Clouded Judgement

by Thomas Wood

  “Yes, Sir. That’s correct. Captain Arnold had met with me and another man earlier in the day.”

  “Lance Corporal Bob Sargent?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  At the mention of his name, I twitched, expecting at any moment for all the presiding officers to begin to raise their eyebrows in recognition of the name.

  He had been the one to tell them.

  But there were no such flashes of familiarity, just steely, unmoving glares.

  “Could you tell us a little bit about that night, Sergeant? How did you find it, as your first time out?”

  I replayed the whole night in my mind, experiencing every bullet, feeling every artillery shell, as if it was all unfolding in the courtroom. I could see myself again, fresh faced and energetic, disheartened by what had happened to my previous platoon, but raring to get back at the Germans all the same.

  “It was awful, Sir. I had seen death before. But not like that.”

  I continued to tell them my story, not leaving out a single detail for the men that were around me. I did not want them to feel like they had been left out of this war. I wanted them to know every last detail.

  “There were bits of men everywhere. Blood on a scale unimaginable unless you have been there.”

  By the time that I had finished, Lieutenant Bourne was as white as a sheet. I thought for a moment that I had scarred the poor man for life.

  “So…would you say that first raid has affected you, Sergeant?”

  Do you mean did it push me to the drink, which led to the death of one of my best mates and almost led to my own death?

  “Yes, Sir. It has.”

  “And what is it like to do it night after night. With no real end?”

  “Most of us go over hoping that tonight is our night, Sir.”

  “Can you elaborate at all?”

  “With all due respect, Sir, I’d rather not.”

  “That concludes all of my questions, Sir.”

  The major nodded, before piling his papers together with a flourish. He stood up. We all did.

  “We will adjourn for a short time.”

  We nodded and saluted as he, and his two pets followed him out of the room.

  No one said a word for what felt like forever.

  “How long do we normally have to wait?” asked Captain Arnold.

  “Not really sure,” replied Lieutenant Bourne, “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Tell me you’re joking?”

  “I wish I was…It’s all rather exciting though, isn’t it?”

  “You should try No Man’s Land, Sir.”

  18

  “Thank you, gentlemen, take your seats.”

  I was sure that the major’s voice had deepened by an octave or two while we had waited in the courtroom for him to return. It must have been in preparation for the sentence that he was about to carry out.

  I looked across at the Captain, who nervously rubbed away at his ever-lengthening facial hair and tried to glean just a single element of confidence from him. But there was none there to take. He was as petrified of what was about to happen as I was.

  The only person that didn’t seem nervous in the slightest was McKay himself, who sat there quite chipperly, until he saw the two pitiful, exhausted faces that stared back at him.

  That was the moment that I can pinpoint the realisation on McKay’s petite, childlike face. He was about to face the death penalty.

  Although I knew full well what was about to come out of the major’s mouth, I could not help but feel that there was still an ounce of doubt, that there was just the slightest possibility that maybe he would not issue the penalty to McKay. Maybe he might let him off with a lighter sentence, or completely. After all, he had been one of the most fantastic trench raiders that I had come across, and he still had every trait that was needed.

  Plus, we were now a man down since we had lost Hamilton. Perhaps even more if the two Canadians had not made it back. Who knew how they had fared?

  “Will the accused please stand?”

  McKay, who struggled to his feet, had to hold one wrist tightly so as to stop either one from trembling terrifically.

  “Lance Corporal McKay. We, as the presiding officers of this court martial have reached a conclusion upon which we have all agreed.”

  I knew what was coming, but my heart began to ache under the pressure that was building in my chest. I wasn’t sure how much longer my heart could hold out.

  I could see it sitting on the table, it stared at me and taunted me. But it was not until it twitched as it was played around in the major’s hands, that I realised that there was no going back. The black cap was on its way to the officer’s head.

  I hung my own head in shame and disappointment. I could not quite face the reality of it all.

  “Therefore, Lance Corporal Christopher McKay, it is the sentence here of this court martial that you will be taken from here to the place from whence you came and there be kept in close confinement until tomorrow morning at dawn, whereupon you will be taken to the place of execution and there face death by shooting, until you are dead. May God have mercy upon your soul. Amen.”

  “Amen,” came the reply from the two awful looking officers that sat either side of the major.

  I could not bring myself to lift my head.

  19

  I did not want to look up. I knew that the Captain was doing exactly the same thing.

  Tears rushed to my eyes as I was silently overcome with grief.

  To lose McKay in this manner seemed like the biggest injustice in the whole world. He had been the most aggressive fighter, the most brilliant ally to have had and because of a few moments of madness, I would be forced to watch him as he was tied to a chair, a small piece of cloth pinned to his chest, as a priest read him the last rites.

