Chapter 1 - The Leaving

Morning Corporal!

Regimental life showed signs of returning to as near normality as those involved could allow. Gideon, in the absence of the recently deceased Brigadier, who was tragically taken from us after an unfortunate incident with a tram, had taken to using a kind of lottery system to decide who he should endeavor to stand beside with most effect that day. The late Brigadier had been distracted whilst in search of a chemist to purchase a little relief from the itching raging around his genitals. Which you may recall was contracted after having spent the entire journey to London sat on a less than sanitized lavatory seat; all in an effort to get away from Gideon and his incessant tutting and posturing.

Carruthers and Nurse Juliana, now officially known as Agents Carruthers and Juliana have now left any former comforts they may have enjoyed far behind them. Well, actually only about a mile really, before Carruthers found something to play with. Heading for Waterloo they had to cross the Thames where a sail barge was moored against a pontoon hoisting a brand new sail with a few lipstick marks upon it that looked suspiciously like the colour worn by Juliana. One Ned Purbey was busy about his barge readying himself to cast off and test his brand new sails for the first time after the last set were shot through by Carruthers with a ceremonial cannon dragged behind one of the Kings horses. The morning had been peaceful to that point for Ned; he was not one for rushing life generally and this morning was not intended to have been any exception. He was down below, making himself a mug of tea and filling his brand new clay pipe that had been supplied by the King to replace the one he bit in half when he came under fire from Carruthers, when silently his mooring ropes went slack and dropped into the river. His sails filled a little as they caught a breeze as his vessel drifted into the middle of the river whilst Carruthers stood on the pontoon looking a little disappointed that his intended toy had escaped him. Juliana gathered her companion and escorted him back onto the river bank as she nervously watched events unfold with a certain predictability. Ned's barge was warming to its task as it headed towards the raised Tower Bridge with gathering speed whilst the bridge keeper having let through his scheduled craft was busy lowering the bridge again. As the barge passed through, the bridge caught the mast like a massive pair of tweezers and held it fast. Ned, who was down below and had just finished making his mug of tea in readiness for casting off was taking his first puff on his new pipe when the sound of ripping sails and the splintering of wood as the mast snapped was followed by the extreme discomfort of a mug of hot tea spilling in his lap and the now familiar crack as he bit yet another pipe in two! Carruthers was on the bank whooping with delight at the sight of the barge caught fast in the clutches of the big bridge. Juliana was trying to escort her companion away quietly but Ned had already recognised the demonic whooping from the earlier incident with the cannon and new just who he was going to contact!

Carruthers and Juliana had made their way to Waterloo station with a certain sense of urgency on Juliana’s part. Eager to get Carruthers to Portsmouth and on that sub before he found any further toys to play with and before any of the earlier ones managed to catch up with them. When they reached the platform at Waterloo it bought an air of foreboding as Carruthers spotted the engine at the far end of the platform and was paying far too much attention to it! Juliana shepherded her companion onto the first class carriages which were at the rear of the train and farthest from the latest object of Carruthers attentions.

Carruthers visit to the lavatories turned out to be a lengthy and protracted affair although Juliana had positioned herself nervously outside the lavatory door to avoid Carruthers getting too close to the hissing behemoth at the front of the train. After some time he emerged with a worrying grin on his face and not one brought on by wind! Eventually the guards whistle blew and Carruthers settled back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. The train lurched and shook and upset any coffee cups that people had on the table in front of them, but it resolutely refused to leave the security of the platform! Carruthers grin became broader and broader and turned into uncontrollable laughter as pompous looking officials started running around the platform blowing whistles. One couldn't help but wonder if his lengthy visit to the lavatory, the current mayhem on the platform and Carruthers mirthful demeanor were in some way connected. After the handbrake in the guard van, which had been wound up tighter than a drum, had been released the train puffed a great cloud of steam and smoke and chuffed energetically out of the station. Carruthers is now out in the wide world although one suspects that the world around Carruthers and Juliana is not going to be wide enough to give the rest of the world peace of mind.

On arrival in Portsmouth where our intrepid duo, or to be precise, the intrepid double agent Juliana and Carruthers, agent six and seven eights (cap size), were met by a detachment from the naval dock police, to escort them to the awaiting submarine which is to drop them on a beach off the Caspian Sea. As they entered the naval docks memories of a time when Carruthers struggled with a demon lurking deep within his soul started to surface. On the back of two tank transporters awaiting the ship to take them off to sunnier climes were a selection of tanks; all in working order and all with fuel and probably a certain amount of ammunition. Carruthers started to babble excitably at the sight as Juliana did her best to adjust his medication to keep his innate powers of confusion in check until they landed in her former motherland where his powers of destruction and apparent invisibility were really required. Carruthers, although seemingly firmly ensconced in the arms of his partner in their own bunk aboard the submarine may have been at work during the night. Great confusion went through the mind of seaman Splatter as he patrolled the dockyard that night. Where, on the previous wander round he had witnessed the submarine lying idly at the dockside was now just open water! Further confusion was felt by the crew of the apparently missing sub when they returned from their night ashore to find that the sub may have left without them. All of this confusion paled into insignificance compared to that felt by the captain of the vessel when he arose the next morning and made his morning mug of tea and tried to go on deck to enjoy the morning sunshine. His tea mug slopped most of the contents as he climbed the conning tower, but that was usual. As he tried to open the hatch it appeared unusually stiff and when he put his shoulder against it and gave it a good thump the reason became very apparent as his mug of tea was severely diluted with sea water. The hatch’s reluctance to open was caused by the pressure of about thirty feet of water which was above them as the submarine rested gently on the bottom at its original mooring. It would appear that Carruthers had taken a particular liking to the noises made when he opened some of the valves inside the sub which apparently reminded him of the noises he could make in the bath if the right kind of pressure could be applied. Amused by this particular kind of noise he opened all the other valves he could find that would repeat the experience and the sub slowly disappeared form normal view. When aroused from his bunk Carruthers had a strange smirk on his face as he declared his surprise at where they now found themselves.

