by Thomas Wood
Earnshaw was not having his prestige attacked so soon after my arrival, “Two weeks I’ve had to put up with this! They’ve been non-stop!”
I could do nothing but chuckle along with everyone else, which only made him more furious.
“I’ll have you know, it was all quite serious, I could have—”
“Could have died?” interrupted Hamilton, his square shaped head jumping up and down as he laughed.
“Oh, don’t you start…”
“More holes than a sieve this bloke!” Hamilton suddenly exploded, as he threw his head back at his own joke. I wondered for how many weeks he had been sitting on that one, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to let it out of the bag. He had timed it perfectly as what he had said, coupled with the bright red face of Earnshaw, sent us all over the edge.
“Yeah, well…you can laugh! But most of the poor blokes in there for longer than two weeks are put down, like a horse. It means I’m made of stronger stuff.”
“How on earth do you come up with this rubbish?!” screeched Lawrence, as he cajoled Earnshaw, trying to get him to see the funny side.
We giggled and tittered for a few more minutes, before someone produced a pack of playing cards and we all sat down together, just like old times. It was going to be easier to win a game now that McKay wasn’t around.
For all the laughter and joviality, the hole that he had left was a sizeable one, despite the quietness of the young boy in person. He was a shy figure in the group, but one that could always be found and talked to, which was why I was going to miss him immensely. It was one thing to miss him while I was on the other side of the channel, but now that I was back where he should be, it was far worse.
“Andrew.”
Captain Arnold took me by complete surprise, somehow silently sneaking into the room whereas before he would have made a far grander entrance.
He looked different to how I had remembered him. He had always been tall, and he still was, however, his shoulders had gradually edged forwards to the point where it must have taken a good inch or two off his overall height.
His face too had thinned out dramatically and he had allowed a few hairs to begin to stick out from his chin in the form of stubble, which he would not have been seen dead with a few weeks before.
He held out his hand, which I shook emphatically. It really was great to see him, despite the fact that the eyes that had once burned with enthusiasm seemed to be nothing more than embers nowadays.
“It’s good to see you, Sir.”
“You too, Andrew. Now tell me, what have you been up to?”
“I’ll give you one chance at guessing, Sir. And it doesn’t involve lying on a beach.”
Had he really wanted me to answer that question? There really did seem to be something wrong with him. What a stupid question to have asked a man so recently out of hospital.
4
“I bet you feel right at home here, don’t you Hamilton?”
“How do you mean, Harry?”
“You know,” scoffed Earnshaw, looking around him dramatically, “this sort of place. I bet it’s what you’re used to.”
“Not exactly, no. I’ve got rather accustomed to that ghastly little room, listening to your snores every night of the week.”
Each of us let a slight chuckle pass over our lips.
“The kid’s learning,” quipped Sergeant Lawrence. “Only dish it out if you can receive it back, Earnshaw.”
“I’ll bear it in mind, Sergeant.”
Earnshaw had been larking around, but I was almost certain that there was a chance that Hamilton had frequented this kind of room on a daily basis.
All around us seemed to be the epitome of luxury, from the highly decorative walls, right the way down to an ancient looking drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. There seemed to be paper and files almost everywhere I looked, more often than not accompanied by a well annotated map or three.
Even the men that skulked around here, looking down their elongated noses at us, seemed to have a much better looking and more well fitted uniform than the one that we had had chucked in our direction. Everything in this world seemed to be far different from the one that we had just come from.
Everything was so clean and highbrow, that I bet even the Captain, whose father was a Baron, was beginning to feel rather out of place. I was sure that he was regretting the decision to have forgone a shave once again, the stubble that stuck from his chin almost dripping the grease onto the highly polished floor at his feet.
There was no doubt in our minds, this one was going to be a briefing like no other. That was if it was a briefing at all.
“I reckon it’s to tell you you’re all up on a charge of treason,” remarked Lawrence as we journeyed to the immaculate room.
“Oh yeah? Then why are you two delinquents coming with us?” retorted a flustered looking Earnshaw.
Lawrence shrugged, “I suppose someone has to escort you to the cells.”
The worried look on Earnshaw’s face deepened, until we were ushered in to the grandest room that we had seen in our lives. We were half expecting the King to suddenly stumble in, accompanied by the men of the Order of the Garter. At the sight of the room, we all knew that we weren’t to be arrested, at least not in the conventional way.
“Gentlemen,” announced a boisterous and flamboyant general as he strode into the room. Our chairs shot back what felt like several feet as we all cannoned to attention, pulling our bodies into the tightest and straightest position that they had been in months.
I had never been in the presence of such a high-ranking officer as this one before.
“As you were. As you were,” he took up a chair on the other side of the great desk that we sat in front of, as he cleared a space before him so that he could rest his hands upon it.
