In the end they did nothing. The Auxiliaries were sent into the twenty-four hour canteen next door to have breakfast, where they discussed Pye’s motives. It was explained to Richard that Pye was thinking of his pension, small blame to him, and consequently of how much he could cover up. The opinion was that if one of his men had been injured Pye would not have been covered by his superiors. This was born out next day when Pye boasted of how he had got out of the difficulty. Although his instructions had come from the very top, from the Superintendent, to cover the Super Pye had invented a fire. Such a thing as this is known as “the Fire Brigade mind.” The older men deplored its absence in Auxiliaries. Pye officially reported that the Rescue Squad had lit a small fire to warm themselves and of all things, that it had spread to a dustbin. He said buckets had been in use to put this blaze out. For several hours he had it in mind to set fire to a dustbin himself. He kept his men out of a fight, because it was their job to fight fires or, only if a Superintendent ordered such a thing in writing, to turn hose on riots. Dodge had given a verbal order to cover himself should something go wrong and the Chiefs hear of it. So Pye had played safe, or, as Shiner remarked, boxed clever.

That morning war was declared. They had their first syren. Richard was too tired to take notice.

In the local, after several hours sandbagging, when every civilian seemed cowed and many of the women had obviously been crying, Pye came out with his imaginary fire at dawn. He was highly delighted with the invention. “How was I to know,” he asked, speaking freely, unrestrained, “if ’e meant it? You know what they’re like at the station. As I said to Nobby, I put it to ’im, if the Super wants me to call the lads out to fight, if ’e wants us to have our eyes gouged and ’atpins stuck through us where it would do most bloody damage, I says, why, what Mr. Dodge thinks best is good enough for me only why don’t ’e tell me ’isself or pick up ’is pen. There’s typewriters enough for copyin’. ‘Mind you,’ I said, ‘I don’t say ’e didn’t tell you Nobby. But will ’e remember in the morning, Nobby,’ I says. I got to keep my nose clean, that’s what I told him.”

“I get yer,” Piper said.

“As for you,” Pye went on, “I ’ad to consider what chance a man like you stood with those boys in the Rescue. They’d castrate you, Piper, like a starved bullock. Or they’d wrap those long legs of yours round your neck and stuff the ’eels in your gob. And then where would your new denture be?”

A number of the lads laughed. Piper flushed, said “Well, I don’t know.” But the older men were shocked.