14
Harm attended staff call but was happy to let Commander Moseley, the senior of the three judges conduct the meeting while he, Harm, took notes. Not that there had been all that much happening in his absence, but it gave Moseley the chance to wrap the current cases up neatly and hand them over to Harm.
The next item on his agenda was to brief Coates and Martinez on the plans he had drawn up for their future employment, so when a rap on his door proved to be Martinez announcing that Coates had returned from her administrative in-processing he pushed his chair back from the desk and said, "OK, Martinez, send her on in, and you come on in with her!"
Jen marched across the carpet, her eyes taking in the office furnishing. It was bare of all personal touches except for a single photograph frame standing on Harm's desk, which although it had its back to her as she halted in front the desk, she was willing to bet held a photograph of Mattie Grace.
"Legalman One Coates reporting for duty, sir!" she snapped out.
"Good morning Coates; your orders, please?"
Jen snapped open her purse and produced her neatly folded orders and offered them to Harm, who took them and placed them on top of the short stack of files in his in-tray. "At ease, Legalman One," he told her and waited until Jen had assumed the posture of 'Parade Rest' before he continued. "I am very happy that you've made it here, not just because it's good to have you back working with me, but it also means that Mattie is finally out of hospital! Now, how was your flight, and the pick-up?" he asked darting his eyes across to Julia who had stood back a paced behind Jen's left shoulder.
Jen resisted the temptation to shrug, "The flight was a C-17, sir, you know how that goes, noisy, uncomfortable, but endurable. The pick-up was smooth as silk, sir. As soon as we'd cleared baggage and customs, my name was piped and Yeoman Two Martinez was waiting for me in the arrivals hall with my name on card in her hands, sir! She took good care of me all the way here!"
Harm smiled, "Good... now take a seat, both of you while I try to explain how I see you two working for the benefit of this office."
He waited, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on the ends of the arm-rests, while both young women seated themselves and then looked at him with an air of interest on their faces.
"Firstly, Yeoman Two Martinez will continue to function as my Yeoman. You will continue to organise me and my calendar and you will deal with all non-legal correspondence for my attention. Legalman One Coates, you will function as my Legalman. You will handle every piece of legal paper that comes into this office, that includes checking the work of the junior Legalmen – we have three – for neatness and accuracy, anything that isn't up to standard is to be sent back to the Legalman responsible. You will liaise with the Judges' Legalman, a Legalman Two..." he cocked an eye at Martinez.
"Phelps, sir!"
"Thank you; Legalman Two Phelps and make sure we have an up to date copy of the Trial Docket each day. You will be responsible for overseeing the production of all legal reports and returns," Harm allowed himself a small sympathetic smile, "including the quarterly court statistics return."
Jen's face fell, responsible for overseeing its production she might be, but it was an horrendously detailed and complex document and she knew that the only way she could be satisfied as to its accuracy would be to complete it herself.
"In addition," Harm continued remorselessly "you will function as my office manager and Staff Petty Officer, a sort of combination of Lieutenant Sims and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, responsible for the smooth running of the office and the maintenance of good order and discipline. The Chief of Staff position is gapped at the moment but I am working on getting it filled. But until then you will also be my personnel officer, so that takes that burden off you, Yeoman Two. But to compensate for that, you and your two cohorts will be responsible for producing requisitions for everything from abacuses to zoo tickets for Legalman One Coates authorisation, as she directs. Any questions?"
The two young women shook their heads.
"Good, one last thing, Legalman One. Yeoman Two Martinez tells me that very few junior rates among the Navy personnel and very few junior rank Marines are qualified to drive in the UK. Even fewer have full British driving licences. My assigned driver, Corporal Morrison, is in hospital at the moment with an injury and is likely to be unfit for duty for some time to come. In the meantime, Yeoman Two Martinez has been pinch-hitting for her, to the detriment of her free time on occasion. I want you to be in a position to share that role with her. So... I have booked you a week-long intensive driving course starting at zero nine hundred hours on Monday. The instructor will collect you from the Guard Room on base at that time and will return you there at seventeen hundred hours, after that you may make what arrangements suit you best, with the proviso that you will be under instruction from zero nine hundred until seventeen hundred daily. The course is run by a British civilian company and will be on the Navy's dime. Yeoman Two Martinez has jumped through all the hoops as far as the paperwork is concerned, and will assist you in obtaining the necessary documents, photographs, and whatever else you will need.
