The Triumph by Christopher Nicole

Author:Christopher Nicole [Nicole, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2014-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

*

Murdoch could not help but wonder if he was right. Because suddenly he was feeling very old. It was fourteen years since he had campaigned amongst the Mahsuds, and seen men, and women, so horribly mistreated. Only fourteen years. But fourteen years in which he had lived in an atmosphere of civilization, and good feeling. Perhaps he had never supposed there could be anything else, in Europe. But this war was breaking civilization down, reducing men, and women, to the beasts they essentially were. It was a depressing thought.

And even more depressing was the thought that he might not be here to see it finished. He could not imagine life in a prisoner of war camp. But he knew it was going to be hard. Too hard for an old gentleman of sixty-two? He squared his shoulders on the narrow bed to which he was again handcuffed. He would survive, because he had a lot to do. A lot to avenge. The list began with Jennie Manly-Smith and stretched through two of his sons and Monique Deschards to that poor, frightened girl who was about to be tortured to death.

He had not expected to sleep, but was far more exhausted — emotionally even more than physically — than he had realized. He was surprised to be awakened by the cuffs being released from the bed, told to dress, and given some coffee and black bread for breakfast. Three cars, two of them filled with soldiers, were waiting for him, as was Roebel.

‘I shall say goodbye, Herr General,’ he said. ‘I have a lot to do, eh, with your private?’

Murdoch merely looked at him, then got into the car, and the motorcade moved off. It was a crisp, cold morning, and if there was no snow on the road, it lay on the hills to either side. His guards apparently spoke no English. Neither did they seem the least brutal or even hostile; indeed, when they stopped for coffee about ten, the Lieutenant in charge took away the handcuffs. ‘Gestapo,’ he remarked contemptuously. ‘Nein.’

Murdoch slapped his hands together and restored some circulation. But he kept thinking of what might be happening back in that command post.

They drove on, and came upon a stream of bullock carts, proceeding slowly along the side of the road. Horns blared, and the carts edged more to the side to give the cars room to pass. But they had to slow down, and were moving abreast of the carts, and the men sitting above the bulls, when the leading cart suddenly slewed across the road. The first car braked, but still hit it. The second, in which Murdoch was sitting, ran into the first. The third stopped short, and went into reverse, but the last bullock cart had also slewed sideways, completely blocking the road.

‘Lie down, General!’ someone bellowed in English.

Murdoch threw himself on the floor of the car as the shooting began. The men around him attempted to return fire, and one of them grasped Murdoch’s shoulders to pull him back up, perhaps to use as protection.

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