Crystal's Song Read Free Page B

that the young fellow had been adopted and reared by an elderly couple who felt it was their Christian duty to drum the fear of God into him – but he knew nothing about the lad’s birth mother. No doubt Eddie himself was completely in the dark on that subject. All he’d ever said was that he’d been quite lonely before he met up with a lassie called Betty at the Church Youth Group. Now that his adoptive mother was dead, Betty had come to be Eddie’s sheet-anchor in life and it was his firm resolve to marry her (if only she would have him) because she was so beautiful and vivacious.
    Tam chuckled when he heard that. It was obvious that a handsome young fellow like Eddie was a catch that any sensible girl would jump at – even a much sought-after redhead, as Betty must surely be from Eddie’s enthusiastic description. Tam’s mind went back to the lad’s question about the war and he wondered if he should speak the truth and say that he simply didn’t know how they’d be treated as prisoners of war and that he too was every bit as shit-scared as his young pal. But before he could answer, the voice of authority boomed out: “Right now, my lads! Stack all your rifles here by the wall. The last-ditch defence is over for us.”
    Tam nudged Eddie and they both stood up to obey the order from Sergeant Fred Armstrong, the most senior soldier left with the rearguard.
    Andrew Young, who preferred to be known as Andy, stayed firmly seated on the ground and, instead of obeying the order, gallantly squared up to the sergeant. “Are you telling us Royal Scots, who are the First of Foot – Right of the Line –”
    “– and the pride of the British army no less,” butted in Charlie Tracey, who in turn was interrupted.
    This time the continuity was broken by George McIntyre who added zealously, “And with us being the oldest regiment in the British army, and well-known to have been Pontius Pilate’s own bodyguard to boot, you’re wanting us to surrender like a bunch o’ yellow-livered cowards, are ye?” George then looked contemptuously towards the English squad.
    Fred shook his head wearily. “Look here, lads. It’s no about being seen as cowards – it’s all about survival! About living to fight another day – when we will win!”
    “But we could make a stand right here,” protested George.
    “Now, let’s just get this straight. There are seventy-five of us men here, and that’s counting the twenty-four English and Welsh lads. Most of you are raw recruits and we’ve only got some pesky rifles whose ammunition is running out. So d’you really think we could take on three crack infantry divisions who’ll be backed up by at least a hundred German tanks manned by battle-hardened experts?”
    The men all looked from one to the other. Some had felt quite proud to be the expendable flank that would take on and delay the enemy so that the greater part of the British Expeditionary Force could retreat to Dunkirk and await rescue there. Others were seething, feeling they’d been sacrificed and abandoned by all their officers without a backward glance; and, as Charlie had remarked: “Look, if a hundred thousand gutless French, who’re waitin’ at Dunkirk to do a bunk, dinnae think their country’s worth fighting for – then why the hell are we still here?” Every man there nodded his head and voiced agreement.
    Most of the men, like Tam Glass and young Eddie Gibson, had been called up in December 1939, and had been given the very minimum of basic training before being shipped off to France on 19 April 1940. What was so galling was that word had spread through the ranks that the British High Command already knew the defence of France was a lost cause! And now here they were, being ordered to capitulate and submit to the glorious but merciless Third Reich, just as the French had done!
    Fred was running a quick eye over his men when he discovered young Billy Morrison was missing. “Where in the name of heaven is