The Machine Gunners

by Robert Westall

  "Will you tell me how it all started?"

  Chas looked at him.

  "No, sir. You'd never understand. Grownups never do."

  "Is there any way I can help?"

  "Can you get Clogger and Nicky into the same Home? Nicky needs Clogger."

  "I'll try."

  "And can you get permission for us to write to Rudi if... if... And let us know how he gets on?"

  Every child's face softened. Lucky Rudi, thought Stan. Lucky enemy. If he lived.

  "I can certainly do that."

  "Thank you."

  "Can we have a minute together, sir? Alone?"

  As Stan emerged from the dugout, Mr. Parton came storming up to him.

  "This is an outrage, Mr. Liddell. Why can't we see our children? I shall complain to the Education Committee about this."

  "I am not acting under the orders of the Education Committee. I am acting under the authority of Northern Command, York. Kindly address your complaints to the Brigadier there." Stan's voice was cutting and very precise. "And Mr. Parton?"

  "Yes?"

  "Where were you going in your car when my men turned you back on the Coast Road Bridge last night?"

  "On a visit to my sister in the Lake District—we go every spring."

  "In the middle of the night?"

  "Yes."

  "Leaving your daughter behind?"

  "That's none of your bloody business."

  "But where did you get the petrol?" Stan turned to the police sergeant viciously. "There's a case for you, Sergeant. Black Market. I look forward to seeing it reported in the local newspaper. In full detail."

  "What you looking at me like that for, Mr. McGill?" said Mr. Parton petulantly.

  "I'll not say much for my lad," said Mr. McGill slowly, "except he thought he was fighting the Germans."

  "Oh, hush," said Mrs. McGill. "Chassy could have killed somebody."

  "I'm not talking about his sense, missus. I'm talking about his guts."

  "Aye," said Cem Senior, looking hard at Mr. Parton.

  "That's one thing the kids didn't lack. Guts." And he spat on the ground.

  "Cheeroh," said Chas to Clogger, suddenly.

  "Cheeroh, boy," said Clogger. "Nil carborundum. Don't let the bastards grind ye down."

  "Write to me. I'll let you know about Rudi."

  "Aye, mevve. If they'll let me." Then he grinned, because he remembered Chas, wreathed in smoke from the gun, standing swearing blue murder and quite unafraid, while Polish bullets hammered into the sandbags all around him.

  "Ye're a hard man, Chassy McGill. It was a bonny fight. Mevve we'll be in the real one, before it's over."

  "I hope so," said Chas, and went round the gang for the last time, shaking hands, looking at faces.

  "G'by, Nicky."

  "Nil carborundum," said Nicky faintly, trying hard not to cry and managing it.

  "G'by, Cem. See you in court." Cem laughed, his old ridiculous laugh.

  "G'by, Audrey. You were as good as any boy."

  "Thanks," said Audrey.

  "G'by, Carrot-juice."

  "Thanks for letting me in on it. It was great."

  So they parted, never to be all together again. They walked across to their parents. Their arms were grabbed roughly, and they were led away.

  "You're not to play with that McGill again," said Mrs. Jones in a savage whisper.

  "That Cemetery Jones always got you into trouble," said Mrs. McGill. "You've nigh broken your dad's heart."

  "You're not to play with those big rough boys. You know you're easy led astray," said Carrot-juice's dad.

  "I don't know what got into you," said Mr. Parton. "You'll stay home at nights in future. I'll make a lady of you if it kills you."

  "You're too much for me," said Clogger's aunt. "I'm having you put away."

  "C'mon, son," said the police sergeant to Nicky. "You're going to tell me all about this. You're a cut above the rest of this riffraff, you know. Your father was a ship's captain. God knows what he'd have said."

  Nicky took a deep breath.

  "Get stuffed," he said.