“Otherwise
only a few grazes and cuts. Nothing serious and very much alive. Ought to have
you back at the front in a matter of days,” she added sadly.
He
slept. He woke. He wondered if Tommy had survived.
“Any
news of Private Prescott?” Charlie asked, after he had completed his rounds.
The
lieutenant checked his clipboard and a frown came over his face. “He’s been
arrested. Looks as if he might have to face a court-martial.”
“What?
Why?”
“No
idea,” replied the young lieutenant, and moved on to the next bed.
The
following day Charlie managed a little food, took a few painful steps the day
after, and could run a week later. He was sent back to the front only
twenty-one days after Lieutenant Makepeace had leaped up and shouted, “Follow
me.”
Once
Charlie had resumed to the relief trenches he quickly discovered that only
three men in his section of ten had survived the charge, and there was no sign
of Tommy. A new batch of soldiers had arrived from England that morning to take
their places and begin the routine of four days on, four days off. They treated
Charlie as if he were a veteran.
He
had only been back for a few hours when company orders were posted showing that
Colonel Hamilton wished to see Lance Corporal Trumper at eleven hundred hours
the following morning.
“Why
would the commanding officer want to see me?” Charlie inquired of the duty
sergeant.
“It
usually means a court-martial or a decoration the governor hasn’t time for
anything else. And never forget that he also means trouble, so watch your
tongue when you’re in his presence. I can tell you, he’s got a very short fuse.”
At
ten fifty-five hours sharp Lance Corporal Trumper stood trembling outside the
colonel’s tent almost as fearful of his commanding officer as of going over the
top. A few minutes later the company sergeant major marched out of the tent to
collect him.
“Stand
to attention, salute and give your name, rank and serial number,” barked CSM
Philpott. “And remember, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to,” he added
sharply.
Charlie
marched into the tent and came to a halt in front of the colonel’s desk. He
saluted and said, “Lance Corporal Trumper, 7312087, reporting, sir.” It was the
first time he had seen the colonel sitting on a chair, not on a horse.
“Ah,
Trumper,” said Colonel Hamilton, looking up. “Good to have you back. Delighted
by your speedy recovery.”
“Thank
you, sir,” said Charlie, aware for the first time that only one of the colonel’s
eyes actually moved.
“However,
there’s been a problem involving a private from your section that I’m hoping
you might be able to throw some light on.”
“I’ll
‘elp if I can, sir.”
“Good,
because it seems,” said the colonel, placing his monocle up to his left eye, “that
Prescott” he studied a buff form on the desk in front of him before continuing “yes,
Private Prescott, may have shot himself in the hand in order to avoid facing
the enemy. According to Captain Trentham’s report, he was picked up with a
single bullet wound in his left hand while lying in the mud only a few yards in
front of his own trench. On the face of it such an action appears to be a
simple case of cowardice in the face of the enemy. However, I was not willing
to order the setting up of a court-martial before I had heard your version of
what took place that morning. After all, he was in your section. So I felt you
might have something of substance to add to Captain Trentham’s report.”
“Yes,
sir, I certainly do,” Charlie said. He tried to compose himself and go over in
his mind the details of what had taken place almost a month before. “Once the
Verey pistol ‘ad been fired Lieutenant Makepeace led the charge and I went over
the top after ‘im followed by the rest of my section. The lieutenant was the
first to reach the wire but was immediately ‘it by several bullets, and there
were only two men ahead of me at the time. They bravely went to ‘is aid, but
fell even before they could reach ‘im. As soon as I got to the wire I spotted a
gap and ran through it, only to see Private Prescott overtake me as he charged
on towards the enemy lines. It must have been then that I was blown up by the
land mine, which may well have knocked out Private Prescott as well. “
“Can
you be certain it was Private Prescott who overtook you?” asked the colonel,
looking puzzled.
“In
the ‘eat of a battle, it’s ‘ard to remember every detail, sir, but I will never
forget Prescott overtakin’ me.”
