The Last Lady from Hell (21 page)

He broke into a roaring laugh at his attempt at humor. The fellows weren’t terribly amused with or comforted by his joke.

“Well,” Doc said, “I suppose if he’s made it this long without blowing up, the odds are he and we will probably make it this time too.”

It was the sort of statement that was meant to be reassuring, and the others nodded unconvincingly. Then the lorry hopped over a rut sending the crates of ammunition up and down with a crash, fraying the nerves of the three passengers and dashing whatever meager confidence had been building.

The Convoy was passing a division of foot soldiers ahead and swerved to the side of the road honking their horns to alert the columns of men of their passing.

“Wha?” the driver cried out, “A bleedin’ pipe band, I’ll be flogged!”

Terry peered over the crates and out the front windscreen, and saw that it was Sean, Ian and Bill Lewis leading the 36th Ulster Division.

“I’ll be a friggin’ farmer,” Terry said. “It’s our classmates! Let’s give them the business as we pass.”

As the lorry passed the front of the division, the three sat on the back crates saluting. That in itself wouldn’t have been much of a razzing, but they sat with one leg propped up on a crate and because they were all regimental, their family jewels were there for full inspection by their comrades. As they moved away, they began to laugh uproariously until they were almost pitched out the rear of the lorry as the Renault’s hard tires found yet another rock on the road to Somme.

After what seemed like an eternity, the truck followed its convoy off the road and into a large encampment near the railyard of the town
of Bolbec. The boys jumped out at the earliest possible opportunity, leaving the caisson without so much as a word to the driver.

“I hate long drawn out goodbyes,” Doc chuckled as he put some distance between him and the ammunition truck.

“I need a stiff drink,” Terry volunteered.

“Me too,” Dan agreed, “but let’s find home first.” He spotted a military police officer nearby, easily recognizable by his red cap. “We’ll see if carrot top knows anything.”

The MP did know and helpfully pointed them in the direction of the 29th Division. “Look for The Blue Puttees,” he said.

Although they had no idea what he meant by that statement, the three walked off in the direction he indicated. The encampment consisted of several large fields filled with hundreds of tents lined up in neat rows. It was obviously a well-organized and disciplined division, evidenced by the precision with which the entire camp was constructed.

Unknown to the three men was the fact that the year before this division had seen some of the hardest action against the Turks in Gallipolli. This battle-hardened group had sustained over thirty thousand casualties in that one fight alone and the mettle of the men in this encampment had been tempered by the flames of hell.

Before long, the boys located the 88th Brigade and the 1st Newfoundland regiment. The head of the regiment was Colonel J. P. Kelton, a tall, handsome man with dark hair and a full mustache. Because he was a head taller than most, he was easy to pick out of the throng of men. What made him and his regiment unique, however, was that they all wore legwraps, or puttees, fashioned from blue broadcloth instead of the standard issue khaki, hence the nickname The Blue Puttees.

“Not as bold as your kilt, but yes, it does stand out,” Kelton said, noting the interest the men had in the puttees. “I’m Colonel J. P. Kelton and I’d bet you three are our pipes and drums.” He had an easy confidence about him which translated into a natural leader.

“We are your band, albeit a small one,” Terry said, saluting, along with Doc and Dan.

“Looks like I have some competition” Kelton said, sizing up big Dan.

“Dan McKee, sir! May I introduce Terry Manning and Dr. George Cohen!” The three snapped to attention.

“At ease, gentlemen. You will be just what the doctor ordered. The men have needed a morale booster since the Battle of Gallipolli, and your presence is most welcome,” Kelton said. Then turning to George, he asked, “So you are a doctor?”

“Just a nick name sir,” Doc said. I’m in med school back home.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll have some sappers pitch a tent next to mine. I plan on using your talents to the maximum and I know you will enjoy working for this regiment. A better group of men you’ll be hard-pressed to find.”

Kelton began to walk and the trio followed. “These are my quarters,” he said stopping before a large tent. “Yours will be here and should be erected within the next twenty minutes. I would like you to play prior to evening mess at 1700 hours. After mess, we will prepare to move out at 2000 hours. We are expected to board a transport train bound for the Somme Valley Region.”

“We’re here to serve the regiment,” Terry said.

“Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several meetings I must attend, so I’ll see you three before mess. It is a pleasure to have met you.” The three snapped to attention and saluted as Kelton went off to his meeting at a brisk gait.

A tent was erected in minutes for the pipers. It seemed odd to them to go to the bother of putting it up only to have to take it back down a few hours later, but such are the ways of the military. The accommodations were meager: cots and a small table with a wash basin.

