by John Wilcox
‘Ah yes. Well. I do so on the understanding that you won’t hold up this business. We are in the middle of a bloody great battle in a bloody great war, don’t you know, and we are all needed by our regiments. We don’t want to waste good fighting time.’
Hickman drew in his breath but forced a distant smile. His time would come. ‘Very good, sir.’
The court was called to order and the charge read out: Murphy had deserted his post in the face of the enemy, leaving behind his weapons, and been found well behind the front line, making for the rear. Bertie stood, his red hair tousled, his eyes sunken, and was told that, as this was a capital charge, an automatic plea of not guilty would be entered.
Williams nodded his head in the direction of Lieutenant Reginald Prentice, of the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry, the young subaltern who had been appointed to prosecute the case. ‘Evidence,’ he growled.
Prentice, slim and elegantly moustached but looking distinctly nervous, stood and gestured to the piece of paper in his hand. ‘I have here, sir,’ he said, ‘the deposition of Company Sergeant Major Flanagan, DCM, of the accused’s battalion, the 1st Royal Warwicks, who arrested Corporal Murphy, which I shall read to the court. CSM Flanagan is waiting outside, sir, in case you wish to question him on the evidence.’
‘Not necessary,’ said Williams. ‘Just read the evidence.’
Prentice read out the statement. It was short and to the point. Flanagan was returning to the line, under shellfire, when he met Murphy walking between the craters back down towards Ypres. He had no weapons and said that he had had enough of the fighting and was ‘getting out of it’. Flanagan immediately arrested him and brought him back up to the line where he was paraded before the Lieutenant Colonel Cox and put into detention to await trail. The defendant offered no other explanation for his actions.
‘Thank you,’ said Williams. ‘I understand that there is a statement from the defendant’s CO?’
‘Yes sir. This is from Lieutenant Colonel Cox, Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion Royal Warwickshire Regiment, that is, of course, the … er … defendant’s battalion …’
‘Yes, yes, we know that. Let’s have it.’
‘Sorry, sir. Yes. The colonel writes,’ Prentice cleared his throat and read, ‘“Corporal Murphy is not a Regular soldier but a Territorial. He has served in this battalion for some eighteen months. I do not regard him as a good soldier in that he has shown lassitude in the line in recent months. It is clear to me, from my discussion of this case with CSM Flanagan, an experienced and long-serving Regular soldier, that Murphy deserted his post when the battalion needed him in his capacity as a Lewis gunner. Therefore I recommend that the court takes a most severe view of his case.”’
Williams put down his pen and grunted. Then he looked along the line of his colleagues on left and right. ‘Pretty conclusive, I would say, gentlemen.’ He received three nods of agreement. He looked up at Hickman. ‘Right. Let’s get on with it. Let’s have the accused’s statement.’
Jim felt a surge of anger flood through him. He took a deep breath and stood. ‘Not quite, sir.’
‘What?’
‘If you are allowing the colonel’s statement to stand, then I would wish the court to call him so that I may cross-examine him.’
Williams’s brows rose and his chin dropped below the extravagant moustache. Along the line, mouths gaped open and the Somerset Light Infantry captain said, ‘Oh I say …’
‘You wish to do what?’
‘I wish the colonel’s statement to be struck from the record. If, however, you wish it to stand, sir, then, on behalf of the defendant, I must cross-examine him, which would mean deferring the trial until Colonel Cox can attend.’
‘On what grounds?’ The question came from the most junior of the panel, the young cavalry lieutenant, a fresh-faced man who looked as though he had just left the sixth form of a major public school.
‘In that, sir, the evidence submitted contains one and possibly more inaccuracies.’
‘Now look here.’ Colonel Williams’s face had taken on a deep glow. ‘You cannot question the word of your commanding officer.’
‘With respect, sir, I can. I am here as prisoner’s friend and in that capacity I have the right to question evidence that is inaccurate. I must do my duty. Anyone in the Attorney General’s department will confirm this, sir.’ Jim had not the faintest idea of whether or not the Attorney General’s staff would confirm what he had said, for he had had no time to test the ground. But he had nothing to lose. He gambled that Williams would not defer the case to check.
