Angels at Mons

by Carl Leckey

When I showed interest in their enterprise he gave us more details.

  “We usually travelled together, spelling each other on the driving we are not so young as we were you understand? On the trip my Brother went missing I became ill with a bit of tummy trouble so Fred brought it over himself, he’s not very brightest of fellows my brother? I have delivered another six vehicles since then. Every time I bring one over here I have attempted to find out what happened to our Fred but nobody seems to know, or they ain’t saying or maybe they don’t care. You are the first ones to take any interest in my story.”

  He wipes a tear from his eye.

  I remember the bullet holes we found in the bodywork and the bloodstains when we recovered the charabanc.

  My heart goes out to the old fellow, I outline where the vehicle had been discovered close to the front line. I don’t mention the other details as there is no evidence it involves his brother, the old boy doesn’t need more grief without solid evidence.

  When the passengers begin to arrive I apologise and warn him I will be shortly setting off, before he leaves the old man gives me his home address with a plea to write if I hear anything.

  His request for me to write pricks my conscience, I haven’t replied to Tommy’s Mother despite the fact that I can now read and write, must sort that out I promise myself.

  I refuel at the petrol dump, carry out my checks and show more papers to the MPs. At about nine o’clock I set off for the return journey.

  Although the day is a warm one and the lads are travelling in shirt sleeves. Myself I feel freezing cold much to Billy’s surprise I don my great coat.

  The passengers swap stories about their leave and the hard conditions they have experienced it home. There are more rumours about a possible armistice or cease-fire talks running through tired Britain like wild fire.

  I have only progressed a few miles when I begin to feel hot and sweaty then cold and shivery combined with coughing bouts makes matters even worse. My nose begins to run like a tap, realising I can’t carry on driving in this condition I pull Pompey Lill over to the side of the road with the intention of handing over to Billy.

  Other vehicles following blow their horns angrily as I reduce the width of their road space making it difficult for them to pass. I attempt to stand up but feel suddenly weak and slump back into my seat. Billy’s face flashes in front of my eyes, alarm showing in his expression. The last thing I remember is one of the passengers examining me, from then on my life became a blur of high fevers, and freezing body temperatures combined with wild nightmares.

  Visions of strange masked people float in and out of my confused fever ridden brain.

  When I eventually return to the land of the living I have no idea how long I have been incapacitated, or where I am? I found myself in what I recognise as a hospital bed covered by crisp linen sheets and dressed in a clean night-shirt. Although the room contained six beds I am the only occupant.

  The overpowering smell of disinfectant makes me gag with nausea.

  After a while a masked nurse enters and observes me awake, she leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with a Doctor.

  He examines me, takes my temperature, sounds my chest then whispers something to the nurse and removes his mask.

  “How do you feel old chap?” I mutter sarcastically. “Great.”

  The Doctor appears satisfied with my improvement.

  “It was a close thing, but you are on the mend now, feed him up nurse and take the quarantine sign down off the door. I’ll pop in later old chap and see how you are getting on, a few people will be glad to know your getting better they’ve been pestering me for days about your progress. You have friends in high places you know?”

  He laughs as he and the nurse leave the room.

  Damn! I haven’t asked him where I am or what was wrong with me, I still feel pretty rough and my mind continues to wander.

  Suddenly a horrible thought strikes me, have I caught a horrible disease in the brothel? I have often heard the lads going on about the pox some unfortunate soldiers catch after having sexual relations with prostitutes. They seem to think it is a big joke as long as they don’t catch it themselves. I recall what my guide Ted said about taking home something unpleasant home to his wife these horrible thoughts occupy my fuddled mind.

  Hesitantly I explore my tackle, thank goodness all appears intact, and nothing has fallen off. I recall the lectures given by the medics in the training camp about the awful diseases soldiers and sailors are somehow prone to. Nor do I forget the gory pictures we had been made to look at.

  I sweat not so much from my illness but from my racing horrendous thoughts.

  A nurse enters the room reads my notes and removes her mask, I recognise her immediately as one of Denise’s sisters. So I am in the Chateau hospital and she is now a member of the nursing Staff, her presence gives me the cringes of embarrassment.

  God I wish that bomb or shell had killed me rather than face Denise’s Sister suffering from such a disease I imagine I have. She smiles.

  “Adam my dear how are you?” She inquires in a voice as equally soft and sexy as Denise. Before I am able to motivate my stuttering mouth to reply she adds. “We thought we had lost you Adam, the Doctors couldn’t diagnose your illness right away. That is why we have you in quarantine, eventually they succeeded when many more cases appeared.

  “What is wrong with me?” I ask hoping against hope it isn’t what I imagine.

  “You had a very severe dose of influenza that turned into pneumonia. You were very lucky we have excellent Doctors here.”

  My heart leaps at this news. I know pneumonia isn’t a sexual disease because one of the nuns in the orphanage once suffered from it.

  She begins feeding me beef tea, in between mouthfuls I ask.

  “How is Denise, do you know where she is?”

  “Shush now.” She replies. “We are not to talk about my Sister. Grandfather has forbidden any mention of her.”

