No Man's Land

by Reginald Hill

  Denial ignored this.

  ‘It’s important to resist at all points,’ he said. ‘If the German breakthrough keeps up its momentum, they’ll be in Paris next week, the French’ll cave in, and we’ll all be pushed into the sea. Every obstacle they meet is important; every ounce of resistance vital.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then Viney began to laugh. He laughed loud and long and with an unmistakably genuine amusement.

  ‘You don’t give up,’ he finally spluttered through his laughter. ‘You’re a different race, you jokers, you really are! Can’t you get it into your heads? We don’t care! That’s what getting out and running off means. We don’t bloody care!

  Denial was unmoved by the outburst.

  He said, ‘I presume you care about each other? Not all of you are in a fit state to think of running again. Or don’t you care about that either, Sergeant?’

  ‘Well, sport,’ said Viney reflectively, ‘we’re one of the younger regiments, Viney’s Volunteers, and we haven’t quite developed those fine old regimental traditions like you redcaps. Mind you, we don’t go in much for beating poor swaddies with “Mr Dunlop” either, or making ’em run on the spot in full battle order till they drop, or keeping ’em standing outside the docks till they miss their leave-boat! No, we haven’t learnt them fucking tricks yet!’

  ‘Viney, the plane is going,’ interrupted Nelson, staring through the hole in the roof. ‘The Jerries’ll be back soon.’

  Lothar who had been helping Nicole attend to Josh looked up from the young couple towards Viney. All the other Volunteers, including the terror-stricken Fox, were regarding the big Australian expectantly too.

  He did not speak. They heard the aeroplane engine pass overhead and fade away towards the west, and still he did not speak.

  ‘Viney!’ said Lothar urgently. ‘The young people …’

  ‘Viney!’ exploded the big man ‘Don’t you bastards know anything else? That’s all I ever hear. Viney! Viney,

  make it better! Viney, pick us up! Viney, get us through! Viney, stop the fucking war!’

  He seemed to swell even bigger as he spoke, his arms reaching out menacingly, his fists clenched, his face working with a terrible rage. But Lothar realized with a cold sickness in his stomach that these were the gestures and the ragings of despair.

  ‘It’s all right, Viney,’ he said softly. ‘It’s all right. It’s not your fault.’

  But the Australian’s attention had been diverted.

  ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ he bellowed.

  Denial was stooping over Maggs and trying to raise him up.

  ‘As you’ve made it clear that you’ve no intention of acting like soldiers,’ he said contemptuously, ‘and as I’ve no desire to stay and see what other disgusting course of action you can work out, I’m going to get the only real man here to a doctor.’

  Some feeling had returned to Maggs’s upper body and he could once more move his arms, but from the waist down he was still completely paralysed and his lanky form was a dead weight.

  Viney watched Denial’s efforts to raise him and said, ‘You suit yourself, sport. It’s a long bloody walk.’

  Lothar said, ‘Walk?’

  His gaze met Viney’s.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ cried the Australian. ‘The motorbike!’

  He rushed towards the door. Denial let Maggs slip back to the floor.

  ‘Viney!’ he cried.

  Viney stopped and turned. Denial had his revolver out and aimed.

  ‘You bastard. You miserable cowardly bastard!’ said Denial.

  He saw the big man look at him in puzzlement, saw a smile begin to pull at his lips, saw him open his mouth to reply, and suddenly he wanted to see and hear no more.

  ‘You’re not leaving anyone to die this time,’ he cried.

  He squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked in his hand. Viney spun away, but did not fall. He squeezed again but Lothar’s diving figure bore him to the ground and the second bullet flew high.

  ‘You fool! You madman!’ cried Lothar. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Me mad?’ gasped Denial, unresisting as Lothar dragged the pistol from his grip. ‘It’s you that’s mad. He was running off. He was going to escape on the bike, couldn’t you see that?’

  ‘No!’ cried Lothar. ‘It is for the children we want the bike, for the girl here, Nicole, and for Josh.’

  Something dripped on to Denial’s face. He turned his head and realized it was blood. Viney was standing over him, his right arm shattered by the first revolver bullet and blood was dripping steadily from the wound.

  Lothar rose and started to examine the arm. It was bad. The bullet had passed right through the biceps, shattering the bone and exiting at a downward angle just above the elbow.

