Pride and the Anguish by Douglas Reeman Page B

they all go?”
    Trewin replied savagely, “That poor, raving lieutenant was part of a battalion at Kota Bharu. They’ve been fighting and falling back, regrouping and falling back, since the whole thing started. Even now he doesn’t believe his men have run away!”
    Kane said angrily, “’E said there were tanks on the road. And ’is men ’ave never seen a bloody tank in their lives, can you imagine that?”
    â€œTanks, retreats, what the bloody difference does it make now?” Trewin quickened his pace. “We’ve got the ship to worry about.” He steadied his voice with an effort and looked hard at Hammond. “The Japs are further south already!” He watched his words strike home. “They by-passed this sector
yesterday
!” He slammed his hands together. “Anyone left back here will go in the bag when the Japs start mopping up the stragglers.” He wiped his face wearily. “God knows how they missed the lieutenant when they came over the ridge, but he was lucky.”
    Kane muttered, “Not like them others, sir.” He shot Hammond a glance. “We found about a dozen Aussie soldiers on the edge of the village.” His voice shook with anger and barely suppressed horror. “Their ’ands were tied behind ’em! They were dead!”
    Hammond asked quietly, “Had they been shot?”
    Trewin had hurried ahead, but over his shoulder he called harshly, “Tell him, Kane! Tell him how the bastards had left them!”
    Kane looked away. “Their ’eads ’ad been cut off, sir! They was stuck on stakes by the side of the road…” He broke off, his normally impassive features sick with disgust.
    Breathless and gasping they reached the beach where the motor boat waited to receive them. The
Grayling
was already under way, and the
Porcupine
’s cable was bar-taut and ready to up anchor.
    Hammond sat with the soldier’s shoulders propped against his legs as the boat spurted towards the ship, his eyes fixed on the man’s loose, sun-dried mouth. On the opposite side of the small cockpit Trewin stared fixedly at the shore, his eyes cold and hard beneath his cap.
    The soldier’s body twisted in a sudden convulsion and he shouted, “Sergeant! Tell those men to march in step!” A thread of saliva ran down his chin as he continued in a flat, toneless voice, “Remember that this is the
First
Battalion, not the bloody sappers!”
    Trewin said, “Keep that man
quiet,
Sub.”
    One of the seamen muttered, “My God! Poor bastard!”
    As the boat reached the ship’s side and men jumped down to help the delirious soldier aboard, Trewin said, “Get the boat hoisted, Sub! I’m going to the bridge.”
    Hammond waited by the guardrails until the motor boat was lashed, still dripping, against her davits, then with a quick glance towards the empty beach ran up the bridge ladder. The deck was trembling as the ship gathered way, and from forward he could hear Dancy yelling at the anchor party. Corbett was in his chair, as if he had never moved, and Trewin was standing beside him on the gratings, his face hidden in shadow.
    Hammond heard Corbett say, “We should have been
told.
We were sent too far north.”
    Trewin replied, “It’s the most stupid piece of bungling I’ve ever seen!” He sounded calm, but his hands were bunched at his sides gripping his torn trousers as if for support. He continued, “The whole front must have collapsed. They’re falling back like a lot of bloody rabbits!”
    Corbett turned and looked up at him, his face expressionless. “Right now we have to get under way, Trewin. There’ll be time enough later to hear your interpretations of all this.”
    A look-out’s voice echoed around the bridge. “Aircraft, sir! Bearing green four five! Angle of sight two oh!”
    Trewin did not look round. “The