Death In Captivity

by Michael Gilbert

  ‘If that’s all agreed,’ said Bush, ‘what are we waiting for. On with the rehearsals.’

  ‘There’s one thing,’ observed Captain Abercrowther, who was trying on a formidable pair of side-whiskers. ‘I haven’t haird yet how you propose to deal with that wee dug.’

  ‘Flush,’ said Rolf-Callender thoughtfully. ‘Yes. He is going to be a bit of a problem. I suppose that if the worst came to the worst we could cut—’

  ‘Shame,’ said Bush. “The Barretts without Flush! It would be like Hamlet without the First Grave-digger.’

  ‘I know, but – ’

  ‘I had an idea about that,’ said Captain Abercrowther. ‘Has that fellow Paoli not got a wee dug—?’

  ‘But it’s not a spaniel.’

  ‘Not precisely a spaniel, no. But it’s a plain, white, podgy little creature and seems tolerably placid. Could not some of our make-up artists—? ’

  ‘Liver and white markings,’ cried Rolf-Callender.

  ‘A pair of false ears!’ suggested Bush.

  ‘And a nubby little tail!’

  ‘Mac,’ said Peter Perse, ‘it’s the idea of the century. I can plainly see that this performance is going to be a riot.’

  9

  The next morning, making his rounds of the camp, Tenente Mordaci suddenly stopped.

  He stopped because he fancied he heard his name.

  Not only his surname, which would have been interesting, but his Christian name, too.

  More interesting still.

  He looked round him. He was standing in the open space between Hut B and Hut C and it was from a window in Hut C that the voices seemed to come.

  He knew well that Hut C was notorious for containing a high percentage of evil characters, maniacs who could not see that they were well off out of the war, but must ever be plotting and scheming and disturbing the peace of mind of those lawfully placed in authority over them.

  It was clearly his duty to investigate. His presence did not seem to be suspected. Hitching his cloak round his shoulders – a subconscious gesture, in moments of crisis – he tiptoed to the outer wall of the hut and sidled along towards the window.

  What he saw transfixed him with astonishment.

  Seated on a bed, surrounded by a grinning group of prisoners, was a most extraordinary figure. Padded into gross obesity with many pillows, the lips puffed and reddened with make-up, a doll on his knee, a blanket thrown cloak-wise round his shoulders, and an absurd travesty of a carabinier’s cocked hat on his head, it took Mordaci a few seconds to recognise the usually sedate Goyles.

  It had never occurred to him that Goyles was an actor. It now appeared that he was a very competent ventriloquist also.

  Mordaci peered closely at the doll.

  It appeared, from its dress, to be a lady of doubtful taste and nonexistent virtue.

  Since nobody was looking towards the window, he was able to study this edifying scene for some minutes.

  ‘But Ercolo,’ said the doll, ‘your suggestions fill me with alarm and suspicion.’

  ‘Come, come now,’ said Goyles, in a revolting imitation of Mordaci’s unctuous bass. ‘You are a woman of the world.’

  ‘It is because I am a woman of the world that I hesitate.’

  ‘Then hesitate no longer. It is I, Ercolo Mordaci of the Carabinieri Reali, who speaks—’

  ‘It is I indeed who speak,’ said Mordaci.

  All heads in the room swung towards the window in gratifying unison.

  ‘It is I who speak, and I say that you will cease this imposture and accompany me to the office—’

  ‘But, Tenente—’

  ‘At once.’

  ‘It’s only a play I was rehearsing.’

  ‘And its name?’

  ‘Oh – we hadn’t thought of a name.’

  ‘Beauty and the beast,’ suggested someone from the crowd.

  ‘Enough,’ said Mordaci. ‘This vileness will bring its own reward. For seven days at least you shall not pollute the camp with your presence.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Tony Long, five minutes later, ‘absolutely painless. I’ll help you carry your kit as far as the guard house.’

