Free Swordpoint (2011) by John Harris

feels that he can plan for after the war,’ Yuell growled. ‘I wish I could. All the same, it’s not entirely a bad plan, though it’d be better if there were more crossings. It’s the first principle of forcing a river position that there should be plenty of points of attack, so that the enemy can’t deal with any of them in strength. On top of that, we’re too close together. The Germans can deal with both crossings with the same defence.’
    He lit a pipe and sucked at it for a while, before going on. ‘However, I gather we’ve been promised everything we want – boats, artillery, tanks, the lot, and all the back-up services we need. What’s more, if things begin to look dicey, it’s to be called off and something else tried.’
    ‘When’s it to be, sir?’
    ‘The thirteenth.’
    ‘Three days,’ Peddy mused. ‘That’s not long. Will there be a rehearsal?’
    ‘No time.’ Yuell frowned again, feeling this too was a mistake. ‘They decided, after all the rivers we’ve already crossed, that we ought to know something about it.’

    A Company officers received their first briefing the following day in Warley’s room. Graziella had swept and polished and dusted it as if he were the Pope about to give an audience.
    ‘It’s only a bunch of soldiers,’ he said.
    ‘Nevertheless, they must not feel you are neglected.’
    It had delighted him but, faced by his officers, he was in a thoughtful mood. ‘We’re for it,’ he said. ‘We’re to be part of a push across the river. In front of San Eusebio.’
    He explained the plan as he’d received it from Yuell, and Jago sniffed.
    ‘Bit optimistic, isn’t it?’ he said in a flat voice. ‘All this business of the Yellowjackets going across at Castelgrande half a mile away and then hacking along the river bank to San Eusebio.’
    ‘That’s the way I’ve got it, Tony.’
    ‘It’s too bloody obscure,’ Jago grumbled.
    ‘Well, it doesn’t exactly run out and bite you in the leg,’ Warley admitted with a grin. ‘But I suppose they know more about it than we do.’
    Jago grinned back at him. ‘It’s always been my impression that the staff know a bloody sight less than the chaps who’re going to do the job,’ he said. ‘Come to that, how are we going to do it? The bloody place bristles with guns and that’s God’s plain unvarnished and unbuckled truth, and you can’t get away from it.’
    Warley shrugged. ‘Brigade seems to think we can manage it; but then, of course, so do Division, Corps and Army. All the way back to Naples and London and Number 10, Downing Street, I expect. Let’s have Farnsworth in.’
    In front of the officers, CSM Farnsworth was so stiff he seemed all bone. Warley offered him a cigarette and pushed a chair forward.
    His first meeting with Farnsworth had been on the Egypt-Libya border. Standing upright by a heap of sandbags, staring across the empty desert with his binoculars, Warley had asked, ‘Where’s the front line?’ Farnsworth, crouching well down, had hesitated for a second before answering, ‘At the moment, sir, I suspect you’re standing on it.’
    Warley had ducked out of sight and they had grinned at each other, Warley faintly sheepish, Farnsworth with no sign of superiority, and it had been the beginning of a long and easy relationship that made the passing on of orders a very simple business.
    ‘We’re moving up, Fred,’ Warley announced briskly. ‘In two days’ time.’
    Farnsworth smiled. It was like a crack appearing in concrete. ‘This river crossing, sir?’
    Warley’s head jerked round. ‘How did you hear about that?’
    ‘It seems to have been around since yesterday, sir.’
    ‘Does it, by God? Where did it come from?’
    ‘HQ Company runner was at Brigade, sir, you’ll remember. He brought it back. He didn’t like the sound of it. Come to that, sir, neither do I.’
    Warley frowned; then he shrugged. ‘I expect,’ he said, ‘that, as usual, the ordinary common or garden soldier