Authors: Costeloe Diney
“No, sir. Though it has to be said that there are very few of Captain Hurst’s company left. Those that did return to the lines safely have been reassigned to other units.”
“So there is no one to corroborate what the accused says?”
“No, sir.”
The men at the table made copious notes; indeed Colonel Bridger seemed to be writing everything down verbatim, and kept asking Major Pilton to wait while he did so.
When at last it was Lieutenant Hill’s turn to ask questions of Major Gyles he said, “Were attempts made to contact some of the survivors of Private Carter’s unit?”
“It is very difficult to locate individuals in the present state of affairs,” the major replied evasively.
“So there is no one to say that Captain Hurst did not give the accused a pass to return to Albert immediately after the attack.”
“It is so unlikely as to be almost impossible,” replied Major Gyles. “This is the biggest push of the war. No officer is going to hand out leave, compassionate or otherwise.”
Lieutenant Hill knew he was going to get no further with this, and he was well aware that the colonel was eyeing him with distaste.
“The accused says that he brought in a wounded man, Jimmy Cardle, into a part of the line that he did not recognise. Have you been able to find this man Cardle?”
“He subsequently died of his wounds.”
“And the officer in the trench who gave Carter a shirt and service tunic to replace the one he had left on the wounded man, Sam Gordon?”
“We have not been able to trace any officer who remembers doing this.”
“It is possible,” Lieutenant Hill suggested, “that he too has since been killed.”
“This is pure supposition,” interrupted Colonel Bridger. “Have you any other relevant questions?”
Lieutenant Hill could see that any more questioning was going to do more harm than good, so he said, “No, sir. I’d like the prisoner to give evidence on his own behalf.”
Tom was sworn in and then Lieutenant Hill asked him to explain exactly what had happened in his own words. As he went through it all again, he noticed that the colonel had stopped taking notes and was sitting back in his chair staring at him with his cold grey eyes.
Major Pilton stopped him at one stage and said, casually, “You say that this pass was not with immediate effect? It did not start at once?”
“No, sir,” said Tom. “Captain Hurst said that I could not go until after the attack. He said he didn’t know when it would be, but very soon. He said that when it was over I could be released for forty-eight hours… to get married.” It sounded weak even to his own ears, but Tom went on, “I am an orphanage boy, sir. Never knew my parents. I didn’t want my child to grow up without my name to protect him. Molly and me was going to get married anyway, but I wanted us to be before Molly went home.”
“So,” Major Pilton ignored all that Tom had said, “so your pass was not with effect until the attack was over.”
“No, sir.”
“It is still not over, Carter. The attack has continued ever since the morning you went over the top.”
“Lieutenant Hurst had dated it for the 8th July, sir.”
“Why would he do that, I wonder?” said the prosecutor.
“Because he thought the battle would be over by then, sir. He thought we’d be through the German lines and well dug in, sir, and he would spare me for a couple of days.”
Too many people had believed the same thing and been proved disastrously wrong for this to be a comfortable thought for the major, so he ignored Tom’s answer and continued, “So that was the date on the pass?”
“ Yes, sir. The 8th July, sir.”
“According to what we’ve heard, you were arrested on the morning of the 3rd July.” He paused and then went on softly, “Your leave, if you had leave, did not begin by your own admission until 8th July. Therefore I put it to you that you were Absent Without Leave. You had deserted your comrades, you had deserted your King whilst on Active Service.” A long silence followed his words and then he sat down.
Lieutenant Hill remained seated. He knew he could do no more.
Colonel Bridger got to his feet. “The court will retire and consider its verdict.” Everyone stood rigidly at attention while the tribunal left the room.
“You will wait here, Carter,” ordered Major Pilton, and then having instructed the two military policemen who had remained on either side of the door to guard the prisoner, he left the room, followed by Major Gyles.
Lieutenant Hill looked at Tom. “I did my best for you, Carter, but I think you just condemned yourself.”
“What happens now?” asked Tom fearfully.
