The Spoilers / Juggernaut

by Desmond Bagley

  I had found McGrath shaving in front of his tractor. ‘Mick, you’ve just got your old rank back.’ He looked a bit blank while the lather on his chin dried in the hot sun. ‘You’re back to sergeant. We might be going through a tough time in the next few days, and I want someone to keep the crew whipped in line. Think you can do it?’

  He gave a slow grin. ‘I can do it.’

  ‘Hurry up with your shaving. I want you to sit in on a conference.’

  So we had McGrath, Hammond, Kemp, Wingstead, Captain Sadiq and me. Katabisirua had been joined at our camp by Sister Ursula and they were included as a matter of courtesy; any decisions would affect them and in any case I didn’t think I had the power to keep them out. I had already realized they made a strong team: just how strong I was shortly to find out.

  Firstly I outlined the geographical position, and gave them my reasons for changing our direction. Instead of going on up to the arid fastness of Bir Oassa we would turn at right angles and take the secondary road to the Manzu border at Lake Pirie on the Katali River. Here we had two options whereas at Bir Oassa we had only one, or slightly less than one; we could turn back along the coast road to Lasulu and the capital if the country had by then settled its internal quarrel and things were judged safe, or we could get the men at least across the Katali into Manzu and diplomatic immunity.

  Wingstead had already heard all this from me and was resigned to the possibility of losing his rig and convoy, and of not being able to fulfil the terms of his contract with the Nyalan Government. He did not contest my arguments. I had already spoken to Kemp, and Hammond had heard it all from him. Kemp was still obviously fretting but Hammond’s faith in Wingstead was all-encompassing. If his boss said it was OK, he had no objections. I asked McGrath what he thought the men’s reactions might be.

  ‘We haven’t got much choice, the way I see it. You’re the boss. They’ll see it your way.’ He implied that they’d better, which suited me very well.

  Sadiq was torn between a sense of duty and a sense of relief. To take the long hard road up to the desert, with all its attendant dangers, and without any knowledge of who or what he’d find waiting there, was less attractive than returning to a known base, in spite of the unknown factors waiting in that direction as well. But there was one problem he didn’t have that we did; any decision concerning the moving of the rig.

  We discussed, briefly, the possible state of the road back. It was all guesswork which Kemp loathed, but at least we knew the terrain, and there was a bonus of the fact that it was principally downhill work, redescending the plateau into the rainforest once more. We would not run short of water; there were far more people and therefore more chance of food and even of fuel. And we wouldn’t be as exposed as we would be if we continued on through the scrublands. I hadn’t discounted the likelihood of aerial attack.

  Hammond and Kemp, with an escort of soldiers, were to scout ahead to check out the road while McGrath and Bert Proctor began to organize the convoy for its next stage forward, or rather backward. Wingstead asked McGrath to call a meeting of the crew, so that he could tell them the exact score before we got down to the business of logistics. Everything was falling nicely into place, including my contingency plans to help the hospital as much as possible before we pulled out.

  Everything didn’t include the inevitable X factor. And the X factor was sitting right there with us.

  The moment of change came when I turned to Dr Katabisirua and said to him, ‘Doctor Kat, those drugs of yours that we have in refrigeration for you; how vital are they?’

  He tented his fingers. ‘In the deepfreeze we have serum samples and control sera; also blood clotting agents for our few haemophiliac patients. In the fridge there is whole blood, plasma, blood sugars, insulin and a few other things. Not really a great deal as we try not to be dependent on refrigeration. It has been of more use in saving some of our food, though that is being used up fast.’

  I was relieved to hear this; they could manage without refrigeration if they had to. After all, most tropical mission hospitals in poor countries work in a relative degree of primitiveness.

  ‘We’ll keep your stuff on ice as long as possible,’ I said. ‘And we’re going to have a go at repairing your generator. We’ll do all we can before leaving.’

  Dr Kat and Sister Ursula exchanged the briefest of glances, which I interpreted, wrongly, as one of resignation.

