The Mansion, February 17th 1944
The calendar on Garrison's desk said February 17th, 1944. Seven weeks into the new year and seemingly still no nearer to winning the war. The battle in Italy that had seemed so optimistic three months ago had ground to a halt with Allied troops bogged down against a well defended and stubborn enemy.
His work had changed too. When the team was new, there had been the challenge of getting them fit and encouraging them to work together. Now, although they still bickered, they looked out for each other's backs even when he wasn't there to ride shotgun. The missions had changed too. They'd been sent in to retrieve documents, con German Generals, plant misinformation, blow up guns. Of late it was more 'behind the lines' sabotage rather than espionage.
More and more he found himself having to justify the reason for sending a conman and a thief into occupied territory.
"Lieutenant, Major Johns for you."
Garrison looked in surprise at the telephone on his desk - he hadn't heard it ring, neither the one on his desk nor the one in the hall and he hadn't heard the tell-tale sound of wheels on gravel outside. The sergeant-major made a hand signal to indicate picking up the telephone, which the Lieutenant did, and sure enough Major Johns was on the other end of the line. Either he'd been very deep in thought or going deaf. He suspected it was the former.
"Garrison, we need you at HQ within a couple of hours. We've got a job for your team."
"Sir."
The line went dead. Garrison pulled a wry face. The man might be army, but he didn't have to be rude. Philosophically he stood up, checked he had his wallet, hat and overcoat and headed towards the door. Fletcher must have known what was coming, as the staff car was already being driven over from the garages for him by one of the privates.
"See if you can keep them at home tonight, sergeant-major. There'll probably be an early start tomorrow."
Fat chance, thought Will, but as always, he'd do his best.
Chief had, as usual, seen the car depart. "Looks like he's headed for London."
Actor flicked an eye in the Indian's direction, but said nothing. There wouldn't be time to arrange a little feminine company and he wasn't that bothered about taking the trouble to go to the Doves when there was brandy in the Warden's desk drawer. It might be mid-February, but it was still cold outside and if the Lieutenant wanted them to stay in he was pretty sure the remaining cars would have missing parts.
"Fancy a beer?" Casino felt he needed to pretend he was game for an evening off the base even though he still felt rubbish from the last mission and his feet were too sore to wear his boots.
"Nah, too cold. Anyway, we'd have to carry you." responded Goniff. Like Actor, he was more inclined for a brandy in front of the fire.
Chief would go with the majority, as always, but he didn't want to carry Casino either.
"Where's Diesel?" asked the little cockney. He hadn't seen the 'loaned' man from Captain Hayter's team since breakfast, but the Warden hadn't been bothered when he didn't show for lunch, so whatever he was doing it had to be with the Lieutenant's blessing.
At that moment the man in question arrived, looking a trifle grubby around the edges, especially his hands. "Fixing the showers at the bothy," he explained. "Was that the Warden I just saw leaving?"
"Yeah, looks like they've found something for us to do again," grumbled Casino, now resigned to an evening in. "So how did you get stuck with the plumbing? Thought that was what the Army were here for?"
"Wrong place at the wrong time, I guess, or they think I'm the only one safe to be let loose in the women's quarters." Diesel laughed. Everyone took it for granted now that he didn't stray - although it didn't stop some of the ATS girls from trying their luck... and the second lieutenant who tried his luck soon found out what the Mohawk thought about that idea.
"Well, you'll be all right Casino," continued Goniff, picking up again on the subject of the Warden's disappearance. "You'll get to ride this one out back here, won't you?"
"Nah, when did a few burns get in the way?" Despite his words, Casino wasn't so sure. He'd been given the once over by the Army psychologist that morning after having his feet dressed and he knew the interview had gone badly. So far, he'd managed to hide his panic attacks from the others... but that wouldn't work out when living cheek by jowl.
Sergeant-Major William Fletcher's solution to keeping the men at home was the same as usual. Firstly, persuade his fiancée, the Mansion cook Molly, to pull all the stops out and put a better than average meal on the table and secondly raid the booze supplies he kept hidden for just such occasions. Enough to make them mellow but not enough that, providing they shared, anyone would be the worse for wear the next morning. So far, the men hadn't found his secret stash.