Well there was the sun coming up bright and hot – so hot that it almost hurt your eyes – and there was this bird hopping about on the helmet – I was afraid it would fall off and be sucked down into the mud, the mud here is very thick and heavy and I didn’t want it to be lying there all the time till it died, it would be a very slow death – and looking up then – my eyes were hurting me a little at first – I saw it in the sky perfectly plainly. I don’t suppose you’ll believe it but it was there as clear as anything you ever saw, a great white angel with wings and a beautiful, beautiful gentle face, that’s what it was, gentle, it was so great and kind so that the light no longer blinded your eyes but you could look at it without being hurt. I can’t describe it to you but you’d have to see it yourself its face was so gentle. And I think I went and told the others and they saw it too. Their faces became gentle as they looked, it was a miracle, dad, the way their faces seemed to become gentle like water, all these men.
There’s no reason to doubt it now . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CENSORED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cheerio for now, dad,
Your loving son,
DANIEL.
2
. . . you were asking me about this Angel of Mons, and saying that the Vicar preached that this meant God was on our side. And I should think he is right too. Give him my regards. It’s good to know there are people like him still about with faith in his country, not like some of these long-haired fellows, Germans in disguise I’d say.
Well, this Angel of Mons was quite extraordinary. It was about four in the morning and we were just about to go over the top. You know the sort of thing, we set up a creeping barrage, and there was an unholy racket – flashes of guns and everything. I really hate the Boche then when it’s cold and you feel tired and you’ve got to go in there and everything looks so messed-up. I get flaming mad when I think I could be back in Blighty still in my bed and just because of these little rats I’ve got to be in the trenches here. I get mad when I think of it.
As I said it was about four and we were all shivering. Picture me standing there with my watch in my hand – waiting for zero hour you know. You always say I’m a glutton for being punctual: well, you have to be, here, there’s nothing else for it. Otherwise the Old Man will be on top of you and that’s not all. God, how I hated these Germans.
Anyway there we were. Almost zero hour and this infernal racket going on pounding the Boche lines. Sometimes it gives you a sense of power too, thinking how your shells are pounding in there and they’re crawling about for a change.
My sergeant-major was just beside me. I’ve told you about him – or have I? His name’s Musgrave, a big red-faced chap. Very dependable. He always stands up straight when he’s walking wherever he is.
All this time there were terrific flashes in the sky. I couldn’t describe it to you not if I was Shakespeare himself. Do you remember that week we were on holiday in Cornwall and we ran into the storm on the moor? Remember there was thunder and lightning and the moor was flat and bare. And there wasn’t any shelter anywhere till eventually we found this abandoned hut with the rain lashing in through the windows. Well, think of that multiplied a thousand times. That’s how it was.
I was looking round at my men – quite good, too, most of them. You could see the light hitting their faces. And I was saying to myself repeating it over and over:
‘You German —— ’
‘You German ——. ’
That’s what I do before a battle. I just keep repeating that. It makes me feel better.
And quite suddenly I heard some of them shouting. They’re not supposed to shout you know; it’s bad for discipline. I turned round. Musgrave had turned round already and was laying into them – and I saw that they were all pointing to the east. Their faces seemed to be shining but there were a few who were asking:
‘What is it? What is it?’
I remember one of them especially, he was looking very anxious and asking people:
‘What is it? I can’t see anything. What is it?’
And none of them answered him, except that they were all looking towards the east, and I heard someone saying:
‘An angel.’
And another saying: ‘Look at its face!’
And all this time this little man was bouncing up and down saying:
‘What is it? I can’t see it. What is it?’
And Musgrave was shouting: ‘You . . . what the . . . are you looking at? There’s a war on you know.’ But no one listened to him, that was the amazing thing.
Someone else said: ‘It’s a sign.’
I looked at their faces. They all looked as if they were seeing a vision except this man and one or two others, and Musgrave cursing right, left and centre.
I turned too and looked where they were looking but I couldn’t see anything, nothing at all except the flashes from the guns. There were heads raised above the parapets near me and I could hear even in that racket some of the NCOs shouting out:
‘Get your heads down, you stupid ——,’ but no one listened.
I thought there was going to be a mutiny, the soldiers looked so unmilitary, their rifles hanging in their hands as if they had forgotten all about them. I knew what to do all right. I took out my pistol and shouted above the din:
‘We’re going over now. I’ll shoot anyone who doesn’t follow.’
