The Hill

by Ray Rigby

  The Commandant sat down and stared at the door then shifted his gaze and looked at Harris. His fingers picked up a pencil and he toyed with it, then snapped it in two and threw the pieces on the desk.

  “You double a man into me half naked. A stinking nigger who should be in the African compound anyway. You’re on a charge, Harris. Consider yourself under open arrest.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Harris.

  “There’ll be some changes made here. Some changes. March the next man in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harris saluted and marched out of the Commandant’s office.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Harris unlocked the cell door then, seeing the Medical Officer standing over Roberts, he motioned to Bartlett, McGrath and Bokumbo to wait in the corridor and he walked into the cell. “Excuse me, sir, but Roberts is supposed to be on Commandant’s parade.”

  Markham straightened up. “He can’t be on sick parade and see the Commandant at the same time, can he? Does the Commandant want to see him now?”

  Harris shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  Harris crossed the cell and looked down at Roberts. “I got the impression he didn’t know what day it was. He’s having a word with Williams now.”

  “Why is it that you don’t know, Staff?”

  Harris removed his hat and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’m under open arrest so right now I’m not at all that bothered”

  “Why, Staff?”

  “For marching a prisoner in to see the Commandant, improperly dressed.”

  “You should know better than that,” said Markham.

  “I did,” said Harris, “until a few days ago. Now I don’t know what the hell’s happening.”

  “Quite.” Markham nodded to Roberts, “and I think that we can thank him. He even tried to convince me that one of the prison officers beat him up.”

  “Not one,” said Roberts, “but three.”

  “You’ve rather a vivid imagination, Roberts,” said Markham.

  Roberts sat up. “You can do better than that.” He poured water in a cup and had a drink. “Why don’t you come out with it and tell me I’m suffering from persecution mania.”

  “Imagines he was beaten up by three of the staff, does he, sir?” said Harris.

  “Yes, Staff,” smiled Markham.

  “So he was.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m getting filled in with this place.” Harris moved restlessly about the cell. “Williams, Henshaw and Colbey beat him up.”

  “If — if it’s true. If what you say is true,” spluttered Markham.

  “Come off it,” said Harris, “you know the naughty boys get the treatment sometimes. You’ve patched up a few of them, you know the ones I’m talking about. The blind ones who walk into walls or trip over their bootlaces.” Harris turned a beaming smile on Markham and gave him a broad understanding wink.

  Markham was far from ready to commit himself. He looked stern and said, “If this is true, Harris, then there will have to be a full enquiry and you will have to give evidence.”

  “And what about you?” said Harris. “Won’t you be giving evidence?”

  Markham pursed his lips and seemed to give some thought to this.

  “Yours is the only evidence the Court will take seriously, sir,” said Harris.

  “No, no,” said Markham, moving away from Harris.

  “He won’t do a damn thing.” Roberts leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The pain in his foot had eased a little since Markham had treated it, but the stifling heat in the cell and the shock he was suffering from after his beating made him feel sick and giddy.

  Harris followed Markham. “I’m telling you my evidence is no good. The R.S.M.’s sure to testify that I’m a useless prison officer and it’s certain to come out that I’m on open arrest for so-called neglect of duty. And you know that he’ll muster every officer in this prison to back any statement he makes if he has to. But you standing up in Court now, the Medical Officer, ah well that’s different.”

  Markham nodded his head several times whilst Harris was speaking, as though he was in complete agreement. “Quite. Quite, but I’ll need evidence.”

  “Well, sir, you’ve got Roberts for a start.”

  They stopped and looked down at Roberts who had slid down to the floor and was lying on his back with his eyes shut.

  Markham shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t wash. He’s in here for striking an officer. Found guilty of cowardice in the face of the enemy and an act that amounts to mutiny. With his record — ” He shook his head, “ — no. I’ll need positive evidence. An eye witness account of what really happened.”

