The Death of Hope by Andrew Wareham (inspirational books for women txt) 📕

South Africa or Australia or to visit relativesin the United States.”

“Not the sort we need out here, Colonel.We can do without them.”

“We wouldn’t see them in any event, Caton.If they finally deign to don khaki it will be with staff officers’ tabs. None ofthat particular sort will be spotted at our sides!”

They agreed, signalling to a mess waiterfor refills.

“You hear the songs the men sing in thedugouts, Colonel, off duty, in privacy, more or less. Some of them are the oldones from the Boer War and before. The newer sort are a damned sight lesspolite and some are very pointed.”

“I don’t hear them, in the nature ofthings, Caton. I appear in the trench and the whisper goes ahead of me.”

They laughed, knowing that to be true. Thefirst sight of the Colonel led to the word being passed so that the Crown andAnchor boards could be hidden and the pontoon schools could tuck their stakesaway, gambling being unlawful. The men were sure that Richard would turn the blindeye, thought it only polite to save him the bother.

“Do the men sing much, Caton?”

“A few have good voices, were always usedto sing in the church halls or down at the Sally Ann or in the local pubs.”

“Sally Ann?”

“Salvation Army – very popular for teachingreading and writing and a bit more, getting the boys who want to learn ready togo to evening classes. Surprising just how many wanted to better themselves andhad few places to go for help. Add to that, always a cup of tea at the Citadeland a few pretty girls to talk to. If you were musical, they would teach aninstrument or put you in their choir, no great worry about what you did onSunday either.”

Richard added that to his store of knowledge.His experience of the Salvation Army had been to see their brass band at adistance and avoid it.

“Those who have a voice are forever singing– the men like it, most of them. Passes an evening, listening to the old songs.Funny thing is, the old sweats all of them want the Boer War songs – I am sureI hear ‘Sarie Marais’ at least once a week.”

That was new to Richard.

Vokes agreed it was popular, one of thebetter songs even if it was Dutchy.

“It’s the new songs I don’t like so much, Colonel.‘They were only playing Leapfrog’ you hear every night and that is definitelycrude!”

“Heard it at a distance, not to pick up allof the words.”

Vokes obliged, croaking in a brokenbaritone.

‘They were only playing leapfrog,

They were only playing leapfrog,

They were only playing leapfrog,

When one staff-officer jumped right overanother staff-officer’s back!’

“Oh! Not especially subtle, is it?”

“Anything but, Colonel!”

“Can’t forbid it – any attempt to ban itwould make it far more popular and would make an unnecessary act of defianceout of it. Just hope it dies away. You don’t hear ‘Von Kluck’ now. Perhaps allthese things get old hat after a while.”

Major Vokes had never heard ‘Von Kluck’.Caton had and enlightened him.

“Oh, I say! Not what we want to hearshouted out. Not at all!”

Wincanton had drifted within hearingrange, offered a little valuable information.

“Still the catchword in the 3rdBattalion, Major. If a man drops something they still say ‘Von Kluck it’.Apparently one of their officers said it in August ’14. You were there, Colonel.Do you know how it started?”

Richard was sure the question wasinnocent, that Wincanton was not prodding him.

“Yes, Wincanton. Started when my companywas first put into the line in Belgium, the 3rd trying to holdagainst six battalions with field artillery. There was a lot of swearing thatmorning.”

They said no more, simply adding anotherstory to his name.

Chapter Eleven

“Torpedoes,forty degrees on the starboard bow!”

“Coxswain!”

Simon jumped across to the cord thatactivated the steam siren, three double tugs, the emergency signal to the half-flotillato follow his lead to comb the tracks of torpedoes, to turn bows on so as tolessen the target. He stumbled as Lancelot rolled deep under full rudder,grabbing at a handrail as McCracken bellowed down the voicepipe to the engineroom.

“Emergency speed!”

He stared ahead as the ship came back tolevel keel, picked out four torpedo tracks parallel to each other, the nearesta good ten yards abeam. If the three ships behind were alert and followed himprecisely, as he expected them to, they would all miss.

Four torpedoes – that said a destroyer nota submarine, off their bows and waiting, already in the sights and them closingto point blank range with only the bow guns bearing.

“Hard aport! Engage destroyers starboardbeam.”

He whooped the siren again, three single blasts,code for surface ship action.

Guns flared off the starboard bow and fiveinch shells landed alongside, five ships in line abreast and closing fast.Without the last-second turn, those shells would have all been hits. The threefour inchers and the thirty-seven mil were firing fast over open sights, shouldbe landing some shells home, further reducing the German accuracy. They had achance of surviving now.

A five inch exploded in the forecastle, penetratingthe deck and blowing in the men’s messes, empty at action stations. A firestarted – there were wooden tables and benches there as well as the contents ofthe men’s lockers. The First Lieutenant ran to take charge of the damagecontrol party.

Simon heard the cough of compressed air amidships,knew that Rees had seen a target for his torpedoes, had fired on his owninitiative, as were the instructions for action.

There was a loud explosion astern, on oneof the three behind him, taking the bulk of the shellfire as they passed theGerman destroyers on opposite course.

“Lightning, sir. Hit amidships. On fire.Ready use blowing.”

Strachan came running back to the bridge.

“Fire extinguished, sir. Lost the crew tothe forward four inch. Splinters. Gun is u/s, sir.”

“Bring her round to starboard, Coxswain,across the sterns of the Hun.”

The German destroyers were three to fiveknots faster than Lancelot, depending on their class. There was no point toattempting to chase, them, particularly with no forward gun. The shapes weredisappearing already, guns falling silent for lack of targets.

An explosion out in the dark, a torpedowarhead blowing.

“Bring us onto the torpedoed ship,Coxswain.”

Two minutes and they smelt fuel oil,slowed to look for survivors, found a