A New Kind of War Read Free Page A

against the remaining hours of daylight and their very difficult objectives. And suddenly an overwhelming bitterness suffused Fred. Because the bloody Germans were one thing, and bad enough. But the bloody Greeks were another—and this really wasn’t the war he had volunteered for. Even, until now, it wasn’t a war which he had been able to take seriously: it was Kyri’s bloody war, not the British army’s bloody war—and especially not his!
    All of which made him think of the unthinkable, which nestled in his pocket, where he had put it this morning, freshly laundered. ‘How about surrendering—for the time being?’
    ‘Yes.’ Kyriakos nodded. ‘I had been thinking about that, also.’
    The lightness of the Greek’s voice alerted him. The truce talks … we could claim flag of truce—couldn’t we?‘
    ‘We could.’ The Greek had his own large white handkerchief. ‘But … if you don’t mind … we will claim it my way—’ He shook the handkerchief out. ‘—okay?’
    Suddenly Fred felt the breath of a colder wind within him than one he had already felt on his cheeks. ‘Kyri—’
    ‘No! You are quite right, old boy!’ Kyriakos shook his handkerchief. ‘We wouldn’t get ten yards … This way … there’s a chance, I agree—’
    ‘No-’
    ‘Yes!’ The Greek nodded. ‘I am “Alex”—’ He patted his battle-dress pocket‘—and you wanted to visit Delphi … you can bullshit them about your classical education, and how you are a British socialist—tell them that you don’t like Winston Churchill, if you get the chance … But say that Spiros in Levadhia—Spiros the baker— he recommended me . Okay?’
    ‘Spiros, the baker.’ Fred echoed the order. ‘In Levadhia—?’
    ‘That’s all. Let me do the talking, old boy.’ Kyriakos drew a breath, and then grinned at him. ‘If they’re in doubt they won’t shoot you—they can always trade you: you’re worth more alive than dead at the moment— don’t argue — ’ He raised his hand quickly to preclude the argument‘— I know what to say, if we can only get them to talk. And since this is their only line of retreat I think they’ll talk—at least, to start with.’ He qualified the grin with a shrug. ‘After that, it will be as God always intended.’
    Fred bridled, already bitterly regretting his suggestion. ‘I don’t know, Kyri.’ The truth, which he had quite failed to grasp in half-grasping, was that it was this man’s own bloody war, truce or no truce. And that meant … that if it was true that a British officer had some value as a prisoner, it was even more true that a Greek royalist officer was certain to be shot out of hand if caught in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time. In fact, Kyri himself had said as much—and he had replied with cowardly stupidity, claiming guest-rights on Scobiemas Eve— I’m your bloody guest, Kyri ! ‘I don’t think so.’
    The Greek frowned. ‘Don’t think what, old boy?’
    Fred shivered inwardly, aware that he could never explain his shame—that would make it worse. ‘I don’t think I care to take the chance. I think I’d rather shoot it out here—’ He clawed at his holster with his right hand, only to find that the damn claw was as useless as ever—more useless even, in its very first real emergency ‘—damn it!’ Damn it to hell! Now he had to reach across with his fumbling left hand! ‘What I mean is … we can just slow them up, and wait for our chaps to come up behind them, Kyri.’ The bloody thing wouldn’t come out — it was snagged somehow — damn it to hell and back !
    ‘Too late, old boy,’ the Greek murmured, almost conversationally, raising himself, and then raising and waving his arm with the handkerchief on the end of it. ‘There! Never done that before … but there’s always a first time for everything, they say … And I’m told it always worked a treat with the Germans—with their ordinary fellows, anyway … eh?’
    ‘Oh … fuck!’ Fred