“I’m General Palmer. Shortly we will be joined by some others, that have a great deal of information to share with you. But before they arrive, I would like to express my own personal gratitude and appreciation for everything that you have carried out so far. It has been most impressive.”
“Thank you, Sir,” mumbled Captain Arnold, as if he was awestruck to be in the presence of such a great man. I wondered if he was envious of the General’s great moustache. It really was a sight to behold.
The moustache danced around excitedly as General Palmer’s great, booming voice erupted once more.
“Ah, yes, come in. Do come in. Gentlemen,” he announced, turning to us as he rose from his chair. “May I introduce you all to Majors Symonds and Hillier.”
Both the figures emerged from the floor-to-ceiling door, arrogantly striding in and snapping to attention. General Palmer barely even batted an eyelid.
“Hugh, George, this is Captain Arnold and his men.”
We looked each other up and down, before the tone changed, and we started to get down to business. I noticed that one of them, either Hugh or George, was keeping a very close eye on his brown leather briefcase, which matched the gleaming tall boots that he had pulled on over his feet.
“Okay then chaps. You obviously know that you are here for a job that we would like you to carry out for us. It is of the utmost secrecy and so we would like it to stay that way for the time being. Hugh.”
The briefcase-less man got up, before fiddling with one of the General’s annotated maps.
“Two nights ago, we received a message from one of our informers on the other side of the line about a possible attack. Unfortunately, the informant who supplied us the message was compromised and so it has been incredibly difficult for us to verify why she thought an attack was imminent.”
“She?” queried Lawrence, the Major seemingly taking offence at the foreign accent that spat towards him.
“Yes, Sergeant. She.” The Major looked slightly frustrated but carried on regardless. “Our informer, for whatever reason, was convinced that there was a gas attack imminent. One that was clearly being prepared for weeks in advance.
; “We think that, if this is the case, that the gas that the Germans are likely to be deploying will be held in small, steel canisters. Akin almost to a four-two shell. However, we aren’t sure.”
“Where do we slot into this, Sir?”
“Well, as we are unable to verify the information with any of our contacts, we want you to head over there and take a look for us. We estimate that if an attack is likely to occur, then the provisions would have already been moved up into the frontline.”
We looked at one another, warily, all of us with a thousand and one questions, but it was only the Captain who managed to voice even one.
“And if we do see these canisters, Sir, what are we to do with them?”
General Palmer interrupted, “Destroy them if you can. But, if the attack is to take place on the scale that our contact suggests, then you probably won’t even make a dent in their reserves. This is primarily an identification and verification operation. Hopefully, you won’t even have to discharge your weapon.”
Hopefully.
I never had liked that word all that much.
“Unfortunately,” spoke Hugh, “there is not much that we can do on a preventative level. The attack is more than likely going to happen. We just need to know so that we can…reduce the potential casualties.”
“You mean choose which men are going to be coughing their lungs up?” Earnshaw would never have fitted in too well with these circles.
“Of sorts, yes.”
“You will go tonight, gentlemen. You will have the rest of today to familiarise yourselves with the maps and what limited intelligence we have on the German’s use of gas.”
“Tonight?” I suddenly found myself blurting, “Why so soon? We would need more time than that to acquaint ourselves with the intelligence.”
“I’m sorry, it must be tonight. The wind direction begins to change at around midday tomorrow. If you can destroy some of those receptacles tonight, then we have a chance of using the Germans’ own gas against them. Anything after that and we risk an attack without taking the necessary precautions. I’m sure you understand?”
His eyebrow, as bushy and over the top as his moustache, raised itself in my direction.
“Yes, Sir. Perfectly understood, Sir.”
“Jolly good. Anything else, Hugh?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He began tugging around at a large and well-detailed map, which he proceeded to explain to us about our point of insertion and where the canisters were likely to be located. Together, we came up with a plan of where to go in and where it would be best to withdraw from, given the terrain and situation out in No Man’s Land.
“I propose to withdraw around here,” announced Captain Arnold, thumping a muddied finger down on the map. “There is a bombed-out farm house there that we can potentially use as cover.”
“Very well, that fits in with where we want you to go.”
“So, that’s all agreed then? We go in here,” he thumped the map once more. “Scout around here. Pick up a prisoner if possible. Withdraw to the farmhouse to interrogate for further intelligence, before falling back to our frontline.”
“Sounds perfect to us,” Hugh announced, looking towards George and the General. Each of them seemed equally impressed. George had still not uttered a word but had continued to clutch to the shiny briefcase under his left arm.
“What do we do with the prisoner, Sir? Once we’ve got what we can from him?”
“It is up to you, gentlemen. Whatever the situation dictates. But one thing must be made clear, he does not, does not, make it back to his own lines. Is that clear?”
It was, crystal.
We all knew already what the situation would dictate. It would be difficult enough to extract six British troops, who may or may not be injured, never mind a tag-along German who would spend the remainder of the war in a cell more comfortable than McKay’s own.
