The Death of Hope by Andrew Wareham (inspirational books for women txt) 📕
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- Author: Andrew Wareham
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“The Guards were always used to recruit there.Tall men in those parts for some reason. You have no colonel?”
“Coming in this week, sir. Sick list afterthe Dardanelles.”
“Knows his way around, then. What of yourMess? How many with experience of France?”
“None of us, sir. Myself and one captain whosaw the Boxers. That’s it. The bulk are no more experienced than the men. Samein all of the brigades, I am told, sir.”
“Explains why they sent us across, Portman.A good parade. Thank you.”
The formal exchange of salutes commencedand the general withdrew and the men marched off to put on working uniforms andreturn to the hard slog of drill and practice in the butts.
Richard wanted to see his own people.
“What is my brigade, do you know, Portman?”
“Us and Princess Patricia’s Isle of WightRifles; Twelfth Wiltshires – Moonrakers, that is, sir.”
“Princess Patricia’s…”
“Yes, sir. Apparently, Her Highness hassome connection with the Island, sir. They are Hampshires, I think. Theircolonel has a slight lisp.”
The three maintained straight faces.
“How very unfortunate, Portman! We should notmock the afflicted!”
“Of course not, sir.”
General and Brigadier parted company, eachled by a warrant officer to his set of offices and his personal quarters andthen to meet his immediate juniors.
The offices had been recently and quicklyconstructed, were little more than waterproof huts, each big enough for a dozendesks. The senior officers had their separate rooms, all furnished to theofficial pattern and with an anteroom for the staff.
“Messing, sir. Brigadier is to dine in hisown quarters for weekends and two days, rotating around his three Messes forluncheon and Dining In with each once a week. Your quarters are one of thehouses over on the Reading road, sir, about a quarter of a mile distant.”
The Dining in was a nuisance, demandingtoo much formality, useful for bringing him into contact with the officers ofeach battalion.
“I shall pay fees to each Mess, of course.”
The warrant officer made no comment – eachbrigadier had his own habits.
“Are you in charge of my people, WO?”
“No, sir. I am a Moonraker, sir. Reachedretirement age in ’14, sir, and was asked to stay on and get the new battalionsup and running. When you go across to France, I shall be sent to another newbattalion, sir, or to assist with the training of the conscripts, who are to besent out to existing battalions in France rather than be made into their ownbattalions. I was refused for active service because of age, sir.”
“Wet, cold and muddy – it is no place fora man who has done his twenty years already.”
“So they tell me, sir. I have survived themud in West Africa and the cold in China, sir. Take more than that to put medown.”
“What’s your name?”
“Freeman, sir.”
“Speak to me just before we go out in May,Freeman, if you are still of the same mind. I will arrange something.”
“Thank you, sir. Have you a warrantofficer for your cadre, sir?”
“Coming in from France tomorrow. One of myBedfordshires.”
“Very good, sir. I shall show him theropes. Luncheon with the Dorsets today, sir. All of the Brigade’s field officerswill be present.”
“Very good. Pass the word, please, that Iexpect working dress to breakfast and luncheon, Monday to Friday.”
“Habit has been to wear mess dress, sir,except when the battalion has been out on a route march. Once a week, that is.”
“A full fifteen miles in five hours with sixtypound pack and rifle?”
“Not quite, sir.”
“Pass the whisper, if you would, Freeman.Let it not come as too great a surprise.”
“The men will be able to handle it, sir.”
Richard noticed the lack of reference toofficers.
“I suspect I must march along with thecolumns myself, Freeman.”
The warrant officer permitted himself aquick smile.
“That could offer a fine example, sir.Provided, of course, sir…”
“That I managed a full fifteen miles andstill looked chipper at the end?”
Freeman left to pass the word that theyhad a soldier in command – a proper hard bastard, too!
Richard took to the telephone, reached thebutler at Lord Elkthorn’s London house.
“Miss Patterson is out at the moment, sir.Shopping, one understands. She is due to attend an afternoon performance, amatinee of Joy-Land, in support of the Soldier’s Fund, sir. She is to dine herethis evening. Might I suggest a call at seven o’clock, sir?”
Richard agreed – one did not argue with butlers,he had learned that.
Primrose was delighted, more with his presencein England than with the promotion.
“I am here till May. Taking the Brigadeacross to Flanders then. I can take four weeks in late February or March andApril. Would you wish us to wed then?”
She would, at some length.
“I can get to London on Saturday andSunday. Can you put me up or must I use a hotel?”
A hotel was wiser, she thought, removingthem both from temptation.
“It is only January now – I must not risk asix months child, Richard!”
He agreed that would cause an upset inSociety, was amused that she could discuss such an eventuality so calmly. Healso noticed that she was looking forward to getting into a bed with him; hewas in favour of that.
“A date for our wedding, my love?”
“I shall discuss all with my esteemedparents, Richard. We can come to an exact conclusion on Saturday.”
Three months passed rapidly, chasing hiscolonels, discovering two of them to be experienced in the new ways of war, oneto be hopelessly out of contact with reality.
Colonels Moncur and Barnard-Hope had seenhow modern war was fought, Moncur having just recovered from wounds taken at theDardanelles. Barnard-Hope had been sent back from Flanders to give the benefitof his sixteen months of experience. Appleby had spent the war in garrison inLiverpool, recruiting Lancashire mill-hands and eating dinners with the local gentry;he was distinctly plump.
“Parade ground is the place for the men,sir! Learning to counter-march and form their files to left and right, columnto line to square – that’s the way to do it!”
“We don’t have parades in the trenches,Appleby. No room for them.”
“Ah, yes, sir! Perfectly correct! Thething is, parades and drill teach the men obedience! That’s what they need!”
Appleby’s every sentence came
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