  I plead with her. “But surely you can tell me, nobody else will know. I desperately want to know if she is fit and well. You know I love her dearly?”

  She put her finger to my lips gathers the crockery and leaves me on my own.

  As she departs something strikes me, I throw the clothes back with the realisation I’m dressed in a hospital shift only. Someone has evidently stripped my clothes off when they admitted me. For some reason I idly wonder if it was Denise’s Sister that has seen my bare body when she washed me.

  The thought of her seeing me nude embarrasses me a great deal although she is a nurse. I hope I will be able to face her without blushing or stuttering.

  I try to stand, the room whirls around and my legs refuse to hold my weight, I collapse back onto the bed just as the Doctor returns.

  “Been trying to get out of bed have we?” I have to agree with his observations as he has caught me half in and out of bed.

  “You will have to give it a few days my boy you are very weak you see? Give the nurses a chance to feed you up a bit you will be as right as rain, I promise. Enjoy the convalescence while you can, silly fellow.”

  “I see from your notes you are normally based at the forward casualty station? Then you have some experience in medical matters, I expect better things from you. Tomorrow we will assist you out of bed, in the mean time rest and eat”

  I take his advice without any choice I sleep on and off for the next few days until my weakened body regains its strength.

  In the early hours of one morning I’m stirred from my sleep by sounds of confusion outside my room. When the door opens two male attendants enter carrying candles.

  I sleepily enquire. “What’s going on?”

  One of them replies. “I’m glad you are already awake mate, we have to shift you into another room. Some more lads have been brought in suffering from influenza; the Doctor wants them isolated in here.”

  They assist me into a bath chair and one of the lads pushes me from the room while the other beg
ins stripping my bed.

  I begin recognising features of the building as we move along the ground floor, when we arrive at the door that is normally barred to military personnel I see it is now wedged open.

  As he pushes me into a corridor lined with doors it prompts me to ask my helper.

  “When did the Army take over this part of the Chateau, what’s happened to the French staff?”

  He shrugs and replies in a bored voice. “I’ve no idea mate, I’ve only been here three days I was on that charabanc you were driving when you fell ill.”

  So that’s how long I have been here. “Did my mate drive old Pompey Lill then? Where is she now?” He informs me. “If you are meaning the Charabanc? Your mate drove it when you collapsed. I believe he’s taken it back to your base at the casualty station. You were a lucky sod when you collapsed two of the fellows on your charabanc were Doctors. That mate of yours Billy drove like a maniac to get you here as quick as he could, good lad that. Poor sod thought you have snuffed it with a heart attack or something, he kept telling the Doctors it’s was all his fault, because he had talked you into it.

  Whatever it was he talked you into we didn’t find out. Hush now we have to be quite, the lads are asleep in here.”

  He manoeuvres the bath chair into a room crowded with beds, snores and an occasional fart interrupt the silence of the night. The attendant assists me into bed with difficulty. I lie for a while with my eyes closed after he leaves the room.

  I just can’t get to sleep and open my eyes the only illumination comes from moonlight pouring through the window. I admit it’s great to be in a comfortable clean bed now my health is improving. I recall the session in the house of love with the beautiful Christina. The memory stirs my limp manhood thank goodness the illness has not affected that vital part of my body. Contented with the discovery I relax and within seconds I fall into a deep pleasant sleep.

  Chapter thirty-two

  Hospital

  My dose of influenza is the first recorded at the Chateau hospital.

  Very shortly after my arrival, a series of admittance’s with the horrible debilitating affliction began increasing at an alarming rate from then on.

  The fourth day after coming out of my semi unconscious state I am on my feet much to the surprise of the Doctor.

  “It’s because you’re young and fit.” He proclaims as a reason for my quick recovery.

  My reasons are quite different, I want to be away from all these sick people as soon as possible and I really miss my mates at the transport pool. I approach the Colonel, the Staff Sergeant, and the Sergeant in turn about leaving. Without exception they try persuading me to take home leave from there. Naturally I refuse their offer, where will I go If I take the leave? I couldn’t afford anything as luxurious as the Chateau on the pittance the Army pays me anyway.

  The cook Sergeant is as friendly as usual when I eventually pluck up courage to go and see him, I am still embarrassed regarding my sudden departure without introducing him to the interpreter I promised.

  “Not to worry lad.” He laughs when I explain the circumstances.

  “I displayed a request for a French speaker on the hospital notice board. Would you believe it three volunteers responded and they had all been here for a while, all my troubles are over on that score lad.”

  When I enquire about Denise he still has nothing to report, and tells me about some other changes that have taken place since my last visit.

  “All the French servants have been moved out of the Chateau to billets in the village leaving extra rooms available for more patients.”

  He is very pleased to reveal that two of Denise’s Sisters serve as nurses in the hospital. Without their Grandfathers dominating influence they are integrating very well with other members of the military personnel.

  I confided I had already met one of the Sisters and the embarrassment it caused me at the time. The cook thought this very funny considering the girl is a trained nurse.

  “Eh lad they have seen more than you have hidden in your pants. Ha, ha!”

