by Chris Harris
It felt strange not queuing up for food from the covered area we’d created at home, with the smoking beast as the central point. It felt like a self-service restaurant in a motorway service station or airport. The only difference was the solid looking cook standing behind the counter wearing camouflage, and the fact that there was no till at the end of the line.
I helped myself to a Cornish pasty and a pastry, and after pouring myself a cup of coffee, walked over to where Lieutenant Turner was waiting, seated at a table. We chatted about various subjects as I finished my meal and when I’d put the dirty dishes in the correct area, Lieutenant Turner took me to a locked room where he issued me with a washing kit and some clothes I could use as pyjamas.
“Are you tired?” he asked, “Or would you like a quick nightcap?”
“Do you have a bar?” I asked.
“Yes. It was initially designed to be the senior officers’ mess, but it’s been opened up for everyone to use. We took a vote on what to call it recently and it’s now known as ‘The Duke of Edinburgh’.”
“Why?”
“Well, officially it’s because that name got the most votes. But unofficially, the joke is he’s their best customer, so it was only right to name it after him!”
“It would be rude to refuse,” I agreed. “Thank you, I would really enjoy a nightcap.”
Further down the corridor he led me through a set of double doors. There was a hand painted sign above them, a mock-up of a traditional pub sign, with a caricature of the current Duke of Edinburgh holding a pint in his hand and leaning against a bar. Stopping to looking at it, I glanced at Lieutenant Turner and raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, he likes it,” he replied, smiling. “He laughs at it every time he walks in.”
As we walked up to the bar, he explained that alcoholic drinks were rationed to a few drinks a day. This was standard procedure on active duty bases to ensure that in the event of an emergency, half of the occupants wouldn’t be too drunk to help.
We sat down on bar stools and ordered two pints from the bartender. While we were waiting for them to be poured, I studied ‘The Duke of Edinburgh’. It was fitted out in a similar fashion to the rest of the facility, but the walls were decorated with military paintings and flags.
As well as the usual tables and chairs, there were a lot of sofas and armchairs scattered in groups around the room, which gave it a homely and welcoming atmosphere.
While I slowly savoured my first cask-poured pint since the event, Lieutenant Turner, (or Barry, as he now insisted I call him), informed me that they had quite a stock of beers and lagers. For some reason they’d received a lot of diverted deliveries from breweries as well as supermarkets in the days leading up to the event! I tried to ask him some questions about the base, but he said it would be best to wait until the morning, as a lot of the questions I had would be answered on the tour I could take if I wanted to.
We were interrupted by a Captain, (I was becoming accustomed to the insignias of rank by now, and was finding it easier to recognise what the officers were). “Hello, are you Tom?” he asked. “I’m Captain Hardy. I spoke to you over the radio when you first made contact.”
His name was Ian, and unlike most of the officers I’d met, he spoke with a broad Yorkshire accent. I remarked on this and he joked that he was their token northerner, whose job it was to remind all the posh kids who had joined the army that there was a world outside of the Horse Guards. He proudly showed me a Leeds United Football Club tattoo on his arm. At this point Barry interrupted to remind him about his family’s business interests in Leeds which, on the last Forbes rich list, had just squeezed him into the top two hundred richest people in England. So his poor downtrodden northern act might possibly work on me, Barry added, but in the meantime he should shut up and get the next round in!
Ian laughed, shook my hand and asked if he could join us as he’d just come off duty. He and Barry were clearly already friends and Barry dragged a bar stool across for him. I told them about the day’s events, from meeting the other groups, to the attack and the journey here so that Private Eddy could get the surgery he needed to save his life.
As word spread that one of the visitors was in the bar, a crowd gathered round us and I was bombarded by welcomes, good wishes and questions about life in the outside world.
I tried to be polite and answer all their questions, but after the day I’d experienced, I was worn out and the two pints I had drunk had relaxed me so much I was almost falling asleep at the bar. Barry noticed how exhausted I was looking and hurriedly extracted me from the growing crowd.
Gratefully, I followed him down a series of corridors until we stopped outside a numbered door. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and handed me the key. “This is your room. I’ll arrange for someone to collect you at 0900 hours, so if you could be ready for then please?”
Thanking him again, I entered the room and set my bag of belongings down on a table. The room was small but contained a double bed and a writing desk and there was a small shower room. It was very similar to many economy hotels I’d stayed in over the years, clean, functional and perfectly acceptable.
Although I was exhausted, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to have a long hot shower and stood for a long time under the steaming jets of water, just enjoying the warmth. The steam and heat seemed to sap any last vestiges of energy I had and I staggered to the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A discreet knock on the door woke me with a start the next morning. Initially disorientated at waking in a strange bed, it took a few moments for me to remember where I was. I blinked and looked at the clock on the wall.
It was nine o’clock. Realising that the knocking on the door must be the person who was supposed to be escorting me to wherever they wanted me to be, I staggered out of bed, wrapped a towel around my waist and answered the door. It was Jon himself, with a few other officers standing behind him.
“Sorry Tom, I thought I’d pick you up on the way past.”
