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

“No, General. We are bound for Irelandnext month. Garrison there. Ourselves for the Curragh and the Twelfth for Cork.”

“Ah, well. We cannot all serve where the gloryis.”

The Major did not seem much comforted bythat reflection, though he did think they would eat better in Ireland.

Wincanton gravitated to Richard’s side inthe Mess later. He had been uncharacteristically quiet, Richard thought, hardlysaying a word over dinner, unlike his normal braying self.

“It’s not like real soldiering, is it,sir? I don’t think they know what it means to have stood in a trench. I am not tosay I am the best of soldiers, sir. I do have some idea of what is what,though.”

“You do, Wincanton. Your Mention issufficient evidence of that. A pity there is no ribbon for a Mention. Thereshould be something. It is a recognition of gallantry and should be displayedwith pride.”

Richard deliberately spoke just loud enoughto be overheard. The word spread quickly that the staff lieutenant had an awardfor gallantry, caused an amount of irritation among the younger men who now suspectedthat he had remained silent in their company for looking down on them.

The Major was heard to say that it made sense– an officer with Baker’s record would want fighting men about him.

“Might be one of the ‘boy brigadiers’ – thegilded youth, and all that - but nobody can argue his prowess. Don’t know howold he is, mark you – could be a youthful forty, which is still young for therank. Personally, I suspect he’s no more than thirty.”

Wincanton was into his second brandy, morethan sufficient to breach the bounds of discretion in his case, his head beingweak for alcohol as well.

“He is twenty-one, Major. Just. He looks olderfor having the years at sea before coming out to Flanders. That puts years onall of us.”

“I might have thought that he would have neededmore experience before reaching his rank.”

“Experience of what, Major? He has beenout since August ’14, almost unbroken. Nobody can have more experience thanthat. Not of the war we are fighting now.”

The word ‘we’ did not go down well – it seemedto imply there were those who fought and lesser souls who did not. Wincanton wasunaware he had caused offence, finished his brandy and thought he might be wisenot to take a third. Richard noticed him wave a mess waiter away, was surprisedby the evidence of maturity.

“Don’t see much in the way of brandy inthe Trenches, you know. No head for alcohol, these days – not like you chapswho can sit in a Mess every night!”

Conversation was strained after that.

The visiting pair retired early, pleadinga long day of travelling and too many disturbed nights prior.

Richard slept badly, the bed too comfortable,the room too warm.

They breakfasted together, made their farewellsand boarded the front vehicles of the waiting convoy.

There were two staff cars and four lorrieslined up. Paisley and Braithwaite’s batmen threw their half a dozen suitcases andtheir own kitbags aboard the first lorry, waited for the other three to fill up,wondering who else was coming with them.

Major Danby enquired if the rest of theirbaggage was following behind.

“I remember going down to Cape Town, sir,as a captain. I had eight trunks and the general must have had sixteen! Quitefilled the hold, the sailors told me, all of us together!”

Braithwaite had little patience early inthe morning.

“Did the same myself, in that war, Danby.This is a different kettle of fish! In the line, one requires a pair of workinguniforms and nothing more. Behind, in the rear areas, one needs a little morebut certainly no great mass of dress and undress and parade and ceremonial andball dress as one did at peace. Those days are gone, major. We are a fightingarmy now, concerned more with killing the Hun than looking pretty! Good day toyou now. Thank you for your hospitality.”

The three vehicles drove off, leaving theremainder to return to their workshop.

“Bloody trunks, Baker!”

“Two separate armies, sir. Those of us whohave been out and those who have not. Idling in Ireland! Complaining becausethere are no more than five courses for dinner! I would like to have seen Danbysitting down to lukewarm mutton stew as his whole dinner!”

“Very much so, Baker! Glad we are to be ata distance. Had we remained in Aldershot we should inevitably have been invitedto Guest Nights with them. No doubt we shall have to put up with that sort ofthing in Arborfield – bound to be more formality than we have enjoyed inFlanders. Not to worry! You will need to learn the ropes for the post-war Army.I presume you will stay in?”

“Probably, sir. Depends to an extent on Primrose.She may have plans for me. Provided they are not too outrageous – and I trust hergood sense – I shall fall in with them. Be happy to, in fact. What of you, sir?”

“I think my lady wants me out, Baker. Wehave an estate to care for and she has some substantial holdings of her own –shares and things. I think she has it in mind that we shall make a splash inthe City and in the West End after the war. If that is what she wants – well andgood! Like you, Baker, I am lucky in my lady.”

There was a parade awaiting them as they reachedArborfield, a telephone call from Aldershot giving the timing.

The Adjutant of the battalion greetedthem, addressing General Braithwaite.

“First Battalion, NorthamptonshireShoemakers, sir. A ‘pals’ battalion. Major Portman acting in command.”

“Whose brigade?”

“Brigadier Baker’s, sir. Six battalions,two brigades, in the barracks here, sir. The remaining brigade is in the oldbarracks at Reading, sir. Not too far distant.”

“Good. Let’s have a look at them.”

The better part of eight hundred men in theirranks, mostly young, below the age of twenty, all fit and healthy, the medicallyunsuitable weeded out. They presented well, smartly uniformed, rifles clean andheld properly. The sergeants were older men, most with ten or more years in,gleaned from the old professional Army.

“Good looking battalion you have here,Portman. Are the others in the barracks the match of them?”

“Pretty much, yes, sir. Two of them are smallermen,