The Sins of the Father (The Clifton Chronicles, #2)(87)

‘I’m afraid he’s expected to serve out his sentence,’ said the colonel.

‘But now that you know he’s innocent, can’t you at least send him back to England?’

‘I don’t think that would make a great deal of difference, Miss Barrington, because if I know Harry, the moment he set foot in his homeland he’d only swap one uniform for another.’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’

The colonel smiled. ‘I’ll see what I can do to help,’ he promised as he rose from behind his desk. He opened the door and saluted her. ‘Have a safe journey back to England, Miss Barrington. I hope it won’t be long before the two of you end up in the same place, at the same time.’





HARRY CLIFTON





1945





41

‘I’LL REPORT BACK, SIR, as soon as I’ve located them,’ said Harry, before putting the field phone down.

‘Located who?’ asked Quinn.

‘Kertel’s army. Colonel Benson seems to think they could be in the valley on the other side of that ridge,’ he said, pointing to the top of the hill.

‘There’s only one way we’re going to find out,’ said Quinn, shifting the Jeep noisily into first gear.

‘Take it easy,’ Harry told him, ‘if the Hun are there, we don’t need to alert them.’

Quinn remained in first as they crept slowly up the hill.

‘That’s far enough,’ said Harry when they were less than fifty yards from the brow of the hill. Quinn put the handbrake on and turned the ignition off, and they jumped out and ran on up the incline. When they were only a few yards from the top, they fell flat on their stomachs, then, like two crabs scurrying back into the sea, they crawled until they stopped just below the crest.

Harry peeped over the top and caught his breath. He didn’t need a pair of binoculars to see what they were up against. Field Marshal Kertel’s legendary Nineteenth Armoured Corps was clearly preparing for battle in the valley below. Tanks were lined up as far as the eye could see, and the support troops would have filled a football stadium. Harry estimated that the Second Division of the Texas Rangers would be outnumbered by at least three to one.

‘If we get the hell out of here,’ whispered Quinn, ‘we might just have enough time to prevent Custer’s second-to-last stand.’

‘Not so fast,’ said Harry. ‘We might be able to turn this to our advantage.’

‘Don’t you think we’ve used up enough of our nine lives during the past year?’

‘I’ve counted eight so far,’ said Harry. ‘So I think we can risk just one more.’ He began to crawl back down the hill before Quinn could offer an opinion. ‘Have you got a handkerchief?’ Harry asked as Quinn climbed behind the wheel.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, taking one out of his pocket and passing it to Harry, who tied it to the Jeep’s radio mast.

‘You’re not going to—’

‘—surrender? Yes, it’s our one chance,’ said Harry. ‘So drive slowly to the top of the ridge, corporal, and then on down into the valley.’ Harry only ever called Pat ‘corporal’ when he didn’t want to prolong the discussion.

‘Into the valley of death,’ suggested Quinn.

‘Not a fair comparison,’ said Harry. ‘There were six hundred in the Light Brigade, and we are but two. So I see myself more like Horatius than Lord Cardigan.’

‘I see myself more like a sitting duck.’

‘That’s because you’re Irish,’ said Harry, as they crested the ridge and began the slow journey down the other side. ‘Don’t exceed the speed limit,’ he said, trying to make light of it. He was expecting a hail of bullets to greet their impudent intrusion, but clearly curiosity got the better of the Germans.

‘Whatever you do, Pat,’ Harry said firmly, ‘don’t open your mouth. And try to look as if this has all been planned in advance.’

If Quinn had an opinion, he didn’t express it, which was most unlike him. The corporal drove at a steady pace, and didn’t touch the brake until they reached the front line of tanks.

Kertel’s men stared at the occupants of the Jeep in disbelief, but no one moved until a major pushed his way through the ranks and headed straight for them. Harry leapt out of the Jeep, stood to attention and saluted, hoping his German would be up to it.

‘What in God’s name do you imagine you’re doing?’ asked the major.

Harry thought that was the gist of it. He maintained a calm exterior.

‘I have a message for Field Marshal Kertel, from General Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe.’ Harry knew that when the major heard the name Eisenhower, he couldn’t risk not taking it to a higher level.

Without another word the major climbed into the back of the Jeep, tapped Quinn on the shoulder with his baton and pointed in the direction of a large, well-camouflaged tent that stood to one side of the assembled troops.

When they reached the tent, the major leapt out. ‘Wait here,’ he ordered, before going inside.

Quinn and Harry sat there, surrounded by thousands of wary eyes.

‘If looks could kill . . .’ whispered Quinn. Harry ignored him.