The young lieutenant leant forward to Williams. ‘If I may, sir?’ he enquired, indicating Hickman.
‘Carry on,’ growled Williams.
‘Very well, Sarn’t Major. In what way is the evidence of the accused’s commanding officer inaccurate?’
‘On one, and possibly two counts, sir. Firstly, Corporal Murphy has not served in the battalion for eighteen months. He has done so for just under two and a half years, as his record will confirm. Before that, he served as a Territorial – as did I – in the line in Flanders and France from September 1914, having enlisted on the outbreak of war in August of that year. Secondly, the colonel cannot say that he has observed Murphy’s attitude in the line over the last few months, so I must question the colonel’s competence to judge Murphy—’
‘You bloody well can’t do that!’ Williams rose and he emphasised his words by slamming the table.
Hickman remained cool, but he was thinking on his feet now. ‘With respect, sir, I can. On a matter of fact. Colonel Cox only took command of the battalion just under a month ago so his remark that he had observed Murphy’s attitude over the last few months is inaccurate. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for a commanding officer to form a judgement of a junior NCO – one amongst some seven hundred soldiers – in less than a month unless that NCO had either distinguished himself in some way or shown himself to be incompetent or cowardly. Speaking now as Murphy’s company sergeant major, I can swear that he did not step out of line in that time in either way. I believe that the court should not condemn a man on a capital charge for showing lassitude in the line. We were all tired in that battle. I intend to call our company commander as a character witness for Corporal Murphy and he can confirm this.’
The young lieutenant intervened again. His voice was cool. ‘Then why should his commanding officer give such a derogatory report on him?’
Hickman thought quickly. ‘Well, sir, if I am allowed to call Colonel Cox—’
‘Which you are not!’ Williams’s voice was high-pitched.
‘But if I was,’ Jim kept his own voice steady, ‘then perhaps we could discover this. My own guess is that he has taken the word of Company Sergeant Major Flanagan, who arrested Murphy and who I intend to show has a grudge against the accused.’
Hickman shot a quick glance at Bertie, who was still standing and, open-mouthed, was following the exchanges avidly.
Williams was seated now but his face was still livid. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I am not having this—’
He was interrupted by the captain on his right, clearly the oldest of the three junior officers, judging by the flakes of grey in his hair, who leant across and spoke to the president in a low voice. Low enough for his words not to be heard by Hickman. The two spoke together in low tones for a few moments. Then, Williams, with a face like thunder, sat back.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘we have to take a decision, either to call Colonel Cox, who I understand is at this moment leading his battalion into the line,’ he emphasised the words heavily, ‘and so hold up this prosecution, or to reject the evidence of the colonel as being unsubstantiated, which means that it will not feature in the report of the court martial. Of the two, I suggest we follow the latter course as being the most expedient, although I personally hate to reject the words of a senior officer. Do you agree?’ He looked along the line of his colleagues, who all nodded in agreement.
; ‘Very well.’ He nodded to Hickman. ‘We will continue with this court martial, but I must warn you, Sergeant Major, that I will not allow you to disparage a senior officer in my court. I am warning you as to your conduct. Is that understood?’
‘Of course, sir. But I must point out that, like you, I am only doing my duty.’
‘Hrumph. Let’s get on with it, then.’ He looked at Prentice, who had been following the exchanges with some bewilderment. ‘Anything more from the prosecution?’
‘Er … No sir.’
‘Very well.’ Williams looked grudgingly at Hickman. ‘You want to call CSM Flanagan?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Call him, then. But I warn you, Hickman, you must not attack the sergeant major. He is a distinguished soldier who has been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.’
‘So have I, sir.’ He nodded quickly to the sergeant of military police to avoid a further explosion and Flanagan appeared, looked askance at Hickman and stamped to attention in front of the panel, giving his name, rank and number.
