They arrived so late that Brigadier Drummond, the owner of the lodge, took one look at them and ordered them all to bed instantly, saying they'd sort everything out in the morning. Madari didn't argue, and let Drummond lead him to this room and, close to falling asleep on his feet, said goodnight.

In the morning he woke to the sound of rain, not a common occurrence for him, and found an alarm clock on the nightstand, showing almost nine o'clock. A shocking time to sleep in until. Before he got up he set the alarm for 6am.

He found his trunk in the sitting room outside his bedroom and, after showering and shaving, he took a clean uniform from it. In this climate, they all wore simple short-sleeved battledress.

He walked back to the bedroom and took his watch from the nightstand. His wristband of amber beads lay beside it. Should he put that on? With the short sleeves it would be visible. Would people assume they were prayer beads? Perhaps he'd leave it for now.

Time to get some breakfast. He'd unpack later and make this his home. It would be his home for six months and he thought he'd be comfortable. The suite was spacious with good, simple furnishings, reminded him of his own house. He had a few adjustments to make as well as his unpacking, but later.

Now... breakfast.

He found the dining room by following his nose, the scent of fresh baked bread filling the corridors. And in there he found Drummond, Bennett and Elimu. The two officers were still eating, but Drummond must have finished - he sat nursing a teacup at the head of the table.

"Please, don't get up," Madari said, as Bennett and Elimu started to rise when he entered. Drummond rose though and came around the table to shake his hand.

"Good morning, Colonel. Welcome, my dear chap, welcome."

"Good morning, Brigadier. I'm sorry we were so late last night, it was an arduous journey."

"Oh, I'm quite sure!" He took Madari's elbow and led him to the breakfast buffet. All the lidded trays had labels on them so he could avoid the bacon and sausage. "Nothing's cooked in pork fat, unless it's actually pork," Drummond reassured Madari. "We got all the information the UN sent to us, so please, help yourself."

"Thank you." He took a warm plate and found some scrambled eggs and some of the bread whose aroma had led him here. There were pastries on the table, he'd have one of those in a moment.

"What's your poison, coffee or tea?"

"Oh, coffee, please."

Drummond poured him a cup from a coffee-pot. "We're informal here at breakfast time, just serve ourselves. Lunch and dinner, we're waited on."

They took their seats, Madari sitting near the top of the table, to Drummond's right. He sipped the coffee. Not bad. Filter coffee, so not as strong as he preferred of course. But he'd brought a small ibrik with him. He'd brew his Arab coffee when he felt homesick.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" Bennett asked.

"Very well, thank you, Lieutenant. You? And you, Doctor?"

"I was out like a light," Bennett said. "Nice rooms, I was just saying to the Brigadier."

"Yes, very nice," Madari said. "All the officers have their own rooms?"

"You've got the only suite," the Brigadier said. "The others have a room and a private bathroom. I've put your two NCOs in a double room with a private bath, and the rest of your lads are sharing three or four, in the family sized rooms and sharing bathrooms."

"They're all just as nice, sir," Bennett said. "I checked them myself to make sure."

She'd been in the men's rooms? Ritchie should have done that.

"Ah, thank you. I'll inspect them myself after breakfast. Please advise the men. Where are they eating?"

"Made one of the big lounges into a mess hall for them," Drummond said. Madari nodded. He'd inspect that later too, at lunchtime. Make sure they were getting the standard of food and accommodation the UN was paying for and that Madari would expect for his men.

"Where's Mr Ritchie?" Madari asked Bennett.

"Finished his breakfast," she said. "Probably unpacking."

"Right. Yes, we'd all better take the morning to unpack and settle in, and find our way around. Then this afternoon, fourteen hundred hours, I'll inspect and address the men."

"Got a nice open space outside," Drummond said. "Makes a good parade ground."

