Chapter Text
6th September 1939
When the knocking came, Captain James Taylor awoke with a start, heart pounding and breath coming heavily. For a moment, he was unsure where he was, until he had brief flashes of arriving at the Central Ordnance Depot - COD, for short - at Chilwell ten days ago.
Of course. The promotion.
Not a coincidence, surely, with a new war having broken out mere days after it.
"Captain Taylor!" A voice called from behind his bedroom door.
Captain. He swallowed past the title change, flattened his hair, and pushed himself out of bed to open the door.
The soldier at his door, a Second Lieutenant judging by his insignia, stood to attention. "At ease. What's going on?"
"Colonel Williams has requested you in his office immediately, sir." The officer said. "Your posting has been organised."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Give me ten minutes to get ready. You'll have to show me to his office; this place is a bloody maze."
"Of course, sir."
The Captain closed the door and hurried around to dress himself. Luckily, his uniform was neatly hung up already, and he was getting used to the buckling of his Sam Browne.
He combined his hair and brushed his teeth in record speed, leaving his room shortly after and signalling for the junior officer to lead.
When they'd reached Colonel Williams' office, the Second Lieutenant knocked and went in first, coming out a few moments later, allowing the Captain in and stepping out himself.
The Captain stood to attention.
"At ease, Taylor. Here." Williams handed over a file. The Captain took it, glancing down and seeing only the words 'Cpt. Taylor' printed on the front.
"Thank you, sir." The Captain replied. "What is the role of this unit?"
"A research headquarters," Williams said. "It's all in the file, of course. Button House is just an hour south of London. Quaint little manor home in the countryside. Locals know you're coming, of course."
"What are we researching?"
"Your expertise is in armaments, is it not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, there you go then."
"It's a rather large subject area, sir. Are there any requirements?"
"Your secrecy," Williams said. "Because while you will be researching armaments, the rest of your unit are primarily printers and mapmakers, a geographer as well, I believe. A few were mechanics in their civilian lives. Together, they will assess potential supply routes and effective improvements to our armoured vehicles to ensure that said supplies arrive at the front lines intact. And of course, the necessary telecoms staff. Understood?"
"I understand. Thank you."
"You leave tomorrow at 0700 sharp. Your travel has been organised. Be at the front gates by 0650 at the latest. Dismissed." The Captain nodded and turned to go. "Oh, and Taylor?"
"Yes, sir?" The Captain asked, looking at his superior again.
"Your second in command is an engineer," Williams started. "He may be of use to your armaments work. Engineers are very valuable. Make use of the one at your disposal."
"Of course, sir."
"Good luck with Cpl Norriss." There was the hint of a smile around his mouth before Williams turned away and said nothing more. The Captain took this as his cue to leave, gently closing the door behind him and heading straight for his room to begin packing.
~
7th September 1940
Personnel - Button House HQ
Captain James Taylor - CO
Lt Anthony Havers - Second in Command - Engineer
Lt Francis Croxby - Logistics
Cpl Margaret Norriss - Auxiliary Territorial Service - Logistics
Lt Patrick Fainshaw - Mechanic
Lt Frank Cartwright - Mechanic
Lt Harry Borrowsby - Printmaker
2nd Lt Roy Heanley - Geographer
Pvt Nancy Davies - Auxiliary Territorial Service - Mapmaker
Sgt Elizabeth Foster - Auxiliary Territorial Service - Mapmaker
Pvt Peter Banbury - Telecoms
Lt George Hughes - Telecoms
Pvt Owen Brown - Support Staff
The Captain's stomach twisted itself into knots as the taxi driver spoke to the officer at the gate and was allowed through. He'd had another few read-throughs of his briefing file, ensuring that he was familiar with the names of his unit, primarily. He'd gone over each of them, familiarising himself with their qualifications and knowing immediately where their talents would lie.
Norriss in particular was a curious one already. She had a personal recommendation from Williams within the file to be assigned to a logistics-based role. He was initially surprised to have seen a member of the ATS - Auxiliary Territorial Service - recommended for such a position, but then remembered what Williams had said about this particular officer. Good luck with Cpl Norriss.
He didn't quite know what to make of that. Was she difficult to manage? Williams had said it as though he'd had personal experience with her. Perhaps she had worked with him in a support capacity before. It wouldn't have been entirely unusual, the Captain supposed.
