Читать книгу On Guard For Thee - Murray Snow - Страница 9

The Barracks

Brecon, Wales

24 January, 0830 Hours

James and Leeanne arrived at Brecon Barracks, home to the Royal Welsh Regiment, formerly the Royal Regiment of Wales, and were immediately taken to the commanding officer, Brigadier-General William Bennett. James was in his dress greens, his medals filling three rows on the left side of his tunic.

As they entered the plain, nondescript office, James came to attention, saluted stiffly, and waited. He groaned as his arm moved more than it should, but Bennett carried on without comment.

“Captain Morgan,” he said, smiling as he stood, “it is indeed a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you, Brigadier. Leeanne, may I present Brigadier William Bennett.”

Leeanne came to attention. “How do you do, sir.”

“If I may, Captain,” Bennett said as he kissed the back of Leeanne’s hand, “you have a very beautiful wife.”

James smiled. “Damned straight, sir.”

“Still the same old insolent pup, eh?”

“She’s trying to change me, but no luck yet, sir.”

Bennett laughed and walked back to his desk. “Please, have a seat. May I offer you a cup of tea?” He reached into an ornate wooden box sitting on the corner of the desk and pulled out a meerschaum pipe, the face of an angel carved into the bowl.

“Tea would be fine, sir,” Leeanne said, and rubbed her temples.

James looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”

She smiled, but her eyes bore into him. “Back off.”

“Seeing as you already know the barracks, James,” Bennett said, ignoring the brief exchange, “I’ve arranged for a small tour for Leeanne. I hope you don’t mind, my dear.”

“I’d be delighted, sir.”

“Captain!” he called loudly. Smoke swirled around his head as he stood.

James stood and turned to face the door. His eyes opened in shock. “Sweet Jesus! Brian!” He walked over to his friend, and the two embraced.

“You had us worried for a while there, Jimmy. I thought I told you that this hero bunk can get a man seriously hurt.”

“Nobody ever said heroes were smart.”

“Captain Crawford, I assume you know Mrs. Morgan.”

“Yes, sir.” Brian, an inch shorter than James, but more muscular, walked over and wrapped his arms around her. She squealed as he twirled her around. “Hello, my dear.”

The two men had been friends since James’ tour with the Royal Regiment of Wales several years ago. With a similar sense of humor and honor, and with both having family in Brecon, an instant friendship had formed and was nurtured through the years.

Leeanne kissed his cheek and ran her fingers through his short hair. “If only James had red hair like this, he’d be perfect.”

“Careful what you wish for, lass. He’s hard enough to live with already.” He took her arm and guided her to the door. “Don’t worry, boyo, I’ll take good care of her. We shall see you for lunch. Brigadier,” Brian said, and saluted.

“Wouldn’t you know it? I don’t see the man for two years and what’s he do? He walks out with my wife.”

James and Brigadier Bennett meandered through the compound while Bennett explained some of the newer, less classified security measures around the perimeter and made their way across the parking lot to the museum. As they walked through the displays, they stopped at the tribute to Lieutenant J.R.M. Chard, Royal Engineers, Officer Commanding, Rorke’s Drift.

During the Zulu wars, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 24th Foot, Welsh Borderers, with only 137 men, successfully defended an outpost from several thousand Zulu warriors. Eleven Welshmen were decorated for extreme valor during the battle.

“It’s a lovely shade of purple, don’t you think?” Bennett and James stood in front of the replica of the Victoria Cross awarded to Lieutenant Chard.

“Yes, sir.” The admiration in his voice was clearly evident.

Bennett looked at his watch and sighed. “Well, Captain, time to go.”

“Sir?”

“Just follow me.”

“Yes, sir.” There were some senior officers you could joke with, and while Bennett fell in this category, James knew better than to say no to him. The two men walked into the bright morning sunlight toward a Royal Air Force helicopter sitting in the middle of the parking lot. The pilot and copilot stood at ease on either side of the door.

“Going somewhere, sir?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. And so are you.”

“Sir?”

“Do be quiet, Captain, and get on board.”

“What about Leeanne and Brian?”

“They’ve already left.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. Making a valiant effort to keep his mouth shut lest he annoy the Brigadier more, he leaned back as the helicopter lifted up and nosed into the wind.

James marveled at the natural beauty of the area as they flew over the Welsh countryside. Gentle rolling hills led to the top of Pen y Fan, the highest of the Brecon Beacons. It had seen a storm during the night, and its snow-covered peak contrasted sharply with the purple heather gently blowing in the fields lower down.