"Excellent. Well, assuming it isn't raining too hard, please parade the men at two o'clock." He said it to Bennett and then frowned. He should be saying it to Ritchie. "Could you please attend too, doctor? I'll try not to keep you long. I know you have work to do setting up your infirmary."

"Yes, sir," Elimu said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he spoke.

"Are the rooms provided for the infirmary suitable for you?"

"Yes, sir, they're fine. I had a message waiting for me that the two local nurses assigned will be here by the end of the week. And I want to set up physical examinations for all members of the unit."

"Oh, is that necessary?"

"It's part of my standing orders, sir."

"Very well. Set those up at your discretion." He grimaced. He knew a copy of his medical records would already have been forwarded on and had hoped that would be enough without more poking and prodding.

"I've set up a couple of small rooms as offices," Drummond said. "One for you, one for the two lieutenants. Tell me if there's anything else you need."

"Thank you, Brigadier, it sounds as if you've made full preparations for us."

"Been looking forward to it." He beamed. "Be like the good old days. Like barracks life again." He looked at Bennett and smiled. "Though none of the chaps I ever shared a barracks room with were quite so pretty." She grinned back at him.

"You old charmer." She'd finished her breakfast now, and she and the doctor left. Madari still had coffee and his pastry to finish so lingered a while, knowing he'd have a busy day ahead of him, getting his new posting into shape.

"More coffee?" Drummond offered a moment later and Madari gladly held out his cup for it. He saw Drummond's eyes rest on his scarred hands. An unembarrassed gaze, and yet no morbid curiosity or revulsion there.

"Read up about you," Drummond said, sitting down again. "You've seen some action."

"Yes."

Drummond nodded, understanding the short answer. Perhaps later, they'd talk, as they grew to know each other, but too early yet.

"And you took the Overseas Cane of Honour at Sandhurst."

"You really have looked me up."

Drummond shrugged. "Wanted to make sure you were a proper soldier, not a paper-pusher."

"I do push a lot of paper these days."

Drummond chuckled. "That never changes. Gets worse the higher you go. Sure there's plenty of it for the UN too."

"Reams."

"Have to get your juniors filling in as much of it as you can."

"Well, Lieutenant Bennett is officially my adjutant, she can..."

"Was thinking of Mr Ritchie myself."

Madari looked at him surprised, then smiled. "You've barely met either of them."

"I don't need to tell you how fast a commanding officer has to make judgements, do I?"

He didn't. And Madari already agreed with him in the short time he'd known the two Australians. His instinct told him which of them was the better soldier. And yet everything else told him that couldn't be the case, because how could the woman be the better soldier?

"Only worked with a few women officers in my time," Drummond said. He sipped his tea. "Usually Women's Royal Army Corp." He sighed. "That's gone now. Don't suppose you even have anything like that?"

"No. It's certainly going to be a new experience."

Drummond grinned. "I'm looking forward to being the audience for it."

~~~~

Madari unpacked his luggage and then went to check on the accommodation for the men. All seemed satisfactory. The men were positively overwhelmed by their rooms, well above the standard they were used to.

He checked the rooms to use as offices next. Bennett was in there, unpacking stationery supplies and he left her to carry on. Ritchie was in with the doctor, unpacking the infirmary equipment and supplies, along with a couple of the men.

"I asked Mr Ritchie to help me, sir," Elimu said.

"That's fine, doctor. Carry on, Mr Ritchie. Did Bennett tell you about the inspection at two o'clock?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Madari would have thought in that case he'd be with the men, making sure everything was in top shape ready for inspection. Never mind, at least the doctor had found him something useful to do.

Lunchtime came around quickly, after the late rising, and Madari went to the "mess hall", a very pleasant room, with tall windows. Some sofas had been pushed back against the walls and a number of long tables set up. They were trestles, but had tablecloths on them, and were sturdy and level. He checked with the sergeant that the men were happy with the food.

Assured that the food was fine, Madari left to go to the dining room for his own lunch, hearing the men's voices rise a little as he left the room, no longer conscious of their CO in the room. He found the officers and the Brigadier in there. Did Drummond intend to join them for every meal? Not that Madari objected, as he listened with enjoyment to the man talk during lunch.

He was a character, the crusty old Brigadier, and no doubt played up to the image, for the tourists. Of course, he wasn't just the owner and manager here, he was part of the experience. People would go home with their wildlife photographs and talk about the eccentric ex-Brigadier who ran the lodge, and all his stories.

He'd gone through a couple of military anecdotes already, Bennett hanging on his every word, and encouraging him. Madari enjoyed not only the anecdotes, but the familiarity of the situation. Ahmed and Drummond would have got along famously, exchanging tall tales. The stories Drummond had told so far weren't especially tall, but Madari would bet that after dinner, when the port and cigars came out, that would change.

People used to tease Madari when he was a boy, saying he would swallow any story Ahmed told, even if it had already changed three times from the first time he told it. He'd grown more cynical about them later, knew they were embellished. But a good tale well told only improves with some embellishment. He'd remained an eager audience for his grandfather's stories until the end.