  The gossipy cook Sergeant divulges all kind of news and information over several more cups of tea.

  After about an hour in his company he resumes duties it leaves me at a loss of something to occupy my time. I begin reading anything to hand, consuming the written words with the appetite of a hungry man. Eventually with no library to talk of I run out of reading material, for a couple of days I wander about getting stronger by the hour and becoming more fed up by the minute so I begin helping out with various jobs, to alleviate the increasing boredom.

  One day I set off to visit the local brothel in the village with the intention of reliving my sexual experience at the house of love. Since my wonderful interlude with Christina and my sexual education in her skilled hands I’m ashamed to say the need for a female administration is constantly on my mind.

  My depleted funds are scoffed at when I offer them to the Madam for a quickie with one of her ladies. Evidently this particular house of love entertains more affluent clients than a poor private soldier.

  I get a lift back to the rest and recover camp and settle down on the grass to watch the lads playing football. Despite not being one for sport of any description I enjoy the spectacle of about forty yelling soldiers racing after the ball. They totally ignore the rules of football and the Corporal they have appointed to referee the game as he blows his whistle in vain. These lads that a few days before were fighting, killing and suffering unimaginable horrors in the front line act like a bunch of unruly school kids.

  The game resembles a battle more than a football match with advances retreats and skirmishes, howls of victory when they score and groans of despair when they miss. The walking wounded, men in bath chairs, nurses and attendants join in with enthusiasm and hoot and jeer from the side lines.

  What a brilliant diversion from the horror of war that is taking place a few short miles away.

  After the game I am heading back up to the Chateau when one of the general service supply trucks approaches the beginning of the driveway. When the vehicle stops I think he is waiting to give me a lift, as I approach the truck it starts moving again, it weaves about in an unusual way crawling at a snail’s pace on its way towards the hospital. Something is definitely wrong, as the truck draws level I leap onto the running board.

  The driver is slumped over the wheel as if asleep I try shaking him no joy I shout in his ear to no avail. I am still not very strong after my illness I try dragging him clear of the seat before the truck crashes into the hospital. Despite all my efforts I can’t move him his feet are somehow entangled with the pedals.

  In desperation I scramble behind him throw the ignition switch to the off position and pull on the handbrake with all my might. The vehicle comes to a stop inches from the glass conservatory that surrounds the front of the Chateau.

  Crippled patients lying on beds inside would have been helpless to escape from the runaway truck. Nurses and a Doctor come running outside to see why the mad driver is so close to crushing their infirm patients.

  I find myself shaking as I disengaged myself from the driver and climb out of the vehicle. One of the Doctors takes the situation in at a glance and clambers up to examine the driver. He shakes his head and declares him dead to his fellow medics. The Sergeant arrives on the scene and congratulates me on my quick thinking.

  “How are you feeling now Scouse?”

  “Feeling great Sarg but I’m getting bored with nothing to do, any chance of me going back to my unit or can I do some driving at least?”

  He smiles. “We have a supply truck that needs taking up to your station currently without a driver. Do you know anyone qualified and willing to take it?”

  I gratefully thank him and ask the question, “when do I go Sarg?”

  I didn’t realise when he made the offer I would be stepping into dead man’s shoes. What a way to get back into a driving seat, he is hardly cold when I am taking over his vehicle. Unfortunate fo
r the driver but fortunately for me the truck is the same model as the ambulances I normally drive.

  I wonder am I becoming as emotionally detached to tragedy as the old soldiers I serve alongside on a daily basis?

  Before he leaves the scene I ask the Doctor.

  “What killed the original driver?” He looks a bit puzzled before replying. “I’m only guessing at this stage, but I suspect it is the influenza epidemic that is now sweeping across Europe.”

  I leave at first light, as the petrol tank is full I have no need to call at the fuel dump I pass through the gates with the minimum of delay.

  It seems strange driving without a second man to chat to as I drive at a fair rate using the back route. Although it is longer route I am now travelling on I have used it few times before to avoid the ever-increasing traffic on the main road.

  Summer has faded into a glorious autumn the yellow and brown leaves that have fallen from the trees lining the lane cover the surface in a soft mat cushioning the solid rubber tyres.

  Except for the distant gunfire in the distance it could have been a day’s pleasant driving in peacetime. As I pass the spot where Billy killed the sheep it seems like months ago since that occurrence.

  I daydream about Denise while I am driving happily along when a column of steam gushing from the trucks engine compartment ends the pleasant trip. Damn! The radiator is boiling, either there is a major problem or hopefully it is just the radiator that needs topping up. In my relief to be on my way I have committed a cardinal sin for a truck driver by not checking the vehicle out thoroughly before setting off.

  Switching off the ignition I bring the engine to a stop. What a dilemma I am in! I hadn’t checked what tools and other equipment the vehicle carried either when I took over the vehicle. Because I have no second man it means I can’t leave the vehicle unattended, to make matters worse I am on a route not frequented by the military, what a predicament?

  Controlling my despair I ask myself, all right, what would Toot do in my circumstances?

  He would check the cooling system for leaks and see if there are any tools in the vehicle.