The Command

by Christopher Nicole

  It had all been timed to get them to Sandhurst in time for Ian’s passing out parade.

  ‘I’m so proud,’ Lee said. ‘I can just imagine you standing there...how long ago was it?’

  ‘Twenty-eight years, by God,’ Murdoch said.

  ‘I bet you were just as handsome, too.’

  Fergus had a year to go. ‘But I’m coming out to India too,’ he announced.

  ‘I’m not sure India will be able to stand it,’ Murdoch said. Ian was more serious. ‘You’ve no objections, I hope, Dad,’ he said when they had a chance to be alone.

  ‘I’m delighted. So, I can tell you, is Peter Ramage.’

  ‘Is there any chance of action?’

  ‘None whatsoever. The natives are strictly non-revolting.’

  ‘Oh. Still...’ He brightened. ‘I suppose if there’s no chance of action on the North West Frontier, then there’s no chance of action anywhere in the world, what with all these pacts outlawing war...’

  ‘And let’s hope they make them all stick,’ Murdoch said. ‘You don’t want to get that nice new uniform all messed up.

  They gazed at each other, and grinned. They understood one another perfectly. Murdoch could remember how when he had been a boy his sole dream had been to serve in the regiment under his father. It had never happened. Father had died while he was still at Wellington. But it would happen to his sons. All three of them.

  They all went down to Broad Acres together, picking up Helen and Harry as well. Helen was fifteen, and a proper beauty. Harry was twelve, and had just completed his first term at Wellington. ‘I hate it,’ he confided.

  ‘Well, we all hate our first years,’ Murdoch told him. But he felt Harry was actually rather unhappy.

  ‘I don’t blame him,’ Lee said. ‘I’d hate to be shut up most of the year with several hundred other boys. I don’t suppose you’d consider...’ she pinched her lip.

  ‘He’ll grow out of it,’ Murdoch promised her. ‘Mustn’t baby the baby.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ she said.

  Broad Acres was exactly as they remembered it. As Murdoch had always remembered it, in fact. Nothing would ever change Broad Acres. But nothing could stop people changing, and animals. ‘Had to put Buccaneer down,’ Philippa confessed. ‘The poor chap could hardly stand.’

  He was buried in the field behind the house, and she had erected a monument. Murdoch stood there for some time. Perhaps because he was now serving in India he could remember so vividly the year in Somaliland, the cavalry charge which had really made his reputation. Buccaneer had carried him on that charge.

  There were other looming changes as well. Mother was now seventy-two, and more frail than she should have been.

  ‘It’s good to have you back, Murdoch,’ she said. ‘When are you coming home for good?’

  ‘Three years,’ he said.

  ‘That long?’

  He discussed the matter with Rosemary, at her London flat; Geoffrey Phillips had left the army with the rank of colonel, and had done as he had always intended and entered politics as a Conservative MP. Rosemary had always been much more sensible than Philippa.

  ‘Of course mother hates to think of you being away for all those years,’ she said. ‘But she should be used to it. And you have your life to live, your way to make, Murdoch. Anyway, she’s a lot tougher than she looks. She’ll be here when you get back.’

  *

  While in London he lunched with Churchill, as was now becoming quite a habit. His friend seemed to have achieved the pinnacle of his career in being Chancellor of the Exchequer, as he recognized. ‘They’ll never have me leader of the Party,’ he said. ‘I’m too radical, too outspoken for them. Maybe I’m too imperialistic for this mundane age. Still, I’ve got us back on the Gold Standard. I’ll rest on that. Now tell me about India.’

  ‘It’s all very quiet out there. You must have had more excitement here last year in the General Strike.’

  ‘You think so? What about this damn fool commission?’

  The commission had been set up by Parliament the previous year to inquire into every aspect of Indian political life.

  ‘They don’t seem to be accomplishing much,’ Murdoch said. ‘Mainly because the Indian leaders won’t talk to them.’

  ‘I think it’s the thin edge of the wedge,’ Churchill growled. ‘I voted against it, but was overruled. India needs to be governed, by us. Start giving them self-government and God knows what will happen. Have you met Wood?’