  10

  The Punishment Block, or the cooler, stood, as has been already explained, in the outer section of the camp. In this area, between the inner wire and the north wall, lay the guard quarters, the carabinieri offices, the Italian administrative huts, and the prisoners’ food and clothing store.

  Surrounded as it was on all sides by Italians, the cooler itself was not particularly well or systematically guarded. It comprised a small, brick block, divided by a central corridor, with two cells on either side. Those on the north (or outer) side were traditionally reserved for British prisoners, those on the other side for Italian soldiers who had been found guilty of derelictions of duty. On one side, at the end, was an ablution room. At this point the corridor turned through a right angle, so that the actual entrance door was out of sight of the cells themselves.

  In this entrance door a sentry was posted. It was his duty to make a periodical turn up the passage and inspect such cells as were occupied, by glancing through the inspection slit in the door.

  Since the sentry wore heavy, studded boots, and the floor of the corridor was tiled, his arrival on a tour of inspection never really took anyone by surprise.

  The possibilities of this arrangement had been quickly appreciated, and a succession of self-condemned prisoners, suitably equipped, had already rendered the barred windows of the two British cells rather more ornamental than useful. Long and Baierlein had also proved that a rough dummy in the bed was sufficient to satisfy a sentry, particularly one who was looking from a lighted passage into an unlighted cell.

  The whole arrangement was so scandalously careless, Goyles reflected as he sat on his bed that evening with his phrase book of Modern Greek, that it would be criminal not to take some advantage of it. There seemed no reasonable doubt that four prisoners, if only they could get into prison suitably equipped could get out of the window, on to the roof, and over the wall, with a minimum of difficulty.

  The loose bar and brick could be replaced from the outside, as Tony Long had already demonstrated, and if dummies were left in the beds they would not be missed until reveille.

  Suitably equipped – that was the snag. Even in Italy during the summer, you needed, for a cross-country journey, food and warm clothes and maps, and a host of other things: you could scarcely hope to smuggle them past the very thorough search which took place before you were jugged.

  Even so, there might be a solution that—

  At this moment the lights went out and Goyles glanced at his watch. It was ten o’clock.

  Biancelli, he knew, was not due on guard until eleven.

  He got up on to his bed, covered himself with a blanket, and prepared to wait. To prevent himself from nodding off altogether, he forced himself to think about the death of Coutoules. In his mind he went over and over every fact that he knew, and then again, remorselessly.

  He realised that he had very few facts to build on. But equally, as Colonel Shore had said, the whole problem was so crazy that any feasible solution must surely be the right one.

  Might Biancelli be bringing him just that one little extra fact which would make all the difference – the twist which would unlock the whole puzzle?

  It was very quiet in the cell.

  There was no Italian wireless blaring tonight. In the silence Goyles could hear a murmur of voices from the Carabinieri Block next door. He could almost make out individuals – the deep bellow of Mordaci, the thin pipe of Paoli, the incisive tones of Captain Benucci.

  When he looked at his watch again, it was eleven o’clock. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat up. His bed was alongside the door and on a level with the peephole, so that he had a clear view of the passage as far as the turn. He could hear the sentry, who had not stirred for the last hour, moving about, no doubt in preparation for his relief.


  Suddenly there came a snap and a double stamp as the sentry sprang to attention.

  There was a noise of feet, and a few words were spoken, which he could not catch.

  Then the light threw a long shadow down the corridor and Captain Benucci appeared. He walked right up to the door and stood outside, for a moment, looking at the darkened peephole. His face was not more than twenty inches from Goyles, who could smell the peculiar pomade which he used.

  ‘Captain Goyles.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Goyles cautiously.

  ‘Ah – you are awake. I wondered. I have a message for you. I have to tell you that Private Biancelli will not be on duty tonight. He shot himself this evening. He was cleaning his rifle. It was an accident.’

  Goyles had nothing to say. He saw Captain Benucci turn and he watched his back disappear down the passageway and heard the clock as the guard came to attention, and the sound of Benucci’s feet clattering away down the path.

