British Invasion

Chapter 1

Lt. Craig Garrison glanced beyond the ashtray full of neatly stacked cigarette butts at the small metal clock on his cluttered desk for the tenth or eleventh time this past hour. Why was it when you wanted time to pass quickly it took forever for the minute hand to move, but when you wished it would take forever it flashed by? It was almost 5 pm. The major change in their unique little world at the Mansion would arrive at any minute. The transport vehicle was probably sitting at the road; the occupants watching the time as he was so they would arrive at the door precisely on the hour.

He deliberately had not informed his men of the change about to take place. Craig was unhappy with it as it was, but the men would have a fit when they found out and he was not up for the complaints and yelling that would have accompanied his news. The maid's quarters behind the kitchen had been cleared of supplies and neatened up while the men were spending time at the Doves, getting into the usual fights. They rarely went to the supply room; that was Terry's domain; so they did not know anything had been done.

Terry. That was another one he was not looking forward to. She was somewhere on the Continent with who knew what group. Hopefully, she would return while they were here. This was not something he wanted sprung on her. She was almost as volatile as the men when her territory was invaded.

No, this was not going to be a smooth transition. Even more so in that Garrison did not know the real reason for this change. Furthering relations between the Americans and their host country? No, there had to be something else. Maybe not. Maybe he was learning distrust and skepticism from his men.

The minute hand hit the twelve on the clock just as Chief called out there was a car coming. Garrison stood and went to the coat tree. He did not know why, but he put his uniform jacket on and his hat. After all, he was the senior officer. Arms crossed, Craig stood in the doorway. The men were giving him suspicious looks.

"Looks like a British soldier," reported Chief. "He's got a kit and they're just leavin' him here. The car's goin'."

Garrison looked at Goniff, the least intimidating of his men, and the one with a British accent . . . of sorts. "Let him in."

Goniff eyed the lieutenant warily as he went to the door and opened it at the first knock. The blond gamin man stood and stared at the crisply pressed British non-com with the broad smile on his thin-lipped mouth. The man looked past him at the American officer.

"Leftenant Garrison?" he asked.

"Sgt/Major Rawlins," said Garrison. "Goniff, let him in."

There was a heavy, suspicious silence from the common room as the Englishman entered, dropped his kit and snapped a sharp salute at the American. Garrison returned the salute, a bit less sharply.

"At ease, Sgt/Major," said Garrison.

He turned to his men. Goniff was sidling around behind the new man with a look of distrust on his face.

"Sergeant/Major Rawlins, this is Actor, Casino, Goniff, and Chief." He indicated each man in turn. "The Sgt/Maj will be joining us. He is here to act as my secretary and take over the training of you men and the household duties."

"What?" objected Casino loudly. "What for? We don't need anybody else to train us."

"If I may, Sir," interjected Rawlins. At Garrison's nod, he continued. "Allied Command thinks it will aid in smoothing the relations between we British and the soldiers from other countries who are stationed here."

Casino gave a snort. "The only Brits I'm interested in having a relationship with . . .," he eyed the beanpole man up and down, "ain't built like you."

This garnered grins and chuckles from the other three. Garrison had not expected the men's reactions to be any different. It was best the new man learned that from the start. It was going to be a real-ly long war.

"That will be enough, Casino. Sgt./Major step into my office and we will take care of the paperwork and what exactly your duties here will entail," said Garrison.

The British non-com continued to smile and followed his new American boss into the office he would be spending a lot of time in.

After the door closed, the four cons exchanged looks.

"Blimey," said Goniff. "Where'd they find 'im?"

"He ain't trainin' me," said Casino adamantly.

Chief got off his window perch and walked over to the table. "Didn't the Warden say somethin' about him takin' over the household duties?"

Three pair of eyes looked at him.

"Wot about Terry?" asked Goniff.

Actor tried to keep his voice unconcerned and matter-of-fact. "I am sure the Warden meant that would happen at times, like right now, when Teresa isn't here."