Some of them stared at the pistol as if they couldn’t understand what it was.
I shouted again:
‘We’re going over now. I’ll shoot anyone . . . ’ and then just at that moment the bombardment stopped and I remember speaking the rest of the sentence out in dead silence. I can’t tell you what it was like, that sudden dead silence and these words coming out of it. As I looked their faces changed again, became tense, I shot my pistol into the air and we were off. Well, that was it. It didn’t last very long whatever it was and I forgot about it. I was pretty busy for the next few hours.
I think it was just tension myself. They snapped out of it pretty quickly when we got going and did very well all of them. Perhaps it’s something to do with guns and the flashes. Still, there’s nothing we can do about that: that’s for the top people to deal with and what can a lieutenant do about it?
What does Pater say about it? Has he heard about it? I hope he’s keeping as fit as ever . . .
3
REPORTER
Now, sir, what can you tell me about this Angel business?
GENERAL
I have nothing to tell you.
REPORTER
Nothing? But surely, general, you can’t just say nothing. This has caused a terrific furore. I doubt whether you people can afford to ignore it.
GENERAL
That’s what I intend to do. Ignore it.
REPORTER
But . . . Look at it this way, the Germans are also writing about it. They saw it too, or so they say. They want to be in on it too.
GENERAL
In on it?
REPORTER
Obviously. They can’t allow the English only to see angels. They claim it’s one of theirs.
GENERAL
And what do their generals say about it?
REPORTER
I don’t know. I haven’t noticed.
GENERAL
Well, I’m sure if you study these German comments you’ll find that their generals say nothing at all. And I also intend to say nothing.
REPORTER
But you agree that there was an angel?
GENERAL
I’m saying nothing. There may have been an angel: there may not. So far as I’m concerned that’s not my department.
REPORTER
&
nbsp; And whose department is it?
GENERAL
I can’t imagine.
REPORTER
But, general, can you not see the possibilities? ‘God is on the side of the British army.’ I must admit I find it comforting.
GENERAL
I don’t.
REPORTER
To think that these men . . .
GENERAL
Nonsense. What do angels know of us? Can they suffer on our behalf? I’m a religious man but I don’t believe in angels. I believe in God and Christ but not in angels.
REPORTER
But the men believe in them.
GENERAL
That’s their right.
REPORTER
But how could so many men be deceived?
GENERAL
I’m not saying they were deceived. I don’t know.
REPORTER
And the ministers are preaching in the pulpits that it shows God is on our side.
GENERAL
They have their rights, too. I pray to God every night and every morning, as they do. What are you writing?
REPORTER
What you said.
GENERAL
Read it to me.
REPORTER
‘General ——, himself a religious man, doesn’t believe in the appearance of the angel at Mons.’
GENERAL
Obviously you can’t print that. Anyway it’s untrue. I didn’t say I didn’t believe in it. Your despatch will have to be censored.
REPORTER
Isn’t it always? What am I supposed to write then?
GENERAL
I’ll tell you what I think now and make an official statement later. You agree to that?
REPORTER
Naturally, I have no choice.
GENERAL
Perhaps after the war when it’s all over and you want to write a book about it – so many people wish to write books, I can’t understand why – you may use this.
REPORTER
After the war is over, this will have no value.
GENERAL
Precisely.
REPORTER
What are your real views?
GENERAL
My real views? Well, I’ll tell you. My job is to win the war for my side, that is for the British. In order to win the war I have to make plans. I have a very good staff officer – he’s a Scotsman, you’ll have heard of him, Hume is his name. In any plan one wishes to avoid as many imponderables as possible. Do you understand mathematics?
REPORTER
I’ve tried.
GENERAL
I don’t. I leave that to my staff officer. But he always talks Mathematics, all about variables and constants. I know roughly what’s he’s talking about.
REPORTER
And your objection I take it is . . .
GENERAL
That that angel is a variable. It wasn’t allowed for in the plan. Not only so but it was a totally unknown variable. For instance, one might by chance run into two additional Boche regiments, not bargained for in our plan. But at least we would know where we were, and appropriate action could be taken.
REPORTER
But surely . . .
