The Mansion - December 26th, 1943
Even though everyone knew they were heading back to Italy on Boxing Day, alcohol had flowed freely at the Mansion the previous night. There would be plenty of time on the endless flight around Spain to Italy to recover from any excesses - or so they'd thought.
Garrison was up and about first. With no sign of either Chief or Diesel to keep him company, he settled for a run on his own. It gave him time to go over his mental checklist of what would be needed this time around. Two miles later and he was nicely tired and ready to tackle some of the paperwork piled on his desk, at least to identify what couldn't wait until his return.
As he headed back up the stairs at the front of the Mansion he was passed by Chief and Diesel. Judging by the quiet banter that was going on, it sounded like they were both up for a bit of competition. The Lieutenant almost turned around to go with them, but he knew they'd leave him for dead and the stuff in the office couldn't wait. With a sigh he headed for a shower and a cup of coffee.
Judging by the tuneless humming coming from the kitchen, Sergeant Major Fletcher was on breakfast detail. That probably meant lumpy porridge and burnt toast. Garrison decided he would wait until his Indians were back before subjecting his stomach to that particular assault.
Goniff was the next to appear, looking a trifle bleary-eyed, with his blond hair sticking up in peaks. He cocked his ear towards the kitchen, listening, then dropped unhappily onto Actor's chair, groaning as the movement exacerbated the drum beat in his head.
Casino emerged at the same time as Chief and Diesel returned from their run. Surprisingly, he was showered and dressed. He was also looking slightly more sprightly than Goniff.
"Who won today?" enquired the Warden.
Chief pointed to Diesel, with a smile on his face. It was the first time the Mohawk had beaten him and if he had his way it would also be the last, but it was hard to train when missions were back to back.
The kitchen door swung open to reveal William Fletcher, wearing his brown army uniform. "Ten minutes lads, just time for a shower if you're quick."
Garrison looked at Casino curiously - with the opening of the kitchen door had come the unmistakeable smell of bacon. Fletcher never gave them bacon. Something odd was afoot. Exactly what was happening was revealed a little while later when the Sergeant Major exited the kitchen carrying a dish of crispy streaky bacon - followed a moment later by Amber, the cook's niece, with a plate of American-style pancakes and a large jug of blackberry sauce (in lieu of blueberries). She led the way to the dining room, closely followed by four cons. Of Actor there was as yet no sign, which made Garrison slightly concerned - his conman had been quiet the previous night and had been first to retire. The Lieutenant decided to check that all was well, even if it meant he'd have to take a chance over what food was left for him.
Knocking on Actor's door elicited no response, so Garrison quietly opened the door and peered inside. The man was still asleep and had not reacted to the opening of the door, which in itself was worrying. Going over to the bed the Warden could see that the man lying there was not resting as quietly as he'd first thought - his breathing was heavy and in the light coming into the room from the hallway, Garrison could see his forehead was covered in perspiration. He put a hand to his second's forehead to find the man was burning with fever. With a sigh, he pulled the door closed and made his way back downstairs to find Fletcher.
"Sergeant Major, can you get onto the base hospital. We need a doctor out here, fast."
Amber lifted her head from serving bacon and pancakes to the men. Her aunt had let slip that if food was left as a free-for-all Goniff would gobble up more than his fair share, so she was making sure to keep Garrison's and Actor's portions secure.
"Do you want me to take a look at him?" she offered.
The Lieutenant had forgotten that the girl was a nurse at the base hospital. "That would be good, if you have the time."
"Will, guard those plates with your life," the young blonde instructed her aunt's soon-to-be husband, as she followed Garrison back up the stairs to Actor's bedroom.
Goniff looked disgruntled, but made do with another cup of tea. Now that was a pleasant change - the girl not only could cook pancakes, she also made a mean pot of tea.
In Actor's room, the Lieutenant flicked on the light-switch so Amber could get a good look at the sick man in the bed. Like the Lieutenant she put a hand to his forehead then checked the glands in his neck. They were noticeably swollen.
"Do you have a thermometer somewhere please, Lieutenant?"
"There should be one in the first aid cupboard. I'll go get it."
"Actor, wake up." Amber put her hand on the conman's arm and shook him gently. Tiredly he half opened his eyes and looked at the woman standing over him, but he didn't speak. He realised it hurt to swallow.
"How do you feel?"
Actor tried to run a physical inventory of himself, but his brain didn't want to work. "I ache all over," was the best he could manage.