"That leaves today and tomorrow for you to settle in, make yourself known in the bullpen and organise the work space for two desks in the outer office."
Harm stood and the two Petty Officers followed suit. "I'm sure that we'll hit a few bumps on the road while we sort put who does exactly what, but with good will and all three of us working together, I reckon we'll settle down into an efficient and effective team in pretty short order! Now, unless you have anything further for me? No? Good! Dismissed!"
Jen and Julia drew themselves up to attention and responded with a chorused "Aye, aye, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Gill took the garment bag containing her Service Dress out of the wardrobe and laid it on her bed before unzipping it, and the with a sigh she slipped off her dressing gown and reluctantly put on skirt and jacket before turning to look at herself in the three-quarter length mirror on the inside of the opened wardrobe door.
She had known in advance that she wouldn't like what she saw. Service Dress was not particularly flattering; the tunic wasn't too bad, it did narrow slightly at the waist and then the jacket's skirts flared a little over the hips, but the skirt... the skirt was hideous. But there was no option, she would have to wear it at Bombardier Walker's medal parade.
With a sigh of resignation she gave her reflection a critical inspection, trying to be as dispassionate as she could, pretending that the reflection wasn't her, but a female soldier under her command.
"Damn, I was right!" Gill swore softly after two or three minutes. Although she had never been overweight she had had to watch her figure in terms of what she ate, drank and how much exercise she did, and knew from her bathroom scales that she'd slipped a few pounds since she'd last worn her SD, but she'd hoped the difference wouldn't be too apparent. Her hopes were doomed, the tunic hung on her like a sack, and the skirt threatened to slip indecorously low from her waist onto her hips. There was no alternative, she'd have to take it to the tailor. Fortunately the Troop had its own tailor on strength, and although alterations to her uniforms would inevitably be a low priority she still had a fortnight before she needed the uniform.
Quickly changing back into civvies Gill re-zipped the garment bag and hung it on the back of the door as a reminder to take it to the tailor's shop first thing in the morning. Fortunately the MOD branch at which she was employed kept Civil Service hours, so that gave her an hour between the Tailor unlocking his shop and Gill needing to be at her desk.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Jen hadn't had much opportunity, and she had been too tired, to take in her new accommodation when she'd arrived at gone midnight last night. She had been vaguely aware it was a house in street full of similar houses, and now having just dismounted from the bus that ferried her and a dozen other male and female Petty Officers and Marine Corps NCOs from the embassy complex to Northholt she would have been at a complete loss as to which house she was living in if she hadn't made a note of the number and the houses themselves hadn't been clearly numbered.
Unlocking the front door to the house and letting herself in Jen heard the sound of voices, and followed them down a short passage, and with a tap on the door in case she should be invading someone's living space she opened the door to reveal a kitchen.
She found herself the object of scrutiny from four pairs of eyes that regarded her with a range of emotions from mild curiosity to suspicion to cold hostility.
"Hi. I'm Jennifer Coates, I arrived kinda late last night."
One of the young women, a tall slim, freckled strawberry blonde, who had looked more curious than anything else slid off the table on which she had perched and placing her half-consumed bottle of beer down she looked Jen in the eye, "Hi, your own self! I'm Carla Lawford, Personnelman One, I thought I saw you in-processing this morning?"
"Probably," Jen agreed with a polite smile.
"Thought so!" Carla grinned triumphantly, "this is Liz Robinson, Journalist One at the Embassy PAO... and one of a dying breed, if scuttlebutt is to be believed!"
"It generally is!" the rather rounded brunette replied, tilting her bottle in Jen's direction
Jen nodded in return, it was pretty common knowledge that the four PA ratings were to be combined into a new rating during the coming year, although there had been nothing officially said or published yet.
"And Shirley Goh, Photographer's Mate One, she works with Liz," the Asian looking woman with the Chinese name was the owner of the hostile stare and barely acknowledged either Carla's introduction or Jen's own somewhat stiff smile of acknowledgement.
"And last but not least, Stephanie Taylor, Info Systems Tech One, also at the Embassy! Welcome to our happy home. We understand that you have seniority over all of us, so that gets you the single bunk, the rest of us are doubled up, but by doing that we get to keep the lounge instead of having to use it as a bedroom!" Carla grinned. "The place is small enough without losing common space and being confined to our bunks!"
