Chuck left the tent feeling satisfied with the outcome. Stowers could look after things from here on in. And if the sergeant, through some clumsiness of his own doing, should be discovered dumping the body, which was highly unlikely, for the man was very efficient, it would have nothing whatsoever to do with Chuck Maxwell. A nigger’s word would never be taken against that of a white officer.

When Stowers returned to discover his captain had not waited to assist him, he was not in the least surprised. It was exactly as he’d expected. Captain Maxwell trusted him implicitly, and it was only right that he should, for Strut was loyal. He obeyed his captain’s orders to the very letter, and this occasion would be no different from any other. The loyalty they shared was what made them such an excellent team.

Late that night, given the extended curfew that had been allowed for the opening of the Negro Servicemen’s Club, truckloads of troops were transported back to camp in various states of disrepair.

The three men who shared Ant’s tent didn’t even notice he wasn’t there. He was so quiet anyway, they barely noticed him when he was there. Now, like so many around the camp, with bellies full of beer and other forms of illicit alcohol, they fell happily into their bunks and were asleep within minutes.

It was only in the morning they noticed he was gone. They noticed he didn’t front up to the canteen for breakfast either. And he didn’t report for work; he’d been on roster that Saturday morning.

As the day wore on, Private Anthony Hill was reported missing. Questions were asked. Had he gone AWOL? Doubtful, most replied, very unlike Ant, who always stuck to the rules. Had something untoward happened while so many of the troops had been at the club? Had anyone witnessed anything? No. No-one had seen Anthony Hill since the early evening meal the previous day.

A small search party was sent out to scour the local area and they found him within an hour. His body was barely one mile from the camp, on a steep track that led down to the river. His neck was broken. He must have tripped and fallen down the embankment, a tragic accident.

The men were dismayed to hear the news, for Ant, although a bit of a loner, was liked by all. A nice young man, how sad, they thought, what a terrible thing to have happened. But there was no reason to query the cause of his death. Ant was known to go for walks on his own.