  “Evidence!” Harris stared hard at Markham. “If you don’t move soon you’ll have all the evidence you need — his coffin.” He turned his head as he heard Williams shouting along the corridor. “Right, Bokumbo, and you McGrath, get your kits, you’re going into solitary.” Williams entered the cell and shouted at Harris, “You’ve had your chips, Staff. I’ll have you in here any day now.”

  “Staff,” said Markham. “Wait outside until I’ve finished speaking to Staff Harris.”

  “Yes, sir. I hope you won’t be long. Two prisoners have to collect their kits.”

  “If they’re going into solitary, perhaps I’d better see them.”

  Williams beckoned to Bartlett and he walked into the cell.

  “Name?” enquired Markham.

  “Bartlett, sir.”

  “Feel quite fit, do you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Any complaints?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Any complaints about the Staff?”

  Williams walked into the cell and stood next to Bartlett.

  “No, sir,” said Bartlett.

  “I’ll repeat that question,” said Markham. “Have you any complaints about the Staff?”

  Bartlett shifted his eyes and looked at Williams then licked his lips and blurted out, “I’m not daft, sir, you won’t catch me complaining about the Staff. I just want out of this cell, sir, and if I don’t get out I’ll do meself an injury. I’ve ’ad it, and I can’t take no more.”

  “Are you complaining of the treatment you’ve received?”

  “I’m complaining about Roberts, sir. He ain’t stopped giving lip since the moment he got ’ere and that’s made it tough on the rest of us.”

  “Who’s in charge of you?”

  “Staff Williams, sir.”

  “Has he treated you fairly?”

  Bartlett shot a side-glance at Williams. “More than fair, sir. I’ve got no complaints.”

  “All right,” said Markham. “Stand over there. Next one, Staff.”

  “McGrath,” called Williams.

  Markham stared at McGrath’s blood-stained uniform and battered face. “Who did that?”

  “It’s nothing,” said McGrath. “I had a fight with Bokumbo.”

  “I see. Have you any complaints?”

  “Aye. I’ve been wrongfully accused of half killing a prisoner and sentenced to solitary and I’m telling you the army’s had me for a soldier unless something’s done about this.”

  “Damn it,” snapped Markham. “You’ve just confessed.”

  “Accused of doing over Roberts,” said McGrath, “and I’m no responsible for the state he’s in.”

  “Then who is?”

  McGrath looked blankly into space. “Ask Roberts. I did over three Redcaps, that’s why I’m here, and I had a punch up with Bokumbo but I didna half murder Roberts and I dinna fancy a lonely cell for something I didn’t do.”

  “The lot of them ought to be in strait-jackets, sir,” said Williams.

  Markham ignored him. “Have you any other complaints, McGrath?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any complaints about the Staff?”

  Mc
Grath looked at Williams. “I wouldna put a rat in his charge.”

  “Are you complaining of ill treatment?”

  “You’ll no have me greetin. I can fight me own battles.”

  “So you’re perfectly fit?”

  “Fit enough to take care of myself, never fear.”

  “Stand over there.” He stared at Bokumbo, as he walked into the cell. “Why are you improperly dressed?”

  “He refuses to wear King’s uniform, sir,” said Harris.

  “Are they all mad?” The Medical Officer looked at Williams. “Now you know what I’ve had to put up with, sir,” said Williams.

  “Any complaints, Bokumbo?” enquired Markham.

  Bokumbo threw back his head and laughed. “Are you joking? You know Stevens is dead and you know how he died and there’s Joe Roberts at your feet. Who are you trying to kid?”

  “Who the devil do you think you’re speaking to?” Markham shouted.

  Roberts struggled up into a sitting position and said, “He’s speaking the truth and you know it ... ”

  “Staff Harris,” Markham said, “march these — these lunatics into the corridor. After I’ve had a word with Staff Williams then I’ll give them a thorough medical examination.”

  Harris nodded to the prisoners and they walked into the corridor.

  “Maybe you’d better start with their heads, sir,” said Williams.

