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September 23rd 1917-Squadron 284, France

We are what we repeatedly do. - Aristotle

"Damn all to hell and buggery." Ashie slammed his fist down on the flat tabletop and glared at the large Squadron Record book, to say the least Ashie's mood was rapidly descending into the murderous.

"What's up, Ashie?" Pyro poked a cautious head into the Recording Office, it was no secret that Ashie had been in a towering ill-humour all day.

"What's up is this confounded Score Book." Ashie pushed an exasperated hand through his hair and then winced. "We've been back here for nearly three weeks now and in that time we have lost more pilots then Phelps did in the five weeks he was in charge here.....in fact we've lost twice as many pilots in half the length of time. What in hell causes the presence of me to send the casualty rates skyrocketing?"

"Possibly the casualty rate has more to do with who's around rather than who the Squadron Leader is."

"A nice Job's Comforter you are. Bugger off Pyro, the presence of the Richtoffen Circus is no excuse for a casualty rate as high as this."

"Yes sir." Pyro withdrew with a twisted grin, a grin which faded abruptly as two horses came over the nearby hedged and skittered to a stop on the tarmac. "What the...." Pyro got no further as the two riders flung themselves from their mounts and came charging up.

"Where's Ashie?" Colonel Miles Holloway seemed to be doing an impressive impersonation of a white sheet under the general grime on his face as he came up.

"What's the matter?" Pyro glanced from Miles to Carrigan and back again. "Ashie's in there but he's in a towering bad temper."

"I don't give a damn about Ashie's temper, we're talking here in matters of life and death and his temper doesn't interest me." Miles had charged into the recording office as he spoke, leaving Pyro to lift inquiring brows at Carrigan.

"None of my business Lieutenant." Carrigan gave a yawn. "I'm just here to make quota so he could borrow the horses from the troopers."

"Are you trying to persuade me that you don't know why you've come all the way out here........I'd have thought it fairly distant for a Captain and a Colonel to come with no aim."

"Our aim is none of your business." But for all Carrigan's light-hearted response there was a very visible and very concerned crease between his eyebrows.

"You had better be bloody joking Miles." The words came a little above normal speaking level to the two officers, which meant that Ashie must have been fairly hollering. The door of the recording office went crashing open and Ashie came out with Miles on his heels. "Sorry Carrie but you're going to have to walk home, I'm borrowing your horse." Ashie swung up onto the horse as he spoke and in less than half a minute both he and Miles had vanished over a nearby hedge.

"Well that seems to be that." Pyro turned his head. "Is it too impertinent to ask Captain, or do you not mind telling me where our most eminently respectable Squadron-Leader has gone?"

"Eminently respectable my foot." Carrigan was frowning somewhat morosely at the hedge. "Well Miles did warn me it would probably happen...... Your eminently respectable Squadron-Leader has just gone to pay an impromptu call at the Headquarters of the 14th Midlanders Brigade."

"I thought Darcy had been given his Division."

"No, but he has been intermittently in charge of the most arrogant division of Scotch Seaforths on the front, so perhaps you might say yes he has his division. Nope, Maitland took over from Mayhew and we're all praying the damn sod will be retired before we go back out again."

"Is it likely?"

"Bloody unlikely, but we live in hope."

"What's with Darcy?"

"The same as you'd expect from any man who's practically lived on the Ypres Battlefront since just after Messines." Carrigan shrugged somewhat glumly. "He's having a damn good shot at getting brain-fever and we're having a damn good shot at preventing him from doing it."

"Ah....I see." Pyro nodded gravely for a moment. "Well give my kind regards to Sister Bennet when she arrives on the scene and tell her I most heartily pity her being within your grasp."

"I suspect you are not the only one who thinks that." Carrigan shrugged once more. "Good day, see you in hell I expect."

"A pleasant walk, if it were not that we have no beer I'd offer you some.....but as it is we only have completely unpalatable tea and coffee so I will save you from the torture."

"Kind of you. Cheer-o." Carrigan waved a final hand before walking out of the aerodrome; he left behind him a very thoughtful Pyro.

"How long has this been going on for?" Ashie was so pale that his eyes and hair appeared jet black as he retreated from the small hut.

"Damned if we know." Miles gave a shrug. "He's only been with us for three days thanks to his continued appearance with the Seaforth's Division......and he hasn't even lain down during that time, we can only assume that it's been happening for a while."

"That is bloody obvious." Ashie's tone was bitter. "What of Peter?"

"Out crook for the past fortnight with a buggered hand. It was he who alerted us to the probability of trouble when the Major returned."

"Probability of trouble......hell that has to be one of the greatest understatements of all time." Ashie rubbed his head. "Has he been seen by any medics?"

"No, he won't go and unfortunately the hospitals do not come just because we call them."

"Sister Bennet can't get leave." The words were heaved out by a distressed Peter who was clearly close to exhaustion himself as he came stumbling up.

"What's that?" Ashie looked at the boy.

"Sister Bennet can't get leave."

"She asked?"

"The matron wouldn't let her go." Peter's breath started to even out, one was not a runner and unfit.

"Damn it all." Ashie swore softly to himself. "Well that damn Matron is going to let her go for the day if I have to ring her bloody neck." Ashie grabbed the nearby horse and swung back up into the saddle again, he caught the reigns of the second horse as he went up.

"Ashie I don't think she rides." Miles frowned worriedly.

"Then she's going to learn quickly isn't she." Ashie drove his heels into the horse as he spoke and was gone.

"Well that seems to be that." Miles glanced thoughtfully at the small hut. "but I must admit to uncertainty as to whether she's the right person to bring in."

"She is." Peter spoke quietly. "If anyone's going to be able to help the Major it's her......I'm dead terrified Mr. Miles, what's going to happen if...."

"That is not even a considered possibility Peter, The General Darcys of this world do not just die like that....there's still too much work for him to do."

"Don't make any sense to me, but I'm going to believe you because it's a much nicer option." Peter spoke in a calm voice, but his expression clearly belied that calm.

Elizabeth was replacing some stump bandages on the next load for the ambulance when she heard the thump of approaching hooves. In fact Elizabeth was not the only one to look up at the pounding appproach of those hooves, but she was one of the few people who actually recognised the rider on the back of the first horse. Elizabeth watched in silence as Ashie charged into the small building which served for administration and surgery.

"'E a friend o' yours Miss?" The voice was not at all cultured, but there was no doubting the sincere compassion in his voice and Elizabeth nodded mutely, abruptly realising that not only could she not speak, but that her free hand was clenched to her chest. "Ah reckon 'e's brought bad news."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Elizabeth sank down onto her heels. Peter's visit earlier that day had worried her, but he had given no particulars and leave was not granted. But the arrival of Ashie shook Elizabeth in a way she could not explain, and the least of it was that Ashie's expression was drawn and worried. Ashie was seen with a drawn expression once in a blue moon and Elizabeth had never seen him worried in her life.

"....Reminds me of our old Captain." It was somewhat abruptly that Elizabeth realised that the man had continued speaking.

"Sorry, you were saying? I'm afraid I stopped listening."

"Wasn't sayin' much actually, just that 'e reminded me of our old Captain. Saw the old Captain rocked just the once and that was when we was linin' up for the Nek and news came in that Old Downy was karput."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"One of our former Lieutenants, Lieutenant Swan, he was blown out of a sniping position at Gallypolly and we all got that news ten minutes afore we went over the top."

"You were at Gallipoli?" Elizabeth looked at the man in surprise.

"Aye, we was a division, but they compressed us into a battalion and shipped us out here after we was shot to hell."

"Well he might be a face you know then, I know for a fact he was in the Battle of the Nek at Gallipoli, he has the Nek pin."

"'Ell, maybe 'e was the Old Captain.....Ai, Smoko, wakeup you *******."

"Wassup?" The query came from a nearby stretcher.

"You see the Lair wot just came beltin' in?"

"Aye. 'Oo could 'ave missed it.....'E looked mighty like the old Captain, right finicky both of them with a beautiful pair of 'ands."

"Da sister 'ere voices the fact that he were at Gallypolly."

"Was 'e now.....be a fair treat if 'e were the old Captain. Fair treat to hear 'im cussing again."

"Sister Bennet." The Matron's voice abruptly broke in on the conversation.

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth rose hastily to her feet.

"You are to drive the next ambulance back.......you are then off-duty until the case which apparently needs your expert attention has recovered." The Matron's tone abruptly became sarcastic.

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth folded her hands behind her back.

"And next time tell your precious friend that threats are not required to get leave......next time just admit you wish to spend time with your husband and take leave, I would have thought such petty manipulations beneath you."

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth clamped her teeth over her tongue, now was not the time for retaliation and would be of no service.

"God lumme if it ent the Captain afterall." The sudden vocalisation prevented the Matron from making any further remarks. "'Ullo Captain, ain't seen you in a donkeys age."

"True." Ashie flickered a quick glance at the face. "Bill Smith isn't it?"

"Aye sir. Didn't know if you'd recognise me."

