War Story

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Book: Read War Story for Free Online
Authors: Derek Robinson
Who’s your batman?”
    â€œPrivate Fidler, sir.” Paxton had never seen such an unhealthy-looking face: flushed yet grubby. And there was, sweat in the hair.
    â€œOld Jack Fidler!” Appleyard chuckled, and coughed, and swallowed. “A real old soldier, Jack is. He’ll look after you, don’t worry.
And
himself, of course.” He gave up fumbling with the button. “Play cricket, do you?”
    â€œLook, sir,” Paxton began.
    â€œNot sir, old boy. Adj. Or when we’re in the mess, Uncle. Sir makes me feel ever so, ever so old.” He blew his nose, hard, and gazed into the handkerchief. “Dreadfully old,” he said. “Horribly old.”
    â€œVery well. Adj. I think you ought to know about something rather odd that happened to my aeroplane when I landed this afternoon.”
    â€œTell your fitter, old boy. I know absolutely damn-all about flying-machines.”
    â€œIt involved the CO.”
    â€œI’m strictly non-technical.” Appleyard was fussing with the mass of papers on his desk. “Don’t know one end of an aeroplane from the other, especially now they’ve gone and put the propeller in the middle. What?” He grinned, encouragingly. Paxton caught a glimpse of his tongue, and looked away.
    â€œThe CO deliberately put a match to my plane this afternoon,” he said. Appleyard was still fussing, so Paxton raised his voice a little. “It was brand new, I spent five days getting it here, and he deliberately set fire to it. Result – complete and utter destruction of a machine in perfect condition …” Honesty checked him. “Well, almost perfect, I mean it wasn’t all that badly damaged, just the undercarriage and the—”
    â€œHeavy landing, eh?” Appleyard dumped files in a tray.
    â€œYes, I admit I—”
    â€œDon’t worry, old man.” Appleyard came around the desk and squeezed his shoulder. “Happens all the time. Nothing to lose any sleep over. Beg pardon,” he said as a slight belch escaped him. “You’re a lucky chap, you know. Wish I had your problem. I can’t stay awake for two minutes on end, that’s
my
problem.” He chuckled again, and coughed his way back to his chair.
    â€œBut I don’t understand, adj,” Paxton said. “Five days I took to ferry that Quirk here.
Five.
And now it’s just a heap of ashes.”
    Appleyard sat and looked at him. In the distance, a gentle rumble of thunder quickly ran out of strength. The noise drained into the summer silence and was gone. “You feel pretty strongly about this, don’t you?” he said. “I can tell. They don’t call me Uncle for nothing.
Corporal Lacey!”
he shouted. “You’re entitled to feel strongly,” he told Paxton. “After all, it’s your neck, and if the machine’s as inflammable as you say …” The door opened. “Ah, corporal: be so good as to arrange a meeting with Major Milne for Lieutenant Dexter.”
    â€œPaxton,” said Paxton.
    â€œReally?” Appleyard was taken aback. “Not Dexter?” He waved Lacey away, and the door closed. “Well, that’s different. Damn it, I’m sure I had it here …” He scrabbled among his papers. “Yes, look, here it is: Second-Lieutenant D.E.M. Dexter, Sussex Yeomanry.”
    â€œI’m Paxton.”
    Appleyard did some more scrabbling. “Paxton. Yes. Found it. My God, you should have got here last week. You’re a bit late, aren’t you?”
    â€œNot as late as Dexter, I’m afraid. He flew into a church.” Paxton was amazed at his own callousness, but also pleased. He felt ready for a bit of callousness.
    â€œNobody told
me.”
Appleyard crossed out Dexter’s name, firmly, several times. “Flew into a church, you say. Extraordinary thing to do … What sort of church? Nothing here about it that I can

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