Although he didn’t believe the NCO, Edmund’s back went cold. ‘Will the Army pay for the stamp?’ he made himself say. The sergeant glared and stomped away.
Later that day – Thursday – it was hard to keep track of the days with no calendar or newspaper – he was handed a sliver of yellow soap and a rough towel. ‘Smarten yourself up. You’re going before an officer.’
Captain McGregor again? No, the man seated at the table when two soldiers led Edmund into the room was not much older than himself and wore the two shoulder pips of a lieutenant. ‘Prisoner Hayes, sir!’ rapped the sergeant. The lieutenant nodded. ‘At ease.’ Edmund knew that voice; it had told the sergeant to empty the toilet bucket.
The two young men gazed at each other. ‘Do you have any complaints about your treatment in the cel