Jen grinned in reply, "Sound like a plan!"
"Sure does! Beer?"
"Uh... yeah, thanks... we're not breaking regs are we?"
"No, thank God! These quarters are run and administered by the Royal Air Force, they've shoved all us female Yanks into five houses on this street, and we're governed by RAF regs, and they don't prohibit alcohol in Senior Ranks Accommodation. Strictly speaking, we are honorary members of the Sergeants' Mess on base, but there's not many of us bother with it. Too many rules, and not all of us have the appropriate uniforms... and well... it just ain't like home..."
Jen nodded as she took a sip from her drink, it was a reasonable sounding explanation but one she thought that reflected a narrow somewhat isolationist view. Julia Martinez had tipped her off about the convenience of holding a UK driving licence and Jen was determined that she would take advantage of it and get out and about and see as much of the country as she could while she was here. Besides, it would be fun taking Mattie out to show her around once she got over here, and until the teenager was firmly back on her feet that option would be severely limited.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
That Friday evening Harm took a satisfied look around the bull pen, apart from the Duty PO seeing to some last second filing, he was the last man out of the office. The outer office had been re-arranged. Coates desk was longwise on and to the left of his door while Martinez' desk was at the end wall of the outer office, to the right of his door and facing the door that led to the bull pen. It was early days yet, but it seemed as if the two women would be able to work together. He hoped so, he didn't want to lose either of them, but he would post out one or both of them without a moment's hesitation if there was any great degree of friction between them.
Nodding an acknowledgement to the duty PO's "Goodnight, sir!" he headed for the locker room, a glanced at his watch telling him he needed to hurry a little if he wasn't to keep Martinez waiting for too long.
Julia was waiting by the car door as he ran down the steps from the building, acknowledging the Marine sentry's good night, as he did so. It felt strange not to be saluted and return the salute, but with this entrance being in full view of the public, it was policy that officers in civilian clothes not be saluted. It would be far too easy for unfriendly eyes to identify them if military compliments were paid.
Harm threw an inquiring eye at Martinez as he realised that the vehicle she stood next to was not a normal motor pool sedan, "What's this, Yeoman Two, this isn't a Navy car?"
"No sir. It's a rental."
"Going out of town Yeoman Two?"
"Yes, sir. Heading up to Oxford, and since the Oxford road goes past the base..."
Harm eased into the passenger seat and waited until Martinez had slid in behind the wheel. "What's the attraction at Oxford?" he asked her.
Julia paused in the act of sliding the key into the ignition and turned a startled face towards him, "Oxford, sir! The city of dreaming spires... the colleges... the history... That's where the King set up his government during the civil war!"
"History and old buildings?" Harm queried, "A bit dry and dusty, isn't it?" Harm asked as she eased the rental into traffic.
"Well... they've got some pretty good pubs, especially along the river... So a walk down the river, or maybe rent a row-boat, a pub lunch... Have you ever tried a ploughman's lunch, sir?"
"Can't say as I have," Harm admitted, "Any good?"
"The one we tried in Salisbury was very good," Julia answered, and then realising that she had perhaps given away more than she intended she blushed furiously and fell silent.
"We?" Harm asked lightly.
"Uh... yes sir. Johnny... uh, Bombardier Walker and me, sir," Julia said keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the road.
Harm contented himself with a non-committal "I see," but cast a quick glance across the cab to see Martinez blushing profusely.
"Yes, sir," Julia replied in a suffocated voice and fell silent.
She had never been so relieved as when Captain Rabb respected her silence. She had risked a glance at him a couple of time as they drove, but he seemed to be concentrating on the road, although there was a crinkle in the corner of his eye and there seemed to just the hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth.
Harm was not a cruel person, but in this occasion he couldn't help feel a touch of amusement at Martinez. That amusement overlay a degree of concern however. He was by no means in loco parentis to any of his staff, and Martinez was an adult, over the age of 21, but he didn't like the idea of the young woman sitting next to him being hurt. Walker seemed like a regular guy, but he was a soldier, and a foreign soldier at that...
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Julia followed the SatNav directions and to her relief they led her straight into the parking lot at the Royal Oxford Hotel smack dab in Oxford's City Centre. Unloading her sea-bag and garment bag from the trunk of the Vectra rental, she made her way through to reception. The young man behind the desk didn't look old enough to have left school yet, and the hotel uniform he wore only had the effect of making him look younger than he probably was.