  “Mad. They’re all mad,” Markham agreed.

  “If you’re easy on them, sir, they’ll be getting away with murder,” said Williams.

  “What exactly has been happening?” He turned as the R.S.M. walked into the cell. “Oh, Sergeant-Major — ”

  “What’s going on here, sir?”

  “I’m investigating complaints that I’ve heard against Staff Williams.”

  “Prisoners complaining.” The R.S.M. nodded his head. “We get that sometimes. Bokumbo just tried it. Walked in. Walked in, mind you, on the Commandant, half naked. Williams, I’m taking over this block.”

  “Staff Harris has lodged the complaint, Sergeant-Major.”

  The R.S.M. slowly turned and looked at the Medical Officer and for a moment it looked as though he was about to have a stroke. He gestured to Harris but it was a moment or two before he got the words out. “Harris here, what have you told him?”

  “Told him the truth, sir.”

  “Truth? What the hell are you talking about? Did you take Bokumbo over to see the Commandant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So it was you, was it? You!”

  “You told me to get him over there any way — ”

  “Right. You’re right,” the R.S.M. interrupted Harris. “Get him over there, I said, but I didn’t think you’d let him walk in on the Commandant in just his tribal feathers. You may have let him wear his war paint and his witch doctor’s mask. What kind of a bloody fool are you trying to make of me?”

  “We’re all beginning to look bloody foolish.”

  “What are you trying to do to me, Harris?”

  “It’s not you, sir. I’ve nothing against you. You ought to know that. It’s Williams.”

  “It’s me. Who the hell runs this place?” The R.S.M. calmed down a little. “I don’t know what you’ve said but you retract right now. Here’s the M.O. Retract all you’ve said, Charlie.” He turned to Markham. “There’ll be no more slip-ups, sir. I’ll square everything. Leave it to me.”

  “Sergeant-Major, I think you’ve left it rather late.”

  The R.S.M. looked at Roberts lying on his back on the cell floor with his eyes closed. “We’ll put him in a cell of his own. It’s better if you attend him here.”

  “He’s going into hospital,” said Markham.

  “In a cell.” The R.S.M. glared at Williams. “And you’re on the gate until after the Enquiry.”

  “Sergeant-Major,” shouted Markham, “you’d better listen to me.”

  The R.S.M. brushed past him. “Harris, before you’re confined to your quarters, do something useful. Get a cell ready for Roberts.”

  “Don’t ignore my orders, damn you,” Markham shouted. “Roberts is going into hospital.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Markham turned and stared in amazement at Williams. “What did you say?”

  Williams pushed Harris out of his way and made a grab at Markham and pushed him against the wall. “You passed Stevens A.1. How the hell do you know if he was fit or not? Did you give him a medical? No, you just looked at his middle leg and threw him to us A.1 fit for punishment. Well, he’s dead. You were too bloody bone idle to examine the prisoners. Your neglect has lumbered me with a dead man.”

  The R.S.M. pulled Williams away from Markham, his face white with fury. “Who the hell do you think runs this place?” He glared about him. “Me! R.S.M. Wilson. Twenty-five years’ service. Not you, Williams. Me.”

  “Come on, Harris.” Markham moved towards the door. “I’m phoning for an ambulance. Roberts is going into hospital. Then I’m seeing the Commandant and then the Area Commander.” He paused at the door. “I’ll report your conduct, Sergeant-Major, and yours, Williams.” He walked out of the cell followed by Harris.

  “I’ve my case to state,” shouted the R.S.M. after him. “My case.” He turned to Williams with a glassy stare in his eyes. “I run this place. Me. I say what goes and don’t go.”

  “We’d better do some quick thinking,” Williams said.

  “You won’t get me into a bloody mess like this again.” The R.S.M. glared at Williams.

  “Listen, those two are going on report. We stand together. Got that? Our stories have got to stick.” Williams tugged at the R.S.M.’s arm. “We’ve got to stick together.”

