by Carl Leckey
Denise, adorable Denise rushes passed me and closes the door.
A male voice says something outside. Denise puts her fingers to her lips indicating me to be quiet, and replies in her native tongue. The male makes a remark laughs, then I hear his footsteps retreating.
Denise explains. “I have told him a little mouse has frightened us, are you that little mouse?” Her sisters giggle. God, I feel such a fool.
Damn this blushing, I am aware my face is burning, but what a girl, she matches her beautiful voice perfectly. Eventually I squeeze a few words out. I can’t believe what I say, but say it I do. Before rushing out of the room the words I utter the words.
“I’m going to marry you some day when this war is over.”
I race across the entrance hall into the dining room, just in time to see the Padre storming out of the other door his face flushed with anger. At the other end of the room the civilian waves to me, before disappearing towards the kitchen.
The next two Saturday meals pass without incident. Everyone turns up for the meals on time, including the senior Officers. Evidently the word has been passed around.
The Padre is very quiet after the breakfast incident; he eats his meals in a hurry and quickly leaves the dining room. It is a pleasure to me, knowing he has come against someone that is able to shut him up. I note with glee, there is none of his loud bragging and whining about the hard life he leads now.
The cook Sergeant and Staff are delighted; things are going really smoothly for him and the rest of the staff.
Sandy is still undecided whether to accept the job offer at the Chateau and does not refer to it. The civilian acknowledges us but does not ask us any more questions. After he has sorted things out regarding meal times, we all wonder what else he will have changed at this awful place.
The orderly Officer that talked to him at breakfast creeps about as if trying to move unnoticed, much to the cook Sergeant’s delight. He has a personal grudge against him for a reason he will not disclose to us.
I catch a few of his colleagues giving him glares of pure hatred, and shunning his company, presumably he has revealed the MPs offer to have them re-deployed to the front lines.
The cook Sergeant explains before we retire for the night.
“Breakfast is served at zero seven hundred hours on Sundays. A Church parade will be held later, this is compulsory for everyone, I’m sorry to tell you there will be no excuses accepted for none attendance. Our beloved Padre will be conducting the service himself at zero nine hundred hours.” The Sergeant smiles cynically.
The men groan I notice Sandy giving the thumbs up sign to the Padre’s driver who smiles in return. Intrigued I ask him what it is all about when we enter to our room.
“All will be revealed at the appropriate time, I can assure you if all goes well your friend Tommy will be avenged.”
I continue quizzing him but he refuses to divulge anything more before he smiles blows out the candle and goes to sleep.
I experience another fitful night, dreams about the horrible Padre and beautiful Denise become interwoven it’s a relief when the rouser shakes the door lock at six o’clock.
We enjoy a real English breakfast cooked by the Sergeant himself.
“The French chefs refuse to work on a Sunday morning as they attend mass at their church in the town. I don’t mind really, it gives me some time on my own in the kitchen.” He jokes. “Bloomin Froggies take over when they are here you would think they own the place.”
While we eat the Sergeant asks Sandy if he has made his decision regarding the offer to remain at the chateau yet? His decision to stay or leave is something I dearly want to know myself.
After much persuasion Sandy says. “To tell you the truth Sergeant, I would like to stay and work for you in this lovely place with these very nice French people.” My spirits slump, it looks as if I am going to lose a good mate.
The Sergeant smiles gratefully until Sandy holds his hand up.
“Sorry Sarg I hadn’t quite finished, what I was going to add, but I can’t abide these snobby bloody Officers. I cannot accept the fact that these bastards are living the good life and about twenty miles away poor buggers are getting blown to bits without a decent meal in their stomachs.
I see by your decorations you have seen a great deal of action in the Army Sarg, you must know what I mean?”
The Sergeant looks crestfallen for a moment then brightens up.
“I knew it’s too good to be true, never mind I believe it is through you two anyway the mess times were sorted out. I’m very grateful for that, now let’s get down to serving the breakfast to them snobby bastard Officers, ha ha.”
Although I am relieved Sandy is returning to the hospital with me I can’t help remembering what he told the MP about his luck running out.
Only Sandy and I are on duty serving breakfast that morning, thankfully the last time we will have to wait on the tables. The Sergeant informs us with a grin we will be able to manage as only a few Officers turn up for breakfast, especially when a certain Padre conducts the Sunday service.
It appears many of the Officers find urgent duties away from the base rather than attend the boring sermons of the Padre.
While Sandy serves the food I clear the dirty dishes. This is quite an easy task proving the Sergeants prediction about the numbers of Officers that will be in for the morning meal as very few Officers arrive this morning.
Then something occurs I have been dreading, the Padre enters. He takes a seat and lays papers in front of himself.
“Do you require coffee with full breakfast Sir, and plenty of kidneys?” Sandy enquires cheerfully. The Padre grunts and consults a wad of sermon notes, I notice Sandy appears unusually happy this morning.
I keep as far away from the awful person as possible. I even persuade Sandy to clear his plates, the despicable person leaves without saying a word of thanks, after consuming an enormous meal. As there are no signs of the civilians at breakfast we assume they have either left the Chateau, or deliberately dodging the morning church service.
