Right of Reply

by John Harris

  ‘Let’s have him in.’

  White gave a thunderous salute as he came into the cabin.

  Hodges thoroughly approved. It still did the heart good, in these days of relaxed discipline, to see a man trot out a salute like a Guardsman. Whatever the army reformers said, whatever the people in Westminster said, the way a man threw up a salute indicated how much pride he had in himself, and it was still a fact that the men who gave the best salutes were usually the most efficient officers.

  ‘Captain White,’ Drucquer said.

  ‘Please relax, Captain,’ Hodges suggested. ‘You’ll find it easier to talk. Offer the captain a drink, Stuart. He’ll probably speak more freely with a gin inside him.’

  Leggo pushed a drink into White’s hand as he removed his sodden cap and pushed it under his arm.

  ‘Now,’ Hodges encouraged.

  ‘My sergeant, Frensham, heard a shot, sir,’ White reported. ‘He’s a sound man and a good sergeant. He walked into the Starboard Cross Passage where a section of the 17th/105th was temporarily quartered and he found a man suffering from a bullet wound in the groin.’

  ‘Yes. We’ve heard about that.’

  ‘It seems there’d been an argument and the gun had gone off by accident. Several of the men had obviously been fighting, and the man in question, Lance-Corporal Malaki, had been attempting to stop it. Frensham sorted them out, put them all under arrest, and reported to me. I got from one of the men, Private Bowen, a garbled story about mutiny and it seemed to me I ought to investigate it further. He didn’t seem to know much about it – he’s known, it seems, as a bad hat and has only just come off detention but I gather from the Military Police sergeant that he’s not the type to cause difficulties of this kind. He’s just not clever enough to be a barrack-room lawyer. He couldn’t tell me much and no one else would. There was a certain amount of sullenness but no direct disrespect towards me. I then got the idea of talking to the wounded man. He was under sedation by this time but conscious.

  Hodges leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of a chair. White took a deep breath and they all heard the passage of air into his throat.

  ‘It seems the wounded man knew about it, sir, though he had no wish to be involved.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s his story,’ Hodges commented dryly.

  ‘In this case, sir, I’d say it was true. He’s a good man.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he inform his officer?’

  White cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps because he’s in rather an invidious position, sir,’ he pointed out. ‘He’s a West African by birth and he’s not found it easy serving with white men in this operation.’

  Hodges nodded. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘The sedatives had relaxed him and he was drowsy. He answered my questions. It seems there’s a plot – and a pretty comprehensive one as far as I can make out – to refuse to move off the ships when we reach King Boffa Port.’

  Hodges glanced at Leggo. ‘When is this to start?’ he asked.

  ‘As soon as the men are ordered to take their places in the Hippos and infantry landing craft.’

  ‘Before the bombardment?’

  ‘So I understand, sir.’

  ‘Are the naval gunners involved?’

  ‘I believe so, though I wasn’t able to find out just how much or what ships. It seems the movement’s run through the whole force, sir, though I gather they insist it’s a strike, not a mutiny, and that their instructions are to remain orderly and to continue to show respect to officers.’

  Downes turned to Hodges and their eyes met. Operation Stabledoor depended on surprise, a lot of which had already gone, and if the landing weren’t carried out with swiftness and efficiency in the early morning darkness, the whole of Hodgeforce would be found in daylight within range of the shore batteries. Without speed, every single gun could be turned on them while they were stationary and trying to get the men ashore.

  ‘How much do you think is involved, Captain?’ Hodges asked.

  ‘More than appears on the surface, sir. I’ve been aware for some time that something was afoot but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. I knew it was pretty widespread and I stated this in the report I put in to Colonel Drucquer when I turned up the pamphlets at Pepul. I didn’t know what it was, however. This seems to be it.’

  Hodges looked at Leggo who, anticipating his general’s wishes, had already picked up a signal pad.

  ‘Make a signal, Stuart,’ Hodges said.