~~~~

The men were lined up and ready when he stepped out into the paved area in front of the lodge at two o'clock. Seeing him coming, Bennett snapped out, "Attention!" at the men. How odd to hear that order in her high voice. But the voice had a good snap to it, like an officer's voice should. The men responded quickly, coming to attention.

"Present arms!" Bennett's voice again. As the men presented arms, Madari noticed another group of men across the yard. They made a great show of being uninterested in the soldiers, but of course, they were watching. They were the men who guarded the lodge and the tourist parties, under the command of a Sergeant Abasi.

Though they wore no uniforms, and were casual looking in the extreme at that moment, lounging, smoking, some even apparently sleeping, Madari would bet Drummond and his sergeant had made them into an effective and disciplined force. It made Madari smile with nostalgia, recalling his own unit of irregulars. He missed those days sometimes.

A glance back at the house showed him the Brigadier watching from a window. A few women were moving around the edges of the yard, working, sweeping, or pegging out laundry. And of course watching. Several small children watched from the open gate.

"Perhaps next time we should do this somewhere less crowded," Madari said. "Like Picadilly Circus."

Bennett giggled, disconcerting him. An officer shouldn't... giggle.

"We do seem to have quite an audience," Ritchie said.

"Then we will have to give them a show." Madari adjusted his pale blue beret by a minuscule amount and rather wished he carried a swagger stick the way Ahmed had.

Sergeant Bekono stepped up and saluted. "Men ready for inspection, sir."

"Very good, Sergeant. Mr Ritchie, with me please." He left Bennett and the doctor at the end of the line and began to stalk along the line of men, checking their uniforms and weapons. Oh, he should start doing this more often with his unit back at home, he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed it.

The men's faces were all so young that it startled him. Most were barely twenty-five in his judgement. The two NCOs were around thirty. Hard to say from this distance, but the lodge security force looked the same, though Sergeant Abasi was in his late thirties at least.

This was a young man's continent. He felt suddenly old. Aside from the Brigadier himself he must surely be the oldest man at the lodge. Back home, men this young would probably call him "uncle" - if he was in civilian clothes anyway. But these men called him 'sir' and he kept up a stern look as he went through the inspection.

He straightened a collar here and there, had a man show the chamber of his rifle was clean, that was expected. But everything was good. He'd hope so, at the start of the mission, with a new commander to impress. Things could start to slip later, he knew that from experience, unless he and the rest of the officers kept a strict eye on things.

The inspection done, he moved to stand far enough away from the men to address them and ordered them to stand at ease. When they were silent again a moment later, he cleared his throat, hoped his voice wouldn't choose that moment to let him down and began to speak, in French.

"You are a well presented unit. You do your army and your country credit and I expect you to keep up this standard throughout our stay here. I expect discipline. When we go out to carry out our mission remember that you represent the United Nations, you represent Cameroon and you represent me."

