On my return to the damaged hotel, I found Mush and Sadiq drinking tea outside. Their uniforms were as crumpled as mine, and both looked dreadful – exhausted and disillusioned.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Captain Ashdown,” said Sadiq. “I’m surprised you were not first in line.”
I ignored his jibe, turning to Mush instead.
“Any news on our departure?”
Mush shrugged.
“Nothing but tea and a few bars of chocolate,” he replied. “Here, I saved you some.”
He handed me three small bars of chocolate and a cup. I ate first, polishing off two bars in an instant, before taking my time drinking. The tea was warm and sugary, and very comforting. It added to my mood, already calmed by my walk and my prayer.
“I’m not sure we can stand another assault like yesterday,” said Mush. “We were lucky.”
“Did we lose any men?”
Mush shook his head.
“That’s what I meant by lucky,” he told me. “It is a miracle.”
Captain Ashdown stood by the bank that led down to the sand, using field glasses to view the port area. The sunken destroyer blocked one part of the harbour, but the other two had returned and been joined by several smaller vessels. The troops were streaming towards the dock once more, and even without help, I could see that the evacuation continued. It was only a matter of time before the Germans resumed their attack.
As Captain Morrow joined Ashdown, I made my way towards them, through the massed ranks of Company 32. Ushering greetings to several comrades, I was asked all sorts of questions. Having no answers for any of them, I passed by quickly with a few shrugs and shakes of the head.
“You must know something?” said one of them, about twenty yards from where the captain stood.
“No, friend,” I told the man. “There have been no orders yet. Have patience.”
“How can I be patient?” the man asked me. “We have waited and waited for news.”
I didn’t know what to say, and as I walked away, the officers made their way down to the sand and began a guarded conversation. I got as close as possible, shielded by other men heading towards the port and a disabled supply truck. And, despite the crowds, I managed to hear some of their conversation.
“I will not leave these men behind,” said Captain Ashdown.
“But the orders are clear,” Captain Morrow replied. “We cannot disobey them.”
Captain Ashdown was enraged, his face red and expression stern.
“These men have been loyal servants since India,” he said. “Imagine the impact our betrayal will have over there. We brought them here in good faith. We cannot leave them to the Germans. That would be immoral!”
My heart sank as he spoke, and I realised why we had been left sitting around: command had told Captain Ashdown to leave us behind.
“They are not front-line personnel!” Captain Morrow continued. “For God’s sake, John, they aren’t even armed!”
“They supply the lines,” Captain Ashdown retaliated. “They keep the combat troops armed and fed. It was bad enough leaving behind the mules. I will not allow this!”
Captain Morrow took Ashdown’s arm.
“Look,” he added. “I agree with you. But we cannot disobey an order. The consequences will be grave. I have to think of my career.”
“Then you may turn away,” Captain Ashdown told him. “Blame it on me. What good is my career with these poor souls on my conscience?”
“I cannot be a part of this,” Morrow told him.
“Fine,” said Captain Ashdown. “When the top brass holds us to account, I will shoulder the blame.”
Captain Morrow nodded and walked away. As he did so, I returned to Mush and Sadiq, my heart heavy with anger and sadness. How could they contemplate abandoning us? We were four hundred souls. Four hundred sons and husbands, and fathers and brothers. We had come halfway across the Earth to help them, to serve a country and King that had yoked our people. Without a murmur of public protest, we had taken their orders and their insults, and survived the harshest of conditions, and for what? To be cast aside like worthless animals. Like the poor mules we’d left before entering Dunkirk.
Is that all we were worth to them? Is that all we meant? My mind raced, and my heart pounded faster, and I considered what I should do next. I wanted to run and hide and leave the madness of the evacuation behind. I felt ashamed and embarrassed of my desire to join up, my zeal in serving the British Army, my pride in our now meaningless motto.
“Hukum Hai?” I whispered to myself. “What about your duty to us, you scoundrels!”
“What is wrong?” Mush asked me.
I looked into his eyes, and the rage inside me turned to tears.
“Dear brother,” he said. “Whatever has happened to you?”
I took him aside.
“Walk with me,” I said. “I have news.”
We wandered away, back into the broken and battered hotel. A beam had fallen through the lobby, crushing the front desk. The walls were charred from fire damage and smoke, and the stairwell blocked by fallen masonry and wood. Evidence of our shelter lay all around – chocolate wrappers, bandages browned with dirt and dried blood, and the smell of a hundred unwashed and weary men huddled together in a space built for a third of that number.
“They want to leave us behind,” I eventually said.
“Who?”
“The people in charge.”
I knew the ranks of these men in command. I could even picture them, in their medal-laden, pristine uniforms, with impeccable manners and cups of tea. Yet, I could not imagine how such cultured and educated beings could have so little heart and so few morals. I had met starving beggars with more generous hearts.
“How can you know this?” a shocked Mush asked me. “This is impossible!”
I shook my head.
“No,” I replied. “I am certain. Captain Ashdown has refused to follow his orders. Captain Morrow and he were arguing on the beach. I eavesdropped on their conversation. There is no mistake.”
“But…”
Mush was shaken. His face grew paler and he struggled to find words. We stood silently for a while, before he spoke again.
“Those treacherous dogs!” he growled. “I want to tear them apart!”
“But we can’t,” I said. “We can’t do anything. We will have to trust in Captain Ashdown. He is a good man.”
Mush snorted.
“One good man in a nest of a thousand snakes!”
“There are plenty more good people amongst them,” I replied.
“Pah!” he said. “Imagine a choice between us and their own people. Imagine us trying to board a ship, taking the place of the white people behind us. Would they be so welcoming then?”
“Perhaps some of them,” I replied.
“We have been given our answer, Fazal,” said Mush. “We have been shown our true worth. So, tell me, why should we continue to listen to their orders and do their bidding?”
“Because Captain Ashdown will save us,” I replied. “And, as of this moment, he is our only hope. Without him, we will be left to the Germans.”
Mush did not seem convinced.
“What choice do we have?” I added. “It’s either evacuation to England or capture and possible death.”
I was right, and that realisation hurt both of us. My faith in my role had been torn to shreds. My trust in the kindness and decency of others ended. It seemed I had reached a point of no return.