  ‘Viney,’ he said. ‘It is a bad wound. There’s little I can do except try to stop the bleeding.’

  In fact he was amazed that the big man could remain standing and show no pain.

  ‘Do that then, Fritz,’ said Viney. ‘This joker’s ruined my butterfly, hasn’t he? Right through the middle of it.’

  Quickly Lothar got a length of bandage and bound it above the wound, twisting tight till the flow of blood slackened to a thin oozing. Viney’s eyes never left Denial’s face during this process.

  ‘It wasn’t because you thought I was running, sport, was it?’ he said finally. ‘I could see it in your face, It was because of that nurse.’

  Denial nodded. It wasn’t the total truth, but it was so much of the truth that argument was not worthwhile, not now, not with the end so close.

  ‘I’m sorry about the nurse, believe me,’ said Viney. ‘I meant her no harm. Not that that’s much help. There’s millions dying out there and no one means them any harm. That’ll do, Fritz. It’s not to last long, for fuck’s sake! Get out there and see if that bike’s still in one piece.’

  Lothar hurried to the door.

  Hepworth said, ‘You ever ridden a mo’bike with one arm, Viney.’

  ‘Me? No. I wasn’t going anyway. I’d stick out like an abo at the governor-general’s garden party down there. Up here where the shit’s flying, this is my kind of place, sport.’

  He spoke with a kind of sad satisfaction.

  ‘Who then, Viney?’ said Hepworth. ‘I’d like to oblige, but I’m tied up just now. Nelson?’

  Fox seized hold of Nelson’s tunic as if he would hold him back by main force and the Londoner shook his bald head.

  ‘Not me, mate,’ he said. ‘Never ridden anything but the old lady in my life. Besides, there’s no future back there for me. If I could talk my way into a couple of years chokey, I might think about it, but it’s the firing squad certain for me. I never told anyone before, but last thing I did before slinging my hook was open this officer’s gut with my bayonet. He was a right bastard, caught me sleeping on sentry, said he was going to make sure I got court-martialled. Well, they shoot you for that, don’t they? So I thought: Fuck it! and slipped it into his belly neat as you like. It didn’t seem any more than jointing a carcase at the time, but not a day’s passed since without me wishing I hadn’t done it. He was a bastard, but I wish I hadn’t.’

  He patted Fox’s shoulder comfortingly and laughed. ‘And now I’ve got one of me own,’ he said. ‘Never knew them bastards could be scared too. Never guessed it!’

  Lothar returned.

  ‘Yes, it is a miracle, the bike is untouched except that it is covered in dust. God willing, it will start. Viney, Josh can travel in the sidecar, Nicole on the pillion.’

  The girl looked up at the mention of her name and Lothar quickly translated for her, bringing a dawning hope into her eyes.

  Viney said, ‘But who’s to drive the thing, Fritz?’

  Lothar looked around the ruined barn. Nelson shook his head and turned away. Viney said, ‘Looks like you’re elected, Fritz, no opposition.’

  ‘No,’ said Lothar. ‘You are wrong. There is someone else.’

  Vin
ey followed his gaze to Denial.

  ‘Him?’ he cried. ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘No,’ said Lothar. ‘I might get them down to Barne-court, but there will be English soldiers down there. A German out of uniform riding a military policeman’s bike! There is no chance. It needs someone with real authority.’

  ‘Aye, he’s got that right enough,’ said Hepworth. ‘And what makes you think he’ll not use it by locking Josh up under close arrest first chance he gets?’

  ‘Perhaps he will. At least it will be a chance,’ said Lothar.

  ‘I can see them Jerries moving again,’ said Nelson, who was peering carefully through the breached wall. ‘They’ll be on their way once they’re certain that plane’s not just hiding in a cloud.’

  Viney said, ‘What about it, Denial? You willing?’

  The captain glanced towards Sergeant-Major Maggs, who shook his head and said, ‘Don’t bother about me, sir. I’m knackered, I reckon. I’ll never stand my full height again and if I can’t do that, I reckon I’d as lief see an end to it here.’

  ‘Come on, man, for Christ’s sake!’ urged Viney. ‘There ain’t no time to consult a military manual.’

  Denial rose and dusted himself down.