A pause. Let that sink in. They all wore serious expressions and listened attentively. Of course. They wanted to know what manner of man their new commander was. A martinet or a pushover? Or something in between?

"We have excellent accommodation here and I expect you to treat it with respect. Myself or the other officers will carry our regular and spot inspections of your rooms. Any damages will be deducted from your pay." Another pause, make sure that sank in. The rooms were excellent, and the men could start to forget themselves, in such luxury compared to what they were used to.

"I won't tolerate any drunkenness, fighting, or rowdy behaviour. Any harassment of local women or Lodge staff will be dealt with severely. Again, remember, we represent the United Nations. Outside of our specific mission we have a general one to win hearts and minds. We're here to help people. On the days you're not required to accompany me as security there will be work to do. Local projects, rebuilding, helping the doctor deliver medical services to the local people. You won't be idle, and if you were hoping for that, then you're going to be disappointed."

Some of the men puffed out their chests as if to show they were quite ready for the work and certainly didn't expect idleness. Madari smiled then, softening the stern look.

"You seem to me to be a fine and proud body of men and I look forward to working with you. Now, you have the rest of today to finish settling in and catching up on your sleep. We all had a late night and a long journey. But tomorrow, we start work. Reveille at six, breakfast at six-thirty and PT at seven-thirty. The sergeant will give you details. Dismiss."

He strode to the officers. Bennett was smiling.

"Letting them sleep in then?" she said.

Madari smiled back. "Six is an unconscionably late hour, I know. But I'm conscious of the Lodge staff. They must already be up in the early hours, they shouldn't have to get up still earlier. Mr Ritchie, that PT session I mentioned. You will lead it."

Ritchie looked dismayed. "Ah, yes, sir." For some reason he didn't seem keen on the idea.

"Idleness is the danger in a posting like this. The men need activities to keep them distracted and busy. Sport for example. You should organise some games."

"Are they cricketers?" Ritchie asked, looking at the few men left in the yard now. Fine rain started to fall.

"They'll be footy players," Bennett said. "Cameroon's the best footballing country in Africa."

Madari nodded his agreement. "Yes. Do either of you know much about football?"

"Only the Australian Rules sort," Ritchie said.

"We could teach them that." Bennett chuckled. "That'd keep the doctor busy."

"Well, talk with the NCOs and see what they prefer. Miss Bennett, can you please convey to the female staff they they should approach you with any complaints about the conduct of the men. Ask them to pass that on generally in the villages locally." That was one advantage of having a woman officer of course.

"Yes, sir. I'll talk to Eshe. She's the Brig's housekeeper, in charge of the staff."

"Excellent." He called Bekono over. "Sergeant, don't think that I'm forbidding the men to drink, but I mean it when I say that I won't tolerate drunkenness."

"They'll behave, sir. They're good lads."

"Please ensure that they don't build a still."

"Ah, no, sir. I'll watch out for that."

"Good. Also, gambling. I won't try to stop it. But you will keep a lid on it. No I.O.U.s. The men may only stake what they can put on the table. No cars, houses..." He smiled, remembering the wise words of an old friend, long gone. "Wives."

Bennett giggled and the Sergeant looked slightly shocked at the joke for a moment. More the source than the joke itself. Then he smiled. "Yes, sir, I'll see to it."

"Thank you. You're dismissed for the rest of the day now." Turning back to the officers, he found Bennett smiling. "Something funny, Lieutenant?"

She put on a clearly fake serious expression. "No, sir. Just wondering if the part about not building a still applies to officers too?"

Now Madari had to fake his own serious expression. "I'm afraid so, Lieutenant. We must be a good example."