  McKay was not a coward. He was one of the bravest men that I had ever had the pleasure to have known.

  I felt more for his parents, who would now become the outcasts of the entire village and likely lose their jobs. Their son, who had been the village hero, was now the damned. They would become the lepers of the village. No one would touch them.

  I had lost Earnshaw just a few hours’ ago, it was likely too that I had lost both Lawrence and Chester also, but now I was faced with the possibility of losing so much more than that. McKay had been my dependant, the one person that had accepted me for the man that I was; an ill-tempered and volatile man, who plied himself with drink at every available opportunity.

  He had got himself injured as a result of my neglect, as I stopped to top myself up while he was in the fight of his life. He had known all about it, despite the fact that I had never told him, and yet, he had found it in his heart to forgive me.

  It was that compassion that he had shown towards me, that leniency, that I now urged the major to show in some way. But I knew that it was final. His decision would not be overturned, no matter how loudly I screamed.

  I wondered if there was anything that I could do, maybe I would be able to swap places with McKay, or tell the court that it was me who had done it and he was merely covering for me. I dreamed about jumping in front of him as the order was given to fire or helping him to break out of prison in the most dramatic of fashion, but I knew that it was nothing more than a fanciful dream.

  It felt like an hour had passed before anyone said anything and even then, I found it difficult to register what was being said.

  I looked at McKay. His eyes were drooping and heavy, a window to his soul as it slowly threatened to bring him to his knees. There were no tears in his eyes, just a glare of total dejection and eventual realisation. He had been hoping for a miracle, he had been adamant that something would have happened to help get him off. He had convinced himself that he was going to be back with the rest of the team by sundown.

  “However, it would appear that some of you have some friends in particularly high places.”

  The black cap was still on his head, but he had pro
duced a small letter from his pile of papers, that he now began to tap on the table, as if it had undermined absolutely everything that he believed in.

  “It has been requested of me that if I could find it in my heart to commute the sentence, then certain men in said high places would be most grateful to me and my colleagues here.”

  Hamilton.

  It had to be him.

  All that pressure that I had applied to the young lad had actually paid off, he must have penned the letter shortly after I had mentioned it to him. Suddenly, I was awash with grief and pain, as I thought about his cold and lifeless body, continuing to chill out in No Man’s Land.

  He would never find out about what his father had done for him. He had helped to get the sentence commuted, rather than having him recalled to the life that he should have experienced, and berating him for stealing someone’s identity in the process.

  I felt awful for Hamilton, as I knew how much it would have meant to him, had he been able to witness the act of forgiveness and love that his father had carried out.

  The major glared burningly towards Captain Arnold, whereupon the thought crossed my mind that he too, had some friends who stood at particularly dizzying heights.

  Could he have sent a letter to someone?

  I was sure that if he had, he would have mentioned it to me. But, then again, it wouldn’t have been the first time that he had kept a secret from me.

  “Therefore, at the request of this letter, Lance Corporal McKay, your sentence to death by firing squad is hereby commuted to serve a ten-year imprisonment in a military institution, whereupon you will be released to serve in His Majesty’s army once more. Do you understand?”

  The clerk in the corner began to scribble furiously, as he made a note of the change in circumstance.

  My heart suddenly tinged with joy at the thought of McKay being free one day. Just a mere minute ago, he stood as a man condemned, but now, he was a free man, he would just be in the waiting room for a while.

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!”

  The major slid the black cap from the top of his head, folding it neatly onto the table, in preparation for the next case that he would undoubtedly hear later on in the day. The two captains either side of him stared at it, in disappointment. It was as close to the death and destruction of war that they would ever get, and now the major was taking it away from them.

  “I have done as the letter has asked of me. Now, I would like to make a few final, personal comments. I understand the great work that you and your men undertake, Captain Arnold. And I am sure I speak on behalf of His Majesty, and the rest of our nation, when I thank you for the unimaginable risks that you endure on a regular basis.”

  He turned to McKay.

  “What you have done Lance Corporal is unforgiveable, an act which would have been utterly inconceivable for the vast majority of men that are out here.”

  McKay took a breath in to defend himself, but the major carried on.

  “Having said that, the vast majority of men out here are not fighting under the same conditions as you are. They do not have the same rules. I accept that you were under a great deal of torment and stress at the time of the night in question.”

  He began to chew over a bit of leftover food that had become trapped in the back of his teeth, except that’s what it looked like to me anyway. He retrieved it, before letting it sit on his tongue for a second, before swallowing.

  “Therefore, it is well within my power and jurisdiction to commute your sentence further.”

  The clerk suddenly looked up from his table in the corner, furious that he was going to have to start writing on a fresh piece of paper. I could imagine that he had already started to pack up his things, so convinced was he that everything was done and dusted.

