It was two o'clock in the morning before Pascoe succeeded in reaching the end of the sergeant's journal. Haste of composition, agitation of spirit and the fading of age had rendered much of the writing almost illegible, but again and again as it seemed he had reached an impasse, his mind found the way; almost, he might have said had he been a superstitious man, heard a voice speaking the obscure words and phrases out loud.
Ellie during all this time offered no reproach about the lateness of the hour, no comment upon the wisdom of the proceedings, but simply brought cups of strong coffee at regular intervals, and otherwise sat curled up on the sofa with a book which only later did he realize was the history of the Great War that Studholme had loaned him.
'OK,' he said finally. 'You want to hear it?'
'I haven't sat up half the night in hope of hearing the nightingale,' she replied. 'But perhaps you can edit?'
'Of course. It's the assault in Polygon Wood that's central. Here's what he wrote afterwards, when he'd been arrested, but well before he admits to himself what serious crap he was in.'
He coughed, recognized the echo of Studholme's introit, and forced himself to use his normal everyday tone as he started reading.
'Gertie finally snapped today – Id seen the signs from the moment we were told of our place in the line – he were talking all the time and making jokes that werent near funny – and reminding me of the old days when I were a lad and him a nipper. Bit different from Wanwood – he kept saying – Remember those trees – thought they touched the sky like it says in the poem – not that you could see the sky – so many branches and leaves all moving in the wind it was like being on the bed of the sea with all that green surging overhead. That was one of your games remember? You were always good at inventing games to keep me amused.
'Id best see what I can manage today then sir – I said. And I did try. I think his main fear to start with was that hed be too afraid to move – that when the command came to go forward and we all rose up and climbed out of our hole his legs wouldnt raise him and hed simply be left lying there for all to see and mock at. So I fed him rum – his ration my ration and a bit more besides till if hed had much more he wouldnt have been able to move for being stotious let alone being feart. It worked and when the signal came I gave him a bit of a lift – then he was up and off like someone on the cover of the Boys Own – waving his pistol and yelling like he were going to clear Jerry out of Polygon single handed.
'Didnt last of course – couldnt – I were hoping maybe hed get a friendly Blighty – bullet through his shoulder – bit of shrapnel in his leg – anything to knock him over and give him an excuse to lie there – but he seemed charmed – and while rest of us were creeping forward bent double – or going down never to creep again – he were prancing around like a lad on a football field yelling at us to keep up with him.
'In old days it might have been all right – quick charge on foot or horseback – scatter the enemy – all over in half an hour or so. Bet that many a man won his medal half seas over. But this lot goes on forever – and gets nowhere. Hour – two hours – all fucking day – you look around and where youve got to looks no different from where you set off from – same holes – same mud – same pathetic stumps – same bodies – same stench – same endless hopeless senseless sameness.
'Rum wears off – mind starts working again – realize that not all the courage nor all the cleverness in the world can save you now – blind chance – long odds – and if you do make it through this day nothing to look forward to but another and another and another. Gertie slowed then stopped – still with charmed life – rest of platoon badly hit – all around men Id known and some Id loved dead and dying – but Gertie untouched – except inside – I was close – saw his face as he turned – saw the horror and the terror there – all right if hed just collapsed maybe – could always say knocked over by shell blast – but I saw him start to run.
'Run? No running possible in that mud – floundering like weary swimmer close enough to bank to stand up – but definitely going back – no question if he met another officer what he was doing – hed even tell them what he was doing – hed hit them if they tried to stop him – and if he were seen by someone like Evenlode who hates his guts that ud be the end for him – cashiered – disgraced – maybe worse though they dont shoot so many officers.
'He were moving away from me and I might never have caught him – then shell blast threw up a wall of mud in his path and turned him towards me. I hit him. Down he went. Couldnt leave him there – likely hed turn over into mud and drown – or recover and set off back again. I went to others in platoon – not many – said lieutenant were hit and we had orders to withdraw – they wanted to believe me – nobody asked questions – I told them to give me a hand with Gertie – off we went back – passed through next wave of attack – nobody said anything and I thought – good luck! Back at jump off point I told others to wait. Gertie was able to stumble along with a bit of help now and I took him back to Aid Post – sat there for a bit to get my wind – then I gave smart answer to staff officer. That were silly. Sensitive souls staff officers. Put me under arrest for insubordination. Stupid sod doesnt realize what a favour hes doing me keeping me back here out of line. Maybe I should have started being insubordinate a long time back!
'Not funny. Try to smile and feel happy but all I can think of is all my mates – all the fellows I lived with and should have looked after – lying dead and dying broken and bleeding out there in Polygon Wood. Thats where I ought to be not here comfy and safe – out there in Polygon Wood. '
Pascoe stopped reading and Ellie said, 'Did he really think he was safe?'
'Why do you ask?'
'It's just the way he describes things, the black hopelessness of it all; he tries to put it off on Grindal – and don't misunderstand me, I believe every word he says about Grindal – but these are his own feelings he's describing, aren't they?'
'Oh yes,' said Pascoe passionately. 'No doubt of that. No doubt whatsoever.'
Ellie gave him a puzzled look then went on, 'And in taking care of Gertie, which I'm sure he did, he also takes care of himself. All the time I get this feeling that he's using Gertie somehow to externalize his own fears, and he ends up trying to persuade himself that having got Gertie back safe somehow guarantees his own safety. He must have known, surely, that with a battle raging, you didn't get locked up away from the action for a simple act of insubordination.'
'Sharp little thing aren't you?' said Pascoe. 'You're dead right. He knows that. But he doesn't want to let himself know it. He's so much like me, Ellie. I see myself in him all the time, all his fears and failings, all his little tricks to try and get by. He's so much like me.'
'One big difference,' said Ellie coming to stand behind his chair and draping her arms around his shoulders. 'You're alive. But the cat gets out of the bag later, does it?'
'Oh yes, During the trial. At first, like Studholme said, he put his trust in Gertie's testimony. He writes: Hes no fool Gertie – and hes basically a decent kind of man. A bit of peace and quiet will soon have him back to normal and hell work out what happened. Hell know theres no danger of him being charged because whos to give evidence against him except me? And hell know what Im saying happened because the captain has written to him – and hell send word that Ive got it dead right – so Im not worrying.'
'Like hell,' said Ellie.
'Like hell indeed,' said Pascoe. 'After he's heard Gertie's letter read out and realizes where this leaves him, there's obviously a gap when he doesn't write anything. Then he resumes after the verdict: Maybe I shouldnt have burst out like I did but it made no difference. They are going to kill me whatever I say and they might as well hear the truth of what I think – though not the whole truth – for I will not tell them that Gertie broke and was running for they would not believe it except perhaps for the adjutant who is malicious enough to spread it around – thus catching us both in different ways. And even that is still not the whole truth – for though the true facts of the business have been hidden from them I am none the less guilty as charged – Gerties fear was my fear and when I saved him from running it was also to use him so as I could run myself. I told that staff officer that I was going back up the line as soon as Id finished my fag but would I have done so? And was not perhaps my insubordination a deliberate attempt to sting him to anger and thus get myself arrested? So if they are right to shoot cowards then they are right to think themselves right to shoot me. But I know I am not a coward – nor I think is Gertie – so they are not right – or at least their vicious law isnt right. God help me that it has come to this. And God help Bertie Grindal when he realizes what it has come to.'
'God help Gertie Grindal when he realizes!' echoed Ellie mockingly. 'So what does he do? Sends a consoling letter and a bit of cash to the widow then gets on with the rest of his privileged life. God, if she'd known the truth, I bet she'd have thrown that money back in his face!'
