by Annie Groves
Numbly, Ruthie nodded.
‘Colonel’s orders. We’ve got to take you back to camp with us.’
‘He’ll want to see you about you and Glen getting married, Ruthie,’ Jess hissed. ‘Go on. You go with them,’ she urged. ‘I reckon your Glen must have bin telling them how impatient he is to get married to you,’ she teased.
Neither of the soldiers in the Jeep was saying anything, and their silence made Ruthie feel uncomfortable. She couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it would have been if Glen had been able to come to get her himself, but perhaps that was against the rules.
‘What about my mother? She’ll worry when I don’t get home at the usual time.’
‘I’ll stop off on me own way home and tell her for you,’ Jess promised. ‘And if you get to see Walter, don’t forget to tell him how sorry I am that he got hurt,’ she added, as the soldier standing by the rear door of the Jeep held it open for her so that she could scramble into the back.
By nature Ruthie was not used to talking to strangers, so she was in a way relieved when the two soldiers didn’t try to engage her in conversation, and even more relieved that the noisy rattling of the Jeep prevented her from hearing more than the odd ripe word from their low-voiced conversation, with its frequent bursts of laughter. The world inhabited by men was still an alien and rather daunting world to her, and she instinctively retreated into herself away from it, daydreaming happily instead about the future she and Glen would share once the war was over. She felt she already knew his family, especially his mother and his sister, and she couldn’t wait to meet them in person. Even her mother had seemed to perk up a bit recently. She had really taken to Glen, her pale thin face flushing with happy colour when he was there. Glen himself had assured her over and over again that his family would make her mother welcome, and even their doctor had told her that he thought a fresh start away from her sad memories would be good for her mother.
What kind of questions would the colonel, Glen’s commanding officer, ask her? She knew her face would be on fire if he asked her if she loved Glen and intended to be a good wife to him. Glen had warned her that she would be asked about how fit she was to become an American citizen, and he had been told he would have to provide proof to show that he could support her after the war.
‘Not that that will be any problem,’ he had assured her, ‘because we’ll be living on the farm with my folks.’
It wasn’t very comfortable sitting in the back of the Jeep, and Ruthie learned very quickly to hold on to the side of the vehicle to prevent herself from being bounced from side to side. By the time it came to a halt at the checkpoint to Burtonwood she was in such a fever pitch of nervous excitement that she no longer noticed her numb backside.
‘Visitor for the CO, 720 Engineers,’ the driver of the Jeep announced laconically.
‘OK, take her through,’ the guard responded.
Ten minutes later, when she was still in the Jeep being driven wherever it was she was supposed to go, between newly built hangars and all manner of other buildings, Ruthie was beginning to feel dizzy. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that Burtonwood would be so huge. As big as a small town, she decided.
The driver finally brought the Jeep to a halt outside an anonymous-looking building. But not so anonymous that there wasn’t a soldier with a gun standing protectively ‘on guard’ right outside the door, Ruthie noticed as the Jeep door was opened for her.
Even more alarming than the soldier on guard, though, was the way she was walked between the two straight-backed soldiers, as they marched towards the doorway, firmly saluting the guard.
‘Person of one Miss Ruthie Philpott, safely delivered for the CO, Sarge,’ the driver of the Jeep announced to the man coming out of the building.
‘This way, miss.’
She was hardly being given time to draw breath, Ruthie reflected, and she still hadn’t seen Glen.
‘Excuse me,’ she began timidly. ‘I was just wondering…my fiancé…’
‘CO’s office is two doors down, miss. Just take a seat, please, and I’ll let him know you’re here,’ the sergeant told her without answering her.
* * *
‘Miss Philpott?’
Ruthie jumped to her feet as the door opened and Glen’s commanding officer stood looking down at her. He was tall, with iron-grey hair, and a different kind of American accent from Glen’s.
‘I’m Colonel Forbes, Private Johnson’s commanding officer,’ he introduced himself.
A little uncertainly, Ruthie shook the hand he extended.
‘Please come in.’
