For Your Eyes Only

Private Jacob Jones

You stand to attention outside Captain Farquhar’s office. You’ve been here before – strange – it always seems to smell like disinfectant here. You scrunch your nose up, trying to block out the smell. Reminds you of hospitals, just like the ones your brothers were in. Nasty places, full of dying people. They don’t agree with you – you can’t see how anyone could stand working in a place like this.

The Sergeant-Major marches in, a file under his arm along with his baton. You’ve never known why he needs the baton, there’s no reason for it – probably uses it to increase his sense of self importance. A smirk comes across your face as you think. The Sergeant-Major looks at you, marches over and brings his face close to yours, so near that you can smell what he had for breakfast – now this is worse than the disinfectant smell. “Jones”, he almost whispers “When I give you an order to stand to attention outside the Captain’s office, I expect you to carry out that order. To the letter. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Sergeant-Major” you reply in a monotone voice.

He opens the door to the Captain’s office, and stands to attention. “Now get your filthy little arse inside at the double.” he barks “Quick march!”

The Captain sits behind a desk, writing a note. He looks up at you over his spectacles, “Oh, it’s you again Jones. Close the door Sergeant-Major.”

“I really don’t know why you stay in the army Jones. You obviously can’t take orders. Make no mistake, I think you’re a good soldier, but your insubordination is unacceptable. What is it this time Sergeant-Major?”

The Sergeant-Major opens his file “Private Jones was late on parade, sir. As a punishment, I assigned him to latrine duty. Private Jones refused a direct order, sir, so I told him he could clean the latrines with his toothbrush, sir.”

“And then what happened Sergeant-Major?”

“Private Jones said, and I quote ‘You can stick that toothbrush up your arse if you think Jacob is going to do that’, sir.” He glares at you.

An exasperated look comes across the Captain’s face, and he breathes a deep sigh. “Well then, that’s it. Nothing else for it. I told you last time you were in my office that this was your last chance, and I am a man of my word. Private Jones, you are hereby given a general discharge from His Majesty’s Armed Forces. As soon as the paperwork is complete, you will be free to go home. I expect you’ll be out of here by the weekend.”

You are overcome with shock. What will your mother say? Nine sons go off to war. Eight come home dead, and the last one kicked out of the army. This is not good, not good at all. But all you can manage is a “Yes sir.”

You wake up the next day with a sense of emptiness. You almost miss the Sergeant-Major hollering at you, screaming for you to get out of bed and onto the parade ground. You’re not quite sure what you’ll do with yourself now – you’ll have to get a proper job! As you’re pondering this, the door to the barracks slams open, and the Sergeant-Major storms in. His face is a strange shade of purple - he does not look pleased. He marches right up to your bed and for a moment you are convinced that he’s going to give you an almighty beating.

“Jones!” He thunders, spit flying from his angry mouth. “I’m not sure how you did it, you horrible little shit!”

“Did what?”

The Sergeant-Major throws a letter at you. You duck just in time (saving yourself a nasty paper-cut). “You must have friends in very high places, Jones. If it were up to me, I’d take you out into the yard and give you a damn good kicking. But it seems now that it would be more than my job’s worth. But believe me, wherever you go – I’ll be watching. And one day you’ll get what’s coming to you, you can be sure of that.” And with that, he turns on his heels and marches out, slamming the door equally loudly as he did on the way in.

You hastily rip open the envelope and read the contents:

Private Jones,

Word has reached me of your predicament. I am sure that you do not wish to be Generally Discharged, and I am willing to offer you a second chance. Recently, I have had need to expand my Division and if you require it, there is a position for you. If you decide to take up the offer, report to the duty Lieutenant at Ullesthorpe airfield a.s.a.p.