"Truth I'm used to seeing you totally soaked, but differences can be accounted for." Ashie nodded briefly. "Sister Bennet, when you are ready we will depart.....and Matron if I hear such utterly pointless abuse issuing from your mouth I will personally make it my business to make you the sorriest woman on the face of this goddamed earth. And provided he survives I'm sure the man whom you dictate as being her husband would gladly make you wish you were never born. These are not idle threats they are the blunt and simple truth."

"Ashie please...." Elizabeth hesitantly tried to interrupt.

"Sister Bennet if you want to see murder done you just let word of this sort of slander reach the Major's ears and he will more than willingly comply. That is why I'm so damned interested in killing this off immediately. The Major may be on the verge of Brain Fever and one very unwell man, but he still operates at his usual level of efficiency when it comes to people he considers important.....and trust me, the biggest effect this has had on him is that his self built inhibitions when it comes to murdering his fellow men are wearing mighty thin."

"That's our Captain alright. I'd listen to 'im Matron 'cos the Captain don't never overstate and he regularly understates."

"Shut up Bill before I make you wish you'd lost your head instead of just an arm." Ashie's voice was softly lethal in pitch and Bill Smith promptly silenced.

"Major....whoever you are, no threats disturb me."

"Major Lord James Ashington-Frankston madam......I would never deign to issue a threat to anyone, they are so pointless.....I merely foretell the future such as it will be if a particular path of action is taken." Ashie smiled faintly and stepped back. "When you are ready Sister Bennet, time is awasting and we have not much of it to waste."

"One question Major Ashington-Frankston.....who is this man whom you call the Major?"

"That I can answer for him Matron, the man Ashie is asking me to inspect is General D.F. Darcy, you have seen his runner Private Peter James in my ambulances for this past fortnight."

"Oh." The Matron's tone altered visibly. "Well in that case Sister Bennet you go with the Hospital's blessing and hope for successful work."

"Odd change in attitude." Ashie did not speak until they were well clear of the Clearing Station precincts.

"General Darcy has frequently been back at the Station since Peter was there and his condition has alarmed more than one of the medical profession. The Matron is a strong woman and it was only exhaustion which made her take such a catty line. We are all tired and it makes it very easy to swipe when it looks like one has called to the outside for help in the leave department."

"I'm sorry if I have made things difficult for you." Ashie paused. "Such was not my intention, but there is literally nothing which can be done......The Major isn't fighting Miss Elizabeth, he's so dead tired that he is not fighting....or he is fighting, but in the worst possible way."

"Ashie I'm not a miracle worker and I seriously doubt I'll be any good."

"Elizabeth, we're not asking you to work a miracle, all we're asking you to do is to do what none of us can do.......and that is let the Major know that there are people in the world to whom he is important."

"But...." Elizabeth paused as she abruptly focussed on the road ahead. "What if I can't?"

"Then the Major dies, it's all as simple and cleanly cut as that."

"Simple and cleanly cut indeed. An easy choice is what the butcher says to the rooster he has just beheaded......have you any idea what you are asking me to do Ashie?" Elizabeth's voice sharpened.

"I have indeed a very good idea Sister Bennet." Ashie abruptly pulled off his right glove. "How do you think I survived this treatment? It is a well known fact that when that was happening I had no friends or family and yet I survived.....Trust me Sister Bennet I know exactly what I'm asking you to do and for all the money in the world I do not wish to be in your shoes."

"Comforting remark indeed....you know Ashie you are one low-down scum sucker."

"Yes the Major has made a similar remark with great frequency.....though I do not like it coming from you."

"No doubt just after you persuaded him to do something he really did not wish to do." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Shock horror but the Sister speaks truth." Ashie grinned a quick flickering grin, but it was very brief and within seconds he had relapsed into silence.

"How bad is he?" Elizabeth asked the question as she negotiated a tricky corner.

"I can't do it Ashie, I just can't do it." Elizabeth once more attempted to dry her face, but it was like moping up a flood with a handkerchief.

"That's okay then." Ashie gave a shrug. "You've done what you can and we can't expect more....I'm sure Miles can supply you with transport back to the Clearing Station."

"Thanks." Elizabeth voice was flat, but she was looking at Ashie with an oddly twisted and variating expression, at first it was blank and then it became suspicious before drifting into the doubtful and then the utterly resigned. "You are an utter CAD Ashie." Elizabeth turned and stalked back into the hut watched by Ashie who was smiling faintly but had a perplexed twist between his brows. She was also watched by Miles who was clearly lost and Peter would probably have been watching had he not been fast asleep.

"What was that about Ashie?"

"I'm not sure." Ashie's mouth twitched into the faint beginnings of a grin. "And if it's what I think she meant then it is absolutely none of your business." The grin was now more than a faint glimmering.

"So why are you grinning?"

"Because I think it safe to guarantee that by tomorrow morning the Major is going to be back and fighting."

"He better be, we're being ordered forward in three days and this place is a shambles since he stopped talking."

"Brigade Parade a trifle awkward with no Commanding Officer?"

"Bingo." Miles scratched his head and then yawned.

"Ah, the Major is awake I see." Ashie made the observation calmly and then promptly lost it behind a large yawn.

"You are one monumental scum sucker Ashie and if I didn't have such an infernal head I'd damn well tan the hide off you."

"Gloomy thought, it's been 14 years since you last did that."

"I can more than make up for it." Darcy's response held no threat, merely promise.

"That I do not like the sound of. Did you know she called me a CAD."

"Well aren't you one?" The eyes which looked up from the bed were steady and clear.

"Well I'm actually trying to work out which kind of CAD she meant." Ashie rubbed his chin gently.

"You are a filthy liar, you know perfectly well what she meant. You'd offered for Miles to take her back to the hospital and she had the intelligence that you were basically calling her a weak-kneed coward for giving in so easily.....I may have been stuffed to buggery but my hearing did not suffer. How could you do that to her?"

"A good question." Ashie paused and then shrugged. "We're trying to win a war here Major, and you don't win them by killing your Generals. Whether you like it or not your continued existence is high on the importance list. Other than that......well without Nash you're somewhat in a hole, for no one has his expanse of vocabulary, besides which the rest of us have lower rank and when you're narkish you've never hesitated to pull rank.....Sister Bennet cannot have rank pulled on her, and she has a depth of experience when it comes to suffering humanity to know trouble when she sees it......as a result she managed what none of the rest of us could manage and she brought you back."

"I hope you're satisfied with your achievement.....I'm getting damn sick of being rescued by Bennets." Darcy's tone was somewhat bitter and it brought a speculative gleam into Ashie's eyes.

"Not really Major, in the name of duty to my country yes I am fully satisfied.....in duty to myself as a person I am very unsatisfied."

"I would not worry Ashie, she will forgive you." Darcy's voice was becoming sleepy. "After all she managed to forgive me so she must be able to forgive Satan himself."

"I hope you're right Major." Ashie spoke softly as he left the small hut. "I hope you're right." The last stars were vaguely glimmering in the early dawn sky. "Unfortunately it is not forgiveness from her I seek.......it is forgiveness from myself for what I have done." Ashie turned away from the sky and headed with blind footsteps down to the road, the sentry who challenged him was cursed aside and Ashie chose his direction of movement with total disregard.

Posted on Thursday, 18 January 2001

Author's Notes: Quick word of warning, any reference to a nut or nuts is actually referring to the head or heads of people. And on one final note the machineguns mounted on aeroplanes, from what I have found, seem to have a greater reliability and longer range than a landbased machinegun......particularly a British Landbased gun....but they were also heavier and considerably more cumbersome and technically difficult to manage. Also, what follows is historically accurate....at least as far as outline goes. I may have moved it from one day in this battle to another, but it is not the first time bad communications have led to a bad situation and it is highly unlikely that it will be the last.

September 26th 1917-Ypres, France

When is doubt tell the truth. - Mark Twain

"Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Da-amn!" Carrigan grimaced and picked awkwardly at the hefty chunk of barbed wire which was lodged in his knee. "Damn I hate this stuff." Carrigan winced again as he managed to free the first of two barbs. "Oh bloody hell!" Carrigan surfaced from the mud where he had taken cover when he heard the whistle of the incoming shell and spat out a mouthful of mud before dismally eyeing the extra piece of lodged barbed wire in his hand.

"You alright Sir?" Signaler Marshall peered up cautiously from behind a nearby mound of mud.

"Fine, Marshall.....just fell foul of more barbed wire."

"Need a hand getting it out?" Marshall was cautiously pushing and pulling in his efforts to free the large roll of six-inch communications cable.

"No thanks." Carrigan set his teeth and yanked the barb from his hand. "You got that wire free?"

"Yep......but the sod hit it and it's no damn good."

"Well that's just lovely.....I do apologise Miles but it appears you're going to have to continue managing by runner for dear old Fritzie doesn't wish you to have a telephone." Carrigan scratched his head and then ducked and swore as another shell came whistling in. The crump covered Carrigan with further mud and slime and it was in exasperation that he wrenched the last of the wire from his knee and shuffled around behind a hump of mud.

"Sir." Marshall's tone abruptly became panicked.

"What is it?" Carrigan looked up in exasperation from the blood, which welled from his knee and soaked into his trouser leg.