“Now they decide whether you are guilty or not. If not, you will be released at once and returned to your regiment. If guilty, they’ll want to know more about you and your character.” He got to his feet and followed the other two officers out of the room, disliking the job he’d had to do, feeling that he hadn’t done it very well and angry that he’d been asked to do it in the first place.
It was half an hour before the officers returned to the courtroom. Tom had spent the time slumped in a chair with one military policeman by the open window, the other beside the door. When the officers came back in Sergeant Tucker rasped out, “Prisoner, attention!”
Tom leapt to his feet and stood to attention as the two majors and Lieutenant Hill took their places, followed almost immediately by the tribunal.
When everyone was in place, Colonel Bridger looked slowly round the room, before he said, “Private Carter, we have listened very carefully to all the evidence in this regrettable affair, both against you and in your defence. However, at present the court has no findings to announce.” He looked across at Major Pilton. “What is known about this man, Major? Do we have anything from his commanding officer?”
“Colonel Johnson was unable to attend, sir, however he sent this statement to be read in court.” The major took a sheet of paper from his table and read, “ ‘Private Thomas Carter volunteered in October 1914 and has served with B company of this battalion since he was posted here in May 1915. He has been a trusted soldier, used on several occasions as part of a raiding party because of his courage and reliability. On one occasion he brought in a comrade who had been wounded on such a raid, when he was already wounded himself. He was not sent home, but this resulted in a stay in hospital here in France. Once he was pronounced fit for duty he returned to his battalion and continued to serve willingly. He was granted seventy-two hours’ local leave in March from which he returned promptly. I have not come into personal contact with Private Carter, but this report is based on information both from his service record and from officers under whom he has served. Unfortunately nearly all the officers and NCOs by whom he was best known have recently been killed in action, and so there is no close, first-hand knowledge of him. Private Carter appears to have been a brave and loyal soldier. It is a great shock to hear of the very serious charges laid against him now.’ It is signed, James Johnson, Lieutenant Colonel. 1st Belshire Light Infantry.”
“No other evidence as to this man’s character?” asked Colonel Bridger.
“No, sir.”
“Lieutenant Hill, have you anything more to say on the prisoner’s behalf?”
The young officer stood up and cleared his throat nervously, “Just to say, sir, that this evidence of good character from Colonel Johnson, seems to bear out some of the things the accused said, sir. He has been wounded himself in the service of the king, he has rescued at least one, he says two, wounded men from no-man’s-land. He is not a coward, sir, he has never run away from his duty before. I suggest to you, sir that he did not do so wilfully this time, but under the misapprehension that he had leave to come to Albert for forty-eight hours, leave given even at this desperate time, compassionate leave, because it was a family matter. Private Carter had no intention of remaining at large, sir, and once he had married his fiancée, he would have returned to his unit immediately. I ask you sir, to take all this into consideration when coming to your sentence, sir.” Lieutenant Hill sat down again and Colonel Bridger turned to Tom.
“Well, Carter, have you anything to say for yourself?”
Tom said, “Yes, sir, please sir.” He drew a deep breath. He knew as he had not been declared Not Guilty that they had found him guilty, but he also knew he had not yet been sentenced. “Everything I have told you is true. If you must find me guilty, sir, I beg you to find me guilty of being absent without leave. I didn’t desert, sir.” Tom spoke earnestly, his eyes fixed on the colonel. “I wouldn’t never desert my mates. I wouldn’t never desert my king. I joined up as soon as I could to do my bit, like, and I wouldn’t give up, sir, not till the war is over. I rescued my mate, Harry, and he died. I brought in Jimmy Cardle and he died. If nothing else I owe them Germans for them, sir. I didn’t desert.”
The colonel listened impassively to Tom’s outburst and then said, “The proceedings in open court are terminated.”
Tom was marched back to the cell where he had been kept before, and Lieutenant Hill came to see him once more.
“I’m afraid they’ve found you guilty,” he said. “I hope what your CO said about you will work in your favour. You’ll be kept here until sentence is decided and confirmed.”
