Brown and I find ourselves with nothing urgent to do.

  Time to start a conversation.

  I pick the table furthest away from the radio equipment, in the far corner of the tent. I make sure my radio is clipped to my belt and switched on, and then walk over and sit down. Brown, clipboard of rotas and information in her hand, follows me. We sit down at the table, both on the same side – I’m not in a hurry to recreate the atmosphere of the interrogation room. She puts the clipboard on the table and waits for me to speak.

  This is not my comfort zone, Bracken. I need shouting and fear, and Jackson for backup. Not this.

  “So, Amy. How are you getting on?” Inside, I’m cringing. I sound like the worst school counsellor. I sound fake and brittle.

  She shrugs. “OK.”

  I shake my head, hiding my frustration. “I don’t mean today. I mean at camp. Generally.”

  “Oh.” She looks down. I think she’s blushing, but it’s hard to tell in the low light of the marquee.

  “You’ve found some new friends.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You seem to get on with them. Are they helping you to move on?”

  She looks up at me, coldly. “Move on from what?”

  I could do without this, Bracken.

  I want to roll my eyes and say something sarcastic, but that’s not what I’ve been asked to do. Instead, I look her in the eye. This feels aggressive. This is something I understand.

  “It must be a shock, having to find your way at camp without Bex and Dan. And then there’s Saunders. You must miss them.” My words are gentle, but the sustained eye contact is not.

  I cannot believe that I’m here, playing Good Cop to my own Bad Cop routine – and that her interrogation was only three weeks ago. She’s definitely blushing now, but this is anger, not embarrassment.

  So much for Good Cop, Ketty.

  “So. Is there anything you want to talk about? How you’re doing a great job of getting on with stuff? What you hope to achieve, long term? What we can do to help?”

  She keeps staring at me. She’s gritting her teeth, and I’m guessing she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She’s furious.

  “Amy,” I keep my voice gentle, “we’re really impressed with how you’ve put your head down and carried on with your training. Commander Bracken and I – both of us. You’ve set an incredible example for Jake,” I glance over my shoulder to the group at the radio table, “and you’re proving that you’re stronger than we thought you were.

  “You’ve been amazing, these past few weeks. No issues, no disciplinary problems, no pushing the boundaries. You’ve accepted the situation as it is, and you’ve moved on.

  “I’m here to help, Amy. What do you need from me – from us – to excel at Camp Bishop?”

  She lets out a long sigh. I guess she’s been holding her breath. Her shoulders slump, and she sits back in her chair, eyes closed.

  Come on, Brown. Give me something to take back to Bracken.

  I look back at the radio team and give her a few moments to calm down. The brigadier has left. Jackson is talking to Taylor, and they’re both checking something on the clipboard. Taylor seems engrossed, and Jackson seems calm. He really is working wonders with Jake’s training.

  I look back at Amy. She hasn’t moved. She’s resting her head on the back of her chair, and I realise that she’s crying. She’s quiet, and her eyes are still closed, but there are tears on her cheeks. She’s trying to control her breathing.

  This time I do roll my eyes. There’s no one to see me, and this is all I need. A recruit in tears, when I’m supposed to be having a friendly chat.

  “Amy,” I try again, “I’m just trying to help. We want you to do well at Camp Bishop. We want you to succeed.” She sobs, once. “There are opportunities for you, as a recruit. What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself going, after your training is complete? Are there some skills you’d like to develop?”

  Nothing. I’m not getting through. Her face crumples and more tears flow down her face. She takes a ragged breath, and makes a choked-off sobbing sound.

  Round of applause, Ketty. You’re rocking this. Just what HQ wanted.

  Enough. This approach is going nowhere.

  “Recruit Brown!” My near-shout makes Jackson look up in surprise.

  She makes a half-hearted attempt to sit up straight. She opens her eyes, but they’re red and puffy. She’s still crying.

  “Sir!” It’s a quiet croak, but it will do.

  “One question, recruit.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tell me – where do you see yourself in a year?”

  She closes her eyes again, and takes another deep breath.

  “It’s a simple question.”

  She shakes her head.

  “One year, recruit. Where will you be?”

  She puts her hands over her face and smears away the worst of the tears. I lean towards her, and ask her again, hissing into her ear.

  “Where will you be?”

  Her voice is tiny, barely more than a whisper, but I hear her confession.

  “Out of here,” she says, distinctly.

  Return

  I send Amy outside with a couple of bottles of water to wash her face and get herself under control. There’s nothing I can do today, apart from getting her home safely, and passing my report to the commander. I can’t tell whether she’s our spy or not, but keeping her head down and making new friends is clearly an act while she looks for a way out. I stay near the door, keeping her within sight. The last thing I need is for her to walk away before I can get her onto the coach.

  Jackson and Taylor have everything under control. I make sure they have the lunch rota, and before long they’re calling patrol teams back for sandwiches in the marquee. The cheerful woman from the ticket office brings crates of food across to us, and checks that we have everything we need.

  Everything except my assistant, thank you.

  The brigadier comes back as I’m finishing my sandwiches. He sits down opposite me and leans his elbows on the table.

  “How is everything going? Any problems?”

  “Everything seems fine, thank you, Sir. Any trouble on your side?”

  He shakes his head. “No sign of anyone who shouldn’t be here. But then, that’s half the reason for us being here, isn’t it? An effective defence is an effective deterrent.” He smiles at me, but his gaze is calculating.

  “I suppose so, Sir.”

  He looks at me silently for a moment, then speaks again.

  “So – what’s a capable officer like you doing working for someone like Bracken?”

  I’m so surprised by his question that I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly. Is this the follow-on from our last conversation? I blink, stupidly, and try to think of something to say.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Sir.”


  He relaxes a little, and shakes his head.

  “I mean that you’re wasted in the Recruit Training Service, Smith. Look at the ease with which you’ve got this whole patrol system set up and working like clockwork. The recruits respect you, your radio team doesn’t question your judgement, and apparently you can handle crying teenagers and nauseatingly cheerful staff without breaking stride. You know there’d be a place for you in the army. Something more challenging than this.” He waves his hand to indicate the marquee, then lowers his voice. “It’s a shame, what happened at Camp Bishop.”

  I look up. Apparently he’s not done surprising me.

  “The escape. The prisoner. The recruits. Bad luck.” He shakes his head again.

  I have no idea what to say. When I say nothing, he carries on.

  “But it shouldn’t affect your career prospects, Smith. You’re not Camp Bishop. From what I can see, you’re the person holding it together,” he looks around the marquee, “but you don’t have to go down with the ship.” He winks at me. “Word to the wise. There’s a place for you, if you want it. But don’t wait too long.”

  Are you trying to promote me? And if so, what are you trying to do to Bracken?

  “You know how to reach me. You’ve got my number.”

  “I have, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Think about it,” he says, as he stands up. I remember to stand, too, as he walks away.

  *****

  The rest of the day runs smoothly. No terrorists, no careless children, no surprises. When the last coachload of children has left the area, we’re free to pull the patrols back and head home.

  Again, this should be the end of a tiring day, but again I’m on edge as we begin the drive back to camp. The gathering darkness makes all the woodland seem haunted, all the fields full of shadows.

  I can’t relax until we’re back on the bypass, the lights of Camp Bishop shining through the trees against the darkness that used to be Leominster. The commander is waiting at the gate to meet us.

  “Good day?”

  I nod. “Good day. No problems.” The recruits are collecting their crates and walking round us back to their dorm. Jackson supervises the process, and carries the radio equipment himself.