  ‘You should understand, Sergeant,’ he said steadily. ‘I will not compromise on doing my duty.’

  ‘That’s up to you, mate,’ said Viney. ‘Here.’

  He pulled something out of his pocket.

  ‘If it’ll help you any, these are the boy’s dog-tags. Name of Routledge. Age about eighteen. Never harmed a soul in his life. He had a brother. They shot him for telling an officer to piss-off or some such deadly crime.’

  ‘Routledge,’ murmured Denial. Across his mind flashed an image of a slack-limbed, ashen-faced youth bound to a kitchen chair. Could it possibly be …?

  ‘And that’s it,’ continued Viney. ‘Me, not being a greedy fellow, would reckon that one execution a family’s enough, even for his gracious bloody Majesty. But I’m probably wrong. Incidentally, he can’t talk. He’s got papers on him saying he’s Auguste Gilbert, medically discharged from the French Army. And the girl’s in the family way, isn’t that right, Fritz?’

  Lothar, full of misgivings now that his idea was being carried out, nodded his head dumbly.

  ‘Fritz,’ said Viney. ‘While the captain’s making up his sodding mind, get young Josh there into that sidecar.’

  Lothar helped the boy to his feet. He looked very tired and ill, but was fully conscious and he smiled at the German and tried to say, ‘Lott’. Nicole steadied him from the other side and the trio moved slowly to the door. As they passed Viney, he raised his good arm and laid his hand on Josh’s curly mop.

  ‘It’ll be right, son,’ he said. ‘You’ll see. Any trouble, just call on Viney. I’ll be around somewhere.’

  Josh nodded, his face solemn. Then they moved on and out of the door.

  Denial had watched without expression. Now he suddenly stooped down over Maggs and shook the man by the hand.

  ‘Goodbye, Sergeant-Major,’ he said.

  Straightening up, he looked round the room and nodded curtly, then made for the door.

  ‘Denial,’ called Viney, coming after him. The movement obviously set pain shooting up his shattered arm and his face was grey.

  ‘Denial,’ he said in a low voice, standing close to him. ‘Back in Aussie there’s a kid with my name. Not mine, but that don’t matter so much now, somehow. Tell my wife it was OK. Wrap it up somehow, you’ll have the words. And if there’s any way of squeezing any money out of the sodding army for them, that’d be a laugh. Look, here’s a letter, it’s got the address and everything.’

  He took the much creased and tattered letter out of his pocket and pressed it into Denial’s hand.

  Denial nodded and said, ‘I’ll do what I can. I’m sorry about your arm.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ said Viney. And then with a sudden reversion to his most ferocious and terrifying manner he added, ‘One thing more, Denial. Don’t count on me not dropping by some day to check on just how you did your precious duty!’

  ‘No,’ said Denial. ‘I’ll not count on that.’

  ‘Viney, the bastards are on the move!’ cried Nelson urgently.

  ‘OK, Captain, bugger off, quick as you can!’ said Viney as Lothar returned.

  ‘They’re on the bike,’ he said. ‘The buildings will protect you for a little way. After that, you will be in the open for several hundred yards till you drop below the ridge.’

  Denial pushed past him and disappeared from sight.

  Lothar said, ‘What will he do, Viney? Will Josh be all right?’

  ‘He’s getting the best deal we can give him, Fritz,’ said Viney.

  Behind them, Maggs laughed scornfully.

  ‘You’re dafter than you look, Digger!’ he said. ‘The captain’d turn in his own brother if he’d broken military law!’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Viney with surprising mildness. ‘Now let’s give the bastard some covering fire, shall we? Come on, Fritz.’

  Under Viney’s direction and with the fit helping the wounded, they took up their defensive positions along the breached wall. Maggs was propped up with his back against a pile of rubble and a rifle in his hands. Hepworth lay sprawled on his belly, also with a rifle. A thin ribbon of blood was unwinding slowly from his wounded leg. Fox had rejected the offer of a weapon with a cry of fear and he lay alongside Nelson with his head crushed against the bald man’s chest.

  While this disposition was taking place, they heard the kick-start of the motorbike being operated two or three times without the engine catching.

  ‘I hope that bastard knows how to work that thing,’ said Viney, sinking down beside Lothar.

