Forever the Colours by Richard Thomas Page B

modern version, all big lads, six-foot-plus, most of them. They looked a lot more relaxed than the guys from the infantry. Typical , he thought.
    They continued walking past row after row of tents, carts, cooking fires and tepee-style stacks of weapons. Tommy’s eyes had started to water with all the smoke, and he rubbed at the irritation.
    Maurice looked at him. ‘I know, Thomas, I know, it brings a tear to my eye as well, every time I look upon this well-oiled machine.’
    â€˜I’m not crying, Maurice, you fool. It’s this bloody smoke. How do you put up with it?’
    â€˜Put up with it? Why, how else are we supposed to cook food, heat water and what not?’
    â€˜Oh, yeah.’ Tommy realised he was getting a little hot and thirsty. ‘Maurice, any chance we could stop for a drink? Is there a NAAFI or something round here? I’m dying of thirst, mate.’
    â€˜Firstly, old chap, I have no idea what a NAAFI is, and secondly, if we need a drink of water, we use our canteens. However, as I forgot to replenish mine own, I will allow you that small erratum, what.’
    Maurice looked around for a few seconds, then said, ‘You there,’ to a young Indian man in modest clothes who was hunched over a large copper urn.
    The man stood, trotted over and bowed. ‘Lieutenant Sahib, you are wanting a cup of most delicious tea?’
    â€˜Not at the moment, my dear man, but would you have any clean water? If so, would you be so kind as to fill our canteens? There’s a good chap, what.’
    Maurice removed his canteen from his webbing belt, and, indicating for Tommy to do the same, handed them both to the chai wallah.
    â€˜Oh yes, Sahib, one moment please.’ He turned and trotted off towards a large barrel.
    â€˜Well, Thomas, what say you to our little camp? The British Army can make a home anywhere in the world, you know.’
    â€˜Amazing, really amazing Maurice.’ Tommy was watching a couple of big Indian Grenadiers doing stretching exercises in front of their tent, and thought briefly of Arun. ‘Oh for Christ sake,’ he said to himself, remembering his dream.
    Maurice followed Tommy’s gazing and frowned; then, after a few moments, it dawned on him why Tommy quickly looked at the ground.
    â€˜Ah, I see,’ Maurice chuckled. ‘Thomas, my dear chap, I’m sure the lovely Miss Arun will forgive you in time, and then you may resume you attempts at courtship.’
    â€˜Piss off.’
    The chai wallah returned with their canteens and stood watching while they slaked their thirst.
    â€˜Well done, you may go about your business,’ Maurice said to the wallah, who bobbed his head a couple of times and returned to his tea urn.
    Tommy drank half of his canteen in one, screwed the metal top back into place and returned it to his belt. That’s better , he thought, and while Maurice continued to sip his water he scanned the camp, trying to avoid the stretching Grenadiers. It was truly incredible to behold, like stepping into an old picture. The sounds of tools, of laughing, of orders being shouted filled Tommy’s ears, and he noticed the Cavalry in the distance, riding at the head of a dust cloud. He noticed also, when he did a 180-degree turn, that there seemed to be outriders all around the sprawling camp. Recon , his soldier instincts told him, or scouts in this age, keeping vigil . In fact there was probably a network of scouts stretching many miles in all directions. His thoughts were broken by Maurice.
    â€˜Don’t look now. Here comes Major Oliver.’
    Tommy turned to see where Maurice was gazing and saw three officers walking toward them.
    â€˜Now look here, Thomas, don’t speak until spoken to and do not, I repeat, do not start rambling about death, dreams and time travel. This man is an ignorant bore and has undoubtedly no sense of humour whatsoever. He will have you on a charge before you know what’s