  Ten

  The Right Honourable Arthur Starke was a worried man. Opposition to Stabledoor had grown enormously in the last forty-eight hours. Dockers at Portsmouth and Southampton were refusing to handle any cargoes destined for West Africa, and Whitehall had been turned into a beer garden half a dozen times by students.

  The blows he was suffering seemed to grow more heavy with every day. He had enjoyed so much popularity in the past that his sudden descent into odium was twice as hard to endure. As he’d returned to Downing Street only that day he’d seen the painted words on the sides of the buildings in Whitehall, ‘STARKE MUST GO’.

  There had been more calls for his resignation in the House and he strongly suspected that on the benches behind him dissatisfaction was increasing rapidly at the way Stabledoor was being handled, because there was a growing suspicion there that it showed every indication of destroying his party for years to come. As Prime Minister, he tried to turn his face from the signs but he had to admit they were growing.

  He made a despairing movement of his hand and looked up at the Home Secretary who stood at the opposite side of his desk. He was hoping for some comfort, but in the bleak eyes behind the rimless glasses he found little cause for it. There wasn’t much comfort in any of the faces beyond the desk.

  ‘These demonstrations aren’t spontaneous affairs, Prime Minister,’ the Home Secretary was saying. ‘There are far too many students involved, far more than could possibly come from the London teaching colleges and hospitals, even if they included a few from Oxford and Cambridge. I’ve sorted out the reports now and it seems some of the arrested came from as far afield as Cardiff, Durham, Sheffield, Lancaster and Aberdeen. There’ve been more casualties.’

  The Prime Minister seemed to wince. ‘Oh, God, no,’ he mourned. ‘What about the child who died?’

  The Home Secretary glanced through his papers. In his attitude, the Prime Minister seemed to detect a stiffening towards him. The Home Secretary had always been one of the clique round the Foreign Secretary and more and more it was becoming confirmed in the Prime Minister’s mind that, if necessary, the Home Secretary would be prepared to switch allegiance. It had happened before to Prime Ministers suddenly to lose support of their party and to find someone else preferred as a leader, and it would happen again. It was one of the occupational hazards that went with the job.

  ‘It seems now,’ the Home Secretary was saying, ‘that the girl had an abnormally thin skull which she hit against the pavement. In fact, she wasn’t even involved. She’d only gone along to watch, but she got caught up in it and was swept aside by the police who were pretty hard pressed at the time. There can be no blame against them. Quite a lot of things were being thrown and it’s no good regarding these students as children. Most male undergraduates these days are over six foot, strong and very fit.’

  ‘It won’t alter the fact that charges of police brutality are going to be laid at our door,’ the Prime Minister pointed out. ‘I understand from the Chief Whip that a question’s already been put down and I’ll have to be ready for it. I’d be glad to have the details. We can still pull through this crisis.’

  He glanced beyond the Home Secretary to the Foreign Secretary, who was clearly anxious to join in.

  ‘Prime Minister,’ he said at the levelled eyes. ‘Have you seen the result at Rudkin and Hale?’

  ‘I have.’ Rudkin and Hale had not only been lost, but a candidate who ought to have won the seat with ease had been flatly rejected.

&nb
sp; ‘Prime Minister,’ the Foreign Secretary went on, ‘it was a disaster. From having one of the biggest majorities in the country, we’ve swung to the opposite end of the scale. It was shattering.’

  ‘We can overcome it,’ Starke snapped.

  ‘Can we?’ The Foreign Secretary’s face was sharp. ‘It’s obvious what it means. The country’s not behind us. Rudkin and Hale’s just a straw in the wind.’

  ‘We shall be all right,’ Starke insisted.

  ‘What if they force a debate?’

  ‘We must see they don’t. We can plead security. And even if they do manage it, with a three-line whip there’ll be no difficulties.’

  ‘Prime Minister.’ The Foreign Secretary was not to be put off. ‘I think the Government could fall over this affair. There’s a lot of unhappiness in the Party.’

  The Prime Minister shrugged. ‘Ask the Chief Whip,’ he said. ‘He’ll tell you. I know the backbenchers. They’ll come to heel. With a three-line whip we shall be all right.’