The taxi driver parked close to the front door, and from here, the Captain could see into the field opposite the house, both of which seemed dreadfully imposing in equal measure.
A handful of men were standing close by, unloading equipment from storage boxes that had clearly arrived not long before and carrying it all into the house.
The Captain steeled himself and exited the taxi, bringing one large bag he hefted onto his back and a smaller handheld bag with him. He stopped at the driver's door, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a tip.
"Keep it, sir." The driver said.
"You've driven an awfully long way; it's the least I could do." The Captain said.
"We've all got to do our bit. I can't be in the forces, my leg is in too bad a shape after the Great War. But I can help out in other ways." The driver said. "I've been up instructing at Chilwell a long time but I'm local to round here, and I've done a bit of everything trade-wise. That's why I was offered this. Colonel Williams has given me the all clear to stay local and help wherever I can. I'm renting out a room in the village. If you lads need anything, I'll be here." He handed over a folded-up square of paper to the Captain, and he opened it to see the name 'Arthur', a telephone number and an address written down.
"Thank you, Arthur." The Captain said. "I'll be sure to call upon you. But only if you accept some form of payment in return, even if it is just a hot meal."
"Sounds like a good bargain to me, sir," Arthur replied. "Best of luck."
"You too."
With that, Arthur pulled away, and the Captain turned to face the house. A man was now standing a few feet from it, standing to attention, and the Captain's breath was punched from him.
The man's gaze was focused on the Captain, who could just about make out the dark brown of the opposite man's irises. For September, the weather was pleasant, with just the slightest hint of summer wind attempting to tug at the man's dark hair, which was holding its shape thanks to Brylcreem. He was tall, slimmer than the Captain, but still broad in the shoulders. He held himself with the posture of someone familiar with army life.
"Captain Taylor?" The man asked.
"Yes," The Captain answered. "At ease."
"I'm your second in command, sir. Lieutenant Anthony Havers." The man - Anthony - introduced, holding out a hand. The Captain stepped forward, shaking it.
"Good to meet you, Lieutenant. How's the set-up going?" The Captain asked.
"Very well. Here, may I?" Havers gestured to the Captain's handheld bag. The Captain thanked him and the two entered the house. Havers poked his head into a room that the Captain could just make out as the kitchen.
"Croxby, I'm just showing the CO to his office. Keep things moving, and if the mechanics show up, their belongings take priority; get them up to the ballroom."
"Yes, sir." Someone replied. Havers led him towards and up a set of stairs, talking as they walked.
"Personnel are still due to arrive?" The Captain asked.
"Only our two mechanics. We're also waiting for one last supply shipment; the mechanics are due before 1200, and the final unit supplies will be arriving tomorrow morning. I assume you've had a chance to read over the file for this HQ?"
"Yes, last night. And again on the drive down from Chilwell." Havers led him to the second floor, down a corridor, past one door and stopping outside another, placing the Captain's bag down in front of it.
"I thought this room might serve best as your office, sir," Havers said, handing him a keyring, each key with a label attached.
CO quarters
CO office
Shelter key
Front door
Gatehouse
The Captain took the key ring, their fingers brushing. Where the Captain's hands were frequently cold, Havers' were warm. He quickly unlocked the room, trying to distract himself from the warmth, and stepped inside.
It was a pleasant enough space, small but not cramped, with a window and a nice view of the grounds. There was a desk, of course, and room for him to pace, as he sometimes did when his thoughts whirled too fast for him to concentrate.
"Perfect." He said. "Please, come in." Havers joined him, bringing his handheld bag and placing it beside the desk.
"Might I suggest a briefing this afternoon once the mechanics have arrived? There's still much to set up, not including the supplies due in tomorrow. While there is a general understanding that particular trades have led to our stationing here, there's some anxiety over what exactly our role is. I only have limited information myself, and thought it best to wait until you arrived to discuss the matter with the rest of the unit."
"Excellent thinking, Lieutenant." The Captain said. Already, he felt able to breathe easier. He had struck gold with this second in command, it seemed. "Which rooms have been organised, and which have not?"
"Many of the rooms on the first floor would be best suited for officer quarters. I hope I have not been too forward in assigning these rooms, sir, to prevent any arguments and remove personal effects from the large quantity of supplies in the old ballroom. A few of the officers have to share, but some of them know each other from training or previous postings and have been happy to do this. A vote took place, as I understand, that the master bedroom, as one of the larger bedrooms capable of housing two officers, should be offered to Sergeant Foster and Private Davies." Havers informed him.