"Somebody better tell her that," said Chief, sticking a match between his teeth.

Garrison hung his hat and jacket back on the coat tree. "Have a seat, Rawlins," he said with a nod to the chair in front of his desk.

"Thank you, Sir," said the man chirpily.

Garrison took his seat and picked up the folder that contained the papers concerning the new man. Though he had read them enough times to be able to quote them, he perused them again to get a chance to study the man in front of him.

Sgt/Maj. Gilbert Rawlins of the British Army. It was not the Royal Army as the Navy and Air Force were called and this was due to the army being under the jurisdiction of Parliament and the other two forces were under the jurisdiction of the monarchy. It did not necessarily make sense to the American army officer, but it wasn't really his concern to begin with. The British man stayed stiff even at ease. He was probably by the book and very militarily minded. This was not the kind of group that worked well under that.

The man himself was thin to the point of skinny. He had a balding head beneath the cap that was currently across his knee. The eyes were sharp, if a little close together, above a nose that could only be called a beak. Thin lips kept a patent smile. The man did not fidget like Goniff, but remained stiff and still.

The man's dossier had been carefully edited by his superiors. What was missing was more interesting than what was there. He had been a group leader at some point, but was now a non-commissioned officer. Why? First impression was Rawlins would not have been involved in anything illegal. He might get an education from Garrison's men. The other option that came to mind, and not likely either, was as in Garrison's case, he had been demoted to work in the clandestine sector of the military. Craig still had his gold oak leaves hidden away and, surprisingly, they had not been found by his men. That bit of information had been carefully removed and disguised in his dossier. The only one of his men who might have noticed the omissions and inaccuracies would be Actor, but no mention had ever been made of it.

Craig removed papers and laid them on the far edge of his desk, facing the Rawlins. "If you will read and sign these," said Garrison, laying a pen atop them.

Rawlins stood and bent over the desk, quickly scanning the content of the two sheets. Without any questions, he signed on the two lines that had been marked. Resuming his seat, he waited expectantly while Garrison signed in his two places.

Craig leaned back in his chair and observed the man so see his reactions. "I assume you have been briefed about this group."

"Yes, Sir."

Craig would have to coax everything out of this man. "You were sent to us by Major Richards. Tell me what you were told about this group."

"Well, Sir. They are criminals from American prisons, recruited for the use of their illegal talents. This group was the prototype for similar groups working for the Allies and based here in England. The lads do not like to follow orders or rules."

"That's correct," said Garrison. "As for the rules, I don't make them follow them. If you can't find them they will either be at the Doves down the road, or in Brandonshire at the Blue Fox. If I am not here, just try to keep track of them." Craig hesitated before going on to the next subject. "The men are not the only ones who live here. My sister, Terry, works with this group, one of the other groups like this one, and with resistance and SOE." He didn't mention he didn't know even half of who she worked for or with. "She has high civilian clearance."

"Yes, Sir," said Rawlins. "Major Richards also told me about Miss Terry. She works mainly with the confidence man, Actor, and both of them have medical training."

"I understand you have had medical training also," said Garrison, feeling the man out.

"Yes, Leftenant, I know basic first aid and I can extract bullets and suture."

"That will probably come in handy at some point." Garrison hoped not. "Your clerical duties will be to type my reports, filing, and answering the phone. About training the men, we will set up a schedule. It will always be subject to change based on the frequency of and any problems with our missions."

All of this was acknowledged with bobbing of the head. Craig half expected the man to pull his forelock, if he had one. There was a bit of Cockney in the man's speech. This all left one more subject to be addressed.

"Major Richards mentioned you would be taking care of household chores," said Craig. "He was not specific in this. Just what do you expect to do?"

"Well, Leftenant," said Rawlins formally, "I can cook, wash dishes, keep the house neat and tidy, and do laundry."