  The Foreign Secretary shook his head. ‘Not this time, Prime Minister,’ he said quietly. ‘I think there’ll not only be a lot of abstentions, but I think there’ll even be votes against us. Did you know Marchmant and Harding have written home about the shortages?’

  The Prime Minister looked puzzled. The names meant nothing to him for a moment and the Home Secretary enlightened him.

  ‘The two Members who were called up as Reservists,’ he explained. ‘Marchmant won Tennyson West and Harding’s been in at Grassnorth ever since he left the Army six years ago.’

  ‘If they’re back in the Army,’ Starke demanded, ‘isn’t there such a thing as censorship?’

  ‘It seems not for lieutenant-colonels, Prime Minister. They both have that rank.’

  The Prime Minister considered. ‘I haven’t heard about their complaints,’ he said shortly. ‘Have you?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ the Home Secretary said.

  There was something in the way he said it that alerted Starke.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I hear Carey has.’

  ‘Carey?’ For a moment, the Prime Minister was on the point of bursting out into a blazing fury, but he controlled himself. ‘They’ll pay for this,’ he said slowly.

  ‘It’s indicative, Prime Minister,’ the Home Secretary said. ‘There’s been a great deal of tunnelling going on under us.’

  ‘People worried about the consequences of fighting,’ Starke snapped.

  The Foreign Secretary drew a deep breath. ‘There’s a dissatisfaction with yourself, Prime Minister,’ he said with the air of a man with an unpleasant job to do and the Prime Minister guessed at once they’d all had their heads together. ‘I have to say it. There’s a lot of reaction to the reports of shortages of equipment. Marchmant and Harding have let it all out.’

  The Prime Minister stared angrily back at him. ‘Two Reservist MPs who never expected to be called back to the Colours,’ he snapped. ‘Troublemakers.’

  ‘Prime Minister, how it got out doesn’t matter. The fact remains that it’s out.’

  ‘This opposition’ – the Prime Minister gestured – ‘it’s nothing but unattached small groups.’

  ‘They’re beginning to concentrate now. Under Edbury. Gordon-Gray’s thrown in his lot with him.’

  ‘Edbury’s in the Lords,’ Starke said. ‘He doesn’t count in the Commons. It’s just another ginger group.’

  ‘Prime Minister’ – the Foreign Secretary made a deprecatory gesture – ‘Lord Edbury’s an elder statesman. Nothing that he heads could be called “just another ginger group”. He’s got influence and influential channels to make his opinions known. His committee was formed expressly to voice dissatisfaction with this Government. They’d like a coalition to deal with the emergency.’

  The Prime Minister frowned. ‘Everybody not running this show,’ he said, ‘thinks they can run it better than those who are. The back benches are littered with would-be Prime Ministers.’

  The Foreign Secretary and the Home Secretary glanced at each other, confirming Starke’s suspicion of collaboration, then the Home Secretary spoke.

  ‘I sometimes think it wrong,’ he said pointedly, ‘that a Prime Minister has to bear so much authority in a democratic world.’

  The Prime Minister frowned. ‘Someone has to make the final decision,’ he retorted. ‘As Harry Truman said, the buck stops here. Are you against me?’

  ‘No, Prime Minister.’ The Home Secretary shook his head. ‘Yet, I’m not entirely with you. Not now.’

  Starke stared angrily at him. ‘Those who aren’t for me,’ he said, ‘are against me. You ought to know there’s no chance to form any kind of coalition, no matter what anybody says. The Opposition hates the idea, yet these people will go on pressing for it. When the explosion comes, it’ll hurt those who’ve been tunnelling more than me.’

  The Home Secretary frowned. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he said. ‘The performance in the House last night frightened me.’

  The Prime Minister paused, thinking. It had frightened him, too, even though it had had nothing to do with Stabledoor. Moreover, a long statement had been presented to him the previous day and, in it, it had been said that if a coalition was refused then there should be a new Prime Minister.

