“Deserved, sir. You were busy enough lastyear to have earned more than one medal.”
“Good of you to say so, Baker. We were allup at the sharp end for those few months, were we not? Time for a bite of lunchbefore you go back up the line. I shall make all of your requests for winterclothing for the men, by the way. Don’t hold your breath waiting for them toturn up!”
A week and carrying parties turned up inthe night, reels of wire one between two. Thousands of iron stakes followedaccompanied by wooden-headed mallets, hopefully less noisy than sledgehammers.The Adjutant supervised all, rubbing his hands with glee.
“New style war wire, sir. Not the farmers’stuff.”
Richard inspected the finger-long,pencil-thick barbs, cut to a razor-sharp diagonal point.
“Vicious! How are the men to handle this?”
“New gloves, sir. Leather with metalplates to palms and separately to each finger joint.”
“Good. Sergeant Major!”
O’Grady was there, nodding thoughtfully.
“Set in coils, sir. A post every six feet.I shall take a count, sir, see how many layers we can set out. Silently in thenight and with no lights… I shall put out markers, sir. Canes stuck in theground at the proper points. Stretcher-bearers waiting in the trench immediatelybehind them.”
They would lose men in the wiring parties.Random machine gun fire, possibly a bombardment if the Hun picked up movement.Men would slip as well, rip themselves on the barbs.
It took a week and ten men, all injurieshandling the wire, two of them dead to blood-poisoning, the others sent back withdeep gashes to arms and abdomen.
“Eight lucky men got a Blighty One, sir.”
“Is that how they see it now, Paisley?”
“It’s what they are saying, sir, which isnot to mean that is what they are actually thinking. You will not find any ofour men deliberately cutting themselves, sir. Nor do I know of any battalionwhere it has happened for sure. Talked about, that’s all.”
“And if we get a hard winter, Paisley?”
“God alone knows, sir. I do not.”
The next letter to Primrose asked if sheknew of one of the committees sending comforts to the troops. A fortnightbrought a response.
’I have gone beyond the bounds of goodtaste, my dear, and have achieved much! Nothing like vulgarity for getting results!A mention to the ladies of Mayfair that Colonel Baker VC’s 8th BedsBattalion was without a kind sponsor brought immediate action. You will have toattend some sort of gala function when you come back on leave, I do not doubt,and display your blushing self to the old tabbies and young predators. Inreturn, the first parcels were put on the boat this morning with arrangementsmade to expedite their travel. I am told they will be with you inside the week.’
The remainder of the letter was as ever,with the exception that Zeppelins had been observed over England. This was veryshocking, as he no doubt appreciated. She had almost lost her temper with onedear dowager who had commented that they now knew what the troops were facing,were sharing the hazards of war with them.
He wished he might have been there.
There was little unusual in that, he oftenwished he was at her side in England.
The parcels arrived, one for each in thebattalion with a few dozen extras, counting being imprecise at a distance.Richard was amused that officers received the same as the men. Hawkeswill wasnot at all sure that was correct, felt that they should not refuse the dearladies’ bounty.
“No doubt they knew no better, sir.”
Richard was sure Primrose knew exactlywhat she was doing, saw no need to say so. He took his own box into the dugout.
“What have we got?”
They inspected the box, appreciating the thoughtthat had gone into the selection.
“Two half-pound bars of chocolate, sir.Everybody will like that. One hundred cigarettes, Senior Service, one of thebetter brands. Four ounces of pipe tobacco. The smokers can exchange thatbetween them. One balaclava helmet, thick wool, best quality. Two pairs ofthick stockings.”
They had spent at least two pounds on eachbox.
“I still don’t smoke, Paisley.”
“I know, sir. Don’t worry. I’ll look afterthe tobacco for you, sir.”
Word spread somehow that the parcels hadbeen organised by the colonel’s lady. The men cheered her.
‘Major O’Grady was appreciative of the benefitto his battalion.
“No end of good, it has done, sir. Not forwhat it was so much, though it was very welcome, but for the ladies caring forthem. A good smoke and a lump of chocolate to chew on is welcome. Christmascoming and the weather getting raw. The men are pleased with the balaclavasunder the cold tin helmets.”
The Army had at last organised protectivehelmets for the front-line infantry. Opinion was varied on their effectivenessand many of the men had begrudged wearing them, being an innovation andtherefore probably not necessary. Richard put his on unfailingly, setting theexample and ordering all other officers to do the same.
“Problem with Mr Wincanton, sir. The helmetscoming in just the one size, his tends to slip down and sit on his ears, sir. Perhapsthe balaclava will help it stay on top of his head.”
Richard was not surprised that Wincanton’shead was smaller than most – there was nothing to fit inside it, after all.
“How did he do in the push, Hawkeswill? Icannot remember noticing him.”
“He was where he should have been, sir. Atthe front, waving a damned great big walking stick vaguely and shouting to themen to keep their line. He went in first to his section of trench. Cannot askfor more than that. He fell over, jumping in, but they picked him up quickly.Apparently he found four Huns in a dugout and pulled them out at the point ofhis revolver, to the approval of his own platoons.”
“Well done the boy. I thought he mighthave gone wandering off in the wrong direction.”
“No, sir. Better put him up to fulllieutenant, sir. His men find him funny. They like him.”
“Glad somebody does! Put the papers in,Hawkeswill. How far does it have to go these days?”
“Division will give the effectiveapproval, sir. If they agree, it’s rubber
