Free Kipling's Choice by Geert Spillebeen Page A

bastard has found my map! Filthy Fritz!
    The three German soldiers now turn their hurried attention to the document, ignoring the small British lieutenant lying motionless, waiting to die. They crowd together above him; the German captain snatches the map from the hands of one of the other soldiers and unfolds it right over John.
    My map!
John could kick himself.
Good Lord, what's marked on it? Our positions? Names of army units? Notes? What doesn't a person put on such a scrap of paper?
    "
You can't be too careful with military documents and notations at the front, you must guard every single piece of paper.
" John can still hear his instructors call out those words. They drilled it into him countless times. Even the most inexperienced officer knows these strict orders. From underneath the unfolded paper John hears the three Germans deep in discussion. He thinks back to the middle of September, two weeks earlier, when it had become increasingly clear to his battalion that their first attack was drawing near.
    ***
    "Come on, Rupert! Bring that chap down! Get him!" John is shouting at the top of his lungs.
    "Shoot! Now! Shoot, I say!" Voices from the other side are shouting, too.
    "Get him, Grayson! No. Rupert! Ohhh, too late!"
    Cheering comes from all the soldiers on the sidelines. They are amused at the sight of the players, all officers dressed in short pants revealing their white bowlegs.
    "You aren't a footballer yourself, are you, Kipling?"
    "Uh, no, Colonel." John is caught off guard by the unexpected appearance of the corps' commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Butler. "The football is a bit too round for my two left feet," he quips, trying to save face. "Water sports, sir. I'm better at them." Clumsily he hops from one foot to the other.
    The old aristocrat takes his time, twirling the tip of his mustache with his thumb and middle finger. "I see. Rowing, eh, Lieutenant? Or sailing."
    "Swimming, actually, sir," John says and waves his arms, pretending to do the breaststroke. An unnecessary gesture, absolutely ridiculous, he realizes.
    "By the way, Kipling. Mister Grayson is your friend, I assume."
    "Rupert Grayson is a very good friend indeed, Colonel."
    "And the soldiers in our battalion, as well?"
    "Indeed. Well, uh, of course not personally, sir." His glasses begin to slide off his sweaty nose. He pushes them back up. "They're not personal friends."
    "I should certainly hope
not
, Kipling. If your father were to hear of it! Don't forget that they're Irish. And
you,
after all, are an Englishman."
    "Well, sir, I didn't mean..."
    Colonel Butler is not listening. John snaps to attention.
    "We are officers, is that what you mean, Kipling? And
they
are our subordinates."
    John stands somewhat ill at ease and looks at the improvised football field. The colonel is directly next to him, gazing out over the field while he talks. The referee sets the ball down in the middle and blows his whistle for the new kickoff.
    "Of course, Colonel." John's easygoing manner has completely taken on the strict, submissive tone of the military.
    "And your friend, Mister Grayson. Is he an officer, too?"
    "Of course, sir. He is a second lieutenant, the same as I." What a question! John thinks. The colonel taps his wooden officer's stick against his riding boot.
    "Precisely, Kipling," says the colonel. "Look here, good fellow, even though we're off duty, I would appreciate it if you would no longer address Grayson as 'Rupert' in the presence of subordinates."
    John swallows hard. "Naturally, sir. It won't happen again." He pinches the side seam of his trouser leg.
    Colonel Butler walks to the end of the football field, which is lined with the caps, shirts, and jackets of the players. John flashes a look of relief to his fellow officers. They can barely contain their snickering. The colonel then turns around unexpectedly.
    "Oh yes, Kipling. You've just been promoted to two-star lieutenant, but of course we'll wait for the official