Listening to the list, it sounded like a lot, but Garrison's sister managed the household and most of the typing and everything else except training the men. She took this as being her domain. No, Terry was not going to be happy. Of course if the man could cook, maybe their meals when the girl wasn't around would be better than Goniff's 'surprises.'

"Any questions, Sgt/Major?" asked Garrison.

"Not at the moment, Sir," said Rawlins.

"Then I will show you where your quarters are," said Craig. "We will orient you to the rest of the house in the morning. If you have any questions, you may ask me at any time."

Garrison rose and went to the door. Rawlins followed him out. The faces of the men around the gaming table were more suspicious than friendly.

"Hey, Warden? When's Sister comin' back."

Rawlins stopped and looked at the safecracker with the gangster voice. Casino was eyeing him back and the dark eyes were not friendly.

"I don't know, Casino," said Garrison. "I would guess when we see her she will be back." He wondered what the cracksman was thinking and decided it was probably along the lines of his thoughts. He turned back to the non con, "Get your kit and follow me. I will show you to your quarters."

Four pair of eyes burned holes in the lieutenant's back as he led the newcomer around the stairs and through the dining room.

"He has quarters already?" asked Chief to nobody in particular. The match stick moved agitatedly back and forth between his lips.

Actor's eyebrows rose. "Apparently the Lieutenant neglected to mention a few things to us."

Garrison led the new man to the old storage room. He had worked nights, while the men thought they were hiding the fact they had left via the cut bars on the upper common room window and scarpered to the Doves. He had dragged the pieces of a cot upstairs and into the room. It took him a couple days to find the hardware that Terry and Shiv had hidden when she had dismantled the common room living quarters and given each man a room. It probably wasn't a good idea to keep the British man on a cot when the others had beds, but he would cross that bridge in the future. Craig had found pieces of stored furniture, probably from the maid's room, that he added to give the new man a table and nightstand with lights and a cabinet that was converted into storage for clothes.

Rawlins looked around and placed his kit on the bed. If he had any misgivings about this room, he did not show them to the lieutenant. Instead, he turned around and addressed the American officer.

"Leftenant Garrison, I can start my duties at once. Have you and the lads had supper?"

"Not yet," replied Garrison. The sooner the man got into the routine, probably the better for all concerned. "Terry had notice this time and stocked the refrigerator with food. I'm sure you can find something to throw together."

"Right away, Sir," Rawlins said with a smile.

The man was sure cheerful. Garrison gave that a couple more hours. His men would see to breaking his demeanor. They went back into the kitchen. Garrison left when he was assured the British man could find everything he needed with no difficulty. It was with relief and a returned salute that Craig went back to his office.

As expected, the four cons immediately showed up at his door. Actor was the spokesman as usual.

"Did you forget to inform us of this change, Leftenant?" the con man asked with one of his patent insincere smiles.

Garrison shrugged. "It kept you from going AWOL."

"Leftenant, would we do that?"

"In a heartbeat," added Casino sourly.

"How long's he stayin', Warden?" asked Chief, matchstick still shooting from side to side.

"I have not been given the answer to that," said Garrison, taking his seat.

"Where's 'e from?" It was Goniff's turn.

"Liverpool area," answered Craig. "Now, I still have work to do. He's making supper, so if you gentlemen will find something to occupy you, other than in this office, I would appreciate it." He looked down at his papers. When the men did not leave, he added. "And shut the door on your way out."

Seeing they were going to be ignored again, the men left. A grin crossed Garrison's face after the door closed. Craig had just lit a cigarette and found out where he had left off, when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

When were they going to give it a rest? But it wasn't the men, it was Rawlins, looking agitated.

"Yes, ?" Craig managed to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"Sir, I must protest," said Rawlins.

"About?"

"I looked in the refrigerator, Sir. Leftenant! Those are not army rations," he sputtered.

"No, they aren't," agreed Garrison leaning back in his chair.