  Starke jerked upright in his chair. He wasn’t afraid. The Opposition had its own schisms: They’d been against armament and too much for economies to be overpopular. For too long they’d believed that a small army was less wicked than a large army.

  Nevertheless, the Opposition Party Executive had been approached, he knew, and the dissenters had even dug up old Sir George Cornelius. They’d even dressed him in his field-marshal’s uniform, complete with all his medals, to speak for them in the House. He’d been as incoherent and inaudible as usual but curiously what he’d said had counted for more even than the polished oratory of Derek Moffat who’d followed him. It had been the old warhorse snorting, simple and honest, and it had gone down well.

  ‘The Prime Minister has appealed for sanity,’ the old soldier had said bitterly in a final coherent moment. ‘The best thing he can do is to set an example by surrendering the seals of his office.’

  Carey had followed, his voice heavy with foreboding and looking, the Prime Minister had thought, more like an actor-manager than the Leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition.

  ‘If this country is to be saved from the predicament to which the present government has brought it,’ he had said, ‘we can only pray for a change in the Leadership of the Government. Only in this way can we salvage our integrity and allow the United Nations to safeguard peace. We must have a new administration and a new leader, because the present administration and the present leader have destroyed every atom of faith the people had in them. Since we can’t have an election, the things I advocate can only be effected by the honourable Members opposite, and they should ask themselves if they are in agreement with the policy the Government chooses to follow at home and abroad. The error into which we have been led should be set right as soon as possible; and as they, and only they, can do this, I ask them to do their duty.’

  It had been sharp political practice and a clear call to rebellion, and it had been heard without the usual barricade of abuse. Carey had concluded with the words with which Cromwell had dismissed the Long Parliament and which Leopold Amery had flung at Chamberlain so many years before. ‘You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing… In the name of God, go.’

  All through the evening, in the committee rooms over the Chamber and in the echoing corridors, noisy groups of Government back-benchers had gathered to discuss the course of action, a new anxiety lent by the report that the Government was now set firmly on war in Africa. Some had believed that the report would unite the Party, but Starke had known that others were simply hoping to make political capital out of it.

  Messengers from Ministers had passed from one group to the next and Starke himself had sent his Parliamentary Private Secreta
ry to ask Members to meet him the next day. Others he had warned of the consequences of their defection and demanded to know their terms. Their reply had been cruel. They had demanded that the Chief of Defence Staff for a start should go, and if necessary the Prime Minister himself. It had been staggering and had come just when he had hoped the situation was in hand again.

  The Whips had done their best to halt the storm but the dissatisfaction had gone unspoken for too long and couldn’t be dammed, and in the Opposition Lobby, Government Members had mingled with the enemies of years. And there had been enough of them to have raised fears for a time of a Government defeat; but cheers of relief had started when the Government Chief Whip was seen to be standing on the right, an indication that the Government had won. The figures had revealed a brutal drop in the Government majority, however. Fifty-nine Government Members had voted against Starke and others had only voted for him in the expectancy that their demands for changes in the Cabinet would be met.

  There had been uproar as the figures had sunk in, and Starke himself had actually seen two Members, who were normally at daggers drawn across the floor, attempting to sing, ‘There’ll Always Be An England’. It had all been ill-mannered and indecent and followed the usual fatuous behaviour of the House, but it had taken him all his time to smile at his supporters, and to keep his head up as he had passed through the door behind the Speaker’s chair to his room. Even the inquest they were now conducting seemed ill-omened.

  ‘Prime Minister’ – the Home Secretary jerked his thoughts back to the present – ‘we’re being labelled as aggressors throughout the world. The United Nations has demanded that we accept a United Nations police force and that we submit our claims to King Boffa Port to the International Court without delay. We used our veto on this last week and I’m not sure now that we were well advised. The Americans are growing very restless.’

  ‘The Americans don’t run this country,’ the Prime Minister snapped.

  ‘With sixty per cent of British industry financed from New York,’ the Foreign Secretary put in, ‘I’m not so sure of that, Prime Minister. The man who pays the piper calls the tune and they could wreck our economy if they wished to, by forcing their investors to withdraw.’