Getting to his feet, Sir Pellinore added in a more cheerful tone, 'Only comforting thought is that the British people are running true to form. We always have won the last battle in every war. That's what really matters. Can't stop gossiping here all night with you, though. Got to have a bath and freshen myself up. Sorry I've got to go out; but if you like to dine here I'll tell Crawshay to get up a bottle of the Roederer '28 for you to drink with your dinner.'
'Thanks; that's a temptation to stay in,' Gregory grinned, 'But after our chat I feel I need a little cheering up; so I'll see if I can find a few blissfully ignorant and optimistic types at my club. It would be nice, though, if we could split that bottle in the morning.'
'Good idea. Eleven o'clock, eh? I often take a pint at that hour. Learnt the habit from my Colonel when I was a youngster. He used to call it "a little eleven o'clock," and always asked one of his subalterns to join him. Stuff cost only six bob a bottle in those days. Well, don't break your neck in the blackout. Poor sort of endin' for a feller like you.'
On the following morning, knowing that his host’ liked to have a clear hour in which to deal with his most urgent affairs, Gregory tactfully refrained from going to the library until eleven o'clock. On his entering it Sir Pellinore told his secretary to go and get on with the letters, then pointed to the bottle which already reposed in an ice bucket on the drinks table. Gregory opened it, and for a few minutes, while enjoying the first fragrance of the wine, they exchanged pleasant platitudes; then, no longer able to restrain his impatience, he asked;
'Well; was General Ismay there last night?'
'What, Pug?' Sir Pellinore's voice was casual. 'Oh yes, he was in great form. I had a word with him about you. As I supposed, direct Commissions into the Army are absolutely out. Still, steps are being taken to fix you up right away on most favoured nation terms.'
'What exactly does that mean?' Gregory asked, a shade suspiciously.
Sir Pellinore's slightly protuberant bright blue eyes regarded him with faintly cynical amusement. 'Pug and I decided that, as you had been called up, the sooner you got through doing your stuff on the barrack square the better, so this time next week you'll be jumping around to the orders of a Sergeant Major.'
The Leopard Does Not Change His Spots
Chapter 3
Gregory came slowly to his feet. His brown eyes were hard and the scar on his forehead showed white with anger as he exclaimed, 'I would never have believed that you, of all people, would have sold me down the river. Surely you could have got me into the Interpreters Corps, or some sort of halfway house which did not call for me to be shouted at to form fours at my age.'
Sir Pellinore allowed himself a suggestion of a smile. 'R.A.F. never form fours. They use the old cavalry drill. Of course, if, as an ex-Army Officer, you have any prejudice against taking a commission in the R.A.F…"
'You old devil!' Gregory's anger had evaporated in an instant. 'Any man would be honoured to wear that uniform. But how does a commission square with being ordered around by an N.C.O.?'
'The R.A.F. is the only service which is still granting direct commissions to applicants with certain qualifications technicians, paymasters, schoolmasters, legal wallahs, and so on. They go in as officers but have to do a fortnight's Intake Course before being posted. There's a long waiting list, but if you sign your application this afternoon the Director of Plans, Air, will have it pushed in at the top; then you can start getting through this inescapable spell of square-bashing next week.'
'And what is to happen to me when I'm through it?'
'I felt you wouldn't mind becoming a Staff Officer in the War Room at the Cabinet Offices."
Gregory's mouth fell slightly open. 'You… you're not fooling?'
T never fool,' replied Sir Pellinore with mock severity. 'But you must thank General Ismay when you see him, not me. Of course, I've told him from time to time of the very valuable services you have rendered; so he knows of you already. After Maudie Castletown's dinner party I went back to his office with him. We had a word with Ian Jacob. Son of the old Field Marshal. Known him since he was a boy. He's a bright young
26
man. Colonel now, and in charge of War Cabinet communications. War Room is a three service show and comes under him. At Pug's request Jacob agreed to get the D. of Plans, Air, to take you nominally on his staff.'
'But this is terrific. In my wildest dreams I would never have hoped for anything so thrilling.'
'Ah, well,' Sir Pellinore took a good swig of the Roederer, 'since you have to be in regular employment there are many worse jobs. It is a Wing Commander's post, but they have some fool regulation now that no one can be put up by more than one rank a month; so you'll have to go in as a Pilot Officer. Still, your promotion will be automatic and you'll be a Colonel de l' Air before the autumn.'
'I can't ever thank you enough.'
'Never mind that. Be at the Great George Street entrance to the War Cabinet Offices at three o'clock this afternoon and send your name up to Colonel Jacob.'
A few hours later Gregory was sitting on a bench ‘in a dim hallway of the great block which forms the north side of Parliament Square. Seeing the special importance of the offices in this corner of the building, he had been surprised to find that the only obvious security precautions were that the Home Guards checking passes on the door wore revolvers, and that, compared with the constant bustle in great headquarters which he had entered when on the Continent, they seemed almost deserted.
After a wait of a few minutes an elderly messenger took him up in an old fashioned lift to the second floor, then along a lofty corridor. It was here, well above the noise of the traffic, and with fine views over the lake in St. James's Park, that the principal offices were situated. Among the names on their doors Gregory noticed that of General Sir Hastings Ismay and Brigadier L. C. Hollis, then he was shown in to a secretary who took him through to Colonel Jacob.
The Colonel dark, round-faced, young looking gave him a cigarette and at once disclosed that he knew all about his mission to Russia in the previous summer. After they had talked for a few minutes, he said with a smile:
'In view of your previous activities, I'm afraid you may find life here rather dull. Are you quite sure that you Wouldn't prefer me to give you a chit passing you on to the chief of our Secret Operations Executive?'
'No, thank you,' Gregory replied promptly. 'I've had enough excitement to last me for quite a time.'
'Very well, then.' The Colonel stood up. 'I had a word with the D. of Plans, Air, about you this morning, and he is expecting us; so we'll go over and see him.'
The Operational Departments of the Air Ministry were in the same vast building, on its far side overlooking King Charles Street. After walking through seemingly interminable and almost deserted corridors they reached the Director of Plans' office. There the Colonel introduced Gregory to a short, broad shouldered Air Commodore who received them with cheerful briskness.
Tm sorry we have to send you to Uxbridge,' he said. 'As you had a commission in the last war it's an absurd waste of time to lecture you on the elementary stuff that every subaltern picks up in a couple of months; but it's a hard and fast regulation that there is now no escaping. Just sign these papers I have had prepared and they will attend to the rest of the formalities at Adastral House.'