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army in South Africa. This is not going to be like it was back in the Sudan in ’85 when all we faced were spear-wielding fuzzy wuzzies. I have spent time inthe Boer Republics and our experience at Majuba a few years back has shown us the Boer is a tough customer. My views – not necessarily shared by my colleagues in London – is that our colonial troops are just the right material we need to fight fire with fire. But that is an opinion I fear puts me off side with the War Office, old chap.’
    ‘So that’s how you ended up here,’ Patrick grinned. ‘They shuffled you off to the colonies as your punishment.’
    ‘Sort of,’ Colonel Hughes said with a frown. ‘That and a posting to damned intelligence.’
    ‘At your rank it must be a command posting of staff? Sounds rather mysterious.’
    The colonel gestured for Patrick to take a seat on the other side of the dark timber desk clearly meant to be functional rather than decorative. He felt comfortable around Patrick, with whom he had soldiered in two North African campaigns. Despite the difference in rank and the resulting formalities between soldiers, in private they related as old friends who had shared much together in a way that only seasoned soldiers could understand: desert, dust, flies and violent death.
    ‘It is a command well enough,’ Hughes replied bitterly, ‘but not one that I sought. I wanted to command a brigade – not a bloody desk.’
    Patrick nodded his head in sympathy. Soldiering was really about the comradeship of soldiers facing the enemy, not endless files and staff meetings. Hughes’ views on the tenacity of the Boers must have bordered on heresy to bring about such a posting.

    ‘But so much for my woes,’ the colonel sighed. ‘What I cannot understand is why one of Britain’s finest colonial officers would ever decline the command of a colonial regiment. It’s almost inconceivable, Patrick. Absolutely inconceivable.’
    ‘I can assure you that my decision now is no less painful than the one I made when I resigned from the regiment back in ’85,’ Patrick replied.
    Colonel Hughes could tell from Patrick’s voice that the decision not to take his regiment to Africa was probably one of the most difficult he had ever made in his life.
    ‘Family matters?’ he asked gently.
    Patrick nodded. ‘I have a duty to my family as much as I have a duty to my regiment. And under the rather difficult circumstances of managing the family concerns I have a particular duty to my grandmother.’
    ‘Lady Enid Macintosh,’ the colonel said. ‘A fine woman, I have heard.’
    ‘God almighty – I would give my life to be with the men when they sail,’ Patrick continued in an agonised tone. ‘I feel like a damned deserter.’
    Although Patrick did not elaborate further, Hughes guessed that all was not well at home, but it was not his affair to make further inquiries in the matter. Upon reaching Sydney the colonel had been stunned to hear of his friend’s decision. And while Patrick’s men in the mounted infantry had been bitterly disappointed by their commanding officer’s decision, there was also some understanding of the heavy responsibility ‘the boss’ had in managingthe Macintosh companies. Hughes had hoped at this informal meeting to perhaps persuade him to retain his command, but he also had another agenda. A more distasteful matter in relation to his new appointment as the head of military intelligence for the War Office. A matter that directly involved his friend.
    ‘Despite the fact that you have decided not to go with the regiment to Africa, I would presume your loyalty to Her Majesty is in no doubt?’ Hughes asked, noticing the expression of disbelief on Patrick’s face.
    ‘That’s a rather insulting question,’ Patrick growled. ‘I will continue in Her Majesty’s uniform and seek a training command.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Patrick, but I had to be sure. And from your reaction I have not the slightest doubt of your loyalty.