Angels at Mons

by Carl Leckey

  Fortunately I find a tool kit located behind the driver’s seat, a quick check of the engine reveals the reason for the boil up. The drainage valve on bottom of the radiator is leaking. I have no replacement and am unable to fix it with the gear available. There is an alternative if I can find a source of water and keep topping up, I might make it back to my base.

  My mess tin is the only receptacle able to carry water, it will definitely not carry sufficient to get me home. Using a lemonade bottle I found in the cab I began topping up from a ditch. Remembering Toots advice regarding using clean water I strain the muddy water through my handkerchief. This is a slow and tedious task. After topping the radiator five times I realise the water is leaking out faster than I can replace it.

  I had given up in disgust when a horse drawn farm carts approaches, gratefully I wave it down.

  An aged peasant farmer sits up front in the driving position holding the reigns. High wooden frames surround the rear of the cart designed to retain loose straw.

  A wooden bucket hangs on the front of the cart presumably for watering the horse. Just what I need to solve my problem, I attempt to bargain with him for the bucket using my stash of tobacco. He stares blankly at me until I try to remove the bucket from the hook. He is having none of it as the old man slaps my hand with his whip, not hard. But just hard enough to deter me from any further attempts to help myself to his property.

  I detect female giggles from the back of the cart.

  I go around to the rear to investigate. The cart has no tailboard which gives me a clear view of the interior. Six robed nuns occupy temporary wooden benches arranged along both sides, when I appear they quickly cover their faces with their wimples.

  Piled in the middle of the cart between the two benches are heaps of farm produce consisting of vegetables, fruit, cheeses, chickens in crates, and baskets of eggs. I attempt to communicate with the nuns to no avail. The only response I receive is more giggling from behind their covered faces. An idea comes to me as I remember something Toot had said when he instructed me in vehicle maintenance.

  I return to my truck and retrieve the last of my chocolate bars, returning to the cart I climb aboard and offer the chocolate to the nearest nun. Using mime I indicate I will swap my goods in exchange for five eggs.

  A rapid exchange in French takes place between the nuns, finally the bargain is struck. I gratefully take the eggs, hand over the chocolate and indicate I wish to bargain further with the driver.

  One of the nuns apparently much bolder than the others climbs down and follows me around to the front. I point to the bucket show the tobacco and offer an exchange. More rapid French between the peasant and the Nun takes place until the bargain is agreed. I know the old boy has the better deal and kick myself for revealing all my goods at the outset of haggling. The old villain has taken all my reserves, but desperate situations require desperate measures at this time.

  The nun clambers back aboard, the driver stirs the dozing horse when he tickles its rear end with the whip. The horse gives a snort and they are on their way.

  I set about repairing the truck fortunately the engine is still hot when I refill the radiator this time using the bucket. Starting the engine, I run it until it is very hot without the radiator cap, when I am satisfied the engine temperature is correct I break an egg and pour it into the radiator. After dropping them in one after another the fourth egg eventually cures the leak. I am congratulating myself on my initiative as I set off on my journey back to base.

  Maybe about a mile along the lane I catch up with the farm cart as there is no room to pass in the narrow lane I have to follow impatiently. The nuns wave excitedly as if they are glad to see me again. I travel this way for about half a mile when the cart approaches a group of buildings surrounded by high brick walls.

  The cart driver indicates his intention to turn into an ornate arched gate I stop and wait for him to manoeuvre through the entrance. As the cart disappears inside I begin pulling forward to pass the entrance.

  Just as the gates are closing I definitely hear a female voice shouting. “Adam.” I instantly recognise that lovely voice even above the engine noise, my heart leaps.

  I stop the truck leap out of the cab and rush towards the gates arriving in time to hear the bolts being slipped inside.

  Banging frantically on the door I shout. “Denise. Denise. Is that you?”

  No reply comes from behind the oak timbers. I press my ear to the slit where the gates join, muffled voices and sobbing ensues from within.