  ‘Captain Sadiq,’ the Doctor said, ‘Do you have any idea at all as to whether there will be a measure of governmental control soon?’

  Sadiq spread his hands. ‘I am sorry, no,’ he said. ‘I do not know who is the Government. I would do my best for all civilians, but I have been told to stay with Mister Mannix and protect his convoy particularly, you see. It is very difficult to make guesses.’

  They spoke in English, I think in deference to us.

  ‘The people of Kodowa will scatter among the smaller villages soon,’ Kat said. ‘The area is well populated, which is why they needed a hospital. Many of them have already gone. But that solution does not apply to my patients.’

  ‘Why not?’ Kemp asked.

  ‘Because we do not have the staff to scatter around with them, to visit the sick in their homes or the homes of friends. Many are too sick to trust to local treatment. We have many more patients now because of the air raid.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘About fifty bed patients, if we had the beds to put them in, and a hundred or more ambulatory patients. In this context they could be called the “walking wounded”,’ he added acidly.

  ‘So it is only a matter of extra shelter you need,’ said Sadiq. I knew he was partly wrong, but waited to hear the Doctor put it into words.

  ‘It is much more than that, Captain. We need shelter, yes, but that is not the main problem. We need medical supplies but we can manage for a while on what we have. But our patients need nursing, food and water.’

  ‘There will be dysentery here soon,’ put in Sister Ursula. ‘There is already sepsis, and a lack of hygiene, more than we usually suffer.’

  ‘They also are vulnerable to the depredations of marauding bands of rebels,’ said Dr Kat, a sentence I felt like cheering for its sheer pomposity. But he was right for all that.

  ‘As are we all, including the younger nurses,’ added the Sister. It began to sound like a rather well-rehearsed chorus and Wingstead and I exchanged a glance of slowly dawning comprehension.

  ‘Am I not correct, Mister Mannix, in saying that you consider it the safest and most prudent course for your men to leave Kodowa, to try and get away to a place of safety?’

  ‘You heard me say so, Doctor.’

  ‘Then it follows that it must also be the correct course for my patients.’

  For a long moment no-one said anything, and then I broke the silence. ‘Just how do you propose doing that?’

  Katabisirua took a deep breath. This was the moment he had been building up to. ‘Let me see if I have everything right that I have learned from you. Mister Hammond, you say that the large object you carry on your great vehicle weighs over three hundred tons, yes?’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘Could you carry another seven tons?’

  ‘No trouble at all,’ said Hammond.

  ‘Seven tons is about the weight of a hundred people,’ said Katabisirua blandly.

  Or one more elephant, I thought with a manic inward chuckle. The silence lengthened as we all examined this bizarre proposition. It was broken by the Doctor, speaking gently and reasonably, ‘I am not suggesting that you take us all the way to the coast, of course. There is another good, if small, hospital at Kanja on the north road, just at the top of the next escarpment. It has no airfield and is not itself important, so I do not think it will have been troubled by the war. They could take care of us all.’

  I doubted that and didn’t for a moment think that Dr Kat believed it either, but I had to hand it to him; he was plausible and a damned good psychologist. Not onl
y did his proposition sound well within the bounds of reason and capability, but I could tell from the rapt faces around me that the sheer glamour of what he was suggesting was beginning to put a spell on them. It was a Pied Piper sort of situation, stuffed with pathos and heroism, and would go far to turn the ignominious retreat into some sort of whacky triumph. The Dunkirk spirit, I thought—the great British knack of taking defeat and making it look like victory.

  There was just one little problem. Kanja, it appeared, was on the very road that we had already decided to abandon, heading north into the desert and towards the oilfields at Bir Oassa. I was about to say as much when to my astonishment Wingstead cut in with a question which implied that his thinking was not going along with mine at all.

  He said, ‘How far to Kanja?’

  ‘About fifty miles. The road is quite good. I have often driven there,’ the Doctor said.

  Hammond spoke up. ‘Excuse me, Doctor. Is it level or uphill?’

  ‘I would say it is fairly flat. There are no steep hills.’