"They're behind us."

"Who gives a damn, you got a clean dressing?"

"Y-yes." Marshall stuttered but nonetheless he managed to hand the small kit to Carrigan.

"Thank you." Carrigan swiped at his knee and then hastily knotted the bandage around it before finally turning his attention to behind them. "It would appear that we are stuck here for the time being.....or at least the chance of us getting back to Brigade Headquarters before god knows when is pretty remote. I suggest we go find Miles and hunker down with the Battalion."

"But sir...." The protest would probably have been a scream had Carrigan not muffled it with a large hand.

"Do you want to be caught?" The response came as a mute headshake. "Good, then keep quiet and follow me....we're no damn good to anyone sitting here and we're very likely to be caught. We are clearly cut off from headquarters and as a result our best hope lies in finding that damn Battalion of Miles' and waiting for relief."

"But...." Marshall abruptly fell silent. Carrigan didn't even pause to do more than line up his pistol before he fired, the field-grey figure staggered and then slipped over backwards.

"Move it." Carrigan beckoned Marshall to follow and plunged into the wilds of mud and slime, with the Germans behind them there was little likelihood of another shell but a high likelihood of their being caught.

"Hullo....what in HELL are YOU doing HERE?" The muddy face peered up in disbelief at Carrigan, who had just cursed the sentry into silence.

"Sitting, what the devil does it look like?" Carrigan slid down onto the trench and eased his shoulders. "Where's Colonel Holloway?"

"Dunno, but 'e should be 'ere in a minute." The Corporal shrugged. "'Ow'd you get through?"

"We didn't, the damn sods closed in behind us."

"Pity, we was sure as 'ell 'opin' someone u'd turn up an' show us the way out of 'ere."

"Any....ahh, problems indeed. What brings you here Carrie?" Miles scratched an unshaven chin and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"The Major sent us up to try and improve your communications.... Unfortunately a shell more than fixed the roll and then the Huns decided we were not to return...." Carrigan stopped speaking with a shrug as the Observation post abruptly swung into action and a machinegun chattered viciously.

"Well you might have been better off staying wherever you were when you realised they had got behind you." Miles responded as the machinegun fire tallied off. "Don't be to eager with the bullets Wyatt, we haven't got quite the backup we usually have."

"Yes sir." Wyatt was peering cautiously over the top of the parapet for a moment and then gave a satisfied grunt. "They shouldn't take another look for a while yet."

"Good to here that....you need anymore rounds for your rifle yet?"

"No sir."

"Good." Miles nodded and abruptly risked a look over the parapet, only to drop back with a curse and a wry grin.

"What ha...." Carrigan stopped for Miles had picked up his steel helmet and was inspecting it. "Good lord." Carrigan blinked at the hat in astonishment, a neat crease had been drawn through it by a bullet.

"Money bank anyone?" Miles held the hat out with a grin, because the slot was almost exactly the right size.

"No thanks." Carrigan gave a chuckle. "What's the other side like?"

"Even worse than this side so I advise you to stay and keep Wyatt company." Miles clapped the creased helmet back on and with a grin and a wave he moved off back down the trench.

"What have you got in the way of firepower?" Wyatt made the query from a small ditch he'd channeled in the parapet to enable safer viewing.

"Two revolvers with full magazines." Carrigan gave a shrug, he didn't need telling that two revolvers were about as useful as waterguns in this situation.

"Lovely, well keep your nuts down and hope like hell that someone kicks the bloody 'Un in the pants before they decide to try us again."

"I'm hoping alright." Carrigan paused. "Hang in here Marshall, I'll be back in a minute." And with that Carrigan ducked off down the trench and ten minutes later had run Miles to ground. "Miles can I have a word with you?"

"Just a minute Carrie." Miles gave a dismissive wave and returned to frowning at the small pile. "You mean to tell me this is all we have left?"

"Yes.... Oh Lord!" The Corporal abruptly flung himself to the left, cannoning into both Miles and Carrigan as he dove.

"What the....Christ!" Miles left out a startled gasp as the sheared Fokker chassis crashed into the mud at the back of the trench.

"I think that is called light entertainment." Carrigan took a quick look over the trench to check that no more aeroplane was coming.

"Anything else?" Miles was picking himself up awkwardly, clearly he had sustained an injury in the fall.

"Looks like two of them came down, a flaming Camel was doing cartwheels when I looked over and the rest of the Fokker's about ten to fifty yards away."

"Well ten yards are as good as a mile." Miles rubbed his left hamstring and grimaced.

"What's up?"

"Barbed wire....what else ever finds you in this bloody swamp." Miles chucked the offending piece of wire over the parapet and rubbed his leg again.

"True." Carrigan rubbed his chin. "Miles are you aware that the Major thinks you're a mile closer to HQ then you are?"

"Yes I'm depressingly well aware of that Carrie....but I'll damn well murder you if you let it get around."

"How'd you get this far forward?"

"The Scots over advanced and it was either advance ourselves or watch the Scots get cut off."

"Very much as what has happened to you."

"True.....I was afraid the runner wouldn't get through." Miles gave a sigh and pushed his hand through his hair. "How long did the Major give you to get the lines down?"

"Eight hours." Carrigan responded in a glum tone. "The mud makes a mile of wire take nearly five hours to lay.... He also laid a two-hour extension provisio.... It'll be nine hours before he stirs his toes."

"I wish to hell....." Miles abruptly stopped and had his revolver grinding into the throat of the man who had come flying over the top of the parapet. "Get up very slowly and keep your hands out."

"Miles get that bloody revolver off my neck before I murder you." Ashie grabbed the barrel of the revolver and twisted it aside in irritation.

"What in hell are you doing here?" Carrigan looked at Ashie suspiciously.

"What does it look like, I'm hoping to save my hide." Ashie drew the knot on a bloodstained handkerchief a little tighter.

"Any of your other Cads nearby?" Miles looked worriedly at Ashie.

"No, it was just a totally illegal reconnaissance flight." Ashie looked at Miles curiously. "From what I saw you were in a bit of a mess here."

"That is a bloody understatement." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Where are the huns?"

"Choose a direction, any direction and you'll have the answer you want." Miles answered sourly.

"Have you got a fast runner?" Ashie glanced at Miles.

"Why?"

"There's a gap behind you but it is going to have to be one fast and small person who's going to get through it."

"No....." Miles shook his head in irritation and then paused. "Peter, where did you come from?"

"Major sent me." Peter's breathing was quite distressed and he was leaning against the wall as he fought to clear and settle his breath.

"What....."

"Sir the bloody 'Uns a 'undred yards orf."

"Get me some fire cover Miles." Ashie was already scrambling up the parapet again as he spoke.

"What...." Miles shrugged and gave the order, before scrambling up himself and watching in bewilderment.

Ashie dove into over the top of the trench and promptly rolled into the nearest shellhole, removed himself from that one and dove into the next shell hole.

"I knew there was a reason for why I left the field." Ashie made the observation to the corpse which drifted in the accumulated water at the bottom of the hole before he scrambled up and took a hurried look around. Ashie had no doubts about the foolhardiness of his activities, but he also knew that there was literally no other option for Peter wouldn't leave Miles' side until at least this assault was warded off. Ashie hauled out of the hole and went flying across the last eight yards which separated him from the wreck of his Camel. It took Ashie one look to verify that this part of his dash had been utterly useless. Ashie shot back to his previous hole and dove back into it. Three quick looks were taken to locate the part of the Fokker he wanted and then Ashie was moving again, and much to his relief he realised that if the Germans were firing at all they weren't coming near him. Ashie crashed down beside the wrecked Fokker and gave a satisfied grin before grimacing. It took Ashie just under three minutes to hack the machine gun free of the top wing, and another half minute to retrieve all the magazines, used or spare, and then under half a minute to get back to a shell hole. The advancing line of field grey was only about fifty yards off now. Ashie looked back over his shoulder and groaned for the Battalion trench may as well have been on the moon for the possibility of his reaching them alive.

"Hell." Ashie rammed the rod scraps into the mud and twisted the grip experimentally. With a nod of satisfaction Ashie grabbed the first magazine and rammed it home and the gun responded with a reassuring chatter as Ashie pressed the trigger and held it, the advancing line of field grey wavered and wilted. Five minutes later Ashie ejected the magazine and slammed another home before taking a quick scan around, but not a scrap of field grey was to be seen on the barren muddy landscape. Ashie frowned and freed the magazine and studied his hoard for a moment before shooting a glance over the thirty yards of mud between him and the trench. "I hope Miles is not so stupid as to risk coming to help me." Ashie abruptly shouldered the large gun and grabbed the spare magazine before scrambling out of the hole and plunging back through the mud before avalanching down into the trench.

"Why in hell did you get that?" Miles looked at the gun in stunned amazement.

"You'll see shortly.... Actually I hope you don't." Ashie scrambled back out of the trench and in three quick raids managed to retrieve the spare magazines at the minor expense of a grazed calf and a bullet through his hand.

"Ashie..." Miles paused and shook his head in amazement.

"Damn! Damn! Damn! Da......" The cursing of the private was lost in the dull chatter of Ashie's gun.