  “Lance Corporal McKay, I therefore commute your sentence of ten years imprisonment, to the full ninety days of Field Punishment Number One, which is to be carried out from tomorrow at dawn. However, after you have completed those ninety days, you will be stripped of your rank and will no longer be allowed to serve under Captain Arnold again. Is that all understood?”

  Again, I did not know how to feel. I felt happy, in part, as it meant that the waiting time to become a free man was drastically shorter for McKay now, than it had looked a few moments before.

  But Field Punishment Number One was no walk in the park. McKay would find himself tied to something, a fence post or lamppost maybe, his arms outstretched in the cruellest of fashions. He would be there for two or three hours a day, for ninety days straight.

  It was brutal. It was not nicknamed ‘The Crucifixion’ for nothing.

  But the other side of my heart was horribly depressed. In ninety days, McKay would be a free man, but we would likely never get to see one another again. In all likelihood, he would be sent to an infantry battalion somewhere, where he would eventually be killed by a lucky artillery shell, or a wayward machinegun bullet. After everything that he had done too.

  I had to remind myself about what McKay’s outlook had looked like just three minutes ago. I might never see him again, I might never serve with him again, but at least this way, he could die with a little more dignity and honour than by a firing squad.

  He was alive, for now, and that was all that mattered to me.

  20

  As I sat back in my billet, alongside Earnshaw and Captain Arnold, I breathed a sigh of relief that everything would soon be getting back to normal. As normal as it could be for a man that was in the middle of a war such as this.

  I was fairly confident that, for the next few days at the very least, we would be stood down, our small force depleted so much that we would barely have been able to damage the old farmhouse ruins, that we had hidden in.

  Lawrence and Chester were alive, just, caught out by one German soldier who had survived the brutal ambush that we had laid on them.

  One grenade had been all that it had taken to almost rip two of the finest sharpshooters that the British army had to offer out of this world. I was glad that they had made it out, despite our differences. In fact, I was sure that Earnshaw was as well. The teasing helped to keep him sane.

  I was hoping that we would be reunited with them soon enough.

  For the moment though, all we could do was lie around on our beds, smoke and chat. Which suited me down to the ground.

  “Another one?” asked Earnshaw, the chipper tones slowly making their way into the back of his throat. He was happy, far happier than he had been in recent weeks. Plus, he had just bought himself another ring. It was just as hideous as all the others.

  “Where do you find those things?” I asked, looking at the browning and oversized ring that he had pulled onto his index finger.

  “Not telling,” he muttered as he pushed a cigarette into my mouth, “I’ve reserved them all for my family. I’m not letting you have a single one.”

  “Not that I would want one of them, Harry. They’re hideous.”

  I laughed, as I pulled in the first few lungs of smoke that I had missed over the two minutes or so that I had not had one.

  I felt lucky to be alive. I felt lucky for McKay.

  He would have started his punishment now, a fair old time for him to reflect on what he had done and what could have been. As for me, focusing on the past was enough torture that I could have murdered a man and seen a firing squad as the better way out.

  It had made us all feel better, now that our little secret was out in the open and now very much burnt to a cinder. I felt as if a burden had been cut from my back, one that would have weighed me down for many years, had I survived that long. It was a secret that we had all promised to keep and one, that some, like Sergeant Hughes, had taken to the grave with him.

  I was still not quite sure about Bob Sargent though. I was still unsure about whether that particular secret was in his grave.

  I realised at that moment, that it had made me feel immeasurably better once I had got the whole thing off my chest. It had f
elt good when I had got the paraffin out of my system and back to something that resembled good health.

  As I itched at the stitches that would now leave a permanent scar under my eye, I realised that I should continue in the catharsis, by writing a letter.

  I had the time now, I had the means, but as I searched myself, I could not for the life of me find an excuse.

  I pulled up a wad of paper and licked the nib of the pencil that I would scrawl out my thoughts with.

  I would write about the things that were weighing me down, but not the ones that really mattered, just the minor ones, I wanted my sister to know that I was doing alright.

  Dear Elizabeth…

  I suddenly wondered what it was that I could tell her that would not be censored as it found its way to her, but that would equally not bore her and my parents to tears at their reading of it. I scribbled out what I had written and began to reconsider the whole venture.

  I decided to change tack.

  To my dearest Betty (and the old things) …

  That was as far as I got, as I was interrupted. Not by my own doubts or thoughts this time, but by the Captain.

  “Come on, chaps. Look lively, we’ve been summoned to another briefing.”

  The letter would have to wait, perhaps until when I got back from whatever outing the brass had waiting for our depleted band of merry men.

  If I got back.

  The End

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