‘That’s correct. We became engaged at Christmas.’ He still found himself beaming whenever his good fortune was mentioned. ‘Heaven knows when I’ll next get leave, but we’ll get married just as soon as we can.’
The other mugs of tea arrived. ‘Are you fully fit now, Bentley?’ Charles asked.
‘Much recovered, Sir,’ he replied. Charles had been promoted to a higher rank than his. ‘I got shrapnel in my leg at Passchendaele but I’m pronounced fit to face the enemy again now. Though I don’t expect to be playing football much in the near future,’ he added.
The army hospitals got men back into battle if at all possible. There was conscription now, but every man was needed.
‘I’d best be getting back to the ambulance, Sir,’ Fletcher said, saluting him. ‘We need to return to the hospital.’
‘Good to have met you again.’
As Fletcher went out the sound of the artillery was louder and they could hear the men chatting and grumbling as they crowded into the trench.
‘The food here isn’t too bad,’ Charles told his new comrade. ‘Private Barnes does the best he can with what we’re given. In the summer he used nettles to flavour the meals.’ By now he would be starting a fire in the trench wall. ‘He makes a reasonable maconochie.’
‘What, the soup?’
‘No, he’ll make a stew from scratch. There’s not much chance of getting fresh beef, or even horsemeat, but he’ll put in a tin or two of corned beef, and there’ll be some winter vegetables.’
‘That sounds more edible than at my last place, where it was mostly beans.’ Bentley was unpacking, and there was a photograph of him with his parents.
‘You got a sweetheart at home?’ Charles asked him.
‘No, Sir, no-one special… Your fiancée is a lovely looking young woman, if I may say so, Sir.’
‘She is, isn’t she? I must write to her and tell her we’re back in the Line… without alarming her, of course.’ He was due to receive a letter, for Beatrice wrote at least once a week. Very probably it had arrived at his old quarters after he had left.
‘I managed to spend a weekend in Paris last month,’ he said. ‘I bought Bea a new shawl, very stylish. I feel sure she’ll love it.’
His letters caught up with him a few days later. Beatrice was thrilled with the shawl he had sent her. She was concerned about his wellbeing, though when she asked after his meals her questions suggested she imagined him living in some kind of hotel. She had little real understanding of what trench warfare was like. She chatted on about a trip to London to see a school friend and visit the theatre, and told him about her new hat. The letters from his mother and elder sister were much the same. They had both assured him that Beatrice was going to make a fine addition to the family.
Occasionally he wondered about her. When Amy was mentioned he could not help remembering the occasion when Beatrice had refused to be her bridesmaid, after Edmond’s first wedding day had ended so disastrously. The two young women were so different. Amy was a schoolmaster’s daughter, who behaved in a refined manner but thought for herself. Bea had the traditional polish and accomplishments of a young woman brought up to be an ornament in society. She did not have modern ideas like Amy, or any inclination to take on serious war work. But when he looked at her delicate features, and the slightly coquettish smile which seemed just for him, he would not have her any other way. She was exactly the kind of feminine figure for whom they were fighting.
As he folded her letter and added it to some others, a man arrived at his dugout with a message from the major. He and Bentley were summoned to a briefing.
They and the other officers crowded round in a dugout which did the service of a makeshift office.
‘The Huns are on the move!’ They had all noticed that the artillery to the east was becoming louder. A spring offensive was inevitable. He had almost given up hope of a swift victory, but since they were destined to fight they must get on with it.
‘Make sure all the men are prepared to move up the line as soon as orders come!’ commanded the major.
They knew better than to question their orders in front of him. ‘How soon do you think the Americans will start arriving?’ Bentley asked as they returned to the dugout.
‘I don’t know,’ Charles replied, deciding they could drop pretences when they were together. ‘The Germans have made a treaty with Russia and stopped fighting on the eastern Front. The Huns will have reinforcements now.’
It was like a deadly version of one of those childish games, like Musical Chairs, he reflected. Each time the music stopped one of the players was eliminated. An officer friend had been killed on the Somme, and Edmond had been gravely injured at Passchendaele. If you were still in the game when the music continued, you wondered if you would stay lucky, or whether next time you would be out.
* * *
By the beginning of April the enemy had begun their advance and his unit was being moved elsewhere. Their guns were being hauled by horses but this time they had managed to secure a train to transport the troops.
As Charles surveyed the passing flat Flanders countryside memories of their recent attempt to defend Arras preyed on his mind. They had seen battle for a few days and once again he had lost comrades and seen others with severe wounds being despatched in ambulances. The German artillery had proved resistant to their efforts.
The train slowed down and clattered through a local station. The men were curious where they were headed. Those most aware, veterans of several journeys around Flanders, could tell they were proceeding west.
‘Our Front Line’s become too extended,’ Charles told them. ‘We’ll leave some of the forward posts so we can concentrate on the most strategically important areas.’ It would not do to call the move a retreat.
‘Won’t we go south to protect Amiens?’ asked a junior officer.
‘Other troops are headed there,’ Bentley replied. They had heard the New Zealanders were marching towards the Somme to protect the vital railhead.