"Is Peter still here?" Ashie finally dropped the button and checked the magazine before finally applying a bandage around his hand.

"Uh, yes." Miles gave a nod.

"Well get him over here I want a message taken back to the Major at the same time as you send back your position with him."

"Right." Miles returned shortly with Peter in tow and was puzzled to see Ashie emptying out his pockets onto the ground next to the gun.

"Peter, I'll personally come find you myself and murder you if you don't get this safely back to the Major." Ashie was scribbling hastily as he spoke on a dirty scrap of paper.

"Yes sir." Peter took the scrap of paper and stowed it in an inside pocket and then with a quick nod he vanished into the trenches leaving Miles to frown in puzzlement down the trench.

"The Major knew we were in trouble...... Can you explain it Ashie?"

"Since he sent Peter he knew alright that connecting with you would be hell.....I thought you were well acquainted with the lesson Miles. Never question the Major's methods, it is very rare that you'll like the answer."

"Job's Comforter.....and now we've just got to hang in here for the couple of hours it takes for the rest of the Brigade to bash it's way up here."

"I hope not." Ashie spoke feelingly before responding to the howl from the lookout with a blast of fire over the parapet.

"How do you fire that damn thing?" Miles looked curiously over Ashie's shoulder.

"With practice." Ashie shot a quick look over the parapet and gave a nod of satisfaction. "How long do you think it will take Peter to get back?"

"Half an hour if he gets a reasonable run." Miles gave a shrug. "Could take him two hours if he runs into trouble.....or he might never make it."

"Cheerful response." Ashie scratched his head and glanced around himself thoughtfully.

"Missing something?" Miles frowned as Ashie continued to look around.

"No, but I am looking for something." Ashie gingerly touched the side of his head. "There wouldn't happen to spare tin hat around would there?"

"Well...." Miles paused and then shrugged. "Plenty, take your pick. Just go to the next trench and take any hat you like."

"Charming." Ashie grimaced, shot a quick look over the parapet and then shot off down the trench, soon to return with a tin hat perched at a jaunty angle and running as fast as he could.

"Ashie....what do you make of that?" Miles grabbed Ashie's arm and was startled to find Ashie shaking it off immediately.

"I've already seen it." Ashie was wrenching the gun around as he spoke. "Can Peter have made it back yet?"

"No." Miles watched in perplexity. "What on earth are you up to?"

"You actually expect the Archie to bring that sod down?" Ashie turned away from the gun to stare in amazement at Miles. "The Archie on either side couldn't hit a barn at twelve yards let alone an aeroplane at 300 yards."

"How do you know how high it is?" Miles glanced in astonishment at the Ashie and then at the small dot. "And as to that how do you know it's coming here?"

"Really Miles." Ashie rolled his eyes, grimaced and slammed the new magazine home. "What do you think I've been doing for the past year? That is a Rumpler and there are only two reasons why a Rumpler is out here.....and the second would not see it flying like that." Ashie shot a short, sharp look up to near the sun and scowled darkly as he slammed home the bolt home. "In fact I will lay you my entire worldly wealth that this particular Rumpler is going to fly over us at 300 yards in five minutes...possibly as late a six, but five seems a good enough guess."

"What is your worldly worth?" Miles looked curiously on as Ashie continued checking the gun.

"Three pounds fourpence ha'penny." Ashie squinted down the barrel and grimaced dubiously.

"Not much of a loss." Miles gave a chuckle, but his eyes were fixed nervously on the dot which was ever increasing in size.

"Lovely, lovely, lovely. The pilot is an asswitt." Ashie lined up thoughtfully for a moment and then dropped the barrel and pulled out his cigarette box.

"Why aren't you shooting?......I'd have thought he was in range." Miles stared in amazement as Ashie lit his cigarette.

"You really hate your life don't you." Ashie shook his head in stunned awe and gave a soft whistle. "Geez Miles, why can't you trust a dismal looking pilot."

"What do you mean?"

"Check his trajectory and then try calculating where he's going to crash." Ashie stubbed out his cigarette, returned it to his pocket before picking up the handles again and taking another look.

"What do you mean?" Miles looked at the aeroplane and then back at Ashie.

"Just a moment." Ashie squinted gave a satisfied grunt and then tightened his finger.

"You're going to miss by a mile." Miles rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Shut up." Ashie released the trigger and shoved the gun to one side in exasperation. "Damn it all Miles don't you come near the Flying Corps or I'm moving back into civilian life..... It'd be too bloody dangerous to be near you with a popgun."

"What do you mean?"

"Deflection shots, that Rumpler was moving at sixty miles an hour 300 yards over our heads. Put that maths together and you'll realise that if I'd shot at him I'd have missed him by precisely that mile you were predicting." Ashie extended a finger and as Miles followed the same line of view he watched an incredibly familiar sight. The Rumpler pitched, seemed to shudder and then with a graceful arc it flew into the ground.

"How far did that miss the back trenches by?"

"Thirty yards." Ashie shot an anxious look up at the sky.

"What's up?" Miles tried to follow Ashie's line of focus but he could find nothing.

"Nothing......and that's the problem." Ashie gave a sigh and rubbed his head. "How's the Major going?"

"He's on his feet." Miles gave a shrug. "Nowhere near form but he's improving."

"How's he functioning as an officer?" Ashie's voice sharpened to very curt indeed.

"Why do you ask?" Miles' eyes hardened.

"Goddamn it Miles have I ever explained anything to you?" Ashie spun and glared at Miles.

"No....and as per usual I'm objecting." Miles turned away as he spoke. "I don't know what in hell you have against the Major Ashie, but it's about time you got that bloody dagger of yours out of his back."

"What makes you think I have anything against the Major?" Ashie picked up an empty magazine and twisted it between his hands before glancing over at Miles.

"What makes me think...... Damn it all Ashie, you practically publicise it to the world. The Major can't even make a remark without you jumping down his throat."

"God save the Major if I didn't." Ashie gave a yawn and then a crow of delight and dove for the very pistol which lay next to the last remaining magazine. "God bless the boy he made it through." The charge snapped home and with a hissing pop the flare lanced skywards in a bar of green which spluttered before shadowing red and continuing its arc across before it spluttered and fizzed to a silent death in the mud.

"What in hell did you do that for?" Miles spun around and grabbed Ashie by the shoulder and was on the verge of smashing home when Carrigan grabbed Miles' arm.

"Lay off it Miles."

"Why?" Miles jerked back around and stared at Carrigan.

"Oh bloody hell, get me another green-red flare........ You've got to have one." Ashie jerked free of Miles' hand and was rummaging through the pile of stuff he had. "Hell, damn it all to hell I'll murder you someday Pyro it's time you stopped swiping my bloody flares." Ashie grabbed another Very Cartridge and slammed it home. "Well I hope the sods looking this time because it's my last green-red and I'm damn well not meant to have it."

"Well what are you meant to have?"

"All red and an all green, but because Pyro needs 'em a damn sight more frequently then I do I just get whatever happens to be in stock." Ashie slammed the charge home. "You better be watching you bloody ******* because I'll damn well murder you if you shoot me up." The bolt shot safely home and then Ashie took aim with great care.

"Ashie....." Miles fell silent as the shot fired and once again the flaming arc of green and red traced its path across the sky. "What's got you so het up?"

"The bloody......" Ashie jerked himself up and plunged left and into a small fire trench. "Pray to God Miles that that dagger stays put because if it doesn't you've got precisely five minutes left before you die."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" Carrigan looked at Miles uncertainly.

"I got out of line and he's very politely letting me know that......God I hate Ashie."

"You hate the Major too half the time so in my humble opinion I think you're wasting your time." Carrigan gave a shrug and then groaned. "Why in hell is Ashie so utterly indestructable?"

"Ask that question of either Ashie or the Major..... They both have knives in each other so they're sure to give an answer, and probably a totally untrue one." Miles shrugged with a sour grin. "Now how in hell are we meant to stay alive until the Major gets through?"

"Your implicit trust in the Major is amazing." Ashie was absolutely plastered with mud as he tumbled back into the trench. "Unfortunately I fear that you're going to have to trust me if you want to live to see tomorrow." Ashie wiped some of the accumulated much from his face.

"Why?" Miles frowned at Ashie warily.

"Only I'm so utterly stupid as to make a five foot pass over no man's land with no excuse at all." Ashie handed over a scrunched piece of paper. "The Major can't move before tomorrow dawn at the earliest."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" Ashie rolled his eyes. "General Maitland has seen fit to send the entire Brigade further up the line...... If you don't get free within the next four hours of this pretty mess all hell will be to pay.....literally......for both yourselves and for the Major."

"Maitland is.....Maitland is......" Miles spluttered. "Oh god what in hell....."

"There is one other option for you...." Ashie touched his lips and then paused. "Above us three complete squadrons......in my pocket one last Very Charge......one corridor a quarter of a mile wide for fifteen minutes."

"What Squadrons?"

"The Cads, 83, and 195, all carrying full weight of ammunition and bombs.......and then some." Ashie gave a wry grin. "Is a quarter mile wide enough?"