"Hi, Julia Martinez, " I have a reservation." Julia greeted him.
"One moment please..." his fingers flew over the keyboard and a couple of seconds later he looked up with a pleasant but coolly professional smile, "All checked in Miss Martinez, and you're staying for two nights, correct?" He proffered a slim card folder, "Two room keys, and a breakfast card, should you wish to order a room service breakfast.
"Thank you," Julia tucked the cards into the side pocket of her garment bag, "Can you tell me if a Mister Walker has checked in yet?"
Another few seconds wait as the computer was checked once more, "Not yet," the young man whose name plate revealed him to be called Robert, shook his head.
"Thank you. When he does check in, will you give him my room number please, and ask him to call me?"
"Of course!" Robert tapped the message onto Johnny's check in page. "Your room is on the first floor... ah... second floor, turn right out of the lift and it's on the left, overlooking the quod. I could get someone to show you, and carry those for you?"
Julia had no idea what a 'quod' was, but she smiled her thanks, picked up her bags, refusing the offer of help with them or an escort and headed for the elevator – or lift, as Robert had called it.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm fretted as he stood by the front door and cast an irritable glance at his watch. In the couple of weeks Martinez had been driving him she had never been late. The frown deepening on his forehead, he was beginning to worry that something might have happened to her over the weekend. His relief was so great when four minutes later a Navy sedan pulled up in front of the house that he couldn't help a brief burst of anger when Martinez climbed out from behind the wheel and started up the footpath to the front door. He didn't wait for her to reach the door, but opened it, and cover and brief-case in hand.
"You're late!" He snapped, "If you can't get here on time, then either you curtail your weekend activities, or I start looking for a reliable driver!"
"Yes, sir! Sorry sir!" Martinez drew herself up into a stiff brace, "No excuse, sir!"
"Very well, let's get on with it!" Harm snapped again his feathers still ruffled.
The first ten minutes of the drive into London passed in stony silence until Harm turned his head, looked at Martinez and said in severe tones, "Don't ever do that again!"
"Sir, I am truly sorry for being late..."
"Oh, the hell with you being late! Just don't ever make me worry about you like that again. Ever!"
"Worry sir?" Martinez asked in surprise, risking a quick glance at her CO.
"Yes! Worry! You were nearly fifteen minutes late, and no word from you. I knew you'd gone away for the weekend, and I was having visions of you and that rental wrapped around a telephone pole somewhere! Next time you're late, call me!"
"Yes, sir! Unless, sir..."
"Yes?"
"You really would prefer another driver?"
"No dammit! I've got used to your driving, and your damned insubordination!" he replied and then grumbled something nearly inaudible, but Julia was almost prepared to swear that he'd mumbled, "Damned nearly as bad as Coates!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
After that start to the week, Monday and Tuesday found relations between Captain and Yeoman slightly strained but inevitably their close working proximity worked its subtle magic, helped on Wednesday by a 'phone call to Harm from A J, confirming that the appeal against the Judge's decision would be heard on Friday September 2 at Blacksburg Family Relations Court.
"That's the Friday before Labour Day Harm." A J told him drily, "And it really would help if you can tear yourself away from the fleshpots of London and actually appear in person as the petitioner!"
"Hell yes! I'm going to be there A J, even if it means I have to go UA!" Harm crowed.
"Well, don't do that, son. Now I'm out I can't cover your ass for those sort of tricks any more, and somehow I don't reckon the General would bother himself in that respect!"
"You're probably right, A J, but you know I can't possibly comment."
"No I know you can't, but watch yourself Harm, that man doesn't like you!"
"That obvious?" Harm asked in surprise, "I thought I was maybe just being paranoid!"
"Not a bit. Remember with officers like him, CYA!"
Despite AJ's words of caution Harm couldn't prevent a bubble of happy confidence rising inside him. He knew it was foolish, and probably just wishful thinking, but he couldn't help feeling that this time the case would go his – and Mattie's – way and that he would walk out of that court room as Mattie Grace's adoptive father, freeing him and Mattie to bring her over to the UK and allow him to be a proper father to her.
