Wig Betrayed

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Wig Betrayed Page 6

by Charles Courtley


  The General frowned.

  “If you say so – I can’t really remember.”

  “In fact, Private Merse had been disqualified from driving by his commanding officer for a drink-driving offence some days before but was still ordered to attend. You were determined to have him with you as your caddy, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t recall the details...”

  “Well, Private Merse actually asked Colonel Kayward if he could travel in the same vehicle as you that day, General – were you aware of his request?”

  Hudibrass glared across the court.

  “A General Officer Commanding cannot be seen sharing his vehicle with a private soldier – it’s quite unthinkable!”

  “That’s what Merse was told – so he travelled by train instead. Anyway, he duly arrived at the club on time and, as it happened, the tournament continued well into the evening, didn’t it?”

  “There was a play-off which didn’t involve me and by then I had returned to the clubhouse anyway.”

  “Were you aware that just after you left, Merse was involved in an accident whilst taking your clubs back there?”

  The General thought for a moment.

  “Somebody may have mentioned it...”

  “In fact, he tripped up and fell into a bunker injuring his leg. Did it ever cross your mind how he was going to travel back to the garrison?”

  “Not really – I had to leave for Brockendorf rather quickly in order not to be late for an official function.”

  “So poor Private Merse didn’t even have time to stow your clubs in the back of the official car, did he? With an injured leg and lugging your clubs, he was expected to make his own way back to the garrison – all on a Sunday evening!”

  “Indeed, I am not responsible for the movements of private soldiers whilst on duty.”

  “Mr Clibbery,” I felt it was time to intervene, “clearly, the purpose of these questions is to establish that your client may well have harboured a grievance against the General. Can I take it that he doesn’t dispute that he actually kept the club?”

  “Oh, no. My client has always admitted that after returning the golf bag he went absent without leave, taking that club with him.”

  “In that case,” I observed, “what did he ultimately intend to do with it? We will hear that he placed it in a cupboard initially, I believe.”

  “Had he not been arrested, he would have written to the General offering to return the club – after being paid something. The defence case is that he felt he had a claim of right, or to put it another way, wasn’t dishonest in keeping it until he had been compensated for his work as the General’s caddy.”

  Hudibrass turned bright red.

  “You mean that Merse is saying that he stole the club because I owed him money for caddying. That’s quite preposterous!”

  Rashleigh now jumped to his feet.

  “Sir, in law, I must agree. Merse just acted out of spite. Taking the club in those circumstances would be thoroughly dishonest.”

  “Be silent, Major Rashleigh,” I snapped. “Whether what Merse did was dishonest or not is a matter for the board and not the prosecution. You will have an opportunity to comment on the weight of the evidence at a later stage.”

  Suddenly, General Hudibrass replaced his headdress and stood up.

  “I’ve had enough of these damned fool questions. Merse can’t deny that he kept the club so my valuable time is being wasted!”

  I was about to open my mouth when Brigadier Drubb beat me to it.

  “No, no, General,” she said in her best matronly voice, “you can’t leave until the court allows you to do so.”

  Hudibrass looked at her as if he was about to explode.

  “For my part, he doesn’t need to remain any longer,” Clibbery concluded smoothly, “because I have no further questions for him.”

  With the General’s departure, the atmosphere of the court returned to normal and the trial proceeded. Later, it was Clibbery’s turn to examine his client.

  “Private Merse, have a look at the club, please? It’s a handcrafted, silver-alloyed one and the agreed statement of evidence given by Lady Hudibrass indicated that it cost some £300. Just look at the base of the shaft, would you? Will you read the writing inscribed there.”

  “Yes: To darling Hidgy, from his beloved Pompi.”

  There were giggles in court as Clibbery explained, “Pet names for the General and his wife, sir – all contained in her statement. Private Merse, did you ever intend to sell that club?”

  “Hardly likely, sir – not with that inscription on it.”

  “No. Now, let’s see what appears above the inscription? Ah, the BAOR crest and the date Lady Hudibrass gave the club to her husband. So tell the board why you took the club in the first place?”

  “I was angry, sir, not just for myself but all the caddies. We’d never even been thanked for what we done for him much less given a tip. Injuring my leg and the General not taking me back was the last straw – that’s why I went AWOL. I knew it was wrong but I thought they’d just kick me out an’ that. Later, I was going to write to the General telling him he’d get his club back after he compensated the lot of us. I didn’t really think about the amount I’d ask for, but enough to share with the other caddies.”

  “You were expecting to see them again – even though you had left the army?”

  “One of them’s a mate from way back. His dad lives near my mum. I’d be in touch that way.”

  “All right, now let’s look at the allegation against you. I’ll go through the specific ingredients of the offence. Firstly, you clearly accept, don’t you, that as you took the club you must have appropriated it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you intend, however, to permanently deprive the owner of it?”

  “No, sir, I would have returned it in due course.”

  “So did you believe you were acting dishonestly?”

  “No, certainly not, sir. I felt I had the right to keep the club until we got something back for our hard work.”

  “So that was your reaction then but, with the benefit of hindsight, how do you feel about it now?”