Major F. Adams

Pegasus Division

You’re not sure who this Major Adams fellow is, and you’ve never heard of Pegasus Division before, so you’re a bit confused as to how you’ve ended up with this letter. You wrack your brain trying to think who he is… Major Adams… Major Adams… The only person you can even remember called Adams was a civilian. It was when your regiment were called to the Gloucester area. Somehow, a German U-boat had made its way up the Severn river, and had made an incursion into a large family estate. By the time you got there, it was a scene of carnage. Only a couple of the residents survived, and one them was a guy called Frederick Adams. He was in a bad way, muttering incoherently… Frederick Adams, that was his name – Major F. Adams, could they be the same person? No, surely some coincidence. Thinking back, you did spend a bit of time with him. For the most part he was making no sense at all, but you think you managed to calm him down a bit, even if he did keep talking about ‘huge green beasts’.

Nevertheless, a job’s a job, and even if you don’t know why it has fallen into your lap, it beats being a postman. You make up your mind to take up the Major on his offer. Your kit was already packed in anticipation of going home, and a quick trip to the map room reveals the location of Ullesthorpe airfield. You sling your kitbag over your shoulder and head to the train station…

As you arrive at the barracks in Ullesthorpe, you notice the high security surrounding the place. Dog patrols pace their way about the perimeter, and 2 tall observation towers look down upon you. Approaching the entrance, a heavy iron beam bars your progress. An armed Military Policeman walks up to you. “Papers.”, he says abruptly. You hand over your documents, and he casts his eyes over them. “Good afternoon, Private Jones, we’ve been expecting you. Please report to Sergeant Johnson – P dormitory. Third on the left”. With that, he salutes and raises the barrier.

The next few days are tough – just like basic training all over. Forced marches, assault courses and weapons training. Most sessions are led by Sergeant Johnson, who is a world away from the ogre-like Sergeant-Major. He joins in with most of the activities with gusto, instead of just shouting all the time. He’s firm, but fair, and you’ve developed a respect for him. In charge is a man called Lieutenant Savage. You’re not sure about him, being top-brass an’ all, but in truth you have barely any contact with him – most orders coming through Sergeant Johnson.

One day, he takes you aside after a 20 mile yomp. “Good run, Jones!”

“Thank you, Sir”

“I’ve been very impressed with your attitude and all-round performance since you’ve been here, Jones. I’m going to level with you, now – something big’s going down. The Lieutenant has asked me to select a man for a mission, and I want you along.”

“Thank you, Sir – I won’t let you down.”

“Be at the briefing room at 1500 hours.”

You enter the room designated as ‘BRIEFING’ with some trepidation and take a seat. Hushed whispers are being exchanged by some of the assembled people here, but these are quickly ended as an authoritative voice booms behind you, “For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Major Frederick Adams” A tall, well-built man strides towards the front of the room and takes his place behind a lectern. “Most of you won’t know why you are here. I will now explain why it has been necessary to take extreme measures to bring you here.”

It’s him! Frederick Adams – the man from your past! Normally, you don’t have much time for top-brass, but the Major seems to have a presence about him that immediately puts you in awe.

“Lights” The Major orders to a man at the back of the room. A second later, the lights are dimmed, and your attention is drawn towards a screen to the side of the Major. Another officer hands you a dossier, and switches on a small reading light in front of you.

“Recently, one of our operatives in Northern France intercepted a message. This message was heavily encrypted, but was decoded by our Intelligence and Logistics department. Ladies and gentlemen, the contents of this message are very worrying. You can find the letter in the first page of your dossier.”

Mein Fuhrer,

The first results of Project Uber-Mensch are very encouraging. We have conducted a number of field tests, and save for a few difficulties that we must iron out, I believe that we are nearing successful completion of the project. It will bring to the end seven years of effort – seven years well spent when you consider the superiority it will give us over anyone who stands in our way. I will of course keep you informed of any progress.

Glory to the Fatherland.