The young man wearied of his questions and took a pack of cards from his pocket. Some of the others joined him in a lively game.
Besides the valuable men with combat experience they had new recruits, some very young, many of them conscripts. Their training had been hurried. Unlike the blithe young men of 1914, they were usually aware that challenges lay ahead, but it was hard to predict how individuals would react when they suddenly found themselves in the Front Line.
Charles took out his cigarettes and most of the men lit up. He inhaled the smoke thoughtfully. Early that morning, as they marched towards the station, they had passed a military hospital. Some orderlies had been loading equipment into a vehicle. Others had been carrying stretcher cases to an ambulance, while nurses assisted the walking wounded. They’re evacuating the hospital, he had realised.
They went on travelling west, heading towards the Channel.
* * *
Lavinia sat in the ambulance cab with Private Petch, the driver, for the back was filled to capacity. She and Emily took turns to sit inside with the wounded men. They had started out early that morning, and struggled along the rutted roads, through the dim, drizzly April day. There was the sound of artillery fire from a little behind them.
‘This is the most vulnerable part of the journey,’ Petch told her. ‘The Huns hold the high ground near here and can see anything that passes along the road.’
‘They won’t actually target us, will they? They can see the red crosses on the vehicle.’
‘They’re aiming at the army vehicles, at least I hope so – they’re supposed to respect hospital transport.’ He was a skinny young man who had been serving for two years now and conveyed their situation in a matter-of-fact way. If he was anxious he concealed it effectively.
Evacuating their hospital had been a new challenge for Lavinia, but she knew she had better not mention it in her letters to Amy and Florence. There was panic in the air as the Germans advanced, but she suspected the Brit
ish papers might not yet be revealing the gravity of the setback.
They were in a long convoy of vehicles heading westwards, anxious to make good progress because the Germans were not far behind. There was another burst of fire and the sound of shells landing nearby.
The ambulance lurched suddenly and churned into some mud. Petch strained on the wheel but the vehicle would not move properly. He swore. ‘Sorry, Nurse,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to get out and see what’s wrong.’
He climbed out. The road was wide enough there for other vehicles to overtake, so at least they were not holding up the convoy.
‘I’ll need to change the confounded wheel,’ he told her.
Alarm swept over her. Shells were still landing around them. If the Germans decided to ignore wartime conventions they were sitting ducks. She climbed out of the cab. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said, her shoes beginning to sink into the squelchy mud.
‘Can you manage?’ he asked.
‘Yes – I’ve done it before.’
She helped him ease off the damaged wheel. ‘Surely we weren’t hit?’ she asked. The attack was coming from the other side.
‘I should have been more careful to check the wheels before we started out,’ he said, ‘but there was such a scramble to get going this morning.’
Emily looked out of the back door. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, a trace of alarm in her voice.
‘We’re just changing the wheel,’ Lavinia said, trying to keep an appearance of calm. ‘Tell the men we’ll be on our way again soon.’
She helped Petch position the replacement wheel. The drizzle was turning to sleet now and water was dripping down her neck. As soon as her hands were free she turned up the collar of her coat.
Army vehicles were continuing to pass. No-one seemed inclined to stop and help, and it was hard to blame them when they were under fire. Petch had to secure the new wheel now. There was a heavier burst of fire and when she looked up she was thankful that they and the ambulance were still intact.
‘Let me give you a hand.’ One of the other vehicles had stopped and at last another driver had taken pity on them. He took over from Lavinia, though she stayed in case they needed any further help. At last the wheel was fixed. They thanked their helper and climbed back inside the cab. Their assistant waited beside the road to be sure they were able to continue.
Petch started the ambulance and they sighed with relief as it began to get up speed. ‘As soon as we’ve left this dangerous stretch we should stop, so I can help Emily check the men’s condition,’ she told him.
‘Right ho, Nurse.’
Sporadic artillery fire pursued them for a while longer, but at last they were out of immediate danger and able to pull over at the side of the road. Petch lit up a cigarette.
Lavinia got out and joined Emily inside the ambulance. The most severely injured man seemed to be holding his own. They took temperatures, gave injections and passed round glasses of water. Emily was one of the nurses from the hospital near Arras who had worked with Amy a year earlier. She was a short, small-framed young woman, but she was a hard worker.
‘This is the second time we’ve been evacuated,’ said Thompson, a young recruit who had been wounded in the leg almost as soon as he had reached the Front Line. ‘Are we retreating? Will the Huns take us away as prisoners of war?’
‘Might be the best thing, to be out of this bloody war! Let’s surrender.’ Davies had a painful arm injury and was constantly complaining.
‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Lavinia cried, shocked to hear such words.
The others were quiet, as though considering his suggestion.
‘I’ve nursed some Germans,’ Emily told them, ‘and I can speak a little of the language. I’ve heard them talking about what happens to British prisoners. They send them to Germany in cattle trucks and treat them as slave labour. They get half a loaf of bread to last them five days.’
‘Seems like we’ll have to go on fighting,’ said a more resolute comrade.
Another started singing ‘Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kitbag’, and soon someone was joining in.