The situation would dictate that he would not make it back to either lines.
I already felt sorry for the poor bloke, and we hadn’t even met him yet.
“One thing that is imperative to ascertain from the prisoner, as it will determine all of our precautions,” Hugh looked us all in the eye, determinedly. “We must find out what gas it is the Germans are preparing to use.”
“Major Symonds is right. We simply must find that out at all costs. Whatever it takes, gentlemen. Unfortunately, our contact was not able to let us know what it was. I am sure she would have told us if she had known.”
There was something about this informer that had me transfixed. Maybe it was the mystery that had surrounded her, the no-named, faceless woman who had decided our next operation for us. I wondered if she even knew that we were going to take action against it.
My mind fantasised about all the other wonderful bits of intelligence that she had gleaned since the war had begun, and how she was desperately trying to end all of this so that we could go home. A plethora of questions began to dance their way through my mind; Had this been her first time? How had she come across the information? How did she get it to the British?
All of these wild meanderings roamed around the barren moors of my mind for a few minutes more, before I began to think what might have happened to her. I wondered if she had been chased through villages and side streets, or if she had got away with much more ease and elegance.
As I pondered all of these things, there was something that was attracting me to her. Maybe it was the way that we now had this operation to have in common. But I soon settled that it was something far deeper than that.
Had she felt as trapped in her corner as I had done in mine?
I wasn’t sure.
There was just something that we had in common. Something more than just the operational circumstances that we now shared.
“Now, there is, as always, the possibility that things might begin to go a bit haywire. In which case, some splendidly clever chaps have been developing these for you.”
Major Hillier suddenly found his voice, except it did not seem like his. It was far deeper and rumbling than I had been expecting, far more baritone than it should have been for such a frail and weak looking stature that the man possessed.
“These are black veil respirators. If one of the canisters is destroyed, whether deliberately or accidentally, attach one of these under the nose and over the mouth and breathe as normal.”
From his precious briefcase, he produced a small envelope sized piece of cloth, which he handed to us individually, keeping one for himself.
“You remove this tab here, place the pad over your nose like this. And tie the cloth behind your neck in this manner.”
I wasn’t sure who the “splendidly clever chaps” were that the General had referred to, but I wanted to meet them immediately.
Surely, they could have come up with something better than that.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Lawrence, “that’s all the protection we get?”
“It’s the best we have,” grumbled the General, “besides, it’s far better than relieving yourself into a handkerchief!”
His moustache doubled over in the same manner as the rest of his body, as he guffawed in the most exuberant of manners.
It’s okay for you. You’re not the one that’s going to be putting them to the test.
We spent a few more minutes in each other’s company, before General Palmer dismissed us back to our quarters.
As we left the room, I caught the voice of Captain Arnold, slipping in a few words to the General before we left the grandeur of his office.
“Sir, you are aware that we have a court martial among us tomorrow? Is there really no one else that can take our place?”
“Well aware, my boy. Don’t you worry, you’ll still be able to give evidence when you make it back.”
If we make it back.
5
There was far more to the room than I had expected and at first, I was unsure of whether I had been shown into the right
place or not.
I had expected it to be cold and damp, the heavy air clinging to my chest in the same way as if I was to place my head over a pan of boiling water. I had anticipated grey and solemn walls, accompanied by an equally depressing concrete floor, with no source of light other than a meagre candle.
But the room was surprisingly pleasant, the walls a plain white in colour, with no signs of what it had been used for in the last few weeks. There was a bed to one side, which looked far more comfortable than the one that I had been used to sleeping in back in Britain. The covers looked far less itchy for one thing.
The issue of the light was resolved by the rectangular window at the top of the wall, not big enough for the occupant to peer out of, but large enough for the natural light to come streaming through in abundance.
All in all, the room looked almost quite cheery, with a bucket of clean water sitting in the corner, ready for its occupant to give himself a rinse over, or maybe even take a sip from.
The room, however, was lit up by the owner of the basic accommodation, a cheery grin settling optimistically on his face.
“Not a bad little place you’ve got yourself here, McKay.”
He looked up at me, almost proud of his own little space, the only time he had not had to share a room with other men in a good many months.
“Good, isn’t it? Cheap too.”
He chuckled, as he pulled himself a chair that had been slid under the desk in the corner, as he beckoned me to sit on the edge of his bed.
I was right, it was more comfortable than that hospital bed.
I noticed that the hand he had gestured to me with was now the home to a set of battered and chewed up fingernails, a side effect, I assumed, of the long and nervous wait that he had been condemned to endure ever since he had got out of the hospital.
“Thank you for writing to me,” he said, eventually, lifting up his hand to have another go at the nails.
“You wrote first. It was only out of a sense of duty.”
“It was more than that, you missed me.”