“For a while, we have suspected that the Germans have been up to something. And now we know. Or rather we don’t know. For those of you who don’t speak German, ‘Uber-Mensch’ translates as ‘Super-soldier’. What is ‘Project Super-Soldier’? Why are the Germans in Northern France? These are the questions that I want you to answer for me. Therefore, I am sending you to the Ardennes region on a reconnaissance mission. The mission will be under the command of Lieutenant Savage. I want you to liaise with our operative – Captain Mason-Wickes, and find out what the hell the Germans are up to.”

“Given the time critical nature of this mission, you will be flying out at 1100 hours. We would have preferred to go at night, but there is a scheduled civilian flight over the area which we will take the place of in order to not raise suspicion. If you read the second document in your dossier, you will see that the area of France that you are going to is an Alpha Sensitive area. This means that you should treat it as being behind enemy lines. I have been informed by Central Command that we will maintain a stance of plausible deniability if you are discovered or captured. We will not be sending reinforcements should this happen.” These last sentences send a shiver down your spine as you grasp the enormity of this statement.

“A note to the civilians amongst you - you are expected to follow the orders of the officer in charge at all times and obey the chain of command. You have of course, all signed the Official Secrets Act prior to this briefing, so I do not need to remind you that everything you witness during the course of this mission is NOT to be disclosed to anyone outside Pegasus Division on penalty of the harshest consequences. One final thing – due to the nature of the situation, Central Command has designated this as a ‘Damocles Imperative’ mission - that is a mission which could have worldwide ramifications.”

“That is all, ladies and gentlemen. Good luck and God Speed. God save the King.”

The lights go back on, and you are led out of the room to a bunkhouse.

You’re not sure about having civilians on-board for this one. Most of them look half scared to death, and keep to themselves. Personally, you can’t wait to go. You can feel the adrenaline working its way through your body, taking your body to optimum alertness. Much of dinner is spent in hushed conversation with Lieutenant Savage, as he outlines the official briefing and tells you what he expects of you. There is something about his manner as he describes the drop-zone that fills you with confidence – this is a man who knows what he is doing, and you are sure that he will do everything in his power to make sure you all come back home safe.

After the meal, you ensure that your kit is all present and functioning correctly – you don’t want to let the Lieutenant down, and more importantly you don’t want to be the weak link in the unit.

The rest of the evening is your own, and you decide that your time will be best spent getting a bit of sleep. In truth though, the events of the past 24 hours make it almost impossible. However, it seems as if your head has barely touched the pillow before you are woken by a private with a nice hot cup of tea. You dress quickly – the air is cold this morning and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The morning consists of a final briefing on the ‘theatre of operations’, and then the call comes in that the mission is ‘GO’. Once everyone is ready, you are lead out onto the airstrip where a twin-engined plane is warming up on the runway. Major Adams stands by the door, and gives each of you a sturdy handshake and a “Good Luck” as you board the plane. Sergeant Johnson makes sure that everyone is strapped in tightly before heading to the cockpit. As he returns and fastens his own seatbelt, the low hum of the engines increases in pitch and you feel the aircraft begin to edge forward. The plane speeds up and then suddenly you feel the ground drop away as you become airborne. You glance around you – your comrades seem to be either deep in contemplation, sleeping or praying. The hours pass, and you find the drone of the engines strangely hypnotic and relaxing.

You are woken from your reverie by a harsh buzz, and a red light illuminates above the aircraft door. The army personnel unstrap themselves, and then Sergeant Johnson sets about releasing everyone else. Before you rise out of your seat, he clips you onto a guy-line that runs towards the door. Once everyone is safely attached to the line, he pulls the door handle, and opens the cabin to the cold rushing air outside. Your breath is taken away by the conditions outside, as the Lieutenant performs one last check. The buzz sounds again, and the light turns to green.

“This is it chaps. Good luck!” He pats the first in line on the shoulder, and one by one they all throw themselves out of the plane. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and look out of the door at the horizon. The sun is already beginning to set. You jump out into the cold unknown…