Edmund said nothing. He held out his wrists for the handcuffs. He and the escort stood there while other soldiers unloaded the crates and carried them to a nearby building with smoke rising from a tin chimney. He gazed around, hoping to see some sign of the other COs. But there was none. His heart began to sink again. His head ached; his body kept shivering.
He was taken to yet another bare office, yet another table with yet another officer – a sandy-haired major with glasses. The man ignored Edmund at first; kept scribbling on a sheet of paper. Then he looked up. ‘What’s this one’s name?’
The escort snapped to attention, and one of them opened his mouth. But Edmund spoke first. Archie’s words came to him again, and he made sure he stayed polite. ‘Good evening. I’m Edmund Hayes.’
The ma