"And plenty."

"Then get your men together at the most south-eastern point you hold and be ready to run when the eighth bomb has fallen.....and make sure I know the minute you are there I can only hold this side for three minutes."

"But Ashie......"

"Really Miles, do you really think I'd get myself into a hole like this without having an exit route. Get moving before I just signal that I want a lift out and leave you here."

"Okay, okay, we're going." Miles threw up his hands and with a yell set things in motion.

Ashie levered the gun back up once more onto the parapet and settled himself behind it, having first settled an assortment of rifles nearby and handy.

"Sir." The private came flying up the trench.

"What?" Ashie didn't even glance up from his survey of the land below him.

"Colonel Holloway said we are in position."

"How long will it take you to get back?"

"Four minutes."

"Good, give this to Colonel Holloway when you get back and tell him to fire it immediately."

"Yes sir." The Private turned to leave.

"Hoy, and tell Major Holloway that I'm not here."

"Yes sir." The Private blinked in surprise, but continued his departure, a departure which was punctuated by the flat crack of a rifle.

"What was that?" Miles peered down at the boy.

"I was told to tell you that 'e wanted you to fire this as soon as I gave it to you......'e also said to tell you that 'I'm not here' I quote 'im direct."

"I'm sure you do." Miles checked the pistol and then fired it straight over his head and a quarter second later a second all red flare arced up from the far side and two seconds after that an all green abruptly blazed across the sky, seemingly it came from nowhere and went to nowhere but Miles was not fooled. One....two....three.....Miles counted carefully. Four.....five.....six......God he hoped he had not missed or double-counted one. Seven....eight. "Now." Miles rose to his feet as he spoke and dove out of the trench and headed directly southeast. Ashie had said the corridor would be there, so a corridor would be there.......and if it wasn't Miles most certainly did not wish to live.

"Last of us are through." It was exactly fifteen minutes later when Carrigan came in to the trench where Miles was perched.

"Good." Miles was totally occupied with his telescope.

"What's over there?"

"Something I never thought I'd see." Miles adjusted the focus by a miniscule amount.

"What?"

"Ashie, at I'm guessing to be ten thousand feet, hanging from the undercarriage of a Fee."

"What's he doing there?"

"I think it's called getting out of a tight situation without ever admitting that you were in a corner to begin with....... Do remember, Carrigan, that Ashie was never there."

"Then how are we meant to explain this?" Carrigan spread questioning hands

"I vote we take both the Major and Ashie's preferred activity. Never explain anything unless asked directly, and then edit the truth to such a degree that the truth no longer exists and you have totally befuddled your listener." Miles grinned. "When in doubt refer it to your superior officer."

October 7th 1917-Ypres, France

Hypocrisy has a bitter flavor, and I was sampling it in excess when I wrote to Mrs. Smith to tell her that her son had died bravely. Died bravely! The sod had died in front of a British Firing Squad the result of having fled from his trench.

Silence reigned supreme in the small and cramped building. Heavy grey stone cast a gloomy aspect on everything, a situation which was not lightened by anything, least of all by the formidable loop of Officers who stood behind the imposing chair. On the other side of the desk was a small wilting looking Private. Mud stained the Private's uniform and his face was an unhealthy pallor in hue, but he still manfully attempted to conceal the fact that he was shaking and shivering. Two corporals stood at the back of the room, their faces completely devoid of expression.

"Desertion......Execution....take him away." The voice was dry and almost totally devoid of inflection. "Darcy, see a firing squad is signed up for these past three."

"With all respect sir I must defer on the matter."

"Reason?" The head in the chair didn't even twitch, which was perhaps fortunate since Darcy hadn't moved from his point in the loop.

"With all respect sir, the men are unhappy enough with things as they are I do not think they will take kindly to executing their fellow combatants."

"Darcy, I gave you an order."

"Yes sir....I'm merely politely requesting you to rethink the order. Assign them to Brigadier Hazlitt sir, I'll take the next three from Morely's Brigade if they receive full sentencing."

"Not much of a show, how can you expect discipline to be enforced if the men don't see what happens when discipline is breached."

"With all due respect it is only ever the firing squad who see to begin with, sir. Secondly we have only just returned from the front, the men are not happy and I do not wish to have a mutiny on my hands. Private Phelps has friends nearly everywhere, for all his inability as a fighter he is well liked and I'm nearly certain that no man in my entire Brigade will pull the trigger."

"Is that so?" The question nearly wasn't a question. "I have given an order, I expect to see it obeyed."

"Yes sir." Darcy's mouth tightened and he briefly scribbled a quick note on the pad he held as the next man was brought in.

The pencil tapped its monotonous rhythm, a regular tattoo on the small planked tabletop. Though masses of paper lay around it was equally clear that absolutely no work was being done. Blind eyes stared totally without expression at the far wall and the pencil continued its rhythmic tapping.

"Hiya Major. What's up?" Ashie ducked past an orderly who was clearly attempting to stop him and settled down on a nearby chair.

"Why do you ask?" Darcy stirred from his blind abstraction and glanced briefly, but expressionlessly, at Ashie before returning to his study of the wall.

"Because I saw Carrie being sick in the lane and a group of twelve of the morosest looking Privates I have ever seen in my life."

"Try some mathematics and supply your own answer." Darcy dropped the pencil onto the table top and buried his face in his hands before pushing them restlessly back through his hair.

"I only have one answer and that doesn't usually produce such a morose mob." Ashie scratched an eartip with one long thumbnail. "Admittedly no one ever looks cheerful after such an activity, but they rarely look that morose..... You really should join the Flying Corps Major, no one ever lasts long enough to get into any major trouble there."

"Ashie.....Shut up." Darcy abruptly dropped the pencil onto the tabletop.

"Shutting up....though why I should shut up when addressed so......." Ashie abruptly died away with a grin. "Don't even consider it Major, you know you'd never do it."

"You are tempting me." Darcy's tone was unfriendly in the extreme.

"Am I? Why how fascinating......tell me Major...." Ashie died away once more and twitched yet another grin.

"My friend, I would gladly wring your neck." Darcy lifted a thumb and used it to blot out Ashie's face from his field of view. "In fact not only would I like to wring your neck, but I'm quite undisturbed by the thought of spreading out your innards for the birds to eat."

"Only the birds?" Ashie sniffed. "Such a snub, today I am only worthy of the birds." Ashie sighed in a despondent manner and then reached out and pushed Darcy's thumb aside. "Do stop that sir, I find it unsettling."

"Then maybe I'll do it some more." Darcy rubbed the end of his nose and then yawned. "Okay, okay clear out. You've done your job, you've done it well, now clear out."

"No Major." Ashie shook his head. "I haven't done that job, or any job.... In fact I probably never will....except perhaps for this one." Ashie was working slowly through his pockets as he spoke and Darcy stared with partial surprise at the growing mound of paper and metal on his table.

"You know I'm never endingly amazed at what you can stuff into a pocket Ashie.......are you sure my table won't collapse?" Darcy continued to watch as Ashie abruptly produced a foot long spanner from his pocket, four metres of communication wire, one small generator and a speaker.

"Well it hasn't so far." Ashie paused to inspect the table. "This Major is called time delay and my ever favourite procrastination. You see as I stand here inspecting the table I'm not continuing to empty my pockets after that ever so important job which I have yet to do." Ashie twisted his head around as if to inspect more carefully the desk in question.

"Ashie, from you I would expect no less." Darcy gave a sigh. "Shall I empty your pockets for you?"

"No thank you.....now what made you so morose earlier......usually the court-martials don't cause Carrie to throw up."

"Usually the court-martials don't lead you to executing one of your own signallers." Darcy responded with a short snap.

"Ahh. Well permit me to allow him to be sick.....I'd probably commiserate with him except that he'd probably beat the stuffing out of me."

"I suspect he'd more than beat the stuffing out of you.....and as a result I suggest you do the job fast and exit......Carrie I'm currently occupied so step outside for a minute."

"Yes sir." Carrigan's voice was stiff, a trifle too stiff.

"That spells trouble for me." Ashie resumed digging through his pockets and then frowned worriedly.

"A problem?" Darcy started poking through the pile with a thoughtful expression.

"Well yes....I can't find it." Ashie scratched his head.

"Checked your back pocket?" Darcy lifted an eyebrow.

"I already have."

"Check it again.....I frankly don't believe you have."

"Frankly I don't believe it either." Ashie gloomily eyed the crumpled piece of paper he had removed from his pocket. "It comes courtesy of Mac."

"I see." Darcy scanned the page briefly then frowned and re-read it before reading it for a third time. "Where did it come from?"

"Mac said you'd know."

"Well Mac was right, to a degree I do know." Darcy glanced briefly at an official looking envelope on the table and then back at the scrap of paper before grimacing.

"Good news?"

"Pretty foul actually." Darcy lit his pipe thoughtfully and then slowly fed the scrap of paper into it.

"If that's how you treat that pipe no wonder it reeks." Ashie rubbed his nose and then rubbed his leg. "Well I'll clear out of your hair."

"You do that.....and tell Carrie I'll see him as you leave."