Sandy and I finish our duties in the Chateau soon after the last officer leaves the dining room. Except for the dreaded church parade we are free to do as we please. The Sergeant gives us permission to remain at the Chateau until it is time for us to leave.
“It will keep you two out of them nutty drill NCO’s mitts.” He kind-heartedly informs us.
The dreaded church parade.
Regardless whether the soldiers are Christian, Pagan, or Atheists the Army considers them in need of a dose of religion, the fact that we will have to take it from a two faced snob such as the horrible Padre galls me considerably.
Sandy on the other hand seems to be looking forward to the service, insisting we arrive early. ‘To get a good speck in the front ranks, we don’t want to miss anything do we?’ He chuckles
His attitude puzzles me until I remember Sandy has a bit of a religious trend, bearing this in mind I go along with him. We do arrive early, much to my surprise the Padre’s driver and the rest of the Army lads employed in the Officer’s mess have already assembled.
There are no seats for the other ranks there is simply one row for the Officers. Located at the far end of the square is a mobile pulpit dominating the scene.
The driver appears unusually cheerful this morning and takes pleasure in informing me that last week the Padre’s sermon lasted two hours. I can’t figure out why he is able to derive so much pleasure listening to the hypocritical swine, but from the expression on his face and he overall manner it’s obvious he does.
“Don’t think it will be as long today somehow.” He predicts merrily while his compatriots roar with laughter. Sandy smiles at their merriment but discloses nothing when I question him. It is not like my mate to keep me in the dark, I am beginning to think I am the only one not in on a big secret.
A mass of men congregates on the gravel square, although only a handful of Officers take their seats. The Padre arrives a
nd climbs a little hesitantly into his pulpit as a portable pump organ cracks up. This is accompanied by the congregation’s rendition of God save the King.
After the ragged singing peters to an end the Padre speaks
“Today’s sermon is taken from book? Chapter? The slaying of Goliath by the boy David.”
Sandy whispers “That’s appropriate.” As the Padre stops talking abruptly.
His face turns as white as a sheet and giving a kind strangled groan he clambers out of the pulpit, gathering up his robes the Holy Joe races towards the Chateau. The troops break out into a spontaneous cheer, the Officers leap to their feet and huddle together as the service turns into a shambles. I am sure I detected a few smiles on some of the Officers faces. After a few minutes without anything happening a wag begins singing.
“Why are we waiting?” The rest of the troops immediately join him.
After about ten minutes the Padre reappears the singing ceases, he only makes it halfway back towards the pulpit before executing a smart about turn and races back to the Chateau.
The same wag begins singing. “It’s a long way to the shithouse.” To the tune of a famous marching song. Sandy, the driver and the rest of the lads are beside themselves with glee they hug each other triumphantly. I am still very much in the dark about what is going on but I definitely hear the Padre’s driver shout in amongst the troops cheering.
“Suffer you bastard I hope your bleeding arse falls off.”
A carnival atmosphere prevails until eventually an Officer and the NCO’s take charge of the parade and attempt to bring the lads under control. After a while and a great deal of shouting they succeed in organising the troops into a semblance of order and hastily dismiss the parade.
As we stroll back towards the Chateau Sandy remarks.
“I think Tommy has been well and truly avenged eh Scouse? With a bit of luck the sod will be in the latrines until the duration”
He promises he will explain what has happened when we are well clear of this camp and not until.
We decide to keep out of sight until it is time to leave and meet the transport, I look out of the window a hundred times in vain sadly there is no sign of Denise. I had forgotten we are to leave before the time Denise and I have arranged to rendezvous at the rear of the Chateau.
I’m afraid I mope about in a really dejected mood and Sandy notices it. About an hour before we have to leave Sandy has had enough of me. He leaves the room with the excuse he going to say goodbye to the French staff. I cannot settle myself and pace the floor sit down stand up, look through the window for the umpteenth time until he returns just in time to leave.
Of course the MPs on the gate give us a hard time as we expect they would. They question us about this and that and search our valises before returning our papers. As we walk down the road I remember our Member of Parliament friend and mention him as there is no sign of him and the transport is due.
Sandy shrugs his shoulders saying. “He most probably has more important matters to deal with than a little front line casualty clearing station. Ah! Forget about him Scouse, Wasn’t a bad weekend after all and Tommy was avenged eh?”
“Right Sandy, there is no one about what was that all about at the church parade?”
Sandy laughs “Jollop! Scouse, I dosed his food with shit inducing jollop. That’s where I went last night. The French lads told me there is an old witch in the village. I gave her a pack of tobacco and told her I hadn’t been to the bog for a week, she gave me a double dose of extra strong shit blaster. I bet his poor arse went off like a cannon, he’ll be like that for a week at least. He won’t be entertaining any delectable females for a while. I reckon that was a good one eh Scouse?”
After I finish laughing I have to agree Tommy has been avenged
The transport has still not arrived an hour later and there is still no sign of the MP. We are having difficulty trying to identify our truck amongst the many vehicles heading towards the front line. When it eventually arrives we clamber aboard and make ourselves comfortable amongst the mixed hospital stores.
