The Hill by Ray Rigby

interest, for Bokumbo to answer back.
    “I’m a British subject, sir. From the West Indies,” said Bokumbo with a gentle smile.
    “You’re black,” said Wilson still trying to needle him.
    Bokumbo’s smile was even more tolerant. “That makes me happy when I see some white men.”
    “Answer back, would you,” snarled Williams. “Answer back, eh. You different-coloured bastard.”
    Bokumbo looked at Williams and stopped smiling. “I spit man.” He cleared his throat and threw a gobble of spit at Williams’s feet.
    “I’ll break you,” shouted Williams. “I’ll crack you right down the middle.”
    “That’s enough out of you, Staff,” snapped the R.S.M.
    Williams turned a face tight with rage. “When a nigger shoots his mouth off like that ... ”
    “Over here.” The R.S.M. walked away.
    Williams turned back to Bokumbo and lifted his arm and pointed a finger at him then controlled himself and walked over to the R.S.M.
    R.S.M. Wilson stared hard at Williams. “Staff, the day I can’t handle men I’ll hand over to you. Meanwhile, when I take a parade, you keep your mouth shut.”
    “He got under my skin, sir.”
    “That’s a quick way to lose discipline. Remember what I’ve said.” The R.S.M. walked back to Bokumbo. “So you’re a British subject?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then you’ve got equal privileges. You can drill with these men and dance over that hill with them.”
    “Be my pleasure, sir.” Bokumbo was grinning again.
    Wilson smiled and looked at McGrath. “So we’ve two iron men, have we, eh? By Christ, you’ll both get rusty on that hill. Staff, see if the M.O.’s ready to inspect these men.”
    “Yes, sir,” shouted Williams and doubled to the M.O.’s room, knocked on the door and entered.
    “Commandant on his way, sir,” shouted the gate Staff.
    The R.S.M. spun round and shouted back, “Over here, Staff, at the double.”
    The gate Staff doubled the hundred and fifty yards at full speed and slammed to attention in front of Wilson.
    “You’re new here, Staff, ain’t you?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then listen. The Commandant, the King or General Montgomery can walk in here any time they like. I’ve got nothing to hide. Is that clear?”
    “Sorry, sir. I thought ... ”
    “Don’t think. I run this place. Me! The Commandant signs bits of paper. He’d sign his own death warrant if I put it on his desk. I run this place. Got that?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Right. On the order, double back to the gate before we have a mass break out. Double!”
    The Staff doubled flat out back to the gate and breathing heavily he put his cap on straight then opened the small door with a key and stood waiting.
    The gate Staff slammed to attention and saluted as the Commandant strolled towards him and the Commandant casually acknowledged the salute and walked on. He stopped at the hill and squinted up at it then on a sudden impulse he took a run at it. But, about half way up, the thought occurred to him that it would be damn stupid for him, the Commandant, to be seen running on the hill, so he carefully picked his way down it again. Odd, he thought. There’s something rather fascinating about this hill. A challenge, I suppose. Then he smiled to himself. Don’t be such a bloody idiot. All anybody will ever get out of that is a muck sweat. He turned his back on the hill and walked towards the Medical Room and passed a squad of prisoners being drilled by Staff Harris.
    “Eyes right. Twenty-eight prisoners all present and correct, sir. Eyes front,” barked Harris.
    The Commandant returned the salute and walked on and stopped a few paces from Wilson and the prisoners, and waited.
    Wilson shot a swift sidelong glance at the Commandant and pretended that he hadn’t seen him. The moment had arrived for his set speech. His jocular send off before he doubled the prisoners into the Medical Room and nothing must interfere with that. “If any of you are excused boots, pack drill, breathing, have six