  Chapter 7

  Fracas

  1

  ‘I don’t like this Potter business a bit,’ said Colonel Baird.

  ‘Stinks,’ agreed Commander Oxey.

  ‘Why do you think they did it? They can’t have got on to that semaphoring stunt – even if they did—’

  ‘Even if they did,’ said Commander Oxey, ‘it would be stupid to take any notice of it days after the event, when everybody knew about Sicily anyway.’

  ‘Then why pick on him? They haven’t tried to shift any of the other newcomers?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘He seemed a perfectly genuine and harmless little man. He knew a lot of the officers in 15 R.H.A. —’

  ‘By name?’

  ‘Certainly. Why? What are you getting at?’

  ‘Well,’ said Commander Oxey slowly, ‘I’ve been digging round among the gunner officers here – we’ve got one or two from that Regiment, and others who were in the same Division. They all agree that Potter seemed perfectly genuine. He knew the right answers. He’d heard of all the right people. He knew them by their names – even by their army nicknames – only—’

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘Only they none of them remember meeting him.’

  “That’s quite reasonable. He was a replacement signal officer. He went straight out from England and he only joined the Regiment a few days before the actual Sicily show—’

  ‘Quite,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘Then how did he come to know all those other people? He must have done some remarkably intensive visiting round the Division in those few days, to pick up all that gossip. I’m not too well up in army matters, but I should have thought that if he’d only been a few days with his Regiment he might have known one or two of the officers – the ones he actually messed with and worked under – but he’d still be a bit vague about the rest of the Regiment, wouldn’t he? Let alone the Division.’

  ‘There’s something in that,’ said Baird. ‘What’s your idea?’

  ‘I haven’t really got an idea yet – but I asked Lieutenant Long to come and have a few words. I think he might be able to help us.’

  ‘Tony Long,’ said Baird. ‘What makes you think that? He’s not a gunner – and he was in Special Service most of his time.’

  ‘Not all his life,’ said Commander Oxey with a smile. ‘That sounds like him now. Come in, Long. I was just talking about you to Colonel Baird. So far as I can see from our records you’re our only Sheltonian in the camp. At least, the only one of the right age.’

  ‘The right age, sir?’

  ‘Young enough, I mean. You were there in 1936 weren’t you – in School House?’

  ‘Yes. I went in winter ‘33 and left in ‘37.’

  ‘Then you’ll remember Potter?’

  ‘Potter,’ said Tony slowly. ‘Was Potter at Shelton?’

  ‘That’s what we’re asking you,’ said Colonel Baird sharply.

  ‘I can’t say I remember anyone called Potter. When was he supposed to have come?’

  Colonel Baird referred to his notes – ‘New boy in 1935.’

  ‘Oh, well, that would make him two years younger than me. It’s quite possible I wouldn’t know him. After all, there were six hundred boys there, in a dozen different houses. If he was in another house—’

  ‘That’s just it,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘He was in School House.’

  ‘Well, that settles it,’ said Long. ‘He wasn’t. You’re sure he said School House.’

  ‘Certain.’

  ‘Then he’s a liar.’

  ‘I thought he might be,’ said Commander Oxey. ‘I just wanted to be sure. Thank you very much.’

  When the door had closed behind him Colonel Baird said, ‘Well, what do you make of that?’

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ said Commander Oxey. ‘Somebody killed off their former stool-pigeon. They waste precious little time over installing a new one.’

  ‘No doubt. But why remove him before he’s had a chance to do any stooling?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Commander Oxey with a grin, ‘they heard of the precautions we were taking. They wouldn’t want him to go the same way as the first one, would they?’