James closed his eyes. A bit of sleep wouldn’t hurt him, and Bennett was already reading a newspaper. Besides, he thought as he folded his arms across his chest, if my eyes are closed, I won’t die screaming when the rubber band on this thing breaks.

It seemed only minutes had passed before Bennett shook him awake. “Captain. Captain Morgan,” Bennett called loudly over the whine of the engines. “Time to wake up, James.”

“James wants some more sleep.” He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. A vast city sprawled below. “May I ask where we are, sir?”

“We’ll be landing shortly. If your geography is as good as your history, you should be able to tell me where you are.”

“London, sir.” James continued looking about as the helicopter began to descend. A second helicopter was already in the courtyard. “Sir,” James said weakly, “is there something I should be aware of?”

“Captain Morgan, you are getting a medal, and as a Canadian soldier, you are entitled to receive it here.” The helicopter touched down and several men rushed forward.

“Welcome, gentlemen. You should only be here an hour, but we must keep moving. Time is tight.” James looked at the man dressed in a black tuxedo with tails. Comprehension was slow and Bennett laughed out loud at James’s discomfort.

“Shall we go?” Bennett asked pleasantly. James nodded again, stepped out of the helicopter, and held his beret in his hand until they were out of the down-blast from the rotors. Only when he was inside did he put his beret on.

James’s mind had stopped working. He knew where he was, but he had never been this close before, never saw anything but pictures. The sheer size of the building astounded him. Royalty wasn’t just a word around here: it was a state of mind.

They turned a corner and entered a large room with forty or so people standing, chatting. Brian, now in his dress uniform, walked up to his ashen-looking friend. “Welcome to Buckingham Palace, Jimmy. I’d take more of your time, but someone is waiting to see you.”

He moved aside, and from across the room, Leeanne walked forward. The business suit was gone, and in its place she wore a full-length navy blue satin gown. James had never seen her like this. Not even on their wedding day did she look this radiant. Long sleeves covered her arms, and the high Victorian collar accentuated her slender neck. She reached up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “My God,” he said as their eyes met, “you really do look like a princess.” She blushed and smiled more warmly than he could ever remember. She was about to speak when the little tuxedoed man entered the room and called for everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen. When your name is called …”

“Would someone please tell—“

“Be quiet and listen,” Brian said. “This is one show you don’t want to muck up.”

James tried to pick up the thread of what was being said. Directions and confusion never mixed well.

“…steps back, that is the signal your time is finished. Please bow, move off, and return to your original position. The order of presentation is as follows…”

He read off the fifteen names of those who would be awarded various “knightships,” or “dukedoms” or—or what? James knew what he wanted to think, but words and thoughts were jumbled in his mind. The tension in the room had escalated, and many were now visibly nervous. The constant chatter was now a true buzz as everyone talked in hushed, hurried tones.

“We’ll see you back here when it’s over.” Leeanne reached up and stroked his cheek. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “I love you.”

She and Brian walked through the side doors and out of the room. Now what the hell was all that about? he said.

“How do you do,” a voice said from behind him.

James looked around and quickly came to attention. “Sir.”

“Save that for later, Captain,” the older man said with a bemused smile. “Nobody is too worried about a salute in here. Much too uptight for that tripe right now.” The man was a full colonel in the Royal Marines.

“Sir,” James croaked. He cleared his throat, annoyed at himself. “Sir, I don’t mean to sound like a dumb colonial, but am I going to meet who I think I’m going to meet?”

“If you think you’re going to meet the Queen, then yes, you’re absolutely right.”

“Oh, God.”

“Where are you in the order, Captain?”

“Third, sir.”

The Colonel’s eyes opened wide, and he truly looked at James for the first time. “Then you have my sincerest congratulations, Sir.” He came to attention before moving away.

James looked at him. “I …”

One of the doors opened briefly and the tuxedoed man entered. “Ladies and gentlemen. If you would please move into order, we may begin.” It took a minute to organize everyone, but finally, slowly, the two main doors opened.

Red carpeting led into a large, ornate hall, and as James looked around, his eyes took in each of the four carpeted steps to his right. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, Queen of England, and her husband, His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, were seated in the middle of the raised floor.

Oh, God, James thought as he marched to his spot, I think she looked at me.

Those being honored stopped and sat as they waited their turn. The first man was knighted Sir Something-or-Other. James couldn’t concentrate. When Sir Something-or-Other was done, the second man, the new Duke of Somewhere-or-other, walked up the stairs.

James watched, fighting to remember the protocol mentioned only minutes before. Damn it. I should have listened closer. Do I put my hand up to say I have to go to the bathroom or just cross my legs and pray?

