"You have to put your head in a noose for them," Jeremy responded without hesitation.
"I'm listening."
"Camp Anzac is starting to fold its tents. The first battalions to move out are infantry, sappers, artillery. Apparently we are the tail end of the line."
"I've already spoken to General Brodhead about it. He said it is a typical army bureaucratic fuckup. We are officially a service unit. Service units have always brought up the rear. They made no provision for the fact that the Seventh Light Horse has extraordinary urgencies. The War Office and Darlington are on automatic. Brodhead has protested to London."
"We must leave Egypt first, Chris. If we don't have mules on Lemnos in a week or two and cram our training, we are going to fail in our mission, miserably," Jeremy said. "From what we can sniff out, there is going to be hell to pay, if the mules aren't working."
Chris became a bit sick to the stomach from a delayed wave of the effects of the past forty-eight hours.
"Chris," Jeremy continued, "we have been raised under the axiom that other people only existed for our use. We were taught they were faceless, without feelings, needed no compassion. The army is a brotherhood. What makes it go is your dedication to their lives, as human beings. They aren't mules to be worked until we have no more use for them and discarded. They are men to be brought through this and they trust you. You know what must be done."
Pig Island had been in a state of awful melancholy. Lieutenant Jeremy had been gone most of the day. The Major had been taken to the hospital over forty hours earlier. The blow fell on them in the first orders to break camp. Troop trains to Alexandria and ships to Lemnos would be in motion in two more days. The schedule of battalion departures was set well into April. The Seventh Light Horse was not on the list.
No mules, no final training. Gallipoli seemed to be a well kept military secret that everyone knew, including the London newspapers. The squad had studied the maps. The landscape was treacherous. The job would be botched if they didn't get their animals at once.
Yurlob Singh entered and everyone cast their eyes down. They were in a state of communal guilt over having blackballed Yurlob from the Villa Valhalla.
"Listen, Yurlob," Rory said at last, "we feel shitty about the way you've been treated by us."
"Real shitty," Johnny added.
"Bad," Chester said.
Modi shook his head in shame.
"If you speak of the Villa Valhalla," the Sikh answered, "you made the proper decision. I would not have felt comfortable in that atmosphere and would have made you likewise not comfortable."
"I know," Rory said, "but at least we should have invited you and if it wasn't working, fine. But we should have asked you in."
"That would have been worse," Yurlob answered. "It would have imposed upon me to carry your secret. Your behavior was clearly in conflict with military code. I am glad I was not burdened with the secret."
"Are you sure you're not pissed off at us?" Rory asked.
"I was, but I am not. I feared you would not respond to the Major's dilemma. But you did, indeed, most gallantly."
"Actually it passed through my mind to let him fry," Modi said. "There are some people, like Major Hubble, who can let you know you're a dirty Jew without uttering a word."
"Or a Sikh houseboy," Yurlob answered. This sobered everyone. "The point is, we volunteered into this army and he is our commanding officer, so we must be loyal, if we are men."
"How is our beloved leader, anyhow," Rory asked. "Did they get him pumped out?"
"He was released from the hospital yesterday. Today, he met with Major General Brodhead and General Darlington."
"Darlington, the big man."
"Darlington!"
"Major Hubble and Major General Brodhead tried to get General Darlington to change the order of battalion departures and have the Seventh Light Horse arrive at Lemnos first."
"How the hell do you know this?" Johnny asked.
"Lieutenant Colonel Swaran Singh has been on General Darlington's staff since Darlington was CC of Punjab. He is my uncle, the brother of my father."
"What happened?" Chester asked shakily.
"I do not know. My uncle told me that in his twenty-two years of service in His Majesty's army, he had never heard a junior officer speak so forcefully to a general."
"Jaysus, what did he say?"
"I believe Major Hubble's most profound words were when he told the general, 'You're a fucking fool.' At that point Darlington removed his staff from the room. Only Major Hubble and Major General Brodhead remained."
"Yow."
"Mother of God."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Over an hour ago."
"Oh Jaysus, they've jailed him."
They sat in fear-filled silence until Lieutenant Jeremy arrived. Jeremy knew nothing except that Christopher had a meeting at Corps.
"I wonder if those cops ever got out of the closet," Chester said.
"I wonder if Sonya made it out of Cairo."
"I hope she took Shaara with her. Shaara said Sonya promised to take her to Spain."
"I hear Cairo is ready to explode. They say that Corps has given leave to thirty thousand troops and let everyone know that no arrests for misconduct will be made."
"Yeah, I heard the same."
"So Cairo will burn."
"I wish we were going in."
"We made our own personal farewell."
"I hope Sonya made it out of town."
Silence.
"Although I am relieved I was not involved with Villa Valhalla, I should like to also have a tattoo. I have seen you in the showers with envy."
"Sure."
"Absolutely."
"You're going to have to wait awhile."
"I am honored."
Silence.
Mordechai left and returned with his accordion. He tried a happy song. It got baleful looks. He played a sad song. That was better.
"TEN-SHUN!"
Everyone scrambled to their feet as Major Hubble entered, appearing pale and weak.