‘Glen told me that you’d be sending for me, to talk about us getting married,’ Ruthie told him shyly as she took the seat he indicated and watched as he went round the large wooden desk and then sat down opposite her. ‘I was hoping that he would be here.’
The colonel was frowning. ‘There seems to have been some mistake,’ he told her brusquely. ‘This isn’t about any wedding. The reason I asked for you to be brought here is much more serious than that.’
TWENTY-FIVE
‘You’re late, love,’ Jess heard her mother call out from the kitchen sink as she opened the back door.
Yes, I had to call round at Ruthie’s. I promised her I’d tell her mother that she’d been taken off by some GIs.’
‘What?’
‘Only joking, Ma,’ Jess laughed as her mother turned round. You should see your face; it’s a picture. Ruthie’s bin taken over to Burtonwood so that her Glen’s CO can interview her to make sure she’s good enough to marry a Yank.’ Jess pulled a face to show what she thought of this.
‘Well, I never did! That’s a fine thing to happen to a decent English girl,’ Jess’s mother announced indignantly. ‘Did you hear that, Colin?’ she called out through the open kitchen door into the parlour, telling Jess without waiting for her husband to answer her, ‘Billy’s just called round to see your uncle. He got called to his first bomb this afternoon. Made Colin laugh his head off when he were telling him all about it, he did. Why don’t you go in and say hello to Billy, love, and tell your uncle that I’m making a fresh pot of tea.’
Jess hesitated, but she knew her mother would start asking awkward questions if she acted like she didn’t want to see Billy. Thought the sun shone out of his backside, her mum did. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the parlour.
‘Mum said to tell you that she’s making a fresh brew,’ she told her uncle, bending to drop a kiss on the top of his head, before saying casually, ‘Oh, hello, Billy. I didn’t see you there.’
‘Billy’s just bin telling me about this bomb he dismantled this afternoon. Tell our Jess what you were saying about it blowing off, and making a real stink, Billy,’ her uncle chuckled.
‘Uncle Colin!’ Jess protested, putting her nose in the air and pretending to look disapproving.
‘Oh, go one wi’yer, you like a good laugh and you know it,’ he chuckled.
‘Aye, well, it stank like it were as ripe—’ Billy began
‘Billy…’ Jess warned him
‘It was your uncle as asked me to tell you about it,’ Billy reminded her innocently. ‘Anyway, what kept you? Your mam was just saying she wondered where you’d got to.’
‘I had to call round at Ruthie’s to tell her mam that she’d bin taken up to Burtonwood to see Glen’s commanding officer. Oh, and I never said, Ma,’ Jess called out guiltily to her mother who was still in the kitchen, ‘but Walter’s bin in a bad fight.’
‘Walter?’ Her mother came bustling through to the parlour, wiping her hands on her pinny. ‘What? A nice quiet lad like that, fighting?’
‘Well, from what Ruthie was telling me it wasn’t Walter’s fault. Seems like he got set on by that GI wot’s taken up with that Myra who Diane shares with.’
‘Diane? Is she the one that got that funny drink given her?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Mam. A really nice sort she is, a lady, but not a nose-in-the-air posh type. According to w
hat Ruthie had to say, this Nick – that’s this Myra’s GI – had been caught cheating at cards by Walter, and he’d got a bit of a grudge against him on that account. Ruthie said she had never seen anything so scary in her life. And wot’s worse, when the MPs arrived this Nick tried to make out that it was Glen who had bin the one wot started it all.’
‘So how’s Walter now?’ Billy asked.
‘Ruthie said she’d find out whilst she was up at Burtonwood.’
‘He’ll be all right, lass, don’t you worry,’ her stepfather offered comfortingly.
‘Told you about his girl back home yet, has he?’ Billy challenged her.
‘That’s between me and him and no one else,’ Jess answered sharply.
‘Exceptin’ his girl back home,’ Billy retorted.
‘Our Jess would never take another girl’s chap, would you, Jessie?’ her mother defended her firmly.
‘Well, are you going to tell us about how clever you were disposing of this bomb or not, Billy?’ Jess demanded without answering her mother.