  I continue banging at the doors angrily until my fists are sore. When I get no response I consider climbing the walls, but they were designed to keep out intruders.

  I drive the truck close to the wall and climb onto the canvas cab cover in an attempt to look over the top, it is hopeless. I stretch as far as possible but still can’t reach the top of the walls. Then the canvas rips and I fall through finishing sprawled across the seats inside the cab. After considering other options to gain an entrance and dismissing them as impractical, I regretfully give up in despair and reluctantly continue my journey. There is one blessing out of the incident I do now know where my beloved Denise is being held against her will.

  As I approach the base a barrage of heavy guns greets me, it feels great to be home at last. When I catch up with them I receive a warm welcome from my comrades.

  I am told Billy has left for the front early in the morning and has not yet returned. Toot congratulates me on keeping the truck moving with the egg trick. Ashamed of my lapse I conveniently fail to reveal I hadn’t checked the truck out before leaving the hospital.

  Toot informs me a replacement Sergeant will be taking over from him shortly.

  “Will you be upset having to step down as head of the transport pool Toot?” I enquire.

  He replies with a sigh. “To tell you the truth Scouse, I don’t like all the form filling and paper work. I would sooner be out on the road with the lads. That’s what I’m here for rescuing casualties, not sitting on my arse snowed under with all this bureaucratic nonsense.” He indicates a heap of papers on his desk.

  Knowing Toot is a practising Catholic and a good family man, I decide to ask his advice regarding Denise. I explain everything from the start when I first saw her until the incident at the convent.

  Toot sits quietly for a while giving thought to my problems.

  “Um, he says. But I have to ask you, what about your trip to Le Havre? Billy told me all about you having a bit of an adventure with the naughty ladies.”

  Before I can answer his question thankfully Sam and Jake arrive back at the motor pool. On entering Toots office tent and seeing me they give me a hearty welcome.

  After a chat Sam gives his report.

  “Things are very bleedin quite at the front. I’ve brought in only two casualties with wounds but four other fella’s with some kind of fever. The poor buggers are out of their mind, they are sweating like pigs and at the same time complaining they are freezing. The bleedin road is overloaded with lots of bleedin supply trucks and troops. There’s something bleedin big going to happen shortly, you can bank on that.” Jake confirms his statement.

  “It’s bleedin murder trying to get through. Billy was only half way up to the front line with Girty when I passed him on my way back.”

  After getting his report out of the way he addresses me.

  “Well come on Scouse tell us all about your little holiday in that bleedin lovely hospital? I bet them nurses spoilt you bleedin rotten eh? Eh, I believe you were a bit of a lad in Le Havre as well eh? Do tell all Uncle Sam all about it. I need something spicy to liven my day up” Jake joins him in urging me to give the details of my first sexual experience. “ Yes go on Scouse lets have the whole story we want all the nitty gritty with no omissions.”

  Of course I blush and try changing the subject but the lads are having none of it. Another of the fitters I hardly know enters the tent and joins in the attempts to get the full story of my adventur
e in the House Of love.

  I’ll murder Billy when I get my hands on him, I vow to myself. It appears he has spread the story of my sexual adventure far and wide.

  After much persuasion I agree.

  “Ok I have visited the brothel. But only to get my money back Billy left with the Madam.” I add hastily.

  Jake asks in an amazed voice. “So let’s get this straight shall we? You were actually in a knocking shop the goods were paid for and you are trying to tell us you never had a little dabble with one of the delectable dolls?”

  “That’s right.” I tell him with false sincerity. “I’m saving myself for Denise.” Toot nods approvingly. I feel guilty deceiving Toot but I am ashamed to admit my deviances in front of him.

  Hoping to divert their attention from my sexual adventure with Christina I ask a question.

  “So Billy’s away in Girty eh Corp, he’s got Dave with him I suppose I hope they are looking after her?”