"As you were," he said with a hoarse voice. As they went gingerly into their chairs, Christopher clasped his hands behind him and paced, groping for the language to express the emotions that overwhelmed him.
"What the devil," he finally managed. "Thank you." He went from man to man and offered his hand, and when that was done, he postured once more. "This does not mean I offer any apologies for the manner in which I have commanded this battalion. While some measures may have seemed excessive, we have a battalion second to none in this entire expeditionary force.... I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Everyone winced and turned their heads on cue as though to duck an oncoming punch.
"The bad news is that I offered my resignation to General Brodhead over my behavior and he refused it so I am to continue as your commanding officer." He snickered at his humor and was delighted to see broad smiles greet him. "I don't imagine I'm going to change all that much, although I have gained some new insight into my obligation to take care of you no less than you have taken care of me."
Jeremy's eyes brimmed near tears. Chris had made his first gesture to escape from a life-long prison imposed by privilege. It was about as much humility as his brother could muster.
"I say, I have other news. Shall we gather 'round the big table here? Do you suppose we might have some tea?"
"Yes, sir," Chester snapped, and went to the always ready pot.
"Nothing but tea for me for a while." Chris loosened his Sam Browne belt and put his jacket over the back of the chair. He could not help but feel a great deal of warmth coming to him from the men, a kind of sensation he had felt from his mother, long ago. Many times he had passed a room in a museum or missed an opera he should have attended or passed by some very special flowers at a show and he'd wished he had gone in. He was in that room now and it was a wonderful place to be.
"May I say, Major," Rory said, "that we are deeply sorry for your troubles."
"Thank you. It was quite a blow. I do censor a great deal of outgoing mail. It seems that this is a rather common occurrence for us chaps.... Shall we get to our business?"
After tea was served and properly balanced with condiments, Christopher wore a sly grin. "I was fortunate to be able to have a chat with Central Command today. I was able to convince General Darlington to reverse our order of departure. As of this moment, the Seventh Light Horse is breaking down to ship out immediately."
It was somewhat short of a formal hip-hip-hooray, but everyone shouted in delight and backs were pounded.
"The gaffer squad now takes on a very key position in the coming operations. You men will be dealing head-on with staff officers, battalion and company commanders, etcetera, etcetera. Commensurate with your duties and so that you will not be bullied about by rank, I have been authorized to issue field commissions. Goodwood, Yurlob, Tarbox, and Landers-you are now subalterns...second lieutenants."
The men that greeted the first news with such noise, greeted this with drop-jawed, stunned silence. When it sank in, they began to laugh and punch one another in the shoulders.
"Dr. Pearlman, as the vet of the Anzac Expeditionary Forces, you are commissioned as a first lieutenant."
"But how? I don't officially exist!"
"You are on detached duty from the Czar's Army. Russia is an ally."
"Lieutenant Pearlman?"
"Lieutenant Pearlman?"
"Hey, Lieutenant Pearlman."
"This puts us all on a first-name basis," Christopher said. "Landers...Rory, you're off to Lemnos in twenty-four hours. Lieutenant Modi, you're off on a buying mission, at once. I'll explain in a moment. Tarbox and Goodwood will work with Jeremy on the logistics of breaking down the battalion and getting it moved. Jiggle things around to get maximum speed and efficiency."
"Yes, sir."
"Yurlob."
"Sir."
"You're in charge of all mule gear. Pick a work party from B Company."
He turned to Rory again. "You are to take a platoon from A Company to Lemnos and fence the paddocks, and what support buildings will be needed, blacksmith shop, medical shack, etcetera, etcetera. At the same time you will scout out the terrain of Lemnos and track out a three to five mile training run. Your orders state that the commanding officer on Lemnos is to give you top priority. After we break here, make up a rough plan of what you'll need and bring it to my office."
"I've got it."
"Doctor Modi. We have commandeered a cattle boat and have it on hold at Alexandria. You will locate four to five hundred tiptop mules and open up sources to keep reinforcements coming, as required. Get the first batch to Lemnos, yesterday."
"Questions, Major Chris. I am utterly beyond certain that I can come up with a couple hundred mules at once."
"Lord, where?"
"Cyprus. The Cyprus mules are renowned. They are even in Shakespeare."
"You don't say? Which play would that be?"
"Othello."
"Bully. Well, we are in good fortune. Cyprus has been annexed and is directly under control of British forces."
"I know the mule dealers from my years in Palestine. Because of the urgency, I need a few things."
"Shoot."
"Greeks are Greeks. I'll have to bargain hard. If I know I can pay a premium, they will sell me all the mules we need and their daughters as well."
Chris stopped to consider. It flashed through his head that he didn't quite trust the Jew and was hesitant to give him carte blanche. What the hell. One had to trust.
"Can you work around the traders?"
"You don't change two thousand years of doing business. If a dealer can be worked with a bribe, then let him get us the mules. He'll find them in a minute."
"Rather hate doing business that way, but, considering the circumstances, pay what you must and get them to Lemnos."
"Good," Modi said. "In that case I would like to take the best negotiator with me, a man from the Zion Mule Corps. He speaks Greek. I have been on many trips with him. Cyprus has Greeks, Turks, and Arabs. He knows, first rate, how to deal with them."