Now the man was fidgeting as much as Goniff could. "But, Sir, that's . . . that's . . ."

"Black market, Mate!"

Rawlins head swiveled on his neck like an owl's between the door and the officer. "But . . . but . . ."

Garrison again had to stifle his amusement. "I'm sure you will be able to find something in there to make for dinner."

"Well, yes, Sir, but how do you afford to get food from the bleedin'Black Market? Uh, Sir."

The slip into Cockney almost gave Craig a laugh. "My sister has money as do some of the men. And where that money comes from is classified information."

Out in the common room, the cons heard the conversation and chuckled. Classified? Classified between all of them. Not the brass. Garrison was getting really good with the con.

In the office, Craig eyed the man in front of him. "Is there anything else, Sgt/Maj.?"

"No, Sir," said Rawlins, clearing wondering what kind of situation he had been put into.

"Dismissed," said Garrison.

The British non-com snapped a salute which Garrison returned with about as much enthusiasm as Actor's Heil Hitler salute. He looked back down at his paperwork and the man left the office. Garrison shook his head. Long war, really long war.

Casino glanced around at the others. "Anybody know what Terry left us for tonight?"

This brought a big smile from Actor. "I observed her cooking it before she left. Mushroom chicken. It should be easy enough for him to fix. All that must be done is place it in the oven and warm it up."

"That's good," said Chief. He had his doubts the Englishman could even manage to warm up food without killing it.

"She does take good care o' us," remarked Goniff. "I don't know why they think we need 'im to do it."

"It is the military," said Actor. "It does not have to make sense."

An hour later, the men had taken their places at the table. They waited impatiently for what they considered one of Terry's best dishes. The swinging door to the kitchen opened and the Sgt/Maj. backed into the room carrying two large covered bowls. He set them in the middle of the table with a smile and took Terry's seat, between Actor and Chief.

Even Garrison was frowning, looking at the two bowls. The aroma was not the one they were familiar with. The cons looked at their leader dubiously. Craig lifted the cover off the first bowl. Inside were soggy vegetables that did not seem to have any seasoning. He took the serving spoon and scooped some of the anemic vegetables onto his plate. Four pair of eyes stared at the offering, more than dubious now. They watched as Garrison removed the cover over the chicken. It was not crispy and brown, but looked as anemic as the vegetables. He peered into the bowl, as did the others.

"Where's the sauce?" asked Actor.

"Sauce?" asked the Sgt/Maj. "Oh, the substance the meat was in was greasy."

"Yeah," said Casino, pinning the man with glare. "Where is it?"

"I removed it and threw it out."

"You what!" roared the Italian. This was supposed to be his favorite dish and it bore no resemblance to the delicious meal Teresa made.

Chief was digging cautiously in the vegetable bowl. He let the limp potatoes, carrots, mushrooms and onion slop back in. "How did you heat this?" he asked.

"I put it in pots and boiled it," replied the Englishman defensively.

"Bloody 'ell," said Goniff angrily. The man may be a countryman, but this was . . .

"Sacrilegious! It is simply sacrilegious!"

"Sister, better get back real quick," grumbled Casino in disgust.

Garrison was inclined to agree with his men, but he had to at least try to keep the peace for the time being.

"Sgt/Major, maybe you could consult with Terry when she gets back on the proper way to heat her meals. I'm sure she would be delighted to help you," said Garrison. He slipped a fork of orange mushy vegetable into his mouth.

"My duties were specific in that I prepare the meals," said the Sgt/Maj., digging into his vegetables with something akin to gusto.

"Warden!"

Garrison raised his hand. "We'll discuss this when Terry gets back."

"This is a military base, not a bloomin' restaurant," muttered the Englishman, barely above a whisper.

"Did you say something, Sgt/Maj.?" asked Garrison amiably.

"Just talking to meself, Sir," said the man.

The discussion had to be put off. The next morning, Garrison was informed they had a mission. He could only hope they returned before his sister.