Free Blunted Lance by Max Hennessy Page B

armoured train from Estcourt and the capture of two officers and fifty-three other ranks, together with the war correspondent of the Morning Post , Winston Churchill.
    ‘Well,’ General Goff said dryly, ‘he always wanted to be noticed.’
    Table Bay was full of ships now as the army corps began to arrive. After weeks of playing ‘House’ and drinking ‘Bombay fizzers’ – mugs of effervescent sarsaparilla brewed in buckets – and beer in such quantities an enemy could have followed the route to the Cape by the floating bottles, they poured down the gangplanks to be stuffed at once into trains and despatched to the fronts.
    ‘War,’ Ellesmere smiled, ‘is about to begin in earnest. The 19th Lancers are due any time.’
    But when the Carlisle Castle, carrying the regiment, arrived alongside in the middle of November, it was found, when the baggage had to be landed, that it was so mixed up in the holds it would take hours to sort it out. Sent down to meet them, Dabney found his brother snarling at a group of bewildered Kaffirs.
    ‘It’s the damned crew’s fault,’ Robert fumed. ‘They shoved everything aboard in the wrong order.’
    The dispute as to whose fault it was grew hotter, with a furious duel developing between the Colonel, Morby-Smith, and Ellesmere.
    ‘The things we wanted first were shipped first,’ Robert snapped as the other two stamped off. ‘Now they’re at the bottom.’
    ‘Packed your pyjamas at the bottom of the bag instead of the top, eh?’ Dabney said cheerfully.
    ‘You can hardly blame the army,’ Robert snorted. ‘We’re not baggage porters.’
    ‘Perhaps we ought to learn to be,’ Dabney said mildly. ‘We might find it useful.’
    They were still trying to sort it out when General Goff appeared. The explanations were hasty and embarrassed and his reaction was exactly the same as his younger son’s. ‘It seems to me,’ he snapped, ‘that it might be a good idea to send one or two officers to the docks in future to see how things are done.’
    The furious rummaging in the ship’s holds had brought the disembarkation to a standstill. The trains to take the troops to Naauwpoort were waiting and whistling in-cessantly, and in the end a regiment of infantry was put aboard instead, grinning all over their faces and jeering and catcalling the cavalry, while the 19th were ordered to march to Sea Point where a tented camp had been set up for them.
    Feeling he must visit his old regiment, General Goff put on his uniform with all his medals to review them.
    ‘And just see you’re pleasant to Robert,’ his wife insisted. ‘He’s your son and he’s married now to Elfrida, so you’ve got to accept it.’
    In fact, Elfrida had surprised them all with her common sense but the General hadn’t yet completely forgiven her for being a Cosgro.
    ‘You can’t go on fighting your silly Zulu War for ever,’ Lady Goff pointed out.
    ‘It wasn’t so damn silly from where I was standing,’ the General growled.
    ‘You know very well what I mean. And Elfrida isn’t the offspring of your wretched Aubrey Cosgro. She’s Claude’s child. And she’s Robert’s wife now and we’ve got to give them the chance to be happy.’
    Morby-Smith was still angry at the confusion over the regiment’s baggage and the General was in no mood to be forgiving.
    ‘Not exactly the most brilliant disembarkation in the world,’ he observed.
    However, the men had a sleek lean look and, eager to see them, he shook his head as Morby-Smith indicated the waiting officers.
    ‘Men first,’ he said.
    The Regiment was drawn up on foot waiting for his inspection, and he moved along the lines, remembering faces and old actions.
    ‘Trumpet-Major Sparks,’ he said, as a resplendent individual with four upside-down stripes under crossed trumpets snapped to attention. ‘You made it to the top, I see.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Sparks agreed. ‘Twenty-five years to the day.’
    ‘I remember you joining. You had a black