“Why’s
that?” asked the colonel.
“Because
‘e’s my mate, and it annoyed me at the time to see ‘im get ahead of me.”
Charlie
thought he saw a faint smile come over the colonel’s face.
“Is
Prescott a close friend of yours?” the colonel asked, fixing his monocle on
him.
“Yes,
sir, ‘e is, but that would not affect my judgment, and no one ‘as the right to
suggest it would.”
“Do
you realize who you are talkie’ to?” bellowed the sergeant major.
“Yes,
Sergeant Major,” said Charlie. “A man interested in finding out the truth, and
therefore seeing that justice is done. I’m not an educated man, sir, but I am
an ‘onest one.”
“Corporal,
you will report... “ began the sergeant major.
“Thank
you, Sergeant Major, that will be all,” said the colonel. “And thank you,
Corporal Trumper, for your clear and concise evidence. I shall not need to
trouble you any further. You may now return to your platoon.”
“Thank
you, sir,” said Charlie. He took a pace backwards, saluted, did an about-turn
and marched out of the tent.
“Would
you like me to ‘andle this matter in my own way?” asked the sergeant major.
“Yes,
I would,” replied Colonel Hamilton. “Promote Trumper to full corporal and release
Private Prescott from custody immediately.”
Tommy
returned to his platoon that afternoon, his left hand bandaged.
“You
saved my life, Charlie.”
“I
only told the truth.”
“I
know, so did I. But the difference is, they believed you.”
Charlie
lay in his tent that night wondering why Captain Trentham was so determined to
be rid of Tommy. Could any man believe he had the right to send another to his
death simply because he had once been to jail?
Another
month passed while they continued the old routines before company orders
revealed that they were to march south to the Marne and prepare for a
counterattack against General van Ludendorff. Charlie’s heart sank when he read
the orders; he knew the odds against surviving two attacks were virtually
unknown. He managed to spend the odd hour alone with Grace, who told him she
had fallen for a Welsh corporal who had stood on a land mine and ended up blind
in one eye.
Love
at first sight, quipped Charlie.
Midnight
on Wednesday, 17 July 1918, and an eerie silence fell over no man’s land.
Charlie let those who could sleep, and didn’t attempt to wake anyone until
three o’clock the next morning. Now an acting sergeant, he had a platoon of
forty men to prepare for battle, all of whom still came under the overall
command of Captain Trentham, who hadn’t been seen since the day Tommy had been
released.
At
three-thirty, a Lieutenant Harvey joined them behind the trenches, by which
time they were all on full battle alert. Harvey, it turned out, had arrived at
the front the previous Friday.
“This
is a mad war,” said Charlie after they had been introduced.
“Oh,
I don’t know,” said Harvey lightly. “I can’t wait to have a go at the Hun
myself.”
“The
Germans ‘aven’t an ‘ope in ‘elf, as long as we can go on producin’ nutcases
like ‘im,” whispered Tommy.
“By
the way, sir, what’s the password this time?” asked Charlie.
“Oh,
sorry, quite forgot. ‘Little Red Riding Hood,’” said the lieutenant.
They
all waited. At zero four hundred hours they fixed bayonets and at four
twenty-one the Verey pistol shot a red flame into the sky somewhere behind the
lines and the air was filled with whistles blowing.
“Tally
ho,” cried Lieutenant Harvey. He fired his pistol in the air and charged over
the top as if he were chasing some errant fox. Once again, Charlie scrambled up
and out of the trench only yards behind. The rest of the platoon followed as he
stumbled through mud over barren land that no longer bore a single tree to
protect them. To the left Charlie could see another platoon ahead of him. The
unmistakable figure of the immaculate Captain Trentham brought up the rear. But
it was Lieutenant Harvey who was still leading the charge as he hurdled
elegantly over the wire and into no man’s land. It made Charlie feel curiously
confident that anyone could survive such stupidly. On and on Harvey went, as if
somehow indestructible, or charmed. Charlie assumed that he must fall with
every pace he took, as he watched the lieutenant treat the German wire as just
another hurdle, before running on towards the enemy trenches as if they were
the finishing line in some race being held at his public school. The man got
within twenty yards of the tape before a hail of bullets finally brought him
down. Charlie now found himself in front and began firing at the Germans as
their heads popped up from behind the dugouts.