"Thank sir." Ashie gave a grin before collecting the contents of his pockets from Darcy's desk and ducking out of the room. Carrigan came in immediately and was scowling darkly.

"You sir are a swine." Carrigan dropped into a chair.

"And you are an ass." Darcy responded calmly picked up a handful of papers. "How'd you manage?"

"Threatened to execute the lot of them if they didn't fire.....I think Sergeant Harolds has a broken jaw." Carrigan responded gloomily.

"Grim.....send him some flowers." Darcy rubbed his chin and stared at the far wall. "Mayhew's been cleared."

"He's not coming back is he?" Carrigan's expression was a mix of disbelief and hope.

"No, we're stuck with Maitland for the time being." Darcy paused and scratched his chin again before grimacing. "I've been recalled to London."

"Reason?" Carrigan looked up worriedly.

"Seconded for special services."

"Oh hell." Carrigan grumbled. "Not only do we have an ass for a Divisional Officer but now we have to lose the only Officer who can argue with him.....know why sir?"

"Probably needed to impress some American money man.....either that or some journalists again." Darcy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"When do you go?"

"After the next run, we go forward tomorrow, come back, should be run further back and then I go good-bye on the 22nd."

"No leave?"

"No leave." Darcy confirmed with a disgruntled expression. "And now I'm going to have to tell George I won't be coming home after all." Darcy abruptly chucked his pencil at the far wall. "Damn it all, why can you not realise how much you're looking forward to leave before they take it away from you."

"I must say sir, it seems odd, I've never heard of anything higher than a Major being seconded for special service."

"I gave up years ago trying to understand the twisted logic of the War Office." Darcy gave a shrug. "Cheerio Carrie, you can tell Miles I'm spitting nails and that nothing short of an emergency is to visit in the rest of today."

"'Bout time you exercised that right. See you tomorrow sir." Carrigan gave a brief wave as he ducked out of the room leaving Darcy to yawn and attend to the mound of paperwork.

October 21st 1917-Ypres, France

No one knows what he can do till he tries. - Publilius Syrus

Elizabeth hunched down at the wheel and fought a shiver, they had been creeping back for an hour now, and with every pothole howls of agony had emanated from the back of the Ambulance.

"Sister!" The yell came with a bang on the separating headboard. Elizabeth immediately brought the ambulance to a smooth halt and descended and quickly opened the back of the ambulance. The private who had been put in charge of the back of the ambulance scrambled down. It was not the first time that Elizabeth had lost her accompanying sister to another ambulance which had bigger problems, but a private with one hand missing would never replace a trained sister.

"Yes." Elizabeth promptly walked the boy away from the ambulance. A fresh-faced youth, he could not be more than a few days over eighteen, if that.

"'E's lookin' bad."

"Which one?"

"The un in bunk two."

"Oh blast." Elizabeth swore and promptly leapt back to the ambulance, she crouched down next to the man in bunk two and immediately bit her lip, there was absolutely no doubt of what the problem was. "Gentlemen." Elizabeth hated having to do this, but there was no other option. There were four shattered legs in the ambulance, as well as the soldier in bunk two, who had been shot three times through the lungs. Shattered legs immediately called for slow and cautious driving as shattered pieces of bone ground and grated against nerves and putting the owner through tortuous agony.

"Wassup?" It was a sleepy slur, but Elizabeth knew better than any of them that the man was not sleepy, he was simply falling into shock.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid that one of our number is shot through the lungs and he will be dead before we arrive if we do not do something about it."

"What can we do?" The same voice slurred again, though another voice, slightly clearer, joined in as well.

"Going at our current speed we'll be another hour getting to the hospital and he won't last half an hour."

"So there's only one option." It was the third voice which spoke and there was no question but he spoke for all of them. "Speed up Sister and get to that hospital in half an hour. We'll be fine."

"I'll keep it as smooth as I can. Thank you gentlemen." Elizabeth hastily pushed the private back into the back of the ambulance truck and shut the doors, she then leapt into the driver's seat and got the truck moving, but the smooth beginning did not last and Elizabeth set her teeth every time they slammed through a pothole or the gears crashed while changing, but not a murmur came from the back of the truck. Elizabeth leapt down from the truck as she skidded to a stop in front of the hospital; she was opening the back doors almost before the truck had stopped moving.

"We stopped?" It was a faint threadlike whisper.

"Yes. I commend you gentlemen." Elizabeth was already unstrapping the stretcher in bunk two as she spoke, and by the time the sisters had arrived the man was ready for transferring straight into the hospital.

"Lizzie!" The Matron came running up.

"Yes?" Elizabeth scrambled out of the ambulance letting the other sisters in.

"Sister Morgan is unwell you'll have to replace her in theatre."

"Yes Sister." Elizabeth was pulling off her cap and apron as she ran for the dormitory and on entry into that room she was stripping off shirt and trousers as she crossed the room. Five minutes later Elizabeth was leaping back down the stairs tying another apron and trying simultaneously to pin on a fresh cap. Elizabeth would actually have liked to brush her hair as well, but such was not an option with Sister Morgan sick.

Elizabeth was bluntly exhausted when she finally was relieved and sent off shift, and it was with numb and tired legs that she struggled wearily up the stairs and into the dormitory.

"Sister Bennet." Matron's voice caught Elizabeth at the door, and turning Elizabeth saw the Matron climbing quickly.

"Yes Matron."

"I'm sorry Lizzie, but you're requisitioned for transfer services."

"Where to?"

"Just Paris, Hospital 14 has had a sudden flood and they need to move all the minor cases, because we're full they have to go to Paris, if Paris can't deal with them then it is up to them to deal with the situation." Matron flattened her hands out.

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth gave a nod and getting the dismissal sign she sought out her bed in relief. Five hours later Elizabeth woke to someone shaking her hard by the shoulder.

"Lizzie!"

"What is it Delph?" Elizabeth struggled upright and blinked groggily at her fellow sister.

"The transport has just arrived sunshine. Time to rise and hit the road."

"Transport?" Elizabeth blinked. "Nope, I was attached to transfer services."

"It is transfer services, they've sent us three ambulances instead of telling us which station to go to."

"I'm not following Delph, please speak English."

"I AM!" It was as loud a squawk as could be managed in a whisper. "You wake up Lizzie, we've got to drive the whole confounded way to Paris and we're leaving in five minutes."

"Inhuman." Elizabeth muttered a rude remark under her breath as she struggled upright and out of her bed. Five minutes later and Elizabeth was sleepily putting the truck into gear and pulling into line behind Philadelphia, how they could spare three ambulances from an overloaded hospital Elizabeth did not know, but obviously they could.

"How's it going back there?" Elizabeth called the question to the speaking tube; Sister Johns who was meant to be keeping an eye on what happened back there had curled up in the corner of the seat and fallen asleep. Sleep was an indulgence which currently Elizabeth could not afford to indulge in.

"We's geyin' jest fine Sister." The drawling response was in accent Elizabeth had never heard before.

"Where are you from?" Elizabeth decided she may as well talk to the truck since she couldn't talk to Sarah.

"Well we comes from that damn 'ospital, but I comes from Jo'burg."

"What's Jo'burg like?"

"Hot, dusty, and nuttin' like London." The response was emphatic and Elizabeth gave a laugh. Slowly the trucks lumbered down the road, stops were frequent and exasperating, and it was with relief that Elizabeth talked with whoever felt conversationally inclined. Most of the time she talked to the man from Jo'burg, and that was a place she'd have to ask Darcy about some time for she hadn't the faintest idea where it was, but she also held conversation with a few Canadians, a Scot, and some queer individual who claimed to be from Wildebeeast.

It was just past ten when abruptly an arm was waved from ahead and the first ambulance pulled over. Elizabeth followed the signal, having first signaled to the third ambulance and soon all three trucks were drawn up behind each other sufficiently off the road that traffic could pass.

"What's up Delph?" Elizabeth had slid down from her seat and walked stiffly to the front ambulance, the exercise was a relief.

"Ripped tyre." Philadelphia morosely indicated her left forward wheel, and a quick look showed Elizabeth that indeed the tyre was very ripped, in fact the split went right through and the wheel was essentially detached from the rim already.

"How'd you manage that?"

"Skidded sideways in that deepish pot, in fact I thought I'd avoided it until this happened." Philadelphia joined Elizabeth and Francesca, the third driver, in inspecting the wheel. "However I seem to have chosen my stopping place well for I observe the vast part of a battalion on its way over already so we're not actually going to have to make the repairs."

"A most thankful thought, but I think we'd best inform our passengers of the reason behind the halt and they probably should be given some time out to stretch and attend to business."

"Lizzie, you think of everything." Francesca was already on her way back to her truck and soon the fifty odd patients who wished to exit the trucks were installed in a nearby field watched over by members of the Battalion which had come to the rescue. With the wheel changed and the patients being reloaded into their trucks Philadelphia pulled Elizabeth over and requested her to take over the lead.

"Okay Delph." Elizabeth rubbed her forehead and with Sarah ran a quick check of the truck, before topping up the fuel load. "You two ready?" Elizabeth went back to check with Francesca and Philadelphia, but Francesca had not yet topped up her fuel, so ten minutes were lost to that.