GENERAL
However, when you are confronted by the totally unknown and inexplicable there is a very long pause which is often fatal in war. You don’t know what to do. There are no precedents. It is situations like these which we wish to avoid. Supposing the army had refused to fight and been slaughtered by the Germans. In that case the appearance of the angel would have been decisive for the other side, and the angel’s famous compassion would have been destructive and evil.
REPORTER
But the Germans themselves saw it.
GENERAL
So they say.
REPORTER
You don’t mean that . . .
GENERAL
I mean nothing. Suppose the story got about that the Germans had a new secret weapon which could cause paralysis of the enemy forces so that instead of fighting they stared into this compassionate face. What then?
REPORTER
But such a weapon is inconceivable.
GENERAL
You might argue that it has already been conceived. It is therefore best to assume it wasn’t there at all. Once you admit the presence of the unknown you have to explain it and it is then the trouble begins.
REPORTER
I must admit I hadn’t thought of all this. But then . . .
GENERAL
It is my job to think of these things. Anyway I feel it – or rather my staff officer feels it – untidy that God should have to intervene in this way.
REPORTER
Untidy?
GENERAL
We don’t wish to return to the Trojan War. This appearance was essentially pagan. There is no need for God to appear at all. And what would happen if we depended on these appearances?
REPORTER
We cannot depend on the undependable.
GENERAL
We may, you know. We have to face this. The appearance must not be allowed to become fact. It’s too superstitious, as I said.
REPORTER
But what could have caused it?
GENERAL
I have no idea. In the long run men must rely on themselves not on angels. Angels have nothing to do with us. Do you understand? Ah, come in, Hume. This gentleman would like to talk to you about angels. He works for a newspaper.
4
‘The Battle of Mons was opened by the British with a barrage of fire and one angel.’
Here the reader – and I don’t wonder – will stop and stare. An angel? And how did they indent for that? Are the quartermasters of the bourgeois forces on good terms with angels then? We wouldn’t have thought it. Or was it perhaps the bourgeois clergy that pulled the wool over people’s eyes? And was this a British angel or a French angel or a German angel? Or was it educated at Eton and did it speak Latin? Who knows? They all claim this angel, as if it was one of their own aeroplanes!
What a scandal there would have been if they had shot it down! It would not have been cricket!
And what did German decadent metaphysics make of it? ‘The spirit of history. Hegel in person.’
But there is one thing that can be said: this was a bourgeois angel: it wasn’t only French or British or German: it was common ownership by all.
Nationalised, in fact!
And what is the explanation of this strange phenomenon? Surely the bourgeois aren’t beginning to swallow their own lies. That would be ironical indeed!
But you object it wasn’t the bourgeois that saw it but ordinary soldiers, who had no interest in this war.
And that is true. It was the ordinary soldiers who saw it.
But what did it do, this angel? As far as we can see, it just hung there fluttering its wings, looking very sad and very compassionate. It didn’t help either side. It just hung there like a Christmas card.
What are we to make of it? If it had only done something, you say, but just hang there like a decoration.
But of course it couldn’t do anything. What could it do?
It was simply a sign that the war was at a standstill. It was simply a sign of the internal collapse of the whole bourgeois system.
But how can that be, you ask?
Well, it is quite simple. All countries move upwards into the so-called phase of the spirit, the phantom sphere where its inner resources are exhausted. It happens also with individuals who merely reflect in this way the coming death of the system which they inhabit.
Aren’t Plato’s ideas the same, these phantoms in the sky?
And this angel which hung there motionless and compassionate, what else does it signify but the death of a system torn apart on earth but united in the sky?
Why was it that it was the ordinary soldiers who saw it first?
Again the answer is simple. The ordinary people – or rather the people – saw it first because they are in the
van of knowledge. They feel – even before the bourgeois – the death of the system which the bourgeois had created.
And why was it that their first idea was to lay down their arms till threatened by their officers? It was because they knew that that was not their war, that that was on the contrary a bourgeois war, and they were no longer going to endure fighting for their so-called masters.
It is perfectly clear that this phenomenon – this angel – shows in fact that the death of the bourgeois system was beginning to penetrate the consciousness of the ordinary soldier: and this was reflected in his consciousness by a picture drawn from the Christian myth. There is and can be no other explanation.
If it had happened in some other country – of a different religion but at the same level of bourgeois development – the picture might have been different but the explanation the same.
The Red Door Page 57