For King And Country (not mine)

Christmas 1940

December 24th 1940
The Captain readjusted his stance, tightened his grip on his gun and pulled the trigger.
The recoil made him wince, though it was far less jolting than a regular gun.
The guns they were using for training were exactly that.
There were only four of the guns. The Captain had to organise groups for practice. Luckily, there were only six of them remaining on base over Christmas.
But it was his responsibility to make sure all of their skills were up to standard. If the Button Eleven were disbanded and redeployed somewhere else, then there was a chance everyone would have to know how to shoot with deadly accuracy.
The Captain hoped it would never come to that.
Over the last year, as he'd come to know his unit, he knew that all of them would struggle. None of them were fighters. All of them had either been drafted or had been trained in specialised areas before the war.
Johnson, Jeffreys and Tyler, for example, had spent years working as engineers.
Smith and Reed were often in communication rooms, working on connecting calls and translating Morse Code. They were both quite savvy when it came to technology. It impressed the Captain endlessly.
The Captain had been abroad. Havers, too. But none of the others had. And Havers had only been once, for a few weeks. He didn't enjoy talking about it, so the Captain didn't ask.
All in all, to send any of the Button Eleven abroad would be a disaster. They weren't trained for fighting.
And the Captain cared for them all. He had to be strict, but he wanted nothing more than for all of them to return home safe and sound after the war was over.
The guns they all practised with held blank rounds. They had a small stock of live ammunition, locked away somewhere only the Captain and Havers knew. It wasn't to be used unless there was a genuine emergency, and the guns were to be locked away separate from the ammunition at the end of their use.
The Captain wished he could have a service revolver to call his own. He'd had the chance to use them a few times. The first instance had been early in his career when he'd been sent to Ireland.
He'd been only eighteen. There'd been a guerilla war between Irish and British forces for two years, a fight for Irish independence. The Captain had survived just under a year of the fighting before it had ended in a stalemate.
He'd received his first promotion after returning home, and he still occasionally got a ringing in his left ear that felt eerily like a temporary hearing loss after a nearby explosion.
But as a captain, he wasn't issued with a service weapon, which he couldn't understand. Surely his rank showed that he was capable of handling firearms? With one, would it not show an act of faith in him? His responsibilities were something he took very seriously.
"Nice shot, sir," Hughes said from beside him.
The Captain focused on the target and saw the mark on the target indicating where his shot had ended. Not close enough to be perfect. But he supposed, to Hughes, it was impressive as a first shot of the day.
"Thank you, Private."
Hughes was the youngest member of the Eleven at only twenty-three years old. He looked younger. Maybe it was because everyone else was in their thirties or forties. Maybe, it was because the Captain was too used to how stress made a person change.
"Where'd you learn to shoot so well?"
"Lots of practice." The Captain said, aiming and pulling the trigger again. The next shot was closer, but still not right.
"Have you been abroad like Lieutenant Havers?"
"Yes. Ireland and Turkey for a little while. Egypt was my longest. I spent about three years stationed around the Suez Canal, both before and after the Anglo Egyptian Treaty was signed. I helped train up some of the armies over there, too. I came back in '37 for my promotion to captain.
Haven't left England since." 
"Wow. Impressive career then, sir." The Captain made a noise of agreement and heard Hughes make a shot of his own. "I think I'd quite like to go abroad, you know."
"Many young recruits do." The Captain answered. "It's possible you might see it. But trying to predict where you'll end up is like trying to predict the weather."
"Do you know where Lieutenant Havers has served?"
"No. Abroad somewhere, but he doesn't like talking about it." The Captain said, pulling the trigger again.
This time, it hit just above the centre, and he grit his teeth.
"He won't tell us either," Hughes said.
"Then it's best not to pry." The Captain replied. "Lieutenant Havers will tell you if he wants to."
"What do you two get up to all day? It seems like all you ever do is paperwork."
"Well, there's your answer."
"If I ever get promoted, sir, I think I should like to have a second like Havers."
"He certainly makes the job a little easier." The Captain admitted. "He's quite the asset to our unit."
"I agree, sir," Hughes said. He made two shots in a row, both much closer to the centre than before.
"Did you two know each other before the war?"
The Captain frowned, beginning to get annoyed with the number of questions. He was certain that he'd  never had so many questions as a private. But he tried to remember that Hughes hadn't aimed for this life. He likely wanted a regular career back home. Questions about military settings were natural for someone who hadn't grown up knowing this was where they'd end up.
"No, Hughes. We didn't. Why?"
"I thought all captains were the screaming in your face type. I had six weeks of basic training before I got sent here, and all the higher-ups treated everyone below them like scum. You're not like that at all, sir, if you don't mind my saying. You're a lot different to what I expected."