  The German had a rifle. Viney was armed with Denial’s reloaded pistol and three grenades.

  ‘The dust, it may have got into the engine,’ said Lothar pessimistically. ‘Perhaps I should go and try to help.’

  As if in answer, they heard the engine suddenly burst into life. The oncoming Germans heard it too for suddenly there was a ferocious burst of fire.

  ‘All right, sports,’ yelled Viney. ‘Let ’em have it.’

  The defenders loosed off a series of ragged volleys and almost instantly were hit by return fire which made the previous burst seem inconsequential. They all pressed themselves as close to the ground as possible except for Sergeant-Major Maggs who in his upright position was particularly vulnerable. When the hail of bullets died away and they cautiously raised their eyes, they saw that the sergeant-major had been hit in the head. The top of his skull was almost entirely blown away.

  ‘Now he’s really got a red cap,’ said Viney. ‘Fritz, I didn’t notice you firing.’

  Lothar shook his head.

  ‘I could not,’ he said simply. ‘These are my own people.’

  ‘So they are, too.’

  ‘Have they got away, do you think, Viney?’ Lothar asked.

  ‘God knows. Are you going to look? I’m not!’

  Lothar shook his head.

  ‘Sometimes it is best not to know things,’ he said.

  ‘You can say that again. Here, if you’re not going to shoot, at least make yourself useful by reloading this thing for me.’

  Lothar took the revolver and reloaded it.

  ‘I’m sorry I cannot shoot with you,’ he said. ‘But it will make little difference in the end, I think. Though even if I thought it would, I do not think I would change my mind.’

  Viney nodded understandingly as he retrieved the pistol.

  ‘Life’s full of hard choices, Fritz, my son,’ he said. ‘Could you turn your head a bit to the left, mebbe?’

  Puzzled, Lothar obeyed. In a short savage movement, Viney brought the pistol barrel crashing down on the exposed neck.

  The German twitched violently in every limb, then became slack.

  ‘What the fuck are you up to, Viney?’ yelled Hepworth. 388

  ‘No need for us all to g
et killed, Heppy,’ said the Australian. ‘Here, Nelson, give us a hand.’

  Nelson slithered back, despite cries of protest from the quivering Fox. Under Viney’s instructions he bound Lothar’s hands and legs with lengths of bandage and rolled him into the furthest corner of the barn.

  ‘Prisoner of war,’ said Viney. ‘Might work. And he’s a clever cunt. He’ll think of something.’

  Nelson grinned and headed back to his spot. He must have momentarily exposed himself as he did so. There was a crackle of machine-gun fire. He gasped chokingly as a scarf of red wrapped itself round his neck. And then he fell dead beside Fox.

  The former officer cried out in fear and rolled away.

  ‘Nelson! Nelson, old chap!’ he whispered hoarsely.

  Then, as the realization dawned that there could be no reply, his face contorted with an unreadable confusion of emotions.

  Suddenly he was on his feet, Nelson’s rifle in his hands.

  ‘All right, chaps, follow me! Over the plonk! Let’s show the bastards!’

  And he was away over the ruined wall, running drunkenly towards the enemy whose bewilderment let him cover five or six yards before they cut him down.

  In the barn Hepworth said laconically, ‘Looks like it’s just thee and me, Viney.’

  ‘Looks like it, Heppy,’ said the Australian calmly.

  ‘It’s been a funny fucking life,’ said Hepworth.

  ‘You’re not joking, sport,’ said Viney in heartfelt agreement. ‘It’s a real pig!’

  And then suddenly he smiled, a real smile a million miles away from his usual expression of savage amusement, and for a moment the smile sloughed off that impression of ageless, still, intimidating menace which was all that the world customarily saw, and he looked like the young man of twenty-four he was.

  ‘But I’ll not let the bastard beat me,’ he said almost gaily. ‘Nor these bastards either, if I can help it. Let’s give them something to think about, Heppy!’

  The two men began to fire. In a few seconds Viney had emptied the revolver and now he began to hurl the grenades. The enemy replied with machine-guns and bombs. Volleys and explosions filled the spring air with smoke and din, echoing around the broken walls and linking the ancient building with trenches and dug-outs, with ravaged woods and downbeaten townships, with shell-blasted minds and devastated lives all across the face of Europe.