Jim held up Flanagan’s evidence. ‘What state was Corporal Murphy in when you arrested him?’
The Irishman regarded Hickman through narrowed eyes. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ he snarled.
The young lieutenant intervened quickly. ‘CSM Hickman is acting as prisoner’s friend, for the defence,’ he said. ‘You must answer his questions.’
‘Sir.’ Flanagan turned to Hickman grudgingly. ‘He was in a mess. No weapons – although he was wearing his steel helmet, oh yes, he was fit enough to remember that because there was a bit of shelling going on, although he’d remembered to leave his rifle behind. He was rude. He said that he wasn’t going back up to the line for anyone and that he’d had enough.’
‘He was perspiring and shaking, wasn’t he? Not knowing where he was going?’
The lieutenant leant forward again to address the colonel. ‘Excuse me interrupting again, sir, but I was studying law at Cambridge to become a barrister before I joined up, so, with your permission, I would like to warn the prisoner’s friend …’
‘Oh, do warn away. Glad of your experience.’
‘Thank you, sir. Now, Mr Hickman, you may of course question the witness, but you must not lead him. You must not ask leading questions, so putting your opinion to him. Rephrase your question.’
Damn! Jim cursed inwardly. That’s all he needed – a lawyer on the judging panel. But he nodded deferentially. ‘My apologies, sir.’ He turned back to Flanagan, who was now grinning. ‘You said that Corporal Murphy was a mess? What did you mean?’
‘His tunic was undone but I don’t remember him sweating or anything. But he knew where he was going all right. He was going away from the enemy, that’s where he was going. I’ve seen enough cowards in my time to recognise one.’
Hickman swallowed. He must try a different tack and play his last card – if he was allowed. ‘Now, Sergeant Major. You know Corporal Murphy quite well, I understand?’
‘You know I do. I was his company sergeant major before you – his pal – took over.’
‘I took over, did I not, because you were demoted to sergeant and transferred to another company?’
Williams banged the table. ‘Now stop right there, Hickman,’ he shouted. ‘I warned you that you must not denigrate the witness. He is not on trial. Murphy is. Stop that line of questioning.’
‘But, sir—’
‘No. Flanagan arrested this man walking away from the line while his regiment was engaged with the enemy. The accused said he would not return to the line. Are you disputing those facts?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then, Sergeant Major, you may return to your unit.’
‘Sir.’ Flanagan stamped an about-turn, leered at Hickman and marched out of the court. Jim looked in appeal at the young lieutenant but he was doodling with his pencil on the pad before him.
‘Get on with it, then, Hickman.’
‘I wish to call Captain Simmons, the officer commanding A Company in the 1st Battalion of the Warwickshire Regiment.’
Simmons, now with his arm unslung, answered Hickman’s questions languidly. Yes, Murphy had been a competent soldier, as far as he could say, but then he didn’t know the man well, having only been brought into the battalion a month ago, with Colonel Cox. No, he did not seem unduly slow or tired in the line. Most of them were. Nor had he shown any signs of subversion. Jim realised that, by attacking Cox’s ability to know Bertie because of the colonel’s brief time in command, he was also, for the same reason, undermining Simmons as a definitive witness of good character. With a sigh, he let Simmons go.
‘I trust there are no more witnesses, Hickman?’ Colonel Williams’s voice was now overlaid with sarcasm. ‘No? Good. Do you or the accused wish to make a final’ – he emphasised the word heavily – ‘statement in his defence?’
‘Yes, sir. I will speak on behalf of the prisoner.’ Jim took a deep breath and looked hard at the board. Only Williams was looking at him. The other three officers were doodling on their pads, their heads down, seemingly disinterested.
He began: ‘Bertram Murphy has served continually – except for short periods of well-earned leave – in Flanders and on the Somme for three years now. He was not called up but joined the army of his own accord because he wished to serve and fight the Germans.