“My fault,” I admitted. “I haven’t worn a watch since the event, and I was too tired last night to set the alarm.” I pointed to the alarm clock on the bedside table.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send the others on and I’ll wait while you get ready.”
He nodded to the others and they continued on down the corridor, while he walked into the room and sat himself down on a chair.
I grabbed a quick shower and left the bathroom door open so that we could talk. Private Eddy had come through the surgery and was doing well. I remembered with a pang that my family probably had no idea we’d arrived safely. With everything that had happened yesterday it hadn’t crossed my mind to contact them. Jon reassured me, saying that our safe arrival had been reported and promising that I would have an opportunity to talk to them over the radio later on that day.
They were due a contact soon, because at eight o’clock that morning Captain Berry had presented his plan of attack on Gumin to the road committee, and Jon was waiting to hear about the outcome of the meeting.
I changed quickly and followed Jon to the canteen, where we had a very quick breakfast, as he said he had a few people he wanted me to meet.
He warned me that I might have to repeat my story several times, but promised to try to make it bearable.
A corporal came and handed him a note while we were eating. He scanned it quickly and handed it back, dismissing the messenger.
“The plan’s been approved by your guys with just a few amendments. They’ve suggested that a few civilians join in as well, not to take part in the attack, but just so that afterwards there are a few faces not wearing a uniform. It might help to calm people down.”
He thought for a second and then continued. “I agree, but don’t worry, I’m sure whoever goes along will be far away from the action during the attack, and will be closely protected afterwards. Do you think that’s reasonable?”
“Yes,” I said, slowly, “but I don’t want Beck
y volunteering. She’s had enough on her plate with me being away, and I know she’ll want to go and help, but there are plenty of other people who could go.”
“You can tell her yourself when you talk to her later,” said Jon. “Anyway,” he grinned, “I’m not doing your dirty work for you. If you don’t want her to do something, you can tell her yourself!”
When we’d finished our breakfast and tidied the trays away, Jon led me down a few corridors and through a set of double doors. I found myself in a small reception area. The door on the other side of the room was guarded by an armed soldier.
The soldier sitting at the reception desk stood up, saluted Jon and said, “Colonel Moore, you can go straight through, they’re waiting for you.” Before I could ask another question, Jon had ushered me through the door, which was being held open for us by the soldier.
I found myself standing at the foot of a long conference table. Seated around the table were the Prime Minister, the Deputy Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition and a number of other familiar political faces.
The Prime Minister stood up and came towards me, extending his hand in welcome. Numb with shock, I shook it and tried to take in what he was saying. I suppose I should have expected to meet them at some point, I had known they were in the bunker after all. I shook more hands as I was introduced to more of the people around the table. I knew the names of the leading politicians due to all the television coverage they’d received, but had no idea who some of the others were. Standing on the outskirts of the room were people I assumed were their advisors and secretaries, as I recognised a few of them from the expedition. They looked very different dressed in suits. I nodded to a few of them and sat down.
For the next hour, they questioned me about my experiences and asked for my opinion on various aspects of the recovery plan.
I soon forgot who I was speaking to, and at one point, when I bluntly told the Prime Minister that he didn’t know what he was talking about and should check his facts, the surprised look on his face made me stop and collect myself. I began to apologise but he stopped me and said firmly that he didn’t need “yes men”, he needed people to tell him if he was wrong and he appreciated my candour.
After a long discussion they thanked me for my time and asked me to leave, as I’d given them a great deal to think about.
The Prime Minister summed up by saying, “Tom, Colonel Moore has briefed us all on your incredible story and how you and your friends and neighbours survived this disaster. Now that we’ve had the chance to meet you and talk about it face to face, we’re even more impressed, particularly given that you’re still willing to extend the hand of friendship to strangers. In our view, you and your friends and neighbours exemplify what is best about humanity. If we can copy your example, and replicate it across the country, then we stand a good chance of rebuilding something worthwhile again. Thank you.”
He began to clap, and soon the others were enthusiastically following his example.
It was all too much and I didn’t know where to put myself. Thanking them all, I left the room with Jon and his aides.
Jon noticed my discomfort and said, “Tom, I don’t think you realise how important you and your group have been to us here. All we’ve heard about for the past few months is bad news followed by more bad news. The whole country’s been overwhelmed by it. Yes, there may be more groups out there doing exactly what yours is doing, and for the sake of humanity I hope to God there are, but you were the first sign of hope for us. You’ve restored everyone’s faith in our ability to start again. Until you contacted us, it was all just a theory on paper, but now you’ve proved that it’s feasible. Things will never be the same again, but they can improve.”
Slapping me on the back he said, “Come on, let’s have a break in the canteen. There are a few more people who’ll want to meet you in a while.”
In the canteen, I spotted Jerry sitting at a table talking with a group of people. We joined them and Jerry introduced me to the surgeon and the medical team who had operated on Private Eddy and saved his life.
Although very weak still, he was doing fine.
His wife and child had already been to see him and all he needed now was rest and time to make a full recovery.