  2

  ‘We’re to go ahead with the tunnel at full speed,’ said Hugo Baierlein. ‘I saw Baird this morning and he approved most of my suggestions. It’s a pity that both Roger and “Cuckoo” should be out of circulation just now, because they both know the ropes. We’re going to work three shifts instead of two – the first from nine to one, the afternoon shift from two to six, and a short evening shift from six till just before lock-up. First, we’re going to take some steps to speed things up. We’re only going to half-shore the tunnel. We’ll put in complete box sections of wood every other foot, and only a few thin pieces across the interval to form a ceiling—’

  That’s all right as far as it goes,’ said Overstrand, ‘but it doesn’t solve the main problem. It’s the disposal of the sand that’s holding us up. Even using A tunnel – which is very nearly full now – we’re getting out more than we can dispose of.’

  ‘I was coming to that,’ said Baierlein. ‘The order there is that everything goes. You can put it on the flower beds, paths, the playing fields, underneath huts. You can store it in boxes round the cook-house. The Escape Committee has come to the conclusion that the Italians know very well that there’s a tunnel being dug. They just don’t know where it starts from. If they find fresh sand, it won’t tell them anything they don’t know already.’

  ‘Provided people aren’t spotted coming away from this hut with it.’

  ‘Yes. That’s vital. Well then’ – Baierlein turned to Duncan and Anderson – ‘I take it you’re on.’

  ‘You may take it so,’ said Duncan, ‘and we can probably raise a complete working shift from our hut. Tunnelling stock has gone up a point or two after the S.B.O.’s speech.’

  ‘Right,’ said Baierlein. ‘Will you collect your people now and dribble them across? We’ll have the tunnel mouth open and show the way around. You can start proper work this evening.’

  ‘By the way,’ said Duncan, ‘have you roofed over the fall yet?’

  ‘Surely,’ said Overstrand. There was a degree of malice in his smile. ‘We’ve found a perfect roof for it.’

  When their visitors had gone, Baierlein and Overstrand walked along to the kitchen.

  ‘No hurry,’ said Baierlein. ‘We shall have to wait for them anyway, to help us up with the lid.’

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ said Overstrand, ‘it’s perfectly possible for two people to do it if you take it slowly. Grim and I did it the other day.’

  ‘Did you now?’ said Baierlein. ‘Well, I’m not Grim. We’ll wait till the others turn up if you don’t mind, and do it properly.

  3

  ‘Come in,’ said Colonel Lavery. ‘The Adjutant tells me you want a word with me.’

  ‘If I could,’ said Rolf-Callender. He was looking pink but determined and his rather girlish mouth had tighter lines r
ound it than usual.

  ‘It’s about some property of ours, sir, that’s been stolen.’

  ‘Stolen? That’s a horrible word to hear in a prisoner-of-war camp. Are you certain?’

  ‘Absolutely, sir. In fact I don’t think the thief is even troubling to deny it.’

  ‘I see.’ A wary look came into Colonel Lavery’s eye. ‘You said “our” property. It’s not just your private stuff?’

  ‘No, sir. It’s a roulette board. It belongs to Captain Perse and Lieutenant Bush and myself. We bought some of the stuff from the Italians, and got the rest from the Quartermaster. We made it ourselves.’

  ‘I see. You’re quite sure you haven’t just lost it?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s really possible, sir. It was a huge thing. It was hinged in the middle, but when it was flat it was about six feet by three.’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘Besides, we all know who’s got it. They’ve practically boasted about it. It’s Overstrand and his friends – we know – at least we’re practically certain’ – Rolf-Callender almost gobbled over this final indignity – ‘they’re using it to roof a tunnel.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And that’s not all, sir. They – or some of the other escaping people – stole the rugger posts. I don’t know if it was a tunnel – it was something to do with escaping – and people are getting pretty fed up about it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colonel Lavery.

  ‘It’s not only me – you could ask anyone in our hut. We’re all for live and let live, and when it comes to the point – I mean, what you said in your speech – I hope we’d do our bit like anyone else, but it’s these cloak-and-dagger types – why should they go round pinching other people’s stuff and behaving as if they owned the place? Why should they have special privileges?’