THE DRIVER OF the armoured car kept the engine noise to a minimum as it made its approach. The crew's adrenaline had started to pump from the time the night sky ahead had lit up; its cause hidden to them by the hill they were ascending. No other patrols were out so whatever it was, it was not one of their own in trouble. The vehicle's advance needed to be stealthy because the lives of those within might depend on it. Attacks were a constant threat in this hostile land as many of the natives were unfriendly.
“Just a tree on fire, sir!” the driver exclaimed as they came over the brow of the hill.
The British Army captain beside him peered through the narrow slit that served as a window and caught sight of the man standing before the flames.
“Stop!” the Captain quietly ordered tapping the driver on the shoulder. “I'll take a look!”
Corporal Cox applied the foot brake, then the hand brake before easing the gear into neutral. He did it with the florish of a man well practiced in the art. Now that they could see the reason for the fire, the crew relaxed and the captain sensing this said quietly but authoritatively, “Keep alert, lads! This could be an ambush!” before he hoisted himself through the hatch. The four men remaining within had no need to be reminded for they were experienced campaigners in this kind of war and knew that it killed you when you least expected it.
Through the slit, the men watched their officer advance cautiously down the lane in front of them with his submachine gun unslung and at the ready. “Seems quite enough,” someone said, but no one answered. They were too intent on the scene outside. The armoured vehicle had come to a halt a hundred yards or so from the fire, so it took some moments for the captain to reach the man fronting the flames with his back to him. When he had got close enough, the captain spoke with some authority,
“Get your hands up and turn around!”
Taken completely unawares, Shaun let go of his bicycle and it clattered noisily on the road as he quickly raised his hands. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with a tall British soldier in battle fatigues. The insignias on his shoulders indicated that he was an officer of some kind but Shaun was not up on those things.
"A typical Irishman", the captain thought. Ruddy in complexion with red hair to match and broadly built. This one was shorter than most though, barely reaching his chin. “Keep your hands where I can see them!” he cautioned.
Knees flexed slightly, with the weapon he carried pointing at Shaun's chest, the captain glanced around until he was satisfied that it was safe. Holding his gun now with one hand, he quickly searched Shaun with the other.
“What's your name? Why are you here?” the Captain asked forcefully.
“Shaun Cronin. I live just down the road,” Shaun replied hurriedly. He had recovered his composure now and eyed the tall soldier in front of him, noting the man's strong handsome face and intelligent eyes that were hardened and watchful. The soldier motioned him to lower his arms as he inquired,
“Did you do this?”
“Now, why would I want to do such a thing,” Shaun answered in a voice laced with sarcasm. Then he saw the look in the other's eyes and decided that the officer was not a man to trifle with. So he added, “It was burning when I got here.”
The Captain was hardened to sarcastic answers to his questions from the locals in these parts. The Irish were better than most at being sarcastic when they put their minds to it. Few of them had any love of British soldiers, and, if he were honest with himself, he didn't blame them. It was their country after all and the Captain had often asked himself what he was doing here. He was a soldier, not a policeman, and he certainly did not want to be any part of an occupation force. But he had a duty to perform and he was a soldier in Her Majesty's Army.
Deep down he held a sneaking admiration for the Irish - the ones that were not trying to kill him, that is. He could understand the Irish cause and the people's resentment although he was totally opposed to their methods for achieving their ends. In similar circumstances, he would probably feel as they did. However, he also knew that he couldn't afford to be too objective in his line of work. He had his duty to perform no matter how onerous. Because the warring factions throughout the country were not given to advertising and never wore uniforms, all Irishmen abroad at night were under suspicion as was the man before him now. This was an undeclared war, deadly in execution, indiscriminate in casualties, and very lethal at times.
“I'm sorry but we will have to take you in for questioning,” the captain said as he turned and waved the armoured car forward,
“Bloody typical,” Shaun muttered low under his breath as the soldier turned back towards him.
The Captain stepped forward to take Shaun by the arm and then stopped as he thought he heard something. The Captain saw the other man looking at him in a puzzled way as he stood there listening.
There it was again, the sound of horse's hooves; the noise a horse makes when it is in full stride. The captain brought his gun to bear as he waited for the horse to appear around the bend of the lane, the hedgerows on either side hiding the approaching animal.
Shaun heard nothing but when he saw the officer bring up his weapon and point it down the lane behind Shaun he became alarmed. Shaun spun quickly around, bending low as he did so in expectation but the lane behind him was deserted and peaceful. Mystified, Shaun turned back towards the soldier and saw a strange look on the man's face. The look could only be described as one of amazement.
Corporal Cox had seen the captain wave him on and he took off the hand brake and slid the gear into first. The armoured car moved forward slowly.
“Watch it, lads!” he said to the others in the vehicle as he peered through the slit in front of him. He had seen the captain raise his rifle and point it down the lane. “Something's going on!” Those were his last words in this life.