  The R.S.M. stood in the centre of the cell gently rocking on his heels as he stared into space.

  “Listen,” said Williams. “We throw it all on Roberts, the M.O. and Harris.”

  Roberts sat up and watched the R.S.M. with a puzzled frown.

  The R.S.M. still rocked gently on his heels as he stared into space, then he smiled. “If they go to the Commandant, think he’ll listen? He’s saying yes to me before I’ve even walked through the door.” He turned and was suddenly aware that Roberts was watching him. He stared blankly at him for a long moment then looked at Williams. “He’s going into hospital.” He turned and marched out of the cell.

  Williams moved as though to call him back then changed his mind and turned and looked at Roberts.

  “You’re on your own now,” said Roberts.

  Williams’s lips parted in a grin. “No, you’re still with me and this time ... ” Williams skidded his cap into the corner of the cell.

  Bokumbo and McGrath ran into the cell. Williams jumped towards the gate but Bokumbo slammed it shut. Williams moved back and crouched against the wall and waited. Bokumbo pointed to Roberts. “Take a good look at what you did to Joe.” He advanced on Williams ignoring the blows that Williams threw to him.

  *

  Harris unlocked the gate and looked at Bokumbo, Roberts and McGrath seated on the floor with their backs against the wall then he looked at Williams and knelt down and examined him, then turned and looked at Roberts. “He’s dead.”

  “I know,” said Roberts.

  “Who did it?” Harris looked from McGrath to Bokumbo.

  “Williams had a fatal attack of sun-stroke, Staff,” said Bokumbo. “Some people it affects and some people it don’t.”

  “This is murder.” Harris glared at McGrath. “Do you hear me? Murder.”

  McGrath stared at Harris. “The screws restrained Roberts. That’s why he looks like a bus accident and Williams had to be restrained from attacking Roberts. That’s why he’s dead.”

  “You crazy bastards,” Harris walked to the cell door then paused and looked at Roberts. “You win.”

  “I know,” said Roberts.

  *

  The Commandant flung open the door and glared at R.S.M. Wilson lying on his bed wearing only his underpants and clutchin
g a glass against his bare chest.

  “Sergeant-Major,” he shouted, “the prisoners in Cell 8 have murdered Staff Williams.”

  The R.S.M. sat up in bed and poured himself another drink then leaned back again.

  “Damn you,” shouted the Commandant. “Did you hear what I said?”

  The R.S.M. took a long drink then held the glass against his chest again and stared at the far wall. “Never known a balls-up like this in all my twenty-five years’ service,” he said.

  “Sergeant-Major, one of the Prison Officers has been murdered. What the hell’s the matter with you? Get off that bed.”

  The R.S.M. looked at the Commandant. “Twenty-five years, and never blotted my copy book. Now one week Williams here, one week and nothing but one bloody disaster after another — Williams murdered you say?”

  “Yes, murdered. While you lie on your stinking bed getting boozed up.”

  “Twenty-five years.” The R.S.M. savagely threw his glass against the wall.

  “Sergeant-Major, you’d damn well better tell me what’s been going on here.”

  The R.S.M. slowly climbed off his bed and slopped water into the wash-hand bowl and dipped his face in it.

  “Sergeant-Major,” shouted the Commandant, “I hold you responsible for Stevens’s death ... For Williams’s murder. I hold you responsible for everything that’s happened.”

  The R.SM. turned to the Commandant, his face dripping water. “Nothing goes on here that I don’t know about. You.” He threw the Commandant a wolfish grin. “You — you just sign lots of paper, you’re bloody useless. I can take the can for everything that happens here. Me. It all comes back on me. I’ve done my duty to the best of my ability, but they’ll break me. The bloody Court will break me.”

  He dried his face and put on a fresh vest and bush jacket then placed his cap on his head and picked up his cane. “Right, sir.” He glared at the Commandant. “Let’s try and get the bloody place ship-shape for the new Commandant and R.S.M.”

  He marched out of the room.

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