He was still riding that bubble when Martinez knocked on the door, bringing him a fresh stack of files for him to work through. His cheerful and entirely unselfconscious, "Thanks Martinez, bring it on!" flummoxed the young woman and she returned to her desk with a bemused smile on her face. Her bemusement only grew when not ten minutes later Harm called her back into his office.
"Martinez a little job for you. Find a car rental company that will one: accept a Virginia driver's licence, two: deliver and collect the rental from my house address, three: has a car I can get in and out of and four: won't charge the earth! Got it?"
"Aye, aye, sir... but sir, is... is there something wrong with my driving, sir?"
"What? Oh, no... not all. It's just that you won't be here this weekend, will you? Aren't you going down to Tidworth for your Bombardier's medal award?"
"Uh... yes, sir!" Martinez agreed, a slight flush staining her cheeks when she heard Harm refer to Johnny as 'her' Bombardier.
"Yeah, thought I'd got my weeks right..." he paused regarding his Yeoman for a moment, "Are you wearing uniform for the ceremony?"
"Yes, sir!" Julia replied, chin up, "I shall be wearing my Dress Whites, sir!" she added, thinking the hell with regs, I want to show the world how proud I am of him!
"H'mm... bending the regulations maybe, but not quite breaking them! OK. So... the car, Yeoman Two?" he prompted her.
Martinez took the unconventional dismissal in the manner in which it was meant, and with relief that the Captain seemed to be on his way to restoring normal relationships. Although she did send a look at Coates' empty desk and wished that the other woman was there to give her a lead on how to cope with their CO's moods.
With normal relations well on their way to being resumed the rest of the week passed smoothly enough. There was enough routine paperwork flowing smoothly over Harm's desk for him to begin to feel bored with it, and the lack of tension in the office, due not only to the gradually mending fences with Martinez but mostly to do with the lack of aggravation arising from friction between Tierney and Sullivan had a vaguely unsettling effect, so it was with a feeling of relief that he secured on Thursday evening and changed into his civilian clothes, to meet Martinez in a different coloured Vectra rental at the entrance to the building.
"Straight to Tidworth, Yeoman Two?" he asked as he eased into the passenger seat and seeing Martinez's Dress Whites hanging in a garment bag from the grab-handle above the rear door.
"Yes, sir! But only after I've delivered you safe and sound, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm resisted the temptation to drum his fingers on the steering wheel as he turned off the road and joined the line of vehicles waiting to to be processed through the security check at the entrance to Tidworth Garrison, and thanking whatever instinct had prompted him to make an early start. The car, a Ford Mondeo, had been delivered to the on-base house on Friday evening as he'd requested, and he had taken the opportunity to take for a test drive around the base before he'd ventured out onto public roads. The first half hour or so he'd been cautious in his driving as he got used to using what was, for him, the wrong hand to change gear and to driving on the wrong side of the road. But he eventually relaxed and began to enjoy the new experience.
The enjoyment hadn't lasted too long the following morning. He had followed the SatNav directions to Tidworth and had been dismayed when the infernal machine took him onto the British motorway system. He had survived the hour and a half journey but had ended it convinced that he too needed a driving course, not so much to learn to drive, but to understand British road usage, he'd tried to adapt his US-learned driving habits but had on more than one occasion received a warning blast from other drivers' car horns and at least three indignantly flashing sets of headlights to tell him that he'd done something wrong.. He'd have to mention that to Martinez! He grinned as he thought of his young Yeoman and her probable reaction to seeing him among the spectators at the parade, and see him she would. He was prepared to wager that amongst the mass of khaki uniforms his and Martinez' Dress Whites would stand out like sore thumbs. White bandaged sore thumbs at that, he grinned at the whimsy of his thoughts.
Eventually cleared through security, a different regiment this time he noted, their black berets with a silver representation of a World War One tank as a badge giving him a clue they belonged to an armoured regiment.
Reassuring the Lance Corporal who had checked his ID that he could find Three Eight Regiment's lines, by dint of following the traffic stream, Harm had acknowledged the NCO's butt-salute and headed for the Gunners' barracks.
Following the instructions of another NCO, this time in khaki service dress and with a blue 'RP' brassard on his left arm, Harm parked the rental and followed the stream of foot traffic towards the parade ground in the centre of the barracks area.
To his surprise a long bank of temporary bleachers had been erected and was already filling with spectators, and as he had expected Martinez was easy to spot. And so from the expression on her face was he! Harm fought down the desire to chuckle as Martinez rose to her feet and turned to face him.