  Edward Wood, Lord Irwin, had replaced Reading as Viceroy.

  ‘Why, yes,’ Murdoch said. ‘I had lunch with him in Delhi on my way to Bombay. Seems a very decent sort of chap.’

  ‘He is. And very good at his job, too. He’ll make a top-class viceroy, if the politicians let him. But they probably won’t. So he’s wasting his time. So are you, Murdoch. You should come home. Then we could see about making you CIGS. That would cause a stir. All the world would assume we were about to go to war. That mightn’t be a bad thing.’

  Murdoch raised his eyebrows. ‘Problems?’

  ‘The usual rubbish. We’re all friends with the Germans now, you know. They even belong to the League of Nations.’

  ‘Surely that’s a good thing. It has to be better to talk than shoot. And haven’t they signed the Locarno Treaty guaranteeing perpetual friendship with France?’

  ‘Oh, certainly. All these pacts are very fine, as long as they are adhered to and not made a wordy cover for something else. Did you ever read Mein Kampf?’

  ‘I’ve never even heard of it.’

  ‘It’s that book your German friend Hitler was writing when you visited him in prison.’

  ‘Good Lord! You mean he got it published?’

  ‘Oh, indeed.’

  ‘And is it as rabid as it seemed it might be?’

  ‘I would say it is the most rabid thing I have ever read. Were he the leader of a sovereign country one would have to think about it very seriously. I’m not sure he shouldn’t be locked up, anyway. For all our sakes. But they don’t do that sort of thing in Germany, nowadays.’

  ‘So what is he doing now, if he isn’t locked up?’

  ‘What he said he was going to do. Running a political party, which is preaching hate and damnation. He even has a few seats in the Reichstag.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ Murdoch commented. ‘And no one is doing anything about it?’

  ‘Well, how can they? His people have been legally elected. As I say, only a few. But it is significant that the book has been quite a success. So there must be a lot of Germans who enjoy reading it. Also, there can be no doubt that the Germans, and I’m talking about the army rather than the Nazis, are doing a good deal of secret re-arming. There is evidence of it everywhere. Gliding clubs to train pilots, regiments in which every private is an officer, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I saw something of it when I was there. Why don’t we put a stop to it?’

  ‘Put a stop to it? My dear fellow, there are too many people in this country saying: “Poor Germans, why shouldn’t they have an army?” Too many people in the Government, too. Do you know we’re pulling out our occupation forces in a couple of years?’

  ‘We were supposed to stay twenty, weren’t we?’

  ‘At least. But now everyone thinks it’s unfair on the Germans. I don’t agree with the decision, and I’ve said so. Another reason for not being entirely popular with my Cabinet colleagues. Then there’s trouble brewing in the Far East as well. The Japanese are getting increasingly aggressive towards China. Oh, there are a good many reasons why we could use a real fighting man as CIGS. And if there’s nothing happening in India, well, why stay there?’

  ‘I like it there,’ Murdoch said. ‘I’ll come home when my second tour is up in 1930. You can make me CIGS then.’ He grinned. ‘If anything crops up before then, you can always send for me.’

  Reger, he thought, must be having the time of his life. And young Paul?

  *

  ‘Hol
y Smoke!’ Lee commented, opening her mail just the day before they were due to depart again. ‘It’s from Harry.’

  ‘Brother, or son?’

  ‘One day, when he takes up writing letters, it could be from son,’ Lee said sadly. ‘He’s gone and got married.’

  ‘Brother, or son?’

  ‘Oh, you...would you believe it? How old is he, for God’s sake? Heck, I’m forty-one...he has to be in his mid-fifties.’

  ‘How come we didn’t hear about this before?’

  ‘Because he’s eloped! With another man’s wife, would you believe it? Ye gods and little fishes. If Ma and Pa were alive they’d be turning in their graves.’

  ‘If they were alive they’d almost certainly be doing something else,’ Murdoch pointed out. ‘What you mean is, they are turning in their graves. But let me get this straight: your brother has eloped with a married woman? Then how can he have married her?’

  ‘Oh, she’s divorced now. They went down to Reno. I wondered why we hadn’t heard from him for a while. He’s been carrying on with this...this...’