  “Don’t you worry about Girty Scouse, she’s being well looked after. Billy’s driving has improved by leaps and bounds since he brought Pompey Lill back from that trip. Anyway until you are truly fit I’m going to use you for driving Pompey Lill and the supply truck you’ve just delivered. When the new Sergeant arrives I shall be back driving again I hope?”

  I give a half-hearted protest but I know in my heart I am not fit for front line driving yet. Besides it might give me a chance to learn more about Denise.

  Toot winks and I realise he is ahead of me in thinking that very thing. Thankfully he does not pursue the matter of my passionate interlude in the House of Love.

  Chapter thirty-three

  Finding a civvy driver

  Sam and Jake leave to fuel up for another run. I have a quick meal, refuel then drive the supply truck up to the hospital stores. Toot decides to ride with me.

  As we ride we talk about the old man I met in Le Havre and his quest to find his brother that brought the charabanc over from the UK.

  Toot good man that he is says.

  “You know I feel somehow obliged to help this man find his brother, after all it is his charabanc we found. Tell you what Scouse? Tomorrow you and I will do the morning run to the front and give that field where we found Pompey Lill a good going over on the way. Sam reckons it’s a bit quiet at the moment it will be a good time to do this. Oh! That’s if you’re up to it that is?”

  “What about Billy and Dave Corp?” I ask.

  “We’ll take em with us. It will give us a better chance of finding something. I’ve been thinking, do you remember the bullet holes and blood stains when we went to fetch Pompey Lill?”

  I confirm what we had found and add my own views.

  “I was thinking maybe the poor bugger got hit and crawled away somewhere to die. Don’t forget Corp the vehicle was facing away from the front line. I reckon he must have been on his way back to the port when someone popped him. He would have already dropped his passengers off, so he was most probably on his own.”

  “But what was a civvy driver doing coming so far forward and what is more what mad bugger allowed it?” Toot muses aloud.

  At first light we set off for the front Toot drives and the three of us sit snugly in the rear with the canvas pulled across. Dave remarks.

  “This is a bit like camping when I was a kid in the Scouts, nice and warm in a tent and having sneaky feasts and smokes.”

  Billy adds. “Hey! This is a change for us riding in the rear of an ambulance with no casualties to look after.”

  I point out he has conveniently forgotten about our first eventful trip when we got lost and found the farm. We continue yarning about all the usual things. Billy laughs when I reveal what I told Sam and Jake about my visit to the brothel.

  “I’ll give you credit for a good yarn Scouse, but why did it take you four hours to get your money back, why don’t you admit you had a great time losing your cherry? You can come with us after next pay parade to the village knocking shop they’ve got some tasty women there eh Dave?”

  The daft buggers giggle like a couple of soppy kids.

  The ambulance finally stops and Toot shuts the engine off we know we have arrived at the field and throw back the canvas flaps.

  Jumping down we enter the field along with Toot. The deep ruts where Pompey Lill bogged down are now difficult to find in the long uncut grass.

  We spread out and walk in a line towards the spot where we reckoned it was bogged down, after searching for a considerable time we have no success in finding the actual place. The field looks so different now than what it did in the winter and spring. Hidden under the grass we stumble across deep ruts in several places where Army vehicles have crossed the field in an attempt to avoid the overloaded road.

  Eventually Toot calls us together.

  “We are wasting our time here lads let’s call it a day, we best head on to the pickup point.”

  We swish through the tall grass towards the access gate set in an unkempt hedgerow. I have never used the gate before, preferring to drive through a gap where other vehicles have crashed through.

  By some miracle it is by the gate where we find him, or to be correct his remains.

  Animals and worms have stripped all traces of flesh from the Corpse leaving tattered clothes and bones in a heap by the hedge row, the poor bugger had made it to the gate before dying.