After about twenty minutes, a soldier walked over to Jon and spoke quietly to him. Jon checked his watch and then asked Jerry and me to come with him, as someone had requested an audience with us.
“An audience?” I teased, “You’ll be telling me next we’re going to see the Queen!”
The look on Jon’s face stopped me dead. “We are, aren’t we?” I said, slowly.
He nodded, “Her Majesty’s requested some of your time. Look, in view of our rather unique living conditions, a lot of the rules of etiquette have been relaxed. She eats her food in here with us, and although she does have the best quarters down here, she spends a lot of her time attending meetings and generally trying to make things work better. She has a position to maintain, but the way she’s helped to integrate all the different groups of people living in close proximity to each other has, in my opinion, only strengthened the love and loyalty most of us feel towards her.” Winking, he added, “Her team is the undisputed winner of our weekly pub quiz competition!”
Exchanging nervous glances, Jerry and I followed Jon down yet another corridor. He stopped at a door guarded by another armed soldier, knocked on it and entered without waiting for a response. Hesitantly, we followed him into the room.
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, The Queen was sitting calmly behind a normal desk between Prince Philip and Prince William. She was simply but neatly dressed in a tweed suit and the princes were in ordinary military camouflage uniform.
Unsure about what to do next, we waited until Jon had stepped forward and said, “Ma’am. Sirs. May I present Tom and my brother Jerry? You know their story but I believe you have some more questions for them.” He stepped to one side and left us standing there, not knowing what to do.
She smiled at us both. “Welcome! Please take a seat,” and motioned towards two chairs that were in front of the desk.
Jon cleared his throat. “Ma’am, with your permission, I’d like to return to my duties.”
“Please do, and thank you, Colonel Moore.”
With that, he turned and left the room.
Jerry and I shuffled nervously over to the proffered chairs and sat down. We were both unsure about the rules of etiquette. Were we expected to start the conversation? Or should we wait to be addressed?
Prince Philip broke the silence by saying, “Gentlemen, welcome. We appreciate that one would normally receive a briefing on what to do and what not to do before being received by a member of royalty. So let me put your mind at ease. The first thing to do is relax. Remember, we’re all in this together. Secondly, you’re free to speak your mind. Thirdly, please address me and any other member of the family as ‘Sir’ and the Queen as ‘Ma’am’. That way we’re still observing tradition, but not getting bogged down in the minutiae. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” we both responded.
I hesitated for a moment, then plunged straight in, “Sir, Ma’am. It’s an honour to meet you, but a few days ago Prince Harry told me to call him Captain or Harry.”
They all laughed and Prince William said, “I suppose he started with his Royal Highness and bow routine as well?”
I nodded, smiling.
The Queen leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “How is my grandson?” she asked. “Is he behaving himself? He was chomping at the bit to go on the expedition to find you. He speaks very highly of both of you, you know. He’s reported back to me more than once about what you’ve done. You all have my admiration and thanks for seemingly achieving the impossible.”
The three of them proceeded to question us for the next hour, and it became clear in that time that they already possessed a good understanding and appreciation of the problems the country was experiencing.
The Que
en explained that Prince Charles and a few other members of the Royal Household were at another location, not by any means as large or as well stocked and staffed as this one.
Charles and the others had been in regular contact, and due to the remoteness and relative inaccessibility of their location, they’d encountered relatively few people, and had therefore been able to move around quite freely outside their bunker, without any fear of attracting unwanted attention.
They didn’t mention where the others were located, but I guessed that it was probably at Balmoral Castle, the Queen’s summer residence. I didn’t know exactly where it was, but I knew it was in a remote location, surrounded by mountains and moorlands, and deep in the Scottish Highlands.
We were questioned thoroughly about the recovery plan, and whether we thought that basing parts of it on the way we had set up our community was a good idea. Naturally we said that it was, and that hopefully, similar communities could be set up around the country, spreading out slowly at first, with each new community reaching out to help build another. The vision set out in the recovery plan should be possible.
I described how we’d been attacked several times in the past and more particularly, in the past few days, and admitted that in the case of the most recent incident, had it not been for the presence of the army, we would have been in serious trouble, and would probably have lost members of our community in the process.
The latest attack had been particularly worrying and I knew that Colonel Moore should have heard from Captain Berry by now, so I asked if they’d heard any news about the investigation. They hadn’t, but I’d clearly aroused their curiosity, so Prince William picked up a telephone and requested that Colonel Moore re-join them at his earliest convenience.
Ten minutes later, Colonel Moore knocked and entered the room, carrying a file under his arm.
“Colonel Moore. We’ve been discussing yesterday’s ambush and were wondering if you have any more information about it?” asked Prince William.
Jon nodded, “Actually, Sir, I do. I discussed it with Captain Berry this morning. All we know at the moment is that he recognised one of the attackers that we killed. He was a sergeant from one of his old units. The worrying thing is, the last he heard of him he was serving life in prison after raping and murdering a number of young women. According to Captain Berry, the man was a monster. We’re trying to check out the details of the story, but with computer records being non-existent now, it’s more a case of asking around to see if anyone can add to or corroborate the story.