The truck reaches our casualty station about three hours after we board after many stops and starts. As the truck arrives at the gates I experience a strange sensation, it is a bit like arriving home.
The first thing we notice is the lack of Military Police the barrier is now manned by some of the general duty men we know. There are a few formalities but no showing our passes, and definitely none of the insults we had to endure previously. They shout a greeting and wave us through, Sandy drops off the truck to have a word with them about the changes.
I can’t wait to see Dave, Toot and the other lads and race to my home away from home on foot. As I enter the tent I bring up with a start when I see Billy sewing a single stripe on his white hospital coat by the light of a hurricane lamp.
Dave and Toot are also there but they are fast asleep. Two other fellows I don’t know occupy the spare beds. They have the contents of parcels from home scattered on a blanket. I feel a twinge of envy as I have never received a parcel of my own.
In fact the only correspondence I have received consists of the letters from the Council sacking me from my horrible job.
They give me a brief greeting before Billy and I go into a huddle, each one telling of their recent trips. As we talk my eyes keep wandering towards the newcomers enjoying their parcels.
Billy notices this and reaches under his pillow.
“That reminds me here’s a letter from home Scouse, been saving it for you. I also saved you this from the cookhouse in case you were to late home for supper.” He presents me a newspaper wrapped parcel.
“Nice cheese and pickle butty Scouse, food of the Gods.”
I thank him and slip the letter into my pocket. This will have to wait until I meet Sandy again. Like a hungry lion I wolf the sandwich down, the first thing I have to eat since this morning.
Billy tells me he arrived back from the course yesterday.
I enquire. “Was the course alright Bill, did you learn anything useful?”
He replied. No not really, most of it was marching and how to drill you poor buggers and when to put them on a charge. That will do me a lot of good that will in the operating tent eh? Oh yes I did learn about the new poison gas the Huns are using. They also warned us about some other stuff as well. A scientist gave us a lecture on Germ and Chemical Warfare. Anthrax was the name of the Germ I think they called it seems both sides are thinking of using it.”
I retort. “The silly buggers what will they think of next as if they can’t kill and maim enough poor buggers with the bombs and bullets that they already use.” It is all beyond me and I dismiss it without another thought.
Billy reveals something more disturbing in my opinion.
“Eh here’s a bit of news, remember that old sweat we talked to? You know the one who gave you that St Christopher thing?”
I finger the medal. “Yes of course I do. I often think of him.”
“Well he got himself Court Marshalled for desertion while I’m there. Did you know he has been hiding out in those woods for about a month or more? The cheeky bugger only joined the food line every day until they caught the poor sod.”
My heart fell bearing in mind how they treated Tommy anxiously I ask him. “What did they do to him?”
“He was sentenced to Field Punishment Number One.”
“What does that entail?” I ask.
“A couple of your mates the MPs, they tied him to the wheel of a gun limber. It was in the Square in the village close by the camp. He was there all day with nothing to eat or drink. I think it was done to humiliate the poor bugger. The Corporal I asked reckons that’s what it’s for anyway. The rest of the lads I spoke to didn’t think much of it and it really upset them. One of the permanent staff reckons he has never seen an Officer treated this way, despite some of them being on similar charges. After that punishment they shipped him back to his regiment. Hey did you know the fellow was highly dec
orated for bravery and had never been in trouble until he did a runner.”
“Thank God.” I said relieved at the lenient sentence he had received.
One of the new lads discreetly coughs to gain our attention. Billy introduces them quietly so as not to disturb the sleepers.
“Oh Hell, I forgot to tell you about these lads they are a couple of new mates Scouse their names are, Fred and George. They work for the Red Cross on the front line, they’ve been sent here for trench foot treatment.” The two men cross the tent and shake hands with me.
Fred is first to speak. “I believe we might be working together for a while. I couldn’t help overhearing you talking about the fellow that has been in brought in front of a Court Marshall; the poor bugger is almost certainly dead now. They might as well have shot him right away when they caught him, it would have saved him a lot of misery.”
Alarmed I enquire. “What do you mean he’s most probably dead? How do you know what’s happened to him, he might be alright?”
“You have no idea do you?” He counters dryly. I slump down on Billy’s bed looking bewildered.
Fred continues. “When a soldier is found guilty at a Court Marshall for desertion or cowardliness it’s like this. If they don’t put him in front of a firing squad right away he is returned to his regiment in disgrace. They strip him of all rank and decorations then he is sent ahead of everyone else on all the patrols.
The poor bugger is also first over the parapet when there is an attack on. Hmm! I have even heard of them being used to draw sniper fire. You have never served in the front line then?” He enquires a slight sneer in his voice. “No.” I reply slightly ashamed. “This is the closest I’ve been to the fighting.”
Sandy has quietly entered the tent and speaks.
“Leave the kid alone, he’s only sixteen, he’s seen as much pain and suffering in this place than most people see in a lifetime. By the way I know who you really are, that uniform and moustache don’t fool me I remember you from blighty.”