Scotch Mist by Elizabeth Darrell Page B

we’re working on every day.’
    Max changed direction. ‘When were you and your mates last on exercise?’ Mooney looked bewildered. ‘Answer the question, man!’
    â€˜Last month we was on mock manoeuvres. We didn’t make no scarecrow then.’
    â€˜When you returned to base how much of your ammo did you hand in?’
    Greenish-brown eyes widened in tardy understanding. ‘Every bit I signed out, sir ,’ he added as if that made his statement more veritable.
    â€˜How about other times when you’ve been issued with items from the Armoury?’
    That really got to Mooney. ‘I need to speak to the Platoon Commander.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜You’re charging me with what I haven’t done. I know my rights. I’m entitled to have my Platoon Commander here.’
    Max leaned back and surveyed him with dislike. There were born soldiers, and mediocre soldiers who nevertheless put all they had into the job. What he had no time for were men who took and gave nothing in return. Uniformed layabouts, in his opinion.
    â€˜You want the support of the officer you parodied as a scarecrow and put on a bonfire to burn? As a joke .’
    Mooney took a deep breath and began a stumbling defence. ‘We didn’t mean anything by it. Second Lieutenant Freeman came just five weeks ago and he started laying into us like we was useless. Well, we didn’t like it. Lieutenant Cummings what was here before never did that. The scarecrow was just our way of making a protest.’
    â€˜And “laying into you” is Second Lieutenant Freeman’s method of making his protest over your lack of effort and dedication, I suspect. He knows his rights, one of which is to expect maximum effort from everyone in his platoon.’ Max looked down at the open file on the desk. ‘On your way out tell Rule he’s next.’
    â€˜But what about . . . ?’
    Max looked back at him with narrowed eyes. ‘I see why you’re having a rough time of it. You can’t even respond to my simple command. In a war situation you’d be a dead loss, with the emphasis on dead . Learn to behave like a soldier and you might eventually be of some use to your platoon. Now, go out there and tell Rule I want him in here next, ’ he ordered in tones that brooked no further argument.
    The other interviews followed similar lines. There was always someone in every platoon who failed to pull his weight. Freeman was unfortunate enough to have four of them. Max swiftly assessed their lack of culpability regarding the explosion, but he hoped he had frightened them enough to improve their attitude. It was probably a vain hope.
    He gave this opinion to the young subaltern, who had managed to retrieve his report along with some self-confidence, but their conversation was cut short by a call on Max’s mobile. He left the building to hear what George Maddox had to say.
    â€˜We have a result regarding the explosive material, sir. Are you able to come to the Sports Ground?’
    â€˜On way,’ said Max with enthusiasm. This information would at least break the stalemate they presently had.
    When he reached the Sports Ground he walked through to the spot where the bonfire had stood and found a small group studying a collection of tiny fragments spread on a sheet of plastic. Tom was already there in discussion with the experts who had been scouring the area for evidence.
    â€˜So, what’s the verdict?’ he asked, joining them.
    â€˜It was an improvised explosive device, sir.’
    Max was taken aback. ‘So we’re looking for someone who’s served in Afghanistan and knows a hell of a lot about those things. An explosives expert.’
    â€˜Not necessarily,’ came the defensive retort from one such expert. ‘Anyone can access the Internet and find out how to make a bomb.’
    Max gave a grim smile. ‘I agree, but we’re on a military