  ‘Scarlet woman,’ Murdoch suggested.

  ‘Scarlet woman.’ Then her husband found out, and all hell let loose. So now he’s married her.’ Her cheeks were pink with indignation.

  ‘Now let’s be reasonable about this,’ Murdoch said. ‘How old is this woman?’

  ‘Ah...’ Lee re-read the letter. ‘Thirty-two.’

  ‘And Harry is fifty. It’s just possible the boot is on the other foot, and this dirty old man of a brother of yours has invaded the marital nest and seduced an innocent matron.’

  She raised her head to gaze at him with her mouth open.

  He grinned at her. ‘And good luck to him. But I do think we should withhold judgement until we meet the girl.’

  ‘You may do that sooner than you think. He says he wants to bring Veronica...’

  ‘Is that her name? Veronica?’

  ‘Yes. Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? And she...’ she handed Murdoch a snapshot.

  ‘She’s a bit of an armful too,’ he agreed, gazing at a decidedly statuesque blonde young woman, who was at least six inches taller than Harry, standing beside her.

  ‘Her hair is dyed, I’m sure,’ Lee remarked bitchily.

  Murdoch didn’t think that would have mattered, to Harry. Not unless her bust was padded as well.

  ‘Murdoch, he wants to bring her to visit. So he wants to know whether we are going to be here for the foreseeable future or in India.’

  ‘Tell him India.’

  ‘Do we really want Veronica dropping in on Peshawar?’

  ‘Peshawar isn’t a place you can “drop in” on.’

  ‘That’s what’s worrying me. She could be there for months.’

  ‘Think of all the things you’ll be able to show her,’ Murdoch pointed out. ‘In the meantime, do cable Harry congratulations on becoming a husband.’

  *

  The trip back out to Bombay, however familiar it was now becoming, was rendered the more enjoyable because of the presence of Ian. He was naturally excited to be tracing the steps taken so often by his father and grandfather, just as he was in a perpetual heaven at the thought of joining the regiment and wearing that famous uniform — even if it was only khaki on service nowadays. Murdoch indeed had difficulty in persuading him not to wear uniform on board ship. It’s a matter of convenience,’ he explained. ‘Once you put that on, you have to start calling me “sir” and all sorts of things like that. In mufti, we’re father and son. Remember that.’

  The journey north from Bombay was made twice as long as usual, and twice as uncomfortable, by a strike of railway workers. It took them nearly two weeks to reach Delhi, and while Lee enjoyed herself thoroughly, exploring each of the towns at which they were forced to wait for a train, both her menfolk chafed at the delays when they wanted to be on station.

  ‘The whole bloody country seems to be on strike,’ Harington said when they finally made the capital. It’s all an offshoot of that damned stupid commission. The textile workers are out, as you saw one can never tell when the railway is going to be working or not...the people have been properly stirred up.’

  ‘Are you expecting trouble?’

  ‘No, I’m not, to be frank. Nothing the police can’t handle. At least down here.’

  ‘But on the frontier?’

  ‘I’m damn glad you’re back, Murdoch. Oh, this commission thing has had little effect up there. I don’t think the Pathans want to be governed by Indians any more than they enjoy being governed by us. But there are some disquieting reports coming out of Peshawar.’

  Murdoch frowned. ‘What kind of rumours?’

  ‘That there are mullahs trying to stir up the tribes. I suppose we have to accept that this thing happens every few years. And it’s a compliment to you that the agitators waited until you were out of the way.’

  ‘What tribes, sir?’

  ‘The Mahsuds. They were the ones who caused the trouble in twenty-three, you remember. However, nothing actually seems to have happened as yet. And then there is this talk of trouble in Afghanistan.’

  ‘Afghanistan?’

  ‘Yes. The rumour there is that all is not well with Amanullah’s government. Seems there could be financial problems. As well as communist agitation. It may all be a storm in a teacup, but I’ll be damned glad to have you back up there, and to let any hotheads across the border know that you’re back.’

