From the glowering look John Carter was giving him, however, Samuel gathered the colonel considered he’d overstepped the mark, so he decided it was time to take his leave. The two senior-ranking officers assigned to investigate the riot and its aftermath would need to confer anyway.

‘Now if you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll return to camp. I’d like to be there before the men arrive, they’ve had a tough time of things lately.’ He was referring to Amos Cole and Willie Parker, he didn’t give a damn about Strut Stowers. In fact, he was gladdened by the knowledge that Stowers was now destined to get the kind of treatment he’d been doling out to others for years.

‘Of course, Captain. Thank you for your help.’

Johnson’s thanks were obviously genuine, and the silent exchange between the two men might have been something approaching a form of congratulations.

With the departure of Captain Robinson, John Carter fought to regain the dignity of which he considered he’d been sorely deprived. He was very much offended by the way Commander Johnson had sought the captain’s opinion in preference to his own. Such behaviour in not showing recognition of his rank was unfitting, unseemly and highly irregular.

‘Well, Commander,’ he said stiffly, ‘I suppose the time has come for we two as senior commanding officers in this investigation to consider what action should be taken with regard to the mutinous troops of the 96th Battalion.’

‘I’ll tell you exactly what we’ll do, Colonel …’

Johnson strode the several paces that separated them and stood staring down at Carter virtually nose to nose, the shorter man having to look up a good six inches to meet the eyes that bored into his.

‘I shall report to my superior,’ Johnson went on, meaning as they both knew President Franklin D. Roosevelt, ‘and you shall report to yours,’ meaning as they both knew General Douglas MacArthur. ‘And I suggest you recommend to your superior he transfer Companies A and C of the 96th Battalion to service duty outside this country, which I am quite sure will be exactly what the good general will wish to do.’

Carter cleared his throat, again intimidated by the big, brash Texan, but determined not to let it show. ‘Yes perhaps,’ he began, about to embark on further discussion, ‘that does seem a workable suggestion —’

But Johnson didn’t want to listen to any more. ‘And as for Maxwell,’ he said, ‘well, you heard Captain Robinson. The Marines Combat Division sounds spot on to me.’ He strode off to the door. ‘I guess that’s about it, Colonel,’ he called over his shoulder as he went. Although having opened the door, he did have the courtesy to turn and even offer a brief smile. ‘You have a good trip back to HQ now mind.’

And he was gone.