  “Pretty stupid, sir. I thought that by going AWOL they would just discharge me from the army but I should have known that it’d all catch up with me in the end. I didn’t do nothing with the club though; it just stayed in the cupboard. Then I got nicked before I could write to the General.”

  After Clibbery sat down, Rashleigh rose to cross-examine.

  “Like golf do you, Private Merse?”

  “Oh yes, sir, I’ve been playing since I was a kid. My dad and me used to go to the public courses around Manchester.”

  “So you have your own set of clubs, no doubt?”

  “Yeah, some I bought but others are hand-downs from me dad.”

  “Now, the General’s club was an unusual one – being a 2-iron silver-alloyed item – rather a nice acquisition to add to your collection, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, if you mean would I ever have played with it, the answer is no. It would be obvious that the club didn’t belong to me.”

  “Only if someone took the trouble to examine the base which they wouldn’t normally do and I suggest that you never intended to return it at all. Anyway, even if that had been your intention, you were quite happy to blackmail the General, weren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t call it blackmail, sir. I just wanted some compensation for all the caddying we’d done.”

  “What really happened here, Private Merse,” Rashleigh hissed, “was that you took the club out of spite! Moreover, you would have destroyed the identifying marks one way or another and sold it for profit!”

  Clibbery was on his feet.

  “I don’t know how my friend can suggest that – Merse simply put the club in his cupboard. There’s no evidence that he attempted to dispose of it in any way before he was arrested!”

  “Don’t interrupt my cross-examination,” Rashleigh said pet
ulantly. “It’s very rude!”

  “I shall be the judge of that, Major Rashleigh – and I rule that the defence objection is a fair one. Surely you must agree that there is no evidence that Merse actually intended to sell the club at any time?”

  “Well, it’s all very suspicious...” Rashleigh began to simper, but was interrupted by a commotion in the back of the court.

  A bulky figure, his uniform bearing the insignia of a full colonel, entered the court and strode over.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

  Rashleigh held a whispered conversation with the newcomer.

  “This is...er...Colonel Kayward. He tells me that the General wishes me to drop the prosecution providing he gets his golf club back. He’s playing in a tournament tomorrow.”

  “It’s far too late for that now, Major Rashleigh,” I snapped. “A criminal case can’t be dropped on the whim of a witness, regardless of how important that witness thinks he is!”

  “Well, if you say so, sir.” Rashleigh’s hand flopped up and down in exasperation. “But can’t he at least have his club back in the meantime?”

  “No, he can’t. Private Merse implicitly maintains in his evidence that he had a claim of right to it on the basis that he felt that he was owed some remuneration for all the caddying he and the others had done. If Merse is acquitted, the club should be returned to him until a civil action sorts out the final position!”

  “Perhaps then, sir, you will give me a few minutes to explain this to the General?”

  I agreed and adjourned the court for a while only to be halfway through a cup of coffee when the door was flung open and in charged General Hudibrass.

  “Enough of these legal machinations, Mr Judge Advocate! Bearing in mind that I’m responsible for discipline in BAOR, I want this whole thing to stop now – provided I get my club back! My Chief of Staff tells me that, as the convening officer of this court martial, I can dissolve the proceeding anytime I like, so why shouldn’t the club be returned to me, eh?”

  In as level a voice as I could manage, I decided it was time to put the General in his place.

  “Barging in like this and abusing the judge is a contempt of court. If you don’t leave this instant, I’ll have you arrested by the court orderly!”

  For a few moments, neither of us spoke as we squared up to each other. At the same time, a flustered court orderly and Brigadier Drubb appeared at the door. It was the latter who broke the silence.

  “Now, now boys. What a fuss! Scrapping around like a couple of 11-year-olds! It would never have been allowed on any of my wards! So pointless too, because we intend to acquit Private Merse immediately. Queens’ Regulations state that we can do that at any time, if we so wish, before the case has concluded. From all we’ve heard, we don’t really think he was dishonest and frankly General,” she wagged her finger at him, “you should have given him and the others a tip at least for all that caddying!”

  Nine

  After my bruising encounter with the General, somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to attend the dinner dance and we returned to the garrison straight away. A few days later, I received an urgent summons from London. As I entered Peascod’s room, his head was wobbling more frenetically than ever and that, coupled with the grim expression on his face, left me in no doubt that I was in serious trouble. As I sat down, he introduced me to a rat-faced, little man sitting by his desk.

  “This is Mr Mengle, Courtley. He’s a Minister of State attached to the Ministry of Defence. I’ll ask him to explain the purpose of this meeting.”

  The minister spoke with an estuary twang, his eyes levelled at an area above my head.

  “Judge Advocate Courtley, General Hudibrass has put in a complaint about your conduct to the Chief of the Defence Staff, who in turn referred it to the Army Board. They have decided that no court martial can be convened with you officiating as judge advocate until that complaint has been fully investigated. The Secretary of State for Defence agrees, which is why I’m here to explain the position.”

  Thunderstruck, I turned to Peascod.