He
had never heard of anyone actually reaching the German trenches, so he wasn’t
sure what he was supposed to do next, and despite all the training he still found
it hard to shoot on the run. When four Germans and their rifles came up at once
he knew that he was never going to find out. He shot straight at the first one,
who fell back into the trench, but by then he could only watch the other three
take aim. He suddenly became aware of a volley of shots from behind him, and
all three bodies fell back like tin ducks on a rifle range. He realized then
that the winner of the King’s Prize must still be on his feet.
Suddenly
he was in the enemy’s trench and staring down into a young German’s eyes, a
terrified boy even younger than himself. He hesitated only for a moment before
thrusting his bayonet down the middle of the German’s mouth. He pulled the
blade out and drove it home once again, this time into the boy’s heart, then
ran on. Three of his men were now ahead of him, chasing a retreating enemy. At
that moment Charlie spotted Tommy on his right flank pursuing two Germans up a
hill. He disappeared into some trees and Charlie distinctly heard a single shot
somewhere above the noise of battle. He turnd and charged quickly off into the
forest to rescue his friend, only to find a German splayed out on the ground
and Tommy still running on up the hill. A breathless Charlie managed to catch
up with him when he finally came to a halt behind a tree.
“You
were bloody magnificent, Tommy,” said Charlie, throwing himself down by his
side.
“Not
‘elf as good as that officer, what was ‘is name?”
“‘Arvey,
Lieutenant ‘Arvey.”
“In
the end we were both saved by ‘is pistol,”said Tommy, brandishing the weapon. “More
than can be said for that bastard Trentham.”
“What
do you mean?” said Charlie.
“He
funked the German trenches, didn’t ‘e? Bolted off into the forest. Two Germans
saw the coward and chased after ‘im, so I followed. Finished off one of them,
didn’t I.”
“So
where’s Trentham now?”
“Somewhere
up there,” said Tommy, pointing over the brow to the hill. “‘E’ll be ‘icing
from that lone German, no doubt.”
Charlie
stared into the distance.
“So
what now, Corp?”
“We
‘ave to go after that German and kill ‘im before he catches up with the
captain.”
“Why
don’t we just go ‘ome, and ‘ope he finds the captain before I do?” said Tommy.
But
Charlie was already on his feet advancing up the hill.
Slowly
they moved on up the slope, using the trees for protection, watching and
listening until they had reached the top, and open ground.
“No
sign of either of them,” whispered Charlie.
“Agreed.
So we’d better get back behind our lines, because if the Germans catch us I can’t
believe they’ll invite us to join ‘em for tea and crumpets.”
Charlie
took his bearings. Ahead of them was a little church not unlike the many they
had passed on the long route march from Etaples to the front.
“Maybe
we’d better check that church first,” he said, as Tommy reloaded Lieutenant
Harvey’s pistol. “But don’t let’s take any unnecessary risks.”
“What
the ‘elf do you think we’ve been coin’ for the last hour?” asked Tommy.
Inch
by inch, foot by foot, they crawled across the open ground until they reached
the vestry door. Charlie pushed it open slowly, expecting a volley of bullets
to follow, but the loudest sound they heard was the screech of the hinges. Once
inside, Charlie crossed himself the way his grandfather always had when
entering St. Mary’s and St. Michael’s on Jubilee Street. Tommy lit a cigarette.
Charlie
remained cautious as he began to study the layout of the little church. It had
already lost half its roof, courtesy of a German or English shell, while the rest
of the nave and porch remained intact.