"G...good m... morning, sir!" she stuttered as she saluted.
"Good morning, Martinez!" he returned her salute and then cocking an eye upwards he remarked "Looks like we've got a nice day for it!"
"Yes sir! Sir... what are you doing here?" she blurted out, and then realising what she'd said, how she'd said it, and to whom she'd said it, she flushed crimson, froze into a brace and shut her eyes, waiting for her doom.
"Oh... It looked like a nice day, so I thought I'd come down and see your Bombardier get his medal," Harm replied mildly, "So relax Yeoman Two, let's sit down and allow the British Army to show us how it's done."
"Yes, sir." Julia said faintly, and taking Harm at his word, she sank down onto the bench behind her, not sure if her legs were going to support her any longer. "How... how did you get down here... Of, yes, dumb question. That's why you wanted a rental! I would have been happy to give you a ride down here sir!"
"Yeah, I guessed you would, but you've got plans for the weekend, and mine are more nebulous... I don't know whether I'm staying down here or heading back up to London."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Yes sir, just 'oh'," Martinez grinned.
Before Harm could say anything else there came a double roll of drums and to a blare of military music a band dressed in dark blue uniforms and wearing black fur busbies marched onto the parade ground and took up station at the far side of the square, directly in front of the saluting dais.
After falling silent for a minute or so, the drums started another roll and from both flanks of the square the four batteries of Three Eight Regiment marched on.
The parade went as such parades usually do, the RSM handed over to the Adjutant, who fell in the officers and then handed over to the CO. There was then a wait, filled in by band music, until a staff car pulled smoothly up to the dais and a very much be-medalled and very senior officer dismounted from the car, and mounted the steps to the dais. Then amid a flurry of salutes he spoke briefly to the CO and then climbed down the steps and with a comet-like trail of ADC, CO and Adjutant, he strolled along the front rank of the regiment stopping here and there for a word with an individual soldier.
It seemed to take forever for him to pass through the ranks, and Harm winced inwardly at the strain the troops must be feeling until he realised that the General was inspecting one battery at a time, the others moving from attention to parade rest to attention and back to parade rest as the inspection progressed.
At length the General returned to the dais, but instead of mounting the steps, he stood in front of it as an Aide approached and stood next to him. From his position behind the CO the RSM raised his voice to a stentorian bellow, "Bombardier Walker!"
Johnny's answering "Sir!" although full voiced sounded thin and reedy in comparison, but there was nothing to carp at in his bearing as he fell out from his position in the ranks and marched across the square to halt in front of the General, where they exchanged salutes.
The loudspeaker crackled into life and a voice began to read the citation that accompanied the medal,
"On the fourteenth of September Two Thousand and Four, Bombardier Timothy Walker was the driver of a Landrover that formed part of a two vehicle administrative detail from Regimental Headquarters, Thirty Eighth Regiment Royal Artillery, to dispersed battery locations situated to the south of the city of Basra in the republic of Iraq.
At approximately eleven hundred hours while the detail was passing through an area of Basra known as Balad Majram the detail came under attack. An improvised explosive device targeted the lead vehicle, instantly killing the commander and disabling the driver and vehicle. Simultaneously the second vehicle, driven by Bombardier Walker came under heavy and sustained small arms and machine gun fire that disabled that vehicle and wounded the vehicle commander.
Bombardier Walker, with complete disregard for his own safety, left the cover of his vehicle and while targeted by small-arms and machine gun fire crossed open ground,and directed the unwounded survivor of the lead vehicle to provide covering fire, rescued the injured driver of the lead vehicle and then carrying the casualty he led the other survivor back to the shelter of his own vehicle.
Bombardier Walker, showing coolness under fire and leadership qualities beyond those expected of his rank and experience rallied the two other uninjured survivors of the detail and organised a defensive position while at the same time he treated the wounds of his vehicle commander and those of the driver of the lead vehicle, thereby saving their lives.
Bombardier Walker and the two Gunners with him held off repeated attempts by insurgents to close to hand to hand combat, and also directed support from both ground and air assets, until the insurgents, having suffered heavy casualties withdrew, allowing a relieving force to arrive at the ambush site.