"Hi." It was a Lieutenant who came up at this point. "Where are you going?"

"Paris. Someone need a lift?"

"Well the Brigadier's been called down for some reason and we're not being passed by a tender for three days."

"Well tell your Brigadier he's got five minutes to get here, or we'll leave without him." Elizabeth finished her check of the ambulances and then produced a map, in five hours they had come fourty miles....this was going to be a long day.

"Should be better going once we get onto the main roads."

"Well it could hardly be worse." Francesca muttered wearily as she tried to wipe some of the dust from her face, there were distinct downsides to being the last truck after such a dry spell.

"Want to go lead Frankie?"

"Toss on it." Philadelphia produced her coin and gave it an expert flick. "Heads or tails?"

"Tails."

"For what?" Philadelphia challenged Francesca's response.

"Tails I stay at the back."

"Heads." Philadelphia pulled her hand away and displayed the head.

"Then give me a look at the map." Francesca pounced on the map and studied it intently before walking back with it to her ambulance.

"Get our lift to go to Frankie's truck, I'm going to wake Sarah up, she's been sleeping since we started and I won't have her sleeping with the amount of dust around." Elizabeth returned to her truck. Ten hours later they pulled up for the third time and Philadelphia, who had been leading since the last stop came running back.

"Lizzie, I'm too unfamiliar with Paris and with the Hospital we're going to. Last leg's yours."

"How pleasant. You keeping the lift?" Elizabeth pushed her hair back from her face and repinned the escaping ends.

"No, I'll send him back now." Philadelphia gave a nod and left. Elizabeth slipped down from her seat, having first warned Sarah to watch for the lift, hastily went to the back of the truck and topped up the fuel tank again. A quick check verified that the radiator and oil were still at acceptable levels and with relief Elizabeth returned to the driver's seat.

"Sarah, how's the water?" Elizabeth stopped just before climbing up again to check the front wheels.

"Sarah's gone to sleep again, but I can tell you that the water is fine."

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth gave him a startled look, which got a faint smile in response.

"Correct Miss Elizabeth."

"Well that's it." Elizabeth swung up the crank and sprang into the driver's seat as the engine roared. After a brief tussle with the wheel Elizabeth swung them out and they hit the road again, with Philadelphia and Francesca coming into line behind.

"Is Sister Johns usually this tired?" Darcy indicated Sarah, who had fallen back to sleep again.

"No." Elizabeth had to shout somewhat over the roar of the engine. "It was just a bit rough the past couple of days. A few sick sisters and abruptly we're running on twenty hour shifts."

"Sounds like fun." Darcy's tone was somewhat sarcastic as he settled back on the hard seat.

"Believe me it is, we go from surgery, have ten minutes to change and then we're trundling up to the lines with an ambulance. Get back from that and you're straight back onto theatre duty, five hours sleep or so and then back to work."

"Aww, shucks......shall I call for your smelling salts?"

"No thanks." Elizabeth turned her head across and called into the speaking tube. "You okay back there?"

"We's fine thanks.....and very entertained, 'oo is it?" It was the man from Jo'burg who responded.

"Eavesdropping is hardly polite." Darcy took over the conversation.

"Bit difficult not to when yer bellerin' like that."

"True. You from Jo'burg?"

"Aye." There was a brief pause. "Joey Manne here."

"How do Joey......Billins ever find his pipe?"

"Aye, he fund his pipe." The response took on a puzzled response. "Who's you?"

"You don't actually know me, I took Billins on his third trip into the higher veldt when you got crook."

"Eh!" It was a startled exclamation. "Say Sister, I couldn't come forward could I?"

"I'm afraid not, we're only an hour from Paris now.....besides which patients aren't allowed forward." The response to Elizabeth's statement was a fluent string of cursing.

"Hardly polite Joey."

"I's never polite when some lassie refuses to let me speak to Captain Seymour. Ehh but Billins was full of you as a prospector Sir."

"Well I'll respond by saying I never met a greater fool then Billins, he should count things fortunate he only got that minor cut."

"You thinkin' 'im lucky?"

"No, he was certainly blessed by God, for he was persuaded that he was a prospector......only a fool goes digging in ceremonial sites without first asking the Chief."

"Well he'll be mighty blue when I say I've met ye, he's sayin' hows he needs to be thankin' ya."

"Tell him to rest peacefully on the subject, he owes me no thanks."

"Why not, he reckons ya saved 'is life."

"Possibly, but I only did it because I wasn't going to let Magreeta the joy of knowing that he'd nabbed one of my party."

"'Ee don't believe ya sir."

"Back there is he? Billins, you're an ass."

"That is most assuredly Captain Seymour." It was the man who claimed to be from Wildebeeast who spoke.

"You ever get your elephant?"

"No." It was a morose answer this time.

"You should have looked further north.....or persuaded Hoston to take you in hand."

"I tried, but he wasn't to be found."

"You didn't look in the right place. Hoston was up in Mashonaland poaching Lions."

"Poaching Lions?" Elizabeth cast a startled look at Darcy. "I didn't think Lions had any laws guarding them."

"The Mashona's had a region when killing Lions was not good, and they used their own methods for enforcing it." Darcy turned away from the speaking tube. "But frankly if Hoston heard that something was illegal he promptly went and did it."

"Sounds odd."

"Very odd, but it lead to a wild life...not a dull minute."

"I'll say." It was Joey Manne who spoke through the tube. "Hoston was the only man who was wanted more than Seymour there."

"Popular man."

"Shut up back there else we do stop."

"Wes'll be quiet." The response came back very quickly.

"About time." Darcy settled back into his seat.

"Why are you going to Paris?" Elizabeth cautiously negotiated her way around a rickety farm cart.

"Been called down." Darcy cast a brief glance across at Sister Johns. "I'm supposed to rescue the General while I'm down here."

"Rescue the General?"

"Yep, he got shot to glory at the beginning of Ypres, poked his head over the parapet at the wrong time and ended with a compounded skull fracture and lost his right eye."

"Sounds like he was lucky." Elizabeth was having to focus more on the road as the entered the surrounds of Paris and had to battle the civilian traffic as well as the military traffic. "Are the others behind us still?" Elizabeth made the enquiry as they started around a sharp turn.

"Nailed to your tail." Darcy responded after a prolonged inspection out the window.

"Good, I can't afford to lose them in this traffic." Elizabeth slowly inched her way into Paris towards the main hospital.

"What do the six of you do for the night? Or are you returning immediately?"

"We have to have returned by dinner the day after tomorrow. They give three days as protection against breakdowns, and the plain fact that it's a fifteen hour drive and they only send one driver per truck, though usually we go by train which actually keeps us travelling non-stop for the three days, get there just in time to turn around and go back. But you can sleep on a train and you can't sleep while driving."

"That is indeed a truth." Darcy abruptly straightened and took a look at the nearby houses. "Ehh, well if you'll excuse me I'll just hop down here. Look is there any way I can get in touch with you?"

"We'll be at L'hopital de Angleterre."

"Thanks, just incase this clears up quick and I can catch a lift back in one of your ambulances."

"You want to? We'll be packed with troops."

"Even being packed in with recruits is preferably to spending over a day jammed on a train which will not ever be any closer than twenty miles to where I want to be." Darcy abruptly opened the door. "Cheerio." Darcy gave a wave and then leapt lightly into the gutter, at which point Elizabeth had to return her attention to the road, so she just waved a hand as she leant on the horn heavily. An hour later and Elizabeth finally pulled in at the Hospital and spent half an hour arguing about the load with the Matron stationed there, but eventually the men were taken and the three ambulances were driven into the rear compound and secured for the night.

October 23rd 1917-L'hopital de Angleterre, France

The greatest happiness of life
is the conviction that we are loved
loved for ourselves, or rather,
loved in spite of ourselves. - Victor Hugo

"Sister Bennet?" The Matron appeared forbiddingly large in the dim pre-dawn light at the foot of Elizabeth's bed where she stood frowning.

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth hastily sat up and pushed a few bits of hair out of her face.

"Telephone for you."

"Yes Matron." Elizabeth scrambled out of bed and grabbed boots and a heavy coat before she followed the matron down to the cramped communications room. "Sister Bennet?" Elizabeth took the receiver.

"Oh Sister Bennet, Matron here. You have an extra day off, but you've had your return re-written."

"Why?" Elizabeth grabbed the pencil and paper from her coat pocket.

"Prepare to write."

"Prepared." Elizabeth poised the pencil.

"You will be driving the day after tomorrow to le Gare du Nord, the big railway station. There will be a company waiting for you under the command of one Captain March. It's a Canadian Company and they have instructions of where you are to take them."

"So that's on the 23rd at le Gare du Nord, Captain March, Canadian. Further instructions will be there."

"Correct......and get back here as fast as you can, I have no idea where they're sending you, but this hospital has been hell since the six of you left."

"Yes Matron, we'll get back as soon as possible......Matron?"

"Yes?"

"Lifts, can we give them to army personnel?"

"Depends."

