The Pickpocket

Chapter 9 - Atten- ow!

The next day, all the soldiers were standing ready for orders. Dad was yawning behind his hand and Nicci had fallen asleep underneath my hat.

“Atten-shun!” a voice barked. The general in charge of us was a short man with a giant moustache. His uniform was always spotless and woe betide anyone to get it muddy! He also liked to punish people for the slightest things, not good if you were a bit clumsy. And his name! The easiest name in the world to mock, but we didn’t dare too. General Grandetasher; ‘grande’ meaning ‘big’ in French, and coupled with his moustache…

“Blimey, Big Tache isn’t in a good mood today, is he?” Gerald whispered to me. I shook my head quickly and stifled a laugh. Dad was on the other side of me and was resting his head on mine. Nicci had shuffled over to above my ear and that made me look lopsided. Sorting out my hat (and monkey) before Big Tache came over, I elbowed Dad in the side.

“Wake up, bozo,” I hissed. Dad straightened up and yawned again. Early mornings were hard for most people, but Dad? He’s practically nocturnal.

“Private Hatchett!” Big Tache barked. He’d reached Dad and they were glaring at each other.

“Yes, sir?” Dad replied, sarcasm giving his words a sharp tone.

“Your hat, Private. What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know sir. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Where is it, Private?” Big Tache glared at Dad and the latter’s eyes widened. Dad began a thorough search of his pockets, turning out slips of paper, wrappers, marbles, string, and…

“Private Hatchett, why are you in possession of a firearm?”

“Um…” Dad’s face went blank and he glanced at me for inspiration. I shrugged minutely but Big Tache still saw it.

“Have you got anything to say, boy?” he growled, bringing his face close to mine. I smiled, showing a lot of white teeth.

“Yep. I have a tongue, I have a mouth… At some point in time I will indeed have something to say,” I replied. Big Tache’s face went red and he poked a finger at me.

“Listen here, boy,” he spluttered, reaching behind him for something, “I won’t have any of your cheekiness, you hear me?”

“I’ll keep it then.” Big Tache’s arm came up, holding an iron bar. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and moved, but it was too late. Darkness clouded my vision and everything got further and further away. The last thing I remember is seeing Nicci scamper from my shoulder before I hit the floor.

 

*

 

Jamie hit the floor with a dull thud. Nicci ran off, squealing, I could hear Rex barking from the dormitory where I’d shut him and wished that he was by my side. As it was, I was alone if I was going to fight Big Tache. And he was taller than me.

“You… you hit him…” Edwards gasped.

“I hope you’ve all learnt a lesson from that,” Big Tache boomed, finally satisfied. I could hear murmurs getting louder and louder along the line until Big Tache walked back down the other end. I followed him.

“You might have killed him,” I said quietly. Big Tache spun around and, realising that I had my gun again, stepped backwards.

“And? You sorry lot are going to die anyway, so…” Big Tache tailed off when he saw that my arm was raised and the gun was pressed against the back of his head. He gulped and took a tiny step forwards. The gun came with him.

“Jamie works with the animals,” I continued, still in a quiet tone, “and he was only here temporarily. As am I. But just because we work with animals does not mean we can’t shoot. And y’know that my form said I was an actor? Yeah, that ain’t me. Jamie’s an actor but me? I’m a hitman. D’you know what that is, Colonel?” The colonel was about to shake his head but thought better of it.

“No.”

“Well,” I whispered, taking the gun away from his head slowly, “it’s an assassin, basically. But there’s a difference. I sometimes kill people for fun.”

Big Tache whimpered in fear and instinctively took a step back. Realising that the gun was no longer about to blow his brains out, he turned and ran, yelling for the sergeant in an oddly high-pitched voice.

“Wow…” a voice said. I turned around. A young soldier was watching me, awe and fear in his eyes. “You just terrified Big Tache!”

“And you’re shorter than him!” another voice piped up.

“Only just,” I replied, a little cross. “Why does everyone always point out that I’m shorter than them?”

“Cuz y’are,” a different voice answered. Jamie was standing up shakily, a large purple lump blossoming on his forehead. He smiled weakly and took a step forward. Jamie’s knees buckled and the private who he was talking to earlier, Edwards, caught him before he hit the floor for the second time in as many minutes.

 

*

 

I was taken to the medical room and the sergeant came to see us. He congratulated Dad on his bravery - I’d been told the whole story - and told us that we could move to the animal unit.

“Finally, some good news,” Dad muttered once he’d gone. His hat was on Rex’s head and Nicci was curled up in mine, playing with a small pebble.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Dad had been quiet all the time I was being treated and this was the first thing he’d said in ages.

“I mean that at last we don’t have to stay here, to learn to fight, to kill,” he muttered, anger sharpening his tone. “We know that Germans are good people. It’s just a few of ‘em who are bad.”

“Dad, are you okay?” He could hear the curiosity in my voice and sighed. Dad never was one for talking and never will be.

“Well, Jamie…” he began, then stopped and sighed again.

“What?”

“What do you remember about your childhood?”

“Not much. Why?”

“You’re sort of, well, part… part German. And you were born in 1915, not 2000.”