"What does this have to do with Lieutenant Havers?"
"I'll see you all soon! Write if you get too heartbroken without me here!"
The Captain looked back towards the house and saw Havers crossing the grounds, his coat and hat on, bag on his back, a scarf wrapped around his neck.
He was grinning at Tyler, who was laughing and raising a hand as a goodbye.
Havers' eyes moved, and he spotted the training going on nearby.
"Merry Christmas, everyone!" He called. "Don't push them too hard over the holidays, Captain!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Havers!" The Captain called back. "Enjoy your Christmas!"
He watched for a few moments as Havers walked towards the gate and then returned his attention to the task at hand. He felt Hughes' eyes on him and did his best to forget the questions the other officer had been asking.
~
Christmas Day 1940
When the Captain woke up on Christmas morning, it took a few minutes for him to drag himself to a seated position. It was cold, and his bed was so warm. And it was Christmas. Could he not afford to lie in one day?
And then he remembered.
There's a Christmas present in the top drawer from Will .
The Captain scrambled for the lamp with one hand, opening the top drawer at the same time. He smiled at the brown paper packaging tied with string and gently unwrapped it. There was a small note attached to the string, and he raised it to look.
Teddy,
I know you would never buy this for yourself since you're too selfless to ever own something that someone else might need. So I have taken the liberty of buying it for you.
Merry Christmas, my love. I hope you get some good use out of this.
Always yours,
William
The Captain felt the heat in his cheeks as he blushed and raised the package, discarding the rest of the paper.
In his hands was a leatherbound book, and when the Captain flicked through the pages and found nothing but blank paper, he realised what it was for.
He remembered an offhand comment months ago, something small and insignificant at the time.
"Goodness, I wish I had something better than loose sheets of paper to put notes in."
Havers had listened regardless. The thought warmed his heart as he clutched the journal.
He couldn't think of anything meaningful to put into it, mind. But he would. Only the  best  things would go into it.
~
December 26th 1940
Havers' first letter appeared on Boxing Day, and the Captain tore at it as soon as Smith left his office.
Captain,
I hope Christmas Day went well at the house. I arrived in London safely with no problems. The trains were a little busy, and many people were being extra kind and welcoming towards me. I think it was the uniform. People are grateful for anyone contributing to the war effort, I suppose.
You were right. London was quiet for most of November for a reason. I spent only an hour with my sister before the sirens went off. The boys thought I was a hallucination at first when I carried James and Max out of the house, one under each arm. Archie grabbed Andrew and all the baby provisions before Louisa even had a chance to get upstairs; bless him. He did ever so well, was so grownup about it all. I forget he's almost fourteen sometimes.
In any case, this letter is to inform you all that I'm safe and haven't gotten caught up in the casualties. I hope you don't mind me asking to let the others know I'm okay?
I shall be back by New Year's Day, I estimate. I cannot get back any earlier than that due to train cancellations. I hope this is acceptable. My sincerest apologies if not. I swear to make up for my absence upon my return.
Merry Christmas, sir,
Lieutenant Havers
It was an equal mix of polite and informal. The Captain felt a prickling of nerves when thinking of the censors and whether this had flagged their attention. Perhaps not, given that it had arrived at the house unedited.
Havers hadn't mentioned Marcus, though the Captain could understand why. Talking of another man's unit was sure to get noted. The Captain was sure Havers would mention everything when he returned.
There was a knock at his office door, interrupting his thoughts, and the Captain sighed.
"Come!" He called, putting the letter to one side and remaining seated at his desk. He picked up a pen and turned his attention to a nearby file, pretending to be doing work.
The door opened, and Hughes walked in.
"At ease," The Captain said. "What can I do for you?"
"Smith said that there was a letter with Havers' handwriting on it. They all wanted to know if he was safe. We know he returned home to London, and there was a lot of bombing there two nights ago."
"Yes, Lieutenant Havers is safe. Did the others send you up?" Hughes nodded. "Only for that?"
Another nod. "Well, then. You can inform them of the good news. Dismissed."
Hughes seemed to hesitate but turned on his heel and did as he was told. The Captain frowned in the man's direction once the door was closed. Accompanied by the man's comments about the Captain and Havers a few days previously, Hughes' behaviour seemed out of the ordinary.
It was best to keep an eye on him. It was a reminder to keep his guard up. And perhaps to make sure he carried letters addressed to him personally by Havers hidden. This one might've gotten past the overworked and fatigued censors, but they might not look so innocent to those who knew the Captain and Havers well.
The Captain folded up Havers' letter, put it back in the envelope and tucked it into his trouser pocket. After he was sure it was safely hidden, he dragged a sheet of fresh paper from a drawer, picked up his pen and began to write his return letter to Havers.