‘He was gainfully employed in Birmingham, in the company where I worked, and he was of good character in that he was never in any way in trouble with the police. He was promoted in the field after a sharp engagement in the second battle of Ypres and, until he was apprehended behind the lines, he served well as a front-line soldier, as I can testify as his company sergeant major.
‘However,’ Hickman gulped here, for he seemed to be making no impression on the board, ‘he had been in the line under constant shell, rifle and machine-gun fire for nearly three weeks without relief. It is my belief that his mind cracked at that point under the strain …’
The lieutenant looked up. ‘Has a doctor reported this?’
‘Er … no, sir. I understand he was examined but no conventional illness was discovered. But I believe that it is very difficult to establish shell shock without considerable—’
‘Ah, shell shock!’ Williams’s voice was full of derision. ‘We’ve all got that.’
Hickman continued, stoically. ‘I believe that this man is ill, sir. He is no coward, as I can testify, having gone over the top with him many times. As a soldier of a civilised country, he should be sent to hospital for examination and treatment, not to a firing squad.’
The young lieutenant raised his pencil. ‘Yes, but is Murphy happy to return to the line, then?’
Blast! The question he dreaded. ‘I believe that Corporal Murphy is not capable of answering that question properly, sir.’
Williams sprang into the opening. ‘Well, I believe it is our duty to ask him that question ourselves.’ He directed a withering glare at Bertie. ‘Corporal Murphy.’
‘Yes, sir,’ answered Bertie dreamily.
‘Will you go back into the line?’
Bertie shook his head. ‘Ah no, sir. I believe that it is wrong for us to go on fightin’ and killin’ without gettin’ any result. The good Lord does not want us to do that. I know.’
Williams nodded slowly and turned his head triumphantly to his fellow judges. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I think we have our answer, gentlemen.’ Then to Hickman. ‘Do you have anything further to say of relevance in mitigation?’
Jim shook his head. ‘No, sir. Except that he’s a good man, a sick man, who should not be shot out of hand.’
‘Humph. There is no question of anything being out of hand in this matter, I will have you know. That is what this court is about.’ He turned back to his colleagues. ‘Now, gentlemen. Is there any need for us to retire?’
The four of them leant together and conferred in low tones for some minutes. Then Williams nodded in satisfaction and then sat back and addressed Bertie: ‘Cor
poral Murphy. You have been found guilty of desertion in the face of the enemy, with no mitigating circumstances. You are therefore sentenced to death by firing squad at a place to be arranged. A report of this court martial will be submitted to the Judge Advocate General’s department and, for approval of the sentence, to the brigadier commanding this brigade and thence to the Commander-in-Chief, Field Marshal Haig. That will be all. Take him away.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hickman watched in despair as Bertie was led away by the MPs. He turned to catch the eye of any member of the board, but they all disappeared through a back door and he and Prentice, the prosecuting officer, were left standing together.
The lieutenant offered his hand. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Sarn’t Major,’ he said. ‘I think you put up a magnificent show in here and you are quite right. The man should be sent to hospital, not back to jail.’
Hickman felt his temper rise. ‘That’s all bloody well. But they’re going to shoot the poor little fucker. And you helped to do it. Upper-class shits. All of you.’ He realised that tears were running down his cheeks.
Prentice bowed his head for a moment, then he lifted it. ‘This is a terrible war, Hickman,’ he said. ‘Good men are being killed all the time. You have my condolences.’ Then he turned and walked away.
On a sudden impulse, Jim turned and ran to the door through which the officers had disappeared. He was just in time to see the young cavalry lieutenant mounting a smart grey.
‘Excuse me, sir.’ He put up a hand to the rein.
The young man looked down on him with a cool gaze. ‘There’s nothing more to be done about this, you know,’ he said.
‘Look,’ Jim’s grip tightened on the rein. ‘You are an intelligent and well-educated man. You’re going to be a lawyer, if you get through this. You must know that what happened in there was a travesty. It was … it was … unjust. That’s what it was. Unjust.’
‘No it wasn’t, and say “sir” when you speak to me.’
‘Why wasn’t it unjust, for God’s sake?’