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his rifle in one hand and his pack bound like a club in the other, and walked off bellowing orders at his men. Johnny went over to the German, who clearly couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

‘Hello, Kurt, so this is where they sent you?’ Johnny said in German.

‘Thanks to our friend Stolz… Ernst, what are you doing here – why are you dressed as a British officer? What’s going on, are you a spy?’

‘My name’s actually Johnny Swift and I am a British officer, I’m not really a spy. I was in Constantinople on... business. When the deal I was arranging fell through I was sent here,’ Johnny said amiably. ‘Sorry if I wasn’t completely honest with you, but I couldn’t very well introduce myself as a British Officer on temporary secondment to special duties.’

‘No, that would have been quite improper,’ Kurt sneered, ‘you’re quite the British officer and gentleman.’

Johnny gestured in the direction of the corporal who had left. ‘Some might disagree. I’m what they call a temporary gentleman.’

Kurt laughed. ‘I really had no idea, but I should have. You were not like any embassy official I’ve ever met. So while we were drinking and carousing you were taking down our secrets… what there were of them?’

‘No, I was drinking and carousing.’ Johnny felt genuinely pleased to have found Kurt.

Kurt clutched his arm, trying not to show the pain he was in. ‘I’m just glad you were here.’

‘Do you want some water?’ Johnny asked, passing him his water bottle. Kurt took it and drank deeply.

Williams pulled out a rum jug from this pack and passed it to Johnny. ‘Here, have some of this.’

‘How did you manage to get that through everything?’ Johnny asked, amazed.

‘Easy when it’s something you love, sir.’

‘You’re bloody incredible, Williams.’ Johnny pulled out the cork and took a swig, the sweet nectar burnt his bruised throat, and helped Kurt take a few sips.

‘Thank you – Johnny,’ Kurt said, ‘your servant is very efficient.’

Johnny translated for Williams. ‘Praise from Caesar indeed! Now let’s see about getting that arm looked at, shall we?’

Williams looked in his pack then grinned sheepishly at Johnny, ‘I don’t suppose you have a bandage, sir? I had to use mine on the Brigadier’s leg.’

Johnny handed him a field dressing and Williams began to apply it to Kurt’s wound. ‘We might be trying to kill the bastards, but that’s no reason to forget our humanity, is it?’

The crash of distant rifle and machine gun fire opened up. ‘Sounds like the Turks are counterattacking, over on X beach,’ Johnny said to Williams, then spoke to Kurt in German. ‘The Turks are putting up a much better fight than we expected.’

‘They are fighting for their home,’ Kurt said, ‘it is the bravery of desperation. Once you reinforce this position they will be finished.’

Johnny choked down another tot of the rum and gave Kurt a swig. This time he made sure that he took a good few gulps. ‘Why would we reinforce this hill? It’s just a minor defensive position.’

‘Do not play the fool “Johnny”, you know the strategic importance of this position as well as I do.’

‘I suppose it would offer a wonderful panoramic view for an artillery spotter,’ Johnny said, wondering how this barren rock could be of any use or importance to the Turks.

‘Really, you were much more subtle when you were spying on us in Constantinople. It is perfectly obvious that you have our defences completely outflanked from here and we have no means of taking it back.’

‘But you have a whole division out there,’ Johnny said, remembering the briefing from Hare.

‘A division? There are only a thousand men along Cape Helles. A covering force,’ Kurt said faintly. The shock and the pain were starting to wear him down.

‘Here, this should do the trick.’ Williams put a morphine tablet in Kurt’s mouth. ‘Friend of yours is he, sir? What is it with you and the Germans?’

‘I just like to take every opportunity to practice my languages.’ Johnny patted Williams on the back. ‘Can you take him down to the beach and get him looked after?’

Johnny stumbled back down Hill 114 and presented himself to a Captain, at the brigade command post. He hadn’t meant to pump his friend for information, but now he had he was determined to exploit it to the best of his abilities.

‘Good morning, sir. Is Colonel Newenham here? I need to speak to him urgently?’

‘Afraid he’s been wounded,’ the Captain answered.

‘Well, who’s in command?’ Johnny asked, irritated by his tone.

‘Well, might you ask, Lieutenant,’ the Captain answered pointedly. ‘Brigadier General Marshall is, I believe, the most senior officer presently landed. But he only commands the 87th Brigade, not the covering force of I believe the 86th Brigade, they are therefore not under his direct orders. However, all the officers in charge of the covering force are casualties.’

‘Stop playing the bloody fool, man, and ask him what he wants,’ a Brigadier sitting in a tent behind him barked. He was being bandaged, but Johnny could see the badge of rank.

‘What do you want, Lieutenant?’ the Captain asked.

‘I wish to speak with the Brigadier,’ Johnny replied.

‘Well, I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to wait. We are expecting the 86th Brigade Intelligence officer, with an urgent briefing.’

Johnny pushed his way past the captain into the tent. ‘Brigadier Marshall, may I speak with you, please? I have some rather important information.’

‘Yes, what is it?’ Marshall asked impatiently.

‘I have just questioned a German officer, sir.’

‘You’ve done what? Who are you and what business do you have questioning prisoners?’

‘Swift, sir, I’m an interpreter with the Lancashire Fusiliers. I understand it’s my allotted role to question prisoners.’

‘I see, proceed.’

‘The German officer told me that there are only a thousand enemy troops covering

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