  Toot being more hardened to the horrors of war than us young lads examines the rotting remains. While he sorts carefully through the remnants of the unfortunate person he locates a leather wallet, slightly gnawed by small teeth in the inside pocket of the ragged civilian suit.

  A mouldy identity card reveals his name and details. Toot whistles when he sees the man is seventy-two years old and it is indeed Fredrick Johnson. Other papers and a badge with the logo Employed on War Work confirms his status as a driver employed by the war department.

  Amongst the bones of his upper torso two bullets are located.

  Toot scrutinises the find before revealing something that startles the rest of us.

  “I don’t understand this lads these look to me like British 303’s, what the devil happened here?”

  He places the finds in a canvas bag along with the wallet a pair of glasses, the badge and a pocket watch. As there is no way we are able to get the body remains back to his Brother Toot decides to bury him close to where he died.

  Dave fetches the shovels from the ambulance and we dug a grave near to the hedgerow beside the gate. After wrapping the bones and clothes in a winding sheet we lower them into the hole as Toot says a prayer over the grave. After the ceremony we backfill the grave Billy ties together a rough cross made from twigs and sticks it at the head of the grave.

  Sadly we leave the site of an unfortunate civilian caught up in a war his age should have excluded him from. The questions of why he has brought the bus so close to enemy lines, who has permitted him to do so and why had he has been shot with British bullets? These mysteries are left unanswered at the time.

  We arrive at the pickup point after a slow and tiresome journey, the traffic is nose to tail to and from the front line. We notice no troops are leaving the front for R&R but hundreds of fresh soldiers are moving forward on both sides of the road.

  Two casualties hit by sniper fire and two feverish soldiers are all that wait for us. We eat a hurried meal at the mobile kitchen and set off for the return journey closely packed with the extra passengers. Billy won’t eat anything for a change. He replies he feels a bit rough when we inquire why he missed a chance of hot food. As we travel along his condition deteriorates by the minute until he is completely out of the game. Despite his protestations I insist he lies down on one of the stretchers I make him comfortable along with the other patients.

  Toot does the driving I ride in the back to keep an eye on him, I believe I recognise the symptoms when Billy becomes feverish and begins vomiting. When his temperature goes through the roof I bath his head and face with a wet cloth. It is a nightmare in the re
ar of the ambulance and there is no way Toot is able to hurry because of the traffic-clogged road.

  Every time we do stop Toot inquires about Billy’s condition.

  One of the other feverish patients in the top stretcher suddenly stops ranting and groaning, reaching up I examine him in a rudimentary manner as I am bounced about, I’m unable to detect any breathing or heart beat.

  I conclude the poor chap has died as suddenly as that his sudden death makes me even more concerned about my mate’s illness.

  Billy is definitely a victim of the dreaded influenza I shout the news to Toot as we approach the field where we recently buried the remains of Fred the driver.

  Toot rams his way through the hedge and steadily crosses the rutted field in an attempt to bypass much of the congested vehicles. Unfortunately the uneven ground throws the patients about, the screams and groans of agony chill me to the bone.

  Although the wounded soldiers curse scream and groan, the feverish men don’t appear to notice any difference. As we hit a particularly lumpy bit I am thrown across the ambulance and finish up sprawled on the floor. I decide it’s is wise to stay there until we reach the road again. After what seems an eternity we eventually make it back to the casualty station, Billy is completely incoherent by the time we arrive.

  The Doctors admit the two wounded men immediately but flatly refuse to allow Billy and the other patient into the underground facility.

  Toot drives to a row of bell tents erected under the cover of trees.

  We unload Billy and the other feverish patient into the care of masked nurses. In the meanwhile Toot takes the dead soldier to the tent where they carry out the Post Mortem.

  I make an attempt to stay with Billy to be near him in case of the worst, but the Doctor in charge of the isolation area will have none of it and orders me away.

  I make my way despondently back to the motor pool on foot using the footpath that passes near the German compound and the dreaded MP’s post.

  Chapter thirty-four