  “They can’t just do that, surely? As judge advocates, we’re not in the army chain of command and only you can suspend any of us from exercising our judicial function.”

  “Well, yes and no,” Peascod said, acting true to form, “but the Army High Command are entitled not to make use of your services, which is what has happened here. I’m afraid I can’t interfere with what is an executive decision, Courtley.”

  He gestured haplessly towards the minister. I stood up, venting my fury on Peascod.

  “You mean I’m suspended to all intents and purposes, yet you have to get a politician to spell it out!”

  Before Peascod could answer, the rat spoke up, “The Army Board are responsible to the defence secretary and had to refer your case to him, hence my presence in this office. That’s why I came just to deliver the message. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m due in the House of Commons shortly...”

  I just stopped myself from shouting ‘good riddance’ as he left, before turning on Peascod.

  “He must have apprised you of this meeting in advance, so the very least you could have done is to have informed me of what the complaint is all about.”

  “Well, the General alleges that you threatened to have him arrested. I can hardly believe that to be true, Courtley. One simply doesn’t go around threatening to arrest generals when you’re a mere judge advocate!”

  “So that’s what the General really thinks, is it? A judge advocate ranks beneath him in some way. Well, that’s patently absurd, I’m just as much a judge as any of my civilian counterparts and he was in contempt of court!”

  “Ah, that’s the point, Courtley. The General believes that he can’t be in contempt, in his position.”

  “Which makes him all the more contemptible, therefore.”

  “Don’t be facetious, Courtley. The implications of this could be serious.”

  This brought me up rather. Casting my mind back, I had assumed that the row had simply fizzled out. After Merse’s acquittal, the club had been returned to the General without delay, and it was only afterwards that I discovered on the grapevine that Merse had signed a disclaimer on the basis that the prosecution wouldn’t pursue the AWOL charge. Merse was more than happy to return to the army, provided he was not required to caddy ever again.

  “The whole thing is a storm in a teacup anyway. The ruddy General’s got his precious golf club back, hasn’t he? What I want to know is how long this enquiry will last. And what am I going to do if I can’t officiate at courts martial?”

  “Ah well, there’s certainly work to be done: a huge accumulation of final legal reviews, in fact. All the old cases which need to be signed off before being sent to the archives.”

  “Surely that practice lapsed years ago, on the basis that every case is reviewed automatically anyway.”

  “Lapsed or not, final legal reviews still exist and in order to use up your time I expect you to undertake this task, Courtley.”

  “But all the old files are lodged in London and I’m living in Germany. Short of commuting every week or returning to England, I can’t do it.”

  “Oh, that won’t pose a problem. The staff here will send a pack of files off to Margery in Germany. I expect you to work a nine to five day, Courtley, just as if you were in the office in London.”

  * * *

  “How long is this business going to take?” Andrea asked after I returned to Germany the next day.

  “Well, the enquiry shouldn’t take that long. Meanwhile, I’ll be busy with the reviews.”

  “So why do we have to remain in Germany at all if you’re not doing courts martial?”

  “Because that’s what I’ve been told. We’ll have to stick it out. By the way, has anybody been talking about the row with the General at the Thrift Shop?”

  Andrea had recently taken up voluntary employment in the Garrison charity shop (known in army language as the ‘Thrift
Shop’) and enjoyed the work, giving her the opportunity to meet a broader range of women than just the officers’ wives.

  “Oh, no problem at all. I did mention it to Norma, our manageress, that you’d had a dust-up with the General and she was very sympathetic. She can’t stand Lady Hudibrass anyway who, needless to say as the General’s wife, is the patroness of the shop. Apparently, she comes in once a month, perches herself on a chair for a couple of hours and watches what everybody does. Checking up on the staff, I suppose, although we all work there for nothing!”

  * * *

  The next day, when the post arrived in the office I received a personal letter from Colonel Kayward:

  ‘Dear Judge Advocate Courtley,

  As you are currently suspended from officiating at courts martial and to avoid embarrassment in the garrison, the GOC, BAOR requests that you do not attend any officers’ mess functions, or indeed the mess at all for the time being.

  By the same token, Mrs Courtley, by virtue of her status as a ‘wife of’, should desist from working in the Thrift Shop.

  Yours Aye,

  Col B Kayward: Chief of Staff, GOC, BAOR.’

  As I had no intention of attending the mess anyway, I was not unduly put out but I suspected Andrea might feel differently, which indeed turned out to be the case when I showed her the letter back at our quarters.

  “They can’t do this, surely? I’ll speak to Norma this instance. She’s in the shop this afternoon. Her husband is the senior civilian doctor on camp so she won’t be swayed by this threat!”

  When I returned home that evening, Andrea was gulping a glass of wine and looking thoroughly upset.

  “Norma’s reaction wasn’t what I expected at all, Charlie. She told me that she’d been notified officially that I was no longer allowed to work in the shop and that there was nothing whatsoever that she could do. I countered by saying that I just couldn’t understand how she was prepared to put up with being given orders in that way. After all, she isn’t in the army nor is her husband but her reaction was there was no choice: the General’s word is law in the garrison.

 

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