Bombardier Walker's actions on that day undoubtedly saved the lives of the survivors of the initial ambush, and greatly contributed to the repulse of the insurgent forces. In recognition of his actions above and beyond his rank and experience, he is awarded the Military Cross. Bombardier Walker's actions were in the highest tradition of the British Army and reflect great credit on himself, the Royal Regiment of Artillery and upon the British Army! God Save the Queen!"
A further flurry of salutes concluded the medal award as the General spoke a few words of congratulations to Johnny and then shook his hand. Johnny, almost crimson from embarrassment pivoted away from the General and marched determinedly back to take up his position in the ranks.
The award was followed by a march-past of the Regiment, each sub-unit in turn delivering a crisp 'Eyes Right' as they passed the saluting dais where the General stood, returning the paying of compliments with a salute. The march past was followed by the CO ordering an "Advance in Review Order" followed by a "General Salute".
The General departing, the CO handed the parade over to the Adjutant, and the officers having fallen out, the regiment, under the command of the RSM marched off the square, and once that had been completed the spectators began to mingle chatting happily about the spectacle they had just witnessed. Most of them were in uniform, and so from the nature of the compliments that he overheard Harm could tell that the parade had gone well, that turn out and drill were of the expected high standard. Martinez he noted kept looking in the direction in which Bombardier Walker had disappeared, while he hung back until the very senior officer who was occupying Colonel Mike's attention clambered stiffly into the back of his waiting staff car, which smoothly pulled away from the rear of the saluting dais.
Harm nodded a farewell to Martinez, "I'll leave you to greet your hero in private," he teased her, feeling amply rewarded by the blush that mounted to her cheeks. Climbing down from the bleachers he approached the small knot of officers, and was gratified to see his target for the day, Lieutenant Sue Marshall, the lively blonde that Gill Shephard had introduced him to in the Mess on his first night at Tidworth. But first the formalities must be dealt with.
"Good morning, Colonel," Harm waited until a natural break in the conversation to attract Colonel Mike's attention. That officer turning on his heel faced his unexpected visitor with quickly masked surprise and saluted.
Harm returned the salute, but said as he did so, "I wish you wouldn't do that Colonel, I am here totally unofficially, and for that I apologise, for gate-crashing a special day for your Regiment!"
"Not at all sir," Colonel Mike smiled with every appearance of happiness, "We're delighted to have you join us! And I have to salute you, you know; you still outrank me!"
"I guess so," Harm admitted, but this is your command!"
"And does that make a difference?" Colonel Mike inquired.
"To me it does!" Harm admitted, "Especially after seeing a formation like the one we've just seen! Most impressive!"
Colonel Mike almost visibly swelled with pride, as if he were a proud father basking the in the praise of his newborn, "Yes, they didn't put on too bad a show, did they?"he beamed, "Tolerably steady on parade, I thought."
"That they were, Colonel, that they were!" Harm agreed readily, and the troops had been steady. To his admittedly unaccustomed eye, their drill had matched that which he had witnessed performed by the Guards at Horse Guards Parade his first weekend in England.
Colonel Mike nodded with satisfaction, although he had a suspicion that the American Navy Captain didn't know a Left Form from a hole in the ground, it was good to hear his men's efforts acknowledged.
"Are you joining us for lunch, Captain?" the CO inquired.
"Uh... I... No... I mean I'm not an invited guest, and I wasn't expecting..."
"Nonsense! It's not much, just a buffet, but I can't have you going away thinking the regiment is inhospitable!" He cast his eye around and a smile lit up his face, "Sue! Come and look after Captain Rabb, will you! Show him where we've hidden the food and drink!"
"Of course, Colonel!" Sue answered obligingly and smiled up at Harm "Welcome back, sir!"
"Good morning, Lieutenant," Harm answered, hanging back slightly to allow Colonel Mike to return to his previous conversation. "Your CO must be a mind reader, I was hoping for the chance of a word with you."
"Oh?" Sue asked innocently, although she had an idea, or maybe a hope, of what he was about to say.
"I was hoping that you might still be in touch with Captain Shephard... I understand she's posted to London now... and ask her if she would mind me contacting her?"
Sue's face split in the widest grin he'd ever seen, "Why don't you ask her yourself?" she said and then before he could answer she looked over her shoulder and called out, her voice ringing out penetratingly clear, "Oh, Gill... there's a rather dishy sailor here who wants a word with you!"