Billy gave a dismissive shrug. ‘There weren’t that much to it, really. It were only a little ’un. I reckon the sarge had kept it waiting there so as we could have a bit of a practice on it. Down by the allotments on Lansing Street, it was, right in a patch of ruddy nettles. Up to me backside in ’em, I were. You should see the stings I’ve got.’
Jess gave him a dark look, whilst her mother laughed and shook her head mock scoldingly, and told him affectionately, ‘Give over with that teasing of yours, Billy, and tell us about the bomb.’
‘I thought I was doing,’ Billy responded with a wink at Jess’s stepfather. ‘Well, like I was saying, it was right in the middle of these ruddy nettles, and then when we’d got to it we had to dig down all around it, but careful, like. I mean, you don’t want to go shoving a spade into one of them things.’
‘Oh, Billy…’ Jess heard her mother gasp as she went pale and put her hand to her mouth.
‘No, it’s all right, I’m only joking, Mrs H,’ Billy reassured her quickly. ‘What really happened is that them of us wot have just started with the section had to report to this bit of land wot the Royal Engineers keep specially for training new lads. They had this bomb there. Put it back together, they had, but with the TNT taken out and a bit of sand in instead. A one-hundred-kilogram bomb, this was – just a baby, really – and they have this fuse wot they call a number fifteen fuse, you see…’
Her parents were both silent as they absorbed what Billy was saying, leaving Jess free to look at him as well as listen. He was like a kid that had been given a new toy, she decided crossly, not someone who was dealing with something that might go off at any minute and kill him.
‘This number fifteen fuse was the first one the Germans used. Nothing to it, there is, not really, not once you know how to deal with them. You have to depress these two spring-loaded plungers wot are on the fuse head and then take out the fuse. We all had to have a go at doing it and the sergeant said as how I was the fastest.’
‘Where are you going, Jessie?’ Jess heard her mother ask as she headed for the door.
‘I’m going up to me bedroom. I’ve got better things to do than listen to a lot of talk about bombs.’
Her heart was beating so fast Jess had to put her hand on her chest to calm it once she was out of sight. Just listening to Billy talking like that had made her feel so sick and frightened for him. Why did he have to take such risks? But that, she conceded, was Billy all over. And one of the reasons she felt the way she did about him.
‘…And they’ve got this band at the Savoy, that’s called the Orpheans, and you should have seen the frocks the women there were wearing, and the jewels. You’d never have thought there was a war on down there in London – not like up here. Nick wanted to go to Madame Tussaud’s, but it was closed, but he showed me where the American Embassy was and we went to this club he’d heard about…’
Diane closed her eyes, wishing that Myra would leave her in peace. Her head was aching and her eyes felt as though they had had sand rubbed in them. She might have been the one to tell Lee that they could never be anything to one another, but today, a day without seeing him at all, had seemed to be one of the longest and most miserable days of her life, even without what the captain had had to say to her.
‘You’re not listening to me, are you?’
Diane opened her eyes and looked across at Myra, her expression changing when she noticed the ring Myra was wearing for the first time.
‘It’s my new engagement ring,’ Myra told her proudly. ‘Nick gave it me before we left for London.’
It was the most vulgar-looking ring she had ever seen, Diane decided, but even if it hadn’t been, she was worried Myra was getting herself in too deep.
‘You can’t mean to wear it in public at work, Myra,’ she protested.
‘Why not?’ Myra demanded.
‘Why not? Because you are already married to someone else,’ Diane reminded her.
‘That’s finished, and I’m engaged to Nick now. Did I tell you about the frock he bought for me? Of course, it’s too good to wear for going out up here, but it will come in handy when I’m sailing to New York. Oh, and here’s your blouse back.’
As she handed it over, Diane saw that one of the buttons was loose, and that it had been torn from the fabric.
‘Nick got a bit too keen,’ Myra smirked without a trace of embarrassment or apology. ‘You’ll be able to mend it.’
Maybe she would, but she knew she could never bear to wear the blouse again, Diane decided, in distaste.