The second and third ATS members, the Captain reminded himself.
"Very courteous of them." The Captain said.
"I imagine some younger officers think it may endeavour the ladies to favour them," Havers said, amused. "Though I have heard through the grapevine that Foster and Davies are not to be messed with, so I do hope other officers learn quickly not to overstep the mark." The Captain couldn't help but chuckle.
"I have heard a similar remark made about Corporal Norriss." He replied. "What about the rest of the house?"
"The telecoms room is also being set up on the first floor. As I mentioned, the old ballroom currently has our supplies in temporarily, but it would be excellent for a briefing room once everything is organised." Havers suggested. "The printers and mapmakers may well also benefit from the space, which could be its primary function when not used for briefings."
"Agreed. What about the ground floor?"
"There is a library, a kitchen and rooms that I believe would serve best as storage. The heaviest and largest supplies have already been placed in these rooms for the easiest access and to avoid dragging them up and down stairs." Havers informed him. "Here on the second floor are rooms for me, you, and your office. I was hoping that there would be a similarly sized space above the ballroom, but there isn't; however, there is enough room for mechanics to use as a sort of workshop."
The Captain leaned against his desk, pondering for a moment. Would his office be enough for his armament research? Williams had encouraged leaning on Havers' expertise as an engineer. Could there be the potential for developing their own models? Something more than research?
"Is there an attic?" He asked. Havers' eyebrows twitched as though he was fighting the urge to frown.
"Yes, sir. I haven't been up there, but I believe it's safe. The owner, a Lady Heather Button, did tell me of places to avoid for fear of structural issues."
"Colonel Williams has mentioned to me that, while the rest of the unit will be working on mapmaking, supply routes, and armoured vehicle protection, I will have a separate duty on top of my role as CO. I have been given relative freedom to conduct some research into armaments. If it is safe and there's sufficient space, I'll likely use the attic for this. I have been advised to keep it a matter of secrecy. Your knowledge of the matter is allowed, of course, but the rest of the unit is to be kept apart from it."
Havers nodded in understanding.
"Of course. If that is all, sir, let me show you where your private quarters are, and perhaps I should return to helping the others unpack?"
"Lead the way."
Havers led him to the end of the corridor and stopped. "I thought this one might provide the most distance and most privacy from the rest of the unit," Havers said. "If it's not suitable for you, the first door we passed on this corridor is the other best option. I shall take whichever room is left."
"I'm happy to take this one, Lieutenant." The Captain said. "It is only a room to sleep in, after all."
Havers nodded. "Of course, sir."
"Now that the room space has been organised, get started on moving supplies into the relevant spaces. I'll be down shortly to help, and when our mechanics are here, we'll let them unload before commencing our first briefing." The Captain instructed. "Dismissed."
Havers nodded and turned, long legs carrying him down the corridor and around the corner. The Captain could hear his footsteps as they echoed through the second floor and eventually disappeared down the stairs.
Shaking himself from his stupor, he unlocked his bedroom door and began to get himself organised.
~
That afternoon, after the briefing room/mapmaker workshop had been mostly cleared, the Captain held the first briefing.
"Fainshaw, Cartwright, you're our mechanics; there is space for a workshop on the second floor. set up to your requirements." The Captain said.
He handed them both a manila folder full of necessary information for starting their work. Each officer had a file of their own, and the Captain was using this time to familiarise himself with his officers' faces.
Cartwright and Fainshaw seemed nice enough gentlemen, both with dark hair, both seemingly in their early thirties, Fainshaw's eyes green where Cartwright's were blue. Their heights and builds were similar enough, with just a slight height gain from Fainshaw.
"Borrowsby, printmaker. Propaganda printing and instruction manuals for any specific equipment we design here. Heanley, geographer, Foster and Davies, mapmakers. You three will primarily be working on secure supply routes for mainland Europe, which the War Office will provide via our telecoms staff. You'll need to inform Fainshaw and Cartwright of the best materials for certain terrain and weather conditions for AVs."
More Manila folders were handed over to each of the officers, solemn faces taking in the information they were being given.
It was as if they were now finally realising the situation the country was in, many of them old enough to have family that had seen the Great War or have vague memories of it from childhood, but never a firsthand experience of serving during the time.