“Captain James Llewellyn Morgan, 3rd Battalion, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, Canadian Forces.” James stood, snapped to attention, and marched forward, halting three paces away from the Queen. “The citation reads as follows: ‘On 3 January while on patrol in the Bihać Pocket, Captain Morgan, without hesitation, ordered his vehicle and crew…’”

James focused on a knot of wood in the throne and listened as the citation was read. Sounds like this Morgan character is one stupid sonofabitch, he thought. Pass out or throw up. Pass out or throw up? Hell, I can always do both, can’t I?

“Congratulations, Captain,” the Queen said softly, and pinned the Victoria Cross to his tunic. She lowered her eyes and took in the other medals. Smiling, she looked up. “It seems this is not your first encounter with danger, Captain.”

He smiled weakly. “Some people just don’t learn, Your Majesty.” His throat had gone dry and the words were barely audible.

She put her hand on his shoulder, ignoring his obvious unease. “Thank God for people like you.” As he met her gaze, she stepped back. “May God be with you, Captain.”

James stepped back, bowed, and smartly marched off. He looked into the rows of spectators as he returned to his seat. Leeanne, Brian, and Brigadier Bennett beamed, and for the first time, James noticed General Hanson. Several of the British soldiers he had rescued sat behind them. Tears ran down Leeanne’s cheeks.

“Welcome to the club, Jimmy,” Brian called as they came into the anteroom after the ceremony. Leeanne ran to him and threw her arms around him. James was still in shock, but the pain in his chest and arm was now only a distant bother.

James looked at Hanson who shook his head. There was a strange, almost strained look on Hanson’s face. “Brian,” Hanson said, “before I met you, I never thought I would see the Victoria Cross on someone still alive. Now, I see two of them.”

Brian, a second-lieutenant during the Faulkland Islands War, was awarded the Victoria Cross for rescuing thirty British prisoners from their Argentine captors and organizing them into a fighting force. Crawford’s Commandos, as they were subsequently known, in those eighteen hours destroyed an Argentine ammunition dump, captured over one hundred prisoners of their own, and destroyed five machine-gun posts saving untold number of lives in the subsequent English attacks.

Hanson came to attention and saluted. “Congratulations, Captain.”

James wiped his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Hanson pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Room!” someone bellowed from across the great hall.

The military personnel snapped to attention. “Please, relax. Captain Morgan,” he called.

“Sir!” James called loudly. He turned, but stayed at attention.

Prince Philip moved toward him. The other officers stayed at attention, scarcely allowing a breath. Bennett, more accustomed to this way of life, was slightly more relaxed and seemed to take a perverse delight in the others’ discomfort.

“Good morning, William. Captain Morgan. I wanted to tell you myself that Corporal Emerson will be posthumously awarded the Cross of Valour.” A lump formed in James’s throat and he nodded. Philip looked at Leeanne and smiled. “Who is this lovely lady?”

James fought to remember the numerous rules of etiquette for introducing people. He had learned them years ago as an officer-cadet, yet couldn’t remember if those rules included royalty. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Junior to senior, younger to older—that was the easy part. Prince to wife or wife to Prince? He mentally shrugged and came up with his own order of precedence. “Leeanne, may I present the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Philip. Sir, my wife, Leeanne.”

“Your Highness.” She did a deep curtsy and extended her hand.

“A pleasure, Leeanne. Tell me, Captain, was that citation completely accurate?”

James flushed. “Not completely, sir.”

Philip smiled now, not at Morgan’s unease, but at the innocence so obviously on display before him. “Which part?”

“Well, Sir. That part about ‘without hesitation’ isn’t quite right. There was a lot of that.” Prince Philip laughed. James looked at the ground, embarrassed. “I just did my job, sir.”

“No, Captain,” Philip said softly. “You saved numerous lives and did so in a way that brought credit and honor not only to the military and to your country, but to yourself as well. I’m sure the soldiers you saved think you did more than your job. I’m sure the families of the civilians think you did more than your job, too.” He sighed and shook his head. “Whether people realize it or not, we are at war, James. That is what peacemaking is. The media hasn’t come out and said it—they won’t say it—because of that one word. War. It tends to have a devastating effect on morale. Thank you, Captain.” Philip nodded to the other officers and walked into the crowd.

“You can move now, James,” Brigadier Bennett said lightly.

“I need a drink,” James said.

Brian chuckled. “We can take care of that back at the barracks. Brigadier, our boy needs a libation.” James followed Brian and the others through the massive hallways to the waiting helicopters.

As he sat, Leeanne’s eyes met his and she smiled. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I love you.” Only then did he cry. For himself, Emerson, or the people he couldn’t save, he didn’t know, but the tears finally came.