Tom looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Are they going to shoot me?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Carter,” the lieutenant replied.
It was another ten days before Tom heard the sentence of the court. Those days had passed exactly as the ones before the court martial. He thought of Molly, wondering continually where she was and what had happened to her. He had not heard from her for three weeks and he was desperate for news of her. She must have gone home to England, Tom decided. His letter would be following her, forwarded by Sarah. Surely she would write as soon as she could? Each day he hoped for mail, but each day he was disappointed. He wrote again himself, but he said almost nothing about his predicament. There was no need to worry her yet, so he simply told her how much he loved her and how, when the war was over, he, she and the baby would be the most wonderful family. He had no news about the progress of the battle, still grinding on after the initial push. He could hear the guns, still pounding away at distant targets, but he knew nothing of the gains and losses sustained on the ground beneath the exploding shells and vicious shrapnel.
The military police who guarded him were taciturn and seldom answered any of his questions with more than a grunt. Sergeant Tucker was a little more forthcoming. “It’s hell out there,” he said, “and we ain’t getting nowhere.”
At last Tucker came in one afternoon, bringing a bucket of warm water with him. He said, “Hot water, Carter, get scrubbed up. You’re going to HQ.”
With dread in his heart, Tom duly washed and shaved. If he was going to HQ then it must mean that his sentence was about to be promulgated. He was marched over to the villa and made to wait in the room where the court martial had been held. As before two MPs waited with him until the door opened and the adjutant, Major Rawlins, came in, followed by an RAMC captain and the young battalion chaplain, wearing a dog collar with his uniform.
Tom stood to attention and the adjutant looked him up and down. The major was a good-looking man in a craggy sort of way, though his face was pale and drawn, with wide-set eyes of a chocolate brown and framed with crisp, dark hair. The chocolate eyes surveyed Tom now.
“Private 8523241 Thomas Carter, I have to tell you that the court martial convened to hear the case of your desertion from the ranks, has after hearing all the facts, found you guilty as charged. Desertion is a despicable crime, leaving your fellows to take up your slack. It is the sentence of the court that you should be taken out before a squad of your comrades and shot. This sentence has been referred to officers at every level and has finally been confirmed by the Commander in Chief himself. Mitigating circumstances have been considered, but none have been found sufficient to commute the sentence. I speak for all the 1st Belshires when I say that we are ashamed that one of our number should have so failed his friends, his regiment and his king. The sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning at first light.”
Tom felt the strength drain out of him like water through a colander. His head spun and his knees felt like jelly. He stared at the pale, craggy face and knew that all colour had drained from his own. He reached for the back of the chair beside him and, gripping it, managed to remain on his feet.
“You will remain here over night. If you require the services of a padre, Lieutenant Smalley will stay with you.”
Tom found his voice and said huskily, “The Colonel wrote in his report that I was a loyal and courageous soldier, sir. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“It means that it is a great pity that you degenerated into a deserter, Carter, and left your comrades in the lurch,” the adjutant replied, and after one more piercing look, he turned on his heel and left the room.
The RAMC captain said gruffly, “You’d better sit down, Carter.”
Tom slumped onto the chair and buried his head in his hands. Tears started in his eyes and he gave a sob. His life, which he had risked so willingly in the front line over the months he had been there, was now to be taken from him. His death was not to be in the service of his king and country, for a just and noble cause, but an ignominious death, dealt out by his own comrades. These thoughts came to him in a jumble and confusion, forcing their way into his numbed brain, but his over-riding thoughts were for Molly. She would never marry him now. Their child would never know its father, would believe him to be a coward and deserter. He’d never had a family, and now he never would.
“Oh Molly,” he moaned in his misery. “Oh Molly!”
He felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the concerned face of the young padre.
“I’ll leave you to it, Padre,” said the MO. “I’ll come back if you need me.”
“There’s a room for you upstairs,” the padre said quietly. “Take Private Carter up,” he ordered the two MPs who still stood by the door.