"We gave a lift to a General on our way down and he may need a lift back and the train doesn't go within twenty miles of where he wants to be."

"Well I don't know where you're going, but if you pass a relevant place I see no reason why not."

"Thank you Matron....is that all?"

"For now, I'll leave a message if anything else, enjoy your two days."

"I'm sure we will Matron.....I hope all goes well for you until we get back."

"It won't." And with that confident grumble the matron hung up, leaving Elizabeth to hand the receiver back to the Sister who sat with it.

"H.Q. would have a fit if they knew you could do that." The man had introduced himself as John Smith, as indeed he was, and was lounging by the table where Darcy was finally hanging up the receiver of a telephone.

"We'll worry about that when they find out. Dressing post 74....or at least she was there two days ago and she'll be in Paris in three days."

"Then I guess I'll apply myself to the task of speaking to her, or getting someone else to talk to her....you didn't come down here just for this did you?"

"Not on your life." Darcy gave a laugh which was closer to a snort. "General's down in a hospital near Fontainebleau and I've actually been sent to fish him out and pack him back to England. We don't get a new General until he's out of France.....and we might not even get a new one then."

"Someone in your division likely to get the nod, or will you get someone new in?"

"God only knows." Darcy gave another yawn. "Hazy'll get the nod if anyone does, but none of us has been a year yet as Brigade Officer, Hazy has two months on me but he swears he doesn't want to be a General. My run with the Seaforths was rotton so there is no hope for me, and Morely is more likely to be retired than promoted. We'll probably get some fish in to be honest."

"So you're off to Fontainebleau now?"

"No, got a few people in Paris to see and then a telephone call first."

"Ah." He was swarthy faced with black eyes and a narrow countenance. He was glaring blackly at the large hand which seemed effortlessly to prevent him from closing the door.

"That was foolish." The door was abruptly wrenched open and sent slamming back against the wall with sufficient vigour to drag the man holding it out into the hall. "And don't even consider going for your gun because I'll knock you silly before you've even half drawn it."

"What do you want?" The man stared sullenly up, keeping his hands clear and visible.

"I wish to speak to the Count......and don't even bother saying he's not in because I saw him enter myself not five minutes ago and unless you politely show me in I'll throw you out the window and show myself in.....and knives are about as useful so don't even consider the one in your sleeve."

"I don't know what you're gabbin' on about." The man's accent was vile.

"Manuel....what happens out here?" A second man appeared in the doorway.

"I know not Phillipe....this man seems to think we live with aristocracy." Manuel turned with flattened hands towards his dark-skinned friend and shrugged in a seemingly helpless manner before gurgling in a very helpless manner.

"Your friend seems unwell." Darcy gently lowered Manuel back to the ground, gently relieving him of a revolver and thee knives at the same time.

"Your diagnosis would seem accurate." Phillipe hesitated and then looked up enquiringly. "Is he dead?"

"No." Darcy calmly pocketed the knives and gun. "You will save yourself a lot of pain if you will just go and tell the Count the de Duivel is here to see him."

"You are completely off your head." Phillipe shook his head wearily.

"True, I've been off my head for the eight years since Graf Georg von Nickel first crossed my path......since you will not admit me and I have no wish to throw you through the wall please tell the Count that I called concerning der Skorpion and he can find me in the usual place."

"If you'll wait a moment." Phillipe had hesitated for a moment, but he then abruptly stepped back and let Darcy in, having clearly come to an internal decision.

"How wise of you." Darcy calmly dropped into a chair and yawned.

"For a man coming into an unknown room and uncertain of whether we are actually allies or not you are very casual." Phillipe glanced Darcy thoughtfully.

"I have information you want.....you won't kill me until you get it, unless of course I offer resistance." Darcy gave a shrug.

"Why is it that such logic never occurs to me?" Phillipe shrugged in resignation and then glanced briefly at Manuel before turning and leaving. Phillipe returned shortly, followed by a familiar figure.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable."

"As you see." Darcy rose to his feet and chewed for a thoughtful moment on his pipe.

"You seem to have a bad effect on people." The Count was glancing expressionlessly at Manuel's still crumpled form.

"I didn't like his face and I thought you'd object if I pushed it in."

"Quite correct.....what brings you up here?"

"Nathalie Bonnard, also known as Giselle Vernard." Darcy gave a yawn.

"So you've found her have you....where?" There was a flicker of quickening interest in the Count's eye.

"Under her married name at L'Hopital de Francais." Darcy paused. "She'll be in Paris in three days....if you're at all interested in speaking to her."

"The usual place?"

"The usual place." Darcy confirmed as he straightened up.

"Three days then." The Count nodded as Darcy ducked from the room, and then with Phillipe's help he dragged Manuel back into the room before carefully closing the door on its shattered hinges.

"He was very scientific about it." Phillipe was inspecting Manuel's neck were livid bruises were already taking form.

"I wouldn't be surprised, he has had a lot of practice." The Count was gazing disinterestedly out a small window as he spoke. "What I most want to know is how in the devil he got hold of Giselle Vernard?"

"Sister Bennet.....Telephone call." The Matron spun on her heel as she spoke and left.

"Telephone?" Elizabeth blinked at the foot of her bed for a moment, and then shrugged in stunned surprise before descending to the communications room.

"Sister Bennet?" The Sister on duty looked sleepy.

"Yes." Elizabeth took the proffered receiver. "Sister Bennet speaking."

"Greetings to you to Elizabeth I take it the rest of your trip was without interruption?"

"You take it correctly." Elizabeth paused and then frowned at the receiver. "Where are you?"

"Small inn on the northern outskirts of Paris.....why do you ask?"

"This is a military telephone."

"For those who wish to make a connection a connection can be made." Darcy's cryptic response caused Elizabeth to smile.

"When did you wake up?"

"I didn't, haven't been to bed yet, but I've dozed a few times. Look my General's down near Fontainebleau and I've got to rescue him this afternoon. Would you and your fellow sisters be interested in a trip down there for lunch?"

"Does that mean we'd have to face your General?"

"Not unless you want to, there's a goodish train running, or you probably could hitch a lift back."

"Give me a minute to speak to the others, I know for a fact that Delph has met some friends whom she'd probably like to spend the day with." The line fell silent and Darcy restlessly tapped his fingers on the tabletop while he waited.

"Hello?" The voice was most certainly not Elizabeth's so Darcy held quiet. "General Darcy, are you there?"

"Who is it?" Darcy finally spoke.

"Sorry, Sister Johns here, I slept against you for a part of yesterday."

"How do you do Sister Johns?"

"Still dead tired, but that's not why I'm here. Lizzie sent me to make sure the exchange didn't decide the call was finished."

"That is probably a thought, I had thought that they usually ask if a call is over before they disconnect."

"True, but it doesn't work that way here. Here the lines run busy so they just cut off the quietest."

"Lovely." Darcy tapped his fingers again, he wished Elizabeth would hurry up, he really didn't know what to say.

"Well here's Lizzie. Goodbye General."

"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth's voice came somewhat breathlessly down the line.

"Here."

"Sorry to be so long, took a bit longer than expected to track Delph down. Look would it be okay if we met you down there?"

"Shouldn't be a problem." Darcy hoped his disappointment didn't sound in his voice, he had doubted that they'd all come, but he had hoped that at least Elizabeth would come.

"LIZZIE!" The yell sounded quite loud to Darcy, so it must have nearly been deafening at the other end. "Harry's abruptly changed his mind....he met Frankie and has fallen wildly in love with her. Will you please be willing to change and travel with him, else Harry can't come and that will make him unhappy."

"Delph, can't you see I am still on the telephone." Elizabeth's response sounded quite embarrassed. "All of you out." There was the banging of a door and then Elizabeth's voice became unmuffled as she turned back to the receiver. "I'm awfully sorry about that Mr. Darcy."

"Why don't some of them come with me?"

"General, they're all Privates, they'll be terribly embarrassed. Please, Delph was phrasing it badly. When I was discussing the matter with them, George, whom you will meet, made the observation that you'd probably be in a military automobile which would mean you'd be in trouble if you got caught, so it was thought that if we went down with George and his friends that would eliminate the risk for you. But as Delph said Harry has fallen wildly in love with Frankie and will be very disappointed if he couldn't come and they've only hired the one car."

"Can you be ready to leave in half an hour?"

"Shouldn't be a problem....why?"

"I'll be at the front gates then and we can sort out the seatings then."

"Okay. Sounds fine to me."

"I'll see you then."

"Bye." Elizabeth hung up the telephone quickly, she had half an hour in which to make sure everything was fine, and then to murder Philadelphia.

"Lizzie I'm awfully sorry." Philadelphia was standing just outside the door. "I didn't realise how bad that sounded, honest I didn't."

"Delph, you could disarm the Kaiser himself. Now move it, we've got half an hour to get everyone to the front gates and ready to go."

"He must be close by, it can't be that quick to get an motor and get moving."

"He's on the other side of Paris, but there are times when being where he is, is an advantage. Now move." Elizabeth shoved Philadelphia ahead of her as she dove for the stairs and their temporary quarters, she still had her hair to do for the morning.

Continued In Next Section