It was a tone that any commander would give a testicle to be able to pull off. Pure authority. The Prime Minister spoke that way. The King. The Yank�...s President … well, a few of them. And here he was, this old goat herder in a dusty tent in the middle of Hell’s loo, and he had it. In spades. What he said caused a hush. Then a rustle of cloth, and I was being held to the floor, turned over onto my belly by hard hands. Panting in the dust, I moaned when my head was yanked back by my forehead. My. As the night drew in, they actually found a deserted cottage which seemed suitable for them to rest the night. This would be luxury compared to where they'd been sleeping the last few nights, even though it was in a very dilapidated state. Half the cottage was totally collapsed and less than half of its roof was in any sense intact. However, it kept the night chill away from the girls' bare flesh: especially Buttercup who didn't even have as much as a blouse to keep her warm. They made space. More

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