Spot. Me in the War
Part 1: The Assignment

The year was 1946. The place: Singapore, Malaya.

The Japanese had invaded Malaya with 60.000 strong combat fighters, and all were experts in jungle warfare.

I was sitting outside the mess room with my old dog Spot. Now let me introduce you to Spot. Spot is what you might call a Border Collie; although to look at him you would think he was a mongrel. The reason is that you don’t have time to groom him and make him look nice. He’s a working dog, pure and simple, so let’s leave it at that.

Spot and I met about three years earlier, whilst I was training as a Reconnaissance Scout. Spot was handed over to me because they said he should be "put down" since he was considered too slow and past it now. Now my job as scout was to walk ahead of the main party with my dog and alert them if there was an enemy ahead. Spot was supposed to lie down whenever he smelt or saw something that he didn’t like the look of.

Now Spot and I were both getting on a bit and we were both looking forward to retirement. We had been on several missions and come out alive with all our "bits" still intact.

Johnny Morrison and I had just finished breakfast and were enjoying a bit of a rest. Spot was lying where he normally did, at my feet, when Sergeant Walker came over to us. He was a man of a mean disposition, hardened by the war and blood of his fallen comrades.

"Everard!" he shouted "You and that flea bitten mutt you call a dog are wanted by the C.O. NOW!"

"Sarge!" I shouted as I jumped to my feet, making my way to the Commanding Officer's tent.

"Sir, you wanted me?" I inquired.

The C.O was called "Hissy" by his mates, but not to the likes of me. No, to me he was Captain Wilson, man of small stature. He was well groomed and spoke with a Scottish accent. His mates called him "Hissy" because he could creep up behind enemy lines without being heard or seen and slit twenty Japanese throats before sliding back into the jungle.

The Captain smiled at me. His steely blue eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his gaze was as alert as ever.

"Everard," he said. "Would you like a drink?"

"A wee dram would be nice, sir."

"You’re welcome," he said as he poured me a small malt. "We’ve got a problem," he said, sitting down before confiding in me with his problem. "We have had a plane shot down somewhere east of here. We think it's about sixty miles, but we’re not sure." He paused as if he didn’t want to continue.

"And, sir?" I prompted.

"Yes, as I said, about sixty miles or thereabouts. The problem is, as you are no doubt aware, it’s a Japanese controlled area." He paused again, as if he didn’t want to tell me anymore.

"You want me and Spot to find it, sir?" I asked

"I not only want you to find it," he said, "but there was a General on board with top secret documents, which I won’t go into now, but needless to say, if you don’t get him out along with the documents, many, many lives will be lost."

"Whatever you do, Everard," he said, "do not, I repeat, do not allow these papers to fall into enemy hands. If you get caught, you must destroy the papers and, well, here." (he said this feeling very uncomfortable) "Take this bloody thing." He passed me a small capsule, light green in colour and made of glass.

"Cyanide," I said.

"Yes," he said. "You never know. You don’t want to be captured by those "whatsits." You know what they do to people they capture."

"Thank you, sir," I said, placing the pill inside my combat jacket pocket.

"How many men can I have, sir?" I asked.

"Six. Not many, I know" he said, "but six men make less noise than twenty and you can’t go on your own in case... well, we’ve already discussed that haven’t we."

"You choose who you want," he said, waving me out of his office.

To be continued in the next Villager...

Written By: Gamestar
Edited By: Knil
Coded By: Whydidijoin