  McGrath said, ‘We could rig awnings over the bogies to keep off the sun.’

  Hammond asked, his mind seething with practicalities, ‘Fifty odd patients, and a staff of—?’

  ‘Say ten,’ said Sister Ursula.

  ‘What about all the rest, then?’

  ‘They would walk. They are very hardy and used to that, and even those who are wounded will manage. There are a few hospital cars but we have no spare petrol. I believe you do not go very fast, gentlemen.’

  ‘We could take some up on top of the trucks. And we’ve got your car, Mister Mannix, and Mister Kemp’s Land Rover, and perhaps the military could give up some space,’ Hammond said.

  ‘And the tractors?’ the Sister asked.

  ‘No, ma’am. They’re packed inside with steel plates set in cement, and the airlift truck is full of machinery and equipment we might need. But there’s room on top of all of them. Awnings would be no problem?’

  McGrath said, ‘There’d be room for a couple of the nippers in each cab, like as not.’

  ‘Nippers?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘The children,’ McGrath said.

  I looked from face to face. On only one of them, and that predictably was Basil Kemp’s, did I see a trace of doubt or irritation. Minds were taking fire as we talked. Geographical niceties were either being entirely overlooked or deliberately avoided, and somehow I couldn’t bring myself to dash cold water on their blazing enthusiasm. But this was madness itself.

  Dr Kat regarded the backs of his hands and flexed his fingers thoughtfully. ‘I may have to operate while we are travelling. Would there be room for that?’

  ‘Room, yes, but it would be too bumpy, Doctor. You’d have to work whenever we were stopped,’ said Hammond. He had a notebook out and was already making sketches.

  Sadiq spoke. ‘I think my men can walk and the wounded will ride. They are our people and we must take care of them.’ He squared his shoulders as he spoke and I saw the lifting of a great burden from his soul; he had been given a job to do, something real and necessary no matter which side was winning the mysterious war out there. It called for simple logistics, basic planning, clear orders, and he was capable of all that. And above all, it called for no change in the route once planned for him and us by his masters. It was perfect for him. It solved all his problems in one stroke.

  Sister Ursula stood up.

  ‘Have you a measuring tape, Mister Hammond?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. What do you want it for?’ he asked.

  ‘I want to measure your transport. I must plan for beds.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you want.’

  McGrath lumbered to his feet. ‘I’ll go round up the lads, Mister Wingstead,’ he said. ‘You’ll be wanting to talk to them yourself.’ The Doctor too rose, dusting himself off fastidiously. He made a small half-bow to Geoff Wingstead. ‘I have to thank you, sir,’ he said formally. ‘This is a very fine thing that you do. I will go back now, please. I have many arrangements to make.’

  Sadiq said, ‘I will take the Doctor and then prepare my own orders. I will come back to advise you, Mister Mannix. We should not delay, I think.’

  Around us the conference melted away, each member intent on his or her own affairs. Astonishingly, nobody had waited to discuss this new turn of events or even to hear from the so-called bosses as to whether it was even going to happen. In a matter of moments Kemp, Wingstead and I were left alone. For once I felt powerless.

  Kemp shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s all quite mad,’ he said. ‘We can’t possibly get involved in this—this—’

  ‘Stunt?’ Wingstead asked gently. ‘Basil, we are involved. I’ve never seen a piece of manipulation more skilfully done. Those two have run rings round the lot of us, and there isn’t any way that we could put a stop to this business. And what’s more,’ he went on, overriding Kemp’s protests, ‘I don’t think I’d want to stop it. It is crazy, but it sounds feasible and it’s humanely necessary. And it’s going to put a lot of heart into our lads. None of them likes what’s happened, they feel frustrated, cheated and impotent.’

  I finally got a word in. ‘Geoff, we’d already decided that we shouldn’t carry on northwards. This would be a very fine thing to do, but—’

  ‘You too, Neil? Surely you’re not going to fight me on this. I think it’s damned important. Look, it’s fifty miles. Two, maybe three days extra, getting there and back here to Kodowa. Then we’re on our own again. And there’s something else. The news that we must turn back is one they were going to take damned hard. This way they’ll at least have the feeling that they’ve done something worthwhile.’