The Warden returned, carrying a glass thermometer which Amber shook vigorously until the mercury was below the mark for 'normal' then popped it into Actor's mouth. A minute or so later she removed it and checked the reading. "A hundred and two Fahrenheit. That's not good, Lieutenant. I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure your man has influenza. There's been a lot of it around over the past month. Half the beds in the hospital have flu patients in them at the moment."
Garrison nodded. They'd been so busy over the last month that the fact they were in the middle of a flu epidemic had passed him by. "I guess he'll not be coming to Italy with us tonight?"
"You guess right, Lieutenant. I'm sure the doctor will confirm it when he arrives, but he'll be out of commission for a couple of weeks at least - providing he escapes getting pneumonia." Amber had seen with her own eyes just how many healthy people the post-influenza pneumonia had taken away.
It was early afternoon before the army doctor made it out to the Mansion. As expected, he agreed with Amber that Actor was probably suffering from influenza, prescribed rest, APC to reduce the fever and a light diet with plenty of fluids. Afterwards he took Garrison to one side. "You know it's probable you'll all have it too... are you heading off again soon?"
"Tonight."
The doctor looked concerned. "Incubation is normally 24 to 48 hours... it would be safer if you could delay your trip by a couple of days, but knowing you and your men I don't suppose that's a possibility, is it?"
"Not likely at all."
"Did you debrief with Major Richards when you landed back from Gibralter?"
Garrison nodded.
"He's sick too, as are a lot of staff on that base... You know I'll have to report this, don't you?"
Garrison nodded for a second time.
GG GG GG GG
An hour later, temperature checks of Casino, Chief and Diesel were still normal but Goniff had started to show symptoms. Amber, in her most nurse-man-like manner managed to persuade the little Cockney that he needed to keep his germs to himself and retire to his bedroom. It was testament to how unwell he was starting to feel that the pickpocket agreed without protest.
When a few minutes later the phone rang, the Lieutenant wasn't surprised. He picked it up and responded with a curt "Garrison."
"Ah Lieutenant. Major Cavendish here. I've been asked to pick up some of Major Richards caseload whilst he's hors de combat." The voice was very plummy, with a British public school accent that Garrison immediately took a dislike to, even though he'd never met the man. "I understand you and your men are being picked up in a couple of hours to fly out to Italy. Is that right?"
"Yes sir."
"How many men are fit to fly, Lieutenant?"
"Just the four now, including myself."
"In your honest opinion Lieutenant, could the mission still go ahead without the other two?"
"We'd struggle without Actor. No one else has fluent Italian."
"And if you were loaned someone suitable?"
"That would depend. My men don't work well with people they don't know."
"I'll have a dossier sent over, but in the meantime I'm standing your group down for forty-eight hours. If no-one else gets sick by then you're going. I take it you can quarantine from the two men who're sick?"
"They won't go to the hospital, sir."
"Yes, Major Richards has a note to that effect. I understand you have one of the nurses from the base hospital staying with her aunt at the moment?"
"That's right."
"Well, if you're amenable I'll have her seconded to you for a couple of weeks. Since she's been exposed she'll have to isolate before she can go back to work so she might as well do something useful. I'll rearrange the transports for you Lieutenant. Any questions?"
"No sir," responded Garrison. He replaced the telephone gently on its cradle. Forty-eight hours, three fit men and the Doves off limits. How could he stop them killing one another? Suddenly inspiration dawned. He hit the intercom.
"Sergeant Major. I have a challenge for you."
GG GG GG GG
Early the next morning, the sound of two large trucks pulling into the compound pulled Casino to consciousness. He'd been anticipating a boring day baiting Chief and Diesel and possibly avoiding multiple runs around the track or target practice sessions, courtesy of the sergeant-major.
Curiosity prompted him to throw back the covers and check out what had disturbed his peace. Parked outside were two flatbed lorries. Chief and Diesel, dressed for their morning run, were looking curiously at what was filling each truck.
"Casino, get down here," yelled the Lieutenant.
The safecracker grimaced slightly, pulled on his pants and a pair of boots and headed downstairs, grabbing his leather flying jacket from the hall coat stand before heading outside.
The Warden was standing proudly alongside the lorries. "This, gentlemen, is your project. There are three wrecks up there. If you've anything like the skills you're supposed to have I imagine you can come up with one working vehicle before we leave for Italy. Your time starts now."
The three men looked at each other. "He's joking, right?" asked Chief.
Casino looked at the retreating figure, making its way back to the house. "Not this time, babe. Not this time."