Borrowsby was by far the shortest of the unit's men, even Foster was taller than him, and older than most, bar the Captain's almost thirty-nine years. Borrowsby's blond hair and pale complexion almost made the Captain glad that the man was not abroad, for Borrowsby would certainly go red in an hour under any international sun.
Heanley was by far the opposite. The tallest, and the Captain could tell he was more muscled than the other staff, but not in an intimidating way. His jet black hair seemed almost unnaturally so. He - alongside Foster and Davies - was somewhere in his mid to late twenties, with a quiet type of intelligence that the Captain saw from the way he looked at the unit around him. Getting to know them through observation alone.
Foster and Davies had trained together, the Captain knew, and had known each other before that, frequently moving from place to place together. They came as a package deal, it seemed.
Foster's short brown hair was contrasted by Davies' almost white blonde curls that were clearly long and more difficult to contain, if the wisps escaping her hairdo were anything to go by.
Foster had a clear preference for flat shoes and had a small, practical, academic-looking over-the-shoulder bag, of which she had already pulled a notebook and pencil out of.
This was, again, a contrast to Davies, whose shoes had a small heel, she had a pencil tucked behind her ear and glanced over her posting file once before closing it like she'd committed everything to memory already.
The Captain picked up two more folders. "Banbury and Hughes: telecoms staff. Self explanatory. Monitor all communications, keep the relevant parties updated with new information as it comes in."
"What if we're getting too much information to keep running everything to the rest of the unit?" Banbury asked, flicking through the folder that the Captain gave him. "We could miss vital information if we're away from our stations too long."
"I'll get to that, Banbury." The Captain assured.
Banbury was the younger of the two telecoms staff, younger than Davies, Foster and Heanley, with short blond hair threatening to escape its neat military hairdo. Hughes, on the other hand, seemed to be in his thirties, with curly brown hair, dark eyes, and a calm but confident presence that the Captain could appreciate.
"Croxby and Norriss, logistics. I need you to operate the base at top efficiency. If telecoms are particularly busy, I need you to run messages between them and the unit. You're responsible for monitoring progress, and as such, you'll need to ensure each team is prioritising the most important tasks. Understood?"
Croxby and Norriss nodded in understanding.
Croxby was an odd fellow whom the Captain hadn't managed to get a read on yet, but seemed friendly enough. He seemed enthusiastic, and his records detailed a thorough history of managing to run a base well.
Norriss was somewhere around Borrowsby’s age, with neat and proper ... well, everything. From her mousey hair shot through with the odd iron grey strand, to her glasses, to the polish of her shoes. Everything was exactly to regulation, which made the Captain like her immediately.
"Everyone should conduct their own reports, which will be checked and signed off by me and Lieutenant Havers before being forwarded to the War Office at the end of each week." The Captain said, handing them both their folders.
"What about me, sir?" The remaining officer said.
He was young, the Captain knew. It was obvious in the edges of baby fat still clinging to his face, the last grips of childhood desperate to remain. He seemed nervous and eager to help.
This must be Private Owen Brown. If the Captain had to guess, Brown had only just enlisted. Perhaps only just before the war had broken out. Why he had not been sent to the front lines, the Captain wasn't sure.
"Private Brown, yes?" The Captain asked. Brown nodded. "I need you to be an extra pair of hands. Wherever they're needed. I imagine extra help with research and report writing will be most beneficial as deadlines draw nearer.”
Brown nodded, and the Captain could see the determination to follow the order in his eyes.
“Lieutenant Havers and I will endeavour to support all officers where possible alongside our own duties."
The Captain did not dare to look at Lieutenant Havers, a silent but steady presence stood just in the corner of his periphery, standing in such a way that he could see both the unit and the Captain easily. The Captain did not look, but knew he was there, trusted Havers was there, taking everything in and ready to enforce commands, despite having only met him a few hours before.
"Spend the rest of the day getting yourselves unloaded, and your work stations set up. We start work tomorrow. For this week only, I will send a collective report on progress, confirming we're all here and that we are ready to commence research. Ensure you keep up with the reports yourselves in future. Dismissed."
As he looked out over his unit, the small collective in which the Captain now had control, the anxiety in his stomach was still as present as it had been in the taxi.
But with some time, he was sure to settle in, as would the unit. He would get used to issuing commands, he was sure. Havers moved last, giving the Captain a small nod and the ghost of a smile before following the others out, closing the door behind him.