  He stretched his arms and yawned, testing the stiffness in his side.

  ‘And so will I. So let’s get to it.’

  Down near the commissariat truck McGrath had called all hands together. Wingstead and I went to meet them. On the way I stopped and called Bishop over to give him an instruction that brought first a frown and then a grin to his face. He in turn summoned Bing and they vanished. ‘What did you tell him?’ Wingstead asked.

  ‘Bit of psychology. You’ll see. Don’t start till he’s back, will you?’

  Bishop and Bing returned a few moments later, lugging a couple of cardboard boxes. To the assembled men I said, ‘Here you go, guys. A can apiece. Send them around, cookie.’

  Bishop began handing out six-packs of beer. ‘Management too,’ I reminded him. ‘And that includes the Doctor and Sister Ursula.’ There was a buzz of conversation as the packs went out, and then I held up a hand in silence.

  ‘Everybody happy?’

  Laughter rippled. Cans were already being opened, and Barry Lang paused with his halfway to his mouth. ‘What are we celebrating, chief? The end of the war?’

  ‘Not quite. We’re celebrating the fact that this is the last cold beer we’re all going to get for a while.’ At this there was a murmur of confusion. I held up an open can. ‘Some of you may know this already. We’re using the fridge to store the hospital’s drugs and as much food as possible for the patients, especially the kids. From now on, it’ll be warm beer and canned food for the lot of us. My heart bleeds for you.’

  This brought another laugh. Grafton said, ‘We’re staying here, then?’

  This was Wingstead’s moment, and he jumped lightly onto the top of the cab. He had recovered well from his shake-up in the air crash, unlike Max Otterman, who still lay unconscious in the shade of the water tanker and was a constant source of worry to all of us.

  Wingstead said, ‘No, we’re not staying here. We’re moving out, maybe today, more likely tomorrow. But we’re not going much further north.’

  Into an attentive silence which I judged to be not hostile he outlined the geographical picture, the political scene such as we knew it, and the reasons for abandoning the contract. The crew accepted everything without argument, though there was a lot of muted discussion, and I was impressed again by Wingst
ead’s air of command and his control over his team. I’d had my eye on Sisley and Lang as being the two most likely hard liners, but there was no opposition even from them. The argument in favour of saving their own skins was a strong one, and unlike Wyvern’s management they had no direct stake in the outcome of the job.

  Wingstead went on to the second half of the story, and now their astonishment was obvious. There was a burst of talking and signs of excitement and enthusiasm beginning to creep into their voices. It was almost like giving a bunch of kids a dazzling new game to play with.

  ‘So there it is, chaps. We move out as soon as we can, and we’re taking a whole lot of sick and injured people and all the hospital staff with us, and everybody who can walk will be tailing along for their daily bandage changes. We’re going to pack the badly injured onto the rig and carry as many of the rest as we can on the trucks. We’re going to need every ounce of your energy and good will. Are we agreed?’

  There was a ready chorus of assent. Wingstead went on, ‘Any bright ideas you may have, pass them along to Mick or Mister Hammond or me. Any medical questions direct to the Sister.’ I smiled briefly at the division between those who were ‘Mister’ and those who were not, even in these fraught moments; another example of the gulf between their country and mine.

  ‘When we’ve seen them safe at the hospital in Kanja, we’ll turn round and set off towards the Katali. We reckon on only two extra days for the mission. Thank you, chaps.’

  Mick McGrath rose and bellowed.

  ‘Right, lads! Five minutes to finish your beer and then let’s be at it. There’s plenty to be done.’

  As Wingstead and I walked off, well pleased with the way our bombshell of news had gone down, Sister Ursula waylaid us, having, no doubt got all she wanted from Ben Hammond.

  ‘Mister Mannix, I want transport back to the hospital, please.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ I said. ‘You’re wanted here. The crew is going to be pestering you with questions and ideas, and Geoff and I have got quite a few of our own.’