He joined the RSM in the battalion’s operations room, ‘what the hell is going on? My phone is going nuts.’ ‘Sergeant Eddie has refused to hand over the prisoner to the yanks sir.’ The Bear thought it over for a few seconds, ‘Sergeant Eddie my arse, I’ll bet it’s that bastard Murison that’s put him up to it. You know how he hates the yanks.’ The RSM regarded his CO coolly, ‘that’s unfair sir. He doesn’t hate the yanks, just the sneaky bastards in their intelligence corps.’ The same thought flashed through both men’s minds at the same time, ‘surely to god no,’ the Bear breathed. The RSM turned to the radio operator, ‘get a hold of Sargent Eddie’s unit and tell him to put Murison on.’ It only took a few second. The RSM took the microphone, ‘talk to me Charlie and make it short.’ ‘Jamaica warehouse.’ Came the reply. ‘Shit.’ The RSM cursed. He turned to the CO, ‘there’s no way he will turn the prisoner over to them sir and I will back him all the way.’ ‘I was there RSM. We lost a dozen men because of those bastards and more than twenty men wounded. I lost five men altogether from my platoon, good men who didn’t need to die or spend the rest of their lives as cripples. Double the sentries. No one is to pass unless they have my permission to do so. No one from outside the battalion that is.’ ‘Aye OK sir but what the hell are we going to do with that prisoner?’ ‘I have no bloody idea.’ By the time his men arrived with the prisoner he had made a dozen calls. He punched Charlie in the chest. It was a substantial blow that barely rocked the small but solid man. ‘You will be the death of me yet Murison. No bugger wants him and I have the bloody yanks screaming down my neck for him.’ ‘Sorry about that sir.’ Joe saluted and reported to the CO who quickly dismissed him. Joe almost ran from the situation. The CO spoke to the room at large, ‘any ideas, anyone?’ ‘What about Captain Gordon?’ A Jock suggested, ‘the yanks won’t mess with him.’ ‘Aye like we can just phone him up dick head.’ One of his friends scorned.