Lavinia exchanged glances with Emily. She had never before heard defeatist talk. ‘I’ll relieve you now,’ she said. ‘Would you rather ride in the cab or squash in here?’
‘I’ll go in the cab, for some fresh air.’
‘I’m just going for a quick word with Petch,’ Lavinia said. She returned to the cab through the drizzle.
‘Can you spare a cigarette?’ she asked him.
He lit it for her and she drew on it gratefully.
‘What happened to your motorbike?’ he asked her.
‘I had to leave it in Ypres.’ She sighed. ‘I’m hoping one of the men who isn’t assigned to escort any wounded will drive away on it for me, instead of taking a train. If he doesn’t end up at the same place as us, he’ll need a day’s leave so he can ride it over to wherever I am, and take a bus or train back.’
‘I suppose that might work, when we find a new hospital.’
‘Do you think you’ll reach Cassel by dusk?’ she asked him. ‘I’d like our dangerously ill man to see a doctor as soon as possible.’
‘I’ll do my best, Nurse.’
There was no time to lose. She took another couple of puffs of her cigarette as she walked to the back of the ambulance, then stamped on the remainder and went to take over from Emily. Once they had changed places the ambulance started again.
Chapter Six
Larchbury and Flanders, April
Towards the end of March the bitter news came that the fighting had started again. Edmond had the impression the Germans were gaining ground rapidly.
They celebrated Easter. ‘Just think, last year we were at Béthune,’ Edmond said. They had both been serving in France and had managed to get leave to spend together.
‘What a delightful weekend that was!’ Amy said.
He agreed that it had been a memorable break, until, as they returned to their stations on the Monday, they had seen men on the move towards Arras for the next outbreak of fighting.
In the week following this Easter, Edmond had his next appointment at the hospital. He would be seen in the early afternoon.
Amy accompanied him again, less buoyant than usual, disturbed by the memory of their final meeting with Katherine. Pa drove them to London and they grabbed a quick lunch in a café before keeping the appointment.
Edmond was seen by the same doctor as before and tried to remain calm as the specialist applied the stethoscope to his chest.
‘You’re making progress,’ came the verdict.
‘I can tell that!’ he said gleefully. ‘I can walk much further now without becoming breathless. Reassure my wife I’ll be well enough to resume my studies at Cambridge in the autumn.’
The doctor smiled behind his glasses. ‘I can tell you’re impatient to be active…’
‘I certainly am. With so many others at the Front it’s especially frustrating to be sitting around at home.’
Amy looked at him anxiously.
‘Of course I love being at home with you, dearest, but I need an occupation,’ he pressed.
‘I daresay you’ll cope with university if you take things calmly,’ the doctor said.
‘I’ll apply as soon as we get home,’ he told Amy and Pa as they left the hospital.
Aunt Louisa had given them her key and asked them to take a look at her house, so they drove along her street. Her little home was chilly but looked just as it had before.
‘She was afraid it might get damaged in another raid,’ Amy said. ‘She can’t stop thinking about that night.’
‘I think there are fewer raids now,’ Pa said.
* * *
One day not long afterwards Pa took Edmond to Cambridge, to see the Principal of his College about resuming his studies. He had proposed making the journey by himself, but it meant travelling across London between trains and would be tiring.
‘You’re not quite well en
ough for that, son,’ Pa had said and insisted on driving him there and back. They set out the day before the appointment and spent the night in a hotel.
On the day of his interview, Amy was at The Beeches, wondering how it was progressing. In late afternoon she was sitting in the drawing room with Beth, singing her a lullaby before bedtime. Beatrice came in and smiled at them; she was captivated by her pretty little niece. Now she reached out and took her into her arms to sing her a nursery rhyme in her sweet soprano, as she sometimes did. Today it was ‘Ride a Cock-horse to Banbury Cross’, Beatrice’s favourite, and Beth gazed at her as she sang it.
‘Edmond loves that song too,’ Amy said. ‘He once told me he remembered you singing that to him when he was very young.’
The two young women exchanged smiles, in an unusually tender moment.
Soon it was time for Amy to put her daughter to bed. She left Beth to sleep in her cot and went to her bedroom to tidy herself before dinner, thankful she could wear her normal clothes again.
She joined her in-laws in the drawing room. ‘Edmond’s late back from Cambridge,’ she said.
‘If they’re not here soon I’ll tell Cook to serve our meal,’ Ma said.
Beatrice was rereading her latest letter from Charles. Her light green dress suited her greenish eyes and glossy chestnut hair.
‘How is he?’ Ma asked. ‘It’s a while since he wrote, isn’t it?’
‘Yes – I was feeling quite neglected. But he says they’ve been very busy. They’ve moved on to a different area. He says morale is high in his unit and the trenches are beginning to dry out now the weather is milder.’
Amy suspected that, like most soldiers, Charles was making light of the challenges there when writing to his womenfolk. The newspapers were clear now that the Germans were advancing. When she went into Larchbury she would see people crowding round the Casualty Lists displayed outside the post office.
Voices came from the direction of the entrance hall. ‘They’re back!’ cried Ma. ‘I’ll tell Cook to serve dinner in ten minutes.’
Until the War is Over Page 6