  *

  ‘So Shere Khan, or Chand Bibi, is making a move at last,’ Murdoch commented to Peter Ramage when he regained Peshawar. ‘I assume I am correct in supposing it is those Mahsuds that have been preaching jihad?’

  ‘Absolutely correct. But they haven’t had any joy, so far. No one seems to want to budge.’

  ‘They have more sense. I must say, though, this rather blows a hole in my estimation that it is me they’re after. Waiting until I’ve left, I mean.’

  ‘Ah, but they knew you were coming back.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Well, everyone in the province knew that. You know how impossible it is to keep a secret in this place. But in fact the Mahsud mullahs have been using this as a prong, telling the other tribes that you have been sent here to cause their destruction, and that you will be coming back, and that this time you will act against them, if they do not act first.’

  ‘I see,’ Murdoch said thoughtfully.

  ‘As I say, they haven’t had any joy,’ Peter went on. ‘And West has kept the garrison, all the garrisons, in a state of readiness. But really, it seems to me that Shere Khan has shown his hand, Murdoch. Why don’t we move in there and arrest him and his whole family? We may not be able to hang them, but we could certainly lock them up.’

  ‘On what charge?’

  ‘Well, incitement...’

  ‘There isn’t a khan in Northern India would accept responsibility for what his mullahs say or do. And there isn’t a court would attempt to force him to. As you say, he’s showing his hand, but he’s going to have to show it much more clearly than this before we can move against him. He will. Or she will. And on the first attack on a police or military post, we move.’

  ‘I am looking forward to that,’ Peter said. ‘So are the men. They thought they were coming here to fight. And all they’ve done is parade up and down the country.’

  ‘So keep your fingers crossed. Now what’s all this about Afghanistan? It does occur to me that Shere Khan may be hoping for some support from there, or may even be in touch with the dissidents in Kabul.’

  ‘There are rumours of meetings and underground societies being broken up by police. But the Afghans coming through the Khyber seem happy enough. And what’s happening up there doesn’t seem to be having any effect on the province. Even cattle raiding has died down these past couple of months.’

  ‘Which could mean something, or it could not. Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait and watch, just as long as too many Afghans don’t come through the pass at the same time
. What do you think of Ian?’

  Ramage grinned. ‘Chip off the old block.’

  ‘I’m not sure you mean that as a compliment. You know there’s another one coming out next year, if there’s a vacancy.’

  ‘Oh, there’ll be a vacancy. Roberts has had enough. He’ll stay until the first squadron goes home. But he won’t be coming back.’

  ‘Had enough?’

  Ramage grinned. ‘The old story, Murdoch. Got involved with a bint and fell in love with her. I had to play the old Dutch uncle, and he saw my point of view, but he’s not happy any more and I would say he’s right to quit. How was England?’

  ‘Fine up to June, then it started to rain. It could have been the monsoon. When are you due for leave?’

  ‘Well, we all are, right now. But I’m letting Destry and B Squadron have first crack. As I said, Roberts — he commands B Troop — is an urgent case.’

  ‘Linda happy with that?’

  ‘Linda’s happy,’ Ramage said.

  She certainly appeared to be, was even prettier than when she had been a girl, and as vivacious as ever. Yet Murdoch wondered why she and Peter had never had children, and if their domestic life was as blissful as it appeared. It was odd how, although he and Ramage had now been close friends for more than twenty years, they had never been intimates. The reason, he was sure, was that Ramage and Tommy Knox, the two subalterns who had accompanied him to Somaliland, had been close friends — and Ramage had had to watch while Murdoch had killed Knox, to save him from further torture at the hands of the Somali women. That deed had haunted him throughout his life. It had clearly haunted Ramage too. Neither of them doubted it had had to be done. But Murdoch had been the man to do it, and Peter had been left always unsure when that streak of ruthless determination which lurked in Murdoch’s character was going to surface again.

  But Murdoch genuinely liked the man, and worried for him. ‘How do you think Linda and Peter are doing?’ he asked Lee, who saw a lot more of Linda than he did.

  ‘Funny you should ask,’ Lee said. ‘There are, well...one or two problems, maybe. I didn’t expect you to notice.’

  ‘I have noticed she’s never had a child. Don’t they ever have sex together?’