They all washed up, cleaning the grime and dust from their rough trip earlier. Although their cots were calling for a nap, there
wasn’t much time to tend to the pipes before mess, so Terry and Doc pulled out their pipes and moved outside to check out their equipment. Dan lay down, however, and was snoring before the others left the tent.

The drones needed some hemping to tighten them up, so Terry ran the thin string through a wad of beeswax to insure the best seal and to protect the hemp from rotting. He then wrapped the loose stocks and tuning pins as necessary to provide the best performance for their pipes. Both men knew the routine well and they quietly went through the necessary steps for proper maintenance of the bagpipes.

The chanter reeds were not in tune so they corked off their drones and tuned up their chanters to match each other. Satisfied with the tuning, Terry moved behind George and tuned his drones and then tuned his own.

They played a couple of tunes to hear how they sounded together and, with the pipes warmed up and in tune, they were ready to perform for the mess.

Colonel Kelton heard the playing and had arrived in front of their tent smiling. “It sounds like our regiment won a fine band, indeed!” he said. “Let me introduce you to my fellow Newfoundlanders.”

Dan appeared from his nap holding his drum and the three followed Kelton to the mess area. The men were milling about waiting for the mess call when Kelton called for the attention of his Regiment.

“Men, I know you have all heard of our good fortune in a friendly game of cards,” he said. “Now, let me introduce you to our fine pipe and drum band! Privates Terry Manning, George Cohen and Dan McKee.”

Terry, always one for reading the moment and a man of excellent timing, called out as if he were ordering a band of one hundred, instead of just three.

“Band Ready! Set One! By the center, quick March!”

Dan buzzed out the rolls, Doc and Terry struck in the drones playing an “E” and began to play the set. Terry was poised in a classic piper pose keeping time by lifting his left leg up and down and touching his toe on the ground to the down beat. It looked like it might have been a ballet move, but it was, in fact, the traditional way a pipe major telegraphs a song’s tempo to his band when in a circle.

The reaction was both stunning and expected. The crowd went wild, cheering and yelling as the small band played “Minstrel Boy,” “Scotland the Brave,” “42nds,” and “Maries Wedding.” The men seemed to have completely forgotten about dinner and were calling for more entertainment when Col. Kelton stepped in and stopped the music.

“Men, we’ll not keep the cooks waiting. I’m sure your pipe band will be available after mess.” The good natured style of command that Kelton employed was one reason his men respected him and would follow him into hell if commanded. They noisily clambered over to the mobile kitchen to get their meal. All were in a better mood than they had been twenty minutes earlier.

Kelton smiled at the trio. “Well done, men. We have a new band and you have a new home.” His face changed to a serious look “You’ll be their inspiration. On the road to war you will be the beat and the tune that will keep the march at a good pace and the men in a good humor. On the battlefield, you will give them the nerve to go over the top and charge into certain death. If the pipes and drums play on, the men push on. You have a pivotal responsibility that can affect the outcome of a battle.

“And after all is said and done and the battle is over, you will play as we lay down those that have fallen,” Kelton continued, staring sternly into the eyes of the three men. “You will play to honor
their ultimate sacrifice and to provide solace to their comrades who remain to carry on. You will see happy faces and laughter as you entertain them, scared and unsure faces as you pipe them over and hard, tear soaked faces as you pipe their comrades under. Yours is not a task to be taken lightly, for it is an ancient honor that has seen countless wars for untold generations.”

The trio stood silently for a moment taken aback by Keltons’ words. Terry swallowed a dry gulp and said quietly, “We won’t let you or the men down, sir.”

Kelton smiled at the men. It was evident that these were good and brave volunteers who would do that which was asked of them. “By the way,” he said in a lighter tone. “Even though the 1st Newfoundland Regiment is not a kilted regiment, I have always been fond of the kilt. I believe it adds an air of distinction and frankly, if you were to play in pants, it simply wouldn’t look right. Now, let’s eat!”

FIFTH CANADIAN GENERAL STATIONARY HOSPITAL AT AMIENS

S
heila Lougheed was changing the bandages on a young soldier in Recovery Ward 51. Ward 51 was one of many quickly constructed buildings that made up the 5
^th
and at about one hundred feet it was twice as long as it was wide. It provided a modest amount of protection from the elements during inclement weather and had ample screened windows to allow cross ventilation in warm weather conditions. There were several free standing coal stoves with their smoke stacks going up through the roof. They could take the chill out of the air and keep the crowded building survivable in winter weather.