"Oh, believe me, if I built a still, it would be a very good example."

~~~~

The doctor caught him in the afternoon, late in the day, and said they might as well do his physical exam now. He had all the equipment he needed unpacked. Madari tried to put it off, but gave in, deciding he might as well get it over with.

The doctor gave him the typical medico's scowl at his cigar smoking. And the coffee became a bone of contention when he checked Madari's blood pressure. Madari promised to try to cut down. That would be easier here anyway, without a constant supply of coffee brewed the traditional Arab way.

"Do you drink, sir?" Elimu asked.

"I'm a Muslim."

"I'm aware of that. Do you drink?"

"No, I don't." The doctor didn't mean to be insulting, he was sure. He just knew that people were not always as strong as they wanted to be.

Elimu stood up and picked up a stethoscope from the desk.

"Would you take off your shirt, please?"

"Is that really necessary. My lungs are perfectly fine, according to the physical I had last month."

"I'd like to hear for myself." He warmed the stethoscope at least, pressing it against his own arm for a moment and the metal didn't feel too cold on Madari's skin. Like the Brigadier, the doctor saw Madari's scars and though clearly noticed them, he had no reaction. After a moment he told Madari to put his shirt back on and sat down again. He made a note on his papers, then turned to Madari and spoke in a voice softer than the stern tone he'd used through most of the examination.

"Do you have any other health issues I should know about, sir?"

It felt easier to talk to him suddenly, the compassion in his eyes was an invitation to trust him. He understood what the scars meant.

"I sometimes get infections in my fingernails, because of the scar tissue." He held out his hands and Elimu examined them.

"All of them were completely expulsed?"

"All of them." He hoped the doctor wouldn't ask what with. Even the word 'pliers' still choked him. But Elimu just nodded.

"Come to me at once if there's any sign of infection. This climate is heaven for bacteria."

"I will. The only other thing is... sometimes I require sleeping pills. I don't take them all of the time, but sometimes... for a few nights."

"I understand."

"I've brought some with me, but if I need more..."

"That will be fine." He smiled. "We're done, thank you, Colonel."

Madari headed to his room to wash for dinner. Bennett met him on the stairs.

"Brigadier's serving cocktails in the lounge beside the dining room," she said. "Sort of an icebreaker he said."

"Thank you, lieutenant, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Oh, sir, nearly forgot to mention. Sergeant Bekono told me that a couple of the Cameroon boys are Muslims like you and he said, if it wasn't any trouble for you, could you do prayers with them sometimes, at least on a Friday?"

"Oh, ah, of course, Friday at least, I'll try to make the time." He felt a twinge of guilt, that his first reaction to that had been wanting to wince, feeling now he'd have the eyes of religious men on him judging him. He should be glad to have some fellow Muslims here, to pray in communion with. He should be glad.

"That's okay, sir?" Did she notice his hesitation?

"Yes, fine. I was just a little surprised. I think I assumed they'd all be Catholics."

"Oh no, they're a mix. The locals here, they're mostly Catholic."

"Yes. I was making an assumption. All right, proceed, Lieutenant, I'll join you soon."

She smiled, perhaps amused at being told to "proceed" to cocktail hour and went off down the stairs, while Madari continued up them to his room.

In his bedroom after he washed his face and hands he changed into a fresh shirt. A book lay by his bed and he strolled over to pick it up. A photograph of himself and Kahil marked his page and he looked at it for a moment, missing that presence at his side already. Could he really cope with six months away from his... lover? He had before of course, but things had been different between them then. They'd still been hiding so much from each other. He closed the book and went downstairs to the lounge.

The Brigadier took him to the drinks cabinet, but found him a bottle of Coca-Cola.

"You sure I can't press you to a sherry at least? Don't feel you've got to make a show of things for me. I've known Muslim fellas that drank like fish."

"Thank, you, but no."

"What about a cigar?"

"Oh, definitely!"

The Brigadier chuckled at his enthusiastic tone. "Good man. Good man." He reached for a humidor on top of the drinks cabinet and in a moment, Madari had a very fine cigar and the two men stood in a haze of smoke, relishing the cigars.

"Colonel," Drummond said, around his cigar. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."