I fear, Corporal that this could be a very long crossing to Russia for some if Carruthers has anything to do with it.

With the sub now returned to her original position at her mooring; that is to say on the surface, it showed great promise of being a pleasant day. The Captain was reluctant for him and his crew to put to sea until they had checked every valve on the vessel to be absolutely certain there would be no little surprises that Carruthers had left for them. Accordingly, it was decided that they would put to sea on the high tide the following morning. This allowed for a little more fresh sea air before the incarceration in the sub for the journey. Juliana had busied herself checking equipment and itineraries and going over their papers for one last time in case of any errors or oversight. Unfortunately that also meant that she had to take her eye off Carruthers for a short time. Father Andrew, having heard of the delay, took the opportunity to come and sprinkle holy water over the sub and her occupants and bless the voyage and our two agents for their mission. His arrival caused something of a stir as a portly priest tried valiantly to drag a five gallon drum up the gangplank and then up the conning tower, muttering some less than holy words as he skinned his knuckles trying to lower the barrel through the hatch watched by some very bemused seamen.

Whilst Father Andrew busied himself dowsing everything inside the sub with liberal quantities of holy water mumbling about the lack of room inside the infernal machine every time he hit his shins on a bulkhead door, outside was like any other post war day in a British naval dockyard; peaceful! In fact since hostilities had ceased not a shot had been fired nor a battle stations sounded. On a warm and sunny morning such as this the lookout was a prime job to be given and Seaman Splatter had fully intended to make the best of it. Armed only with a tin mug of tea, his paper and his baccie tin he shuffled off to relieve the early watch and do the crossword. At precisely ten o clock the clock began chiming out across the dockyard, the last chime took on an altogether more sinister sound as it appeared to be more like the ‘wump’ of a shell being fired. Seaman Splatter put down his crossword and nervously peered over the top of the lookout wall. He could not believe what he was seeing as the depressingly familiar sight of the fountain of foaming water from an exploding shell spewed forth from an otherwise calm flat sea. Screaming at the top of his voice, partly with excitement and terror at what was unfolding before his eyes and partly because he had just spilled the contents of his tin mug down his leg, "Incoming!" "Incoming!" The sirens screamed out battle stations across the tranquil sea. Seaman Splatter, in his panic to defend King and country, actually it was just blind panic really but it sounded better that way, jumped into the gun house and unleashed three rounds from the big fourteen inch guns on the battleship, aimed with pin point accuracy at nowhere in particular. Then another three, and another as he fought single handedly to defend his country against this foreign invasion, always at the front of his mind was whether this would bring about a commendation and promotion back to the ranks he once enjoyed and away from his much ridiculed name and rank. As others joined in, firing other guns on other ships at anything that dared to be on that stretch of water, it became a quite incredible sight as shells arced across the morning sky in a maritime volley of fire unparalleled in peace time. After the cease fire had been sounded whilst everyone searched the horizon for even the smallest inkling as to where the original shell had come from a stifled giggle was heard to come from what was felt to be one of the tanks on a trailer just inside the dock gate, and was that a little wisp of smoke that could be seen coming from the end of the barrel of the same tank?

A squad of guards arrived and surrounded the tank and a long stand off began with megaphone commands being barked from behind suitable shelter, "Give yourself up!" "Come out with your hands up!" "We have you surrounded!" They tried for half an hour, first in English, then in German and Russian and as a last result Venezuelan. There was no particular reason for that last choice other than the translator was trying to show off. But there was no sign of any mad gunner. After warnings of their imminent entry, in four languages, one hapless Seaman Splatter was sent forward to open the tank turret. His CO telling him it was in punishment for his firing all the big guns out to sea when the real problem was very obviously behind him; although he chose to ignore his own contribution to the affray from the shore battery. So Seaman Splatter was sent forward to open the hatch pointing his gun nervously into the blackness inside trying his best to sound aggressive when commanding the occupant or occupants to come out with their hands above their heads. The overall effect was a little diluted by the stream of urine running down his leg in fear. Still no one appeared, so Seaman Splatter climbed nervously inside only to emerge moments later to report that apart from a spent shell casing the interior was empty. Carruthers was watching the little drama at the tank from a deckchair on the deck of the sub and was applauding loudly when Seaman Splatter emerged from the tank.

Inside the sub, Father Andrew was busily flicking holy water over everything in sight. This was fine and quite harmless until he got to the radar room. With a loud bang and a sort of fizzing sound a small cloud of smoke puffed lazily from the open hatch on the deck and followed by a smoke blackened clergy man. Juliana appeared on deck to enquire as to why all the lights had gone out on board and when seeing the blackened clergyman gave Carruthers a withering stare of accusation although that was the one thing in the past twenty four hours that he genuinely wasn’t responsible for! By sundown the fuses had all been replaced and all valves checked and the King had arrived unannounced to wish his new friend well on his mission and so the decision was made to leave on the evening tide, more for the safety of Portsmouth than for any other reason I suspect. The sub slipped her moorings and left the safety of the harbour and had soon submerged and disappeared from view.