tomorrow.”
“The lads have been wondering where you’ve got to. They’ll be pleased to see you back. It’s just as well you’ve mended. That bloody Merman’s been wondering what I’ve been up to, dashing out of camp at all hours like that… nosy sod…”
Chapter Eleven
The next evening, up at the camp, Harry had his first sight of Corporal Merman. Corporal Merman was sitting on his bed, opposite Artie’s. The sergeant slept in a little room at one end of the barrack called a “bunk” and the two corporals slept at the other end, to keep order. If anyone could be said to keep order.
But Artie had been right. Corporal Merman did make a difference to the barrack room. Nobody was dancing on their bed in their shirt-tails tonight. They were all just sitting talking, almost muttering. Most of them with their backs to Corporal Merman.
He was a tall thin man, with blond newly washed hair, and a mouth as prim as a spinster’s. His battledress trousersseemed to be made of a finer, thinner material than anybody else’s, and they had creases like knives. There was an ironing board in the space by his bed, and newly ironed shirts hung on hangers everywhere. Even his white braces seemed cleaner and neater than the other men’s. His face was long and very pale, shiny, almost as if it was a waxwork. He was polishing an already immaculate boot, but you could tell his large ears were busy listening.
There were a few shouts of welcome for Harry, but they were a bit half-hearted.
“Here’s my favourite boy!”
“Nip down to the NAAFI for me, Harry?”
“What’s this boy doing here?” asked Corporal Merman. “This is a military establishment - civilians aren’t allowed.” His voice seemed thin and weak, but it carried. There was a silence. Then there were low boos and jeers from all the way up the barrack room, an angry sound.
“Stuff it, Merman,” said Artie. “The kid does no harm. He goes to the NAAFI for us.”
“And a
dog,”
said Corporal Merman. “That’s against King’s Regulations. Does the sergeant know about this,
Corporal
Blenkinsop?”
“He does, as a matter of fact,
Corporal
Merman.” The bunk door had opened silently, and the massive figure of the sergeant stood there, his braces hanging round his legs,and a towel round his neck. “This dog - and this kid - are battery mascots. And very popular, unlike
some
I could mention, Corporal Merman.”
Corporal Merman swallowed and smiled a thin cold smile, as if he’d swallowed an acid-drop whole.
The sergeant turned to Harry. “Nip down to the NAAFI for me, kid. An ounce of Player’s Uncut.”
Harry took everybody’s order, and left. When he got back, the atmosphere in the hut didn’t seem any better. He gave out the things and change, but all the time he felt Merman’s cold eyes watching him. How could one man destroy the fun for so many? He didn’t want to stay tonight. He wished Artie would ask him to go for a walk. But Artie was oddly quiet.
In the end, the incoherent Scotsman suggested a game of football. Everybody played rougher than usual, and even Harry got one or two nasty kicks, though he was sure they weren’t meant. Merman kept watching out of the open window by his bed, with a superior sneer on his face.
Finally, he yelled at Harry, “Boy, boy come here!” Harry tried to ignore him as long as possible; but he wouldn’t be ignored. The game stopped; another silence fell. With everybody watching, Harry walked across to the window.
“I want you to go to the NAAFI for me, boy. I need a tube of toothpaste…”
“He only goes down to the NAAFI once. Once every night,” somebody shouted.
“Leave the kid alone,” shouted somebody else.
“He doesn’t
really
need toothpaste.”
“Just trying to spoil the kid’s game of football.”
“Well, will you go or won’t you?” asked Merman. He looked at Harry with pale, pale blue eyes. They reminded him of the eyes of a wolf he’d once seen at Edinburgh Zoo. He
“The lads have been wondering where you’ve got to. They’ll be pleased to see you back. It’s just as well you’ve mended. That bloody Merman’s been wondering what I’ve been up to, dashing out of camp at all hours like that… nosy sod…”
Chapter Eleven
The next evening, up at the camp, Harry had his first sight of Corporal Merman. Corporal Merman was sitting on his bed, opposite Artie’s. The sergeant slept in a little room at one end of the barrack called a “bunk” and the two corporals slept at the other end, to keep order. If anyone could be said to keep order.
But Artie had been right. Corporal Merman did make a difference to the barrack room. Nobody was dancing on their bed in their shirt-tails tonight. They were all just sitting talking, almost muttering. Most of them with their backs to Corporal Merman.
He was a tall thin man, with blond newly washed hair, and a mouth as prim as a spinster’s. His battledress trousersseemed to be made of a finer, thinner material than anybody else’s, and they had creases like knives. There was an ironing board in the space by his bed, and newly ironed shirts hung on hangers everywhere. Even his white braces seemed cleaner and neater than the other men’s. His face was long and very pale, shiny, almost as if it was a waxwork. He was polishing an already immaculate boot, but you could tell his large ears were busy listening.
There were a few shouts of welcome for Harry, but they were a bit half-hearted.
“Here’s my favourite boy!”
“Nip down to the NAAFI for me, Harry?”
“What’s this boy doing here?” asked Corporal Merman. “This is a military establishment - civilians aren’t allowed.” His voice seemed thin and weak, but it carried. There was a silence. Then there were low boos and jeers from all the way up the barrack room, an angry sound.
“Stuff it, Merman,” said Artie. “The kid does no harm. He goes to the NAAFI for us.”
“And a
dog,”
said Corporal Merman. “That’s against King’s Regulations. Does the sergeant know about this,
Corporal
Blenkinsop?”
“He does, as a matter of fact,
Corporal
Merman.” The bunk door had opened silently, and the massive figure of the sergeant stood there, his braces hanging round his legs,and a towel round his neck. “This dog - and this kid - are battery mascots. And very popular, unlike
some
I could mention, Corporal Merman.”
Corporal Merman swallowed and smiled a thin cold smile, as if he’d swallowed an acid-drop whole.
The sergeant turned to Harry. “Nip down to the NAAFI for me, kid. An ounce of Player’s Uncut.”
Harry took everybody’s order, and left. When he got back, the atmosphere in the hut didn’t seem any better. He gave out the things and change, but all the time he felt Merman’s cold eyes watching him. How could one man destroy the fun for so many? He didn’t want to stay tonight. He wished Artie would ask him to go for a walk. But Artie was oddly quiet.
In the end, the incoherent Scotsman suggested a game of football. Everybody played rougher than usual, and even Harry got one or two nasty kicks, though he was sure they weren’t meant. Merman kept watching out of the open window by his bed, with a superior sneer on his face.
Finally, he yelled at Harry, “Boy, boy come here!” Harry tried to ignore him as long as possible; but he wouldn’t be ignored. The game stopped; another silence fell. With everybody watching, Harry walked across to the window.
“I want you to go to the NAAFI for me, boy. I need a tube of toothpaste…”
“He only goes down to the NAAFI once. Once every night,” somebody shouted.
“Leave the kid alone,” shouted somebody else.
“He doesn’t
really
need toothpaste.”
“Just trying to spoil the kid’s game of football.”
“Well, will you go or won’t you?” asked Merman. He looked at Harry with pale, pale blue eyes. They reminded him of the eyes of a wolf he’d once seen at Edinburgh Zoo. He
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