TWENTY-SIX
‘What…what do you mean?’ Ruthie stammered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I understand that you were a witness at the fight that took place between Privates Johnson and Stewart this last Saturday.’
‘No. I mean, yes, I was there, but it wasn’t Glen and Walter who were fighting, but Walter must have told you that. Glen said that he would as soon as he was well enough.’
The commanding officer looked at her with a very grave expression. ‘Regrettably Private Stewart never recovered consciousness and died of his injuries shortly after his return to Burtonwood.’
Ruthie couldn’t believe it. Her shock was so great that she felt it reverberating through her like a physical blow.
‘Walter is dead? But he can’t be,’ she stammered in protest, unable to accept that someone as kind and gentle as Walter could possibly die in such a cruel and pointless way. ‘He’s going to be Glen’s best man. He can’t be dead.’ She was shaking, she realised, tears springing to her eyes.
Colonel Forbes frowned down at the leather blotter on his desk. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad shock, but I’m afraid it is the truth.’
Ruthie shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it…poor Walter. He was so kind and so…’ She had to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying. ‘It seems so unfair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Does Glen know?’ she asked, her heart suddenly giving a trip beat as she registered the colonel’s silence. ‘Where is he?’ she asked more anxiously. ‘When can I see him?’
The commanding officer’s mouth compressed. ‘Private Johnson is in solitary confinement and under armed guard.’
‘What! No…you can’t…But why?’ Ruthie demanded piteously.
‘Private Johnson stands accused of the manslaughter of Private Stewart and that is why—’
‘No, no, that isn’t true. Glen would never have hurt Walter. He was his friend. He tried to protect him.’
‘I have a report here from the British police officers who were first on the scene, stating that both Private Johnson and Private Stewart had obviously been drinking. Is that correct? You were with them the morning before the fight, I understand. Is that true?’
‘Yes. We’d gone to the church to see the vicar about…about the wedding, and the vicar offered Glen and Walter a glass of elderberry wine, as a bit of a toast, like. Please, let me explain what really happened,’
Ruthie begged the colonel, telling him before he could refuse, ‘It wasn’t Glen who hurt Walter, it was…that other American who was there. Glen said he did it because Walter had caught him out cheating at cards.’ Tears spilled from Ruthie’s eyes whilst the commanding officer looked on impassively.
‘If by “the other American” you mean Private Mancini,’ the colonel said impassively, ‘he came forward as soon as he heard about Private Stewart’s death, to explain what he had witnessed. According to both him and the statements he and his girl gave to the police at the time, they happened upon the fight purely by chance.’
‘That’s not true,’ Ruthie protested. ‘He started it. He came round the corner and he saw poor Walter and then he just hit him.’
‘Private Mancini just hit him. Just like that? For no reason? Come now, miss, I appreciate the fact that you want to protect Private Johnson, but you can’t really expect me to believe any of this,’ the colonel told her sternly. ‘And I should warn you that even though you are not an American citizen, when Private Johnson is called before his court martial, it is more than likely that you will be obliged to appear as a witness, under American law. You will then be under oath and any lies—’
‘I am not lying!’ Ruthie interrupted him, her normal timidity overwhelmed by her anxiety for Glen. ‘What I said is the truth. He…Nick was the one to attack Walter. Why would Glen want to do such a thing anyway? He and Walter were friends.’ If Walter wasn’t alive any more to speak up for her Glen, then she would have to do so for him.
‘This is the United States Army, miss, and here we take any accusations against our soldiers very seriously,’ the colonel explained patiently. ‘The whole of the platoon has been questioned about the relationship between these two privates, and I have to tell you that quite independently two men have come to me and told me that there had already been an argument between the two men over a poker game debt. Gambling is, of course, forbidden but that doesn’t stop some of the men doing it. The reason it’s forbidden is that it leads to exactly the kind of situation we have had here – men drinking and fighting, and ending up getting themselves in one hell of a lot of trouble. Now I’d like to take a statement from you, if you please, stating in your own words, exactly what happened, from the minute you first saw Privates Johnson and Stewart on Saturday.’