Bass was a Wiltshire man, had joined thebattalion in Devizes after hearing of his younger brother’s death aboard GoodHope.
“Right, well seen, Bass. I will put thaton my map.”
“It ain’t there no more, sir, for oldPlowright and me throwin’ a couple of they bombs apiece at it. Old Plowright ‘ere,‘e tossed one what landed right inside the barrel, sir.”
“Well done, both of you. Anything else?”
Nothing was offered.
“Right! Drink up and get some sleep in. I’lldo the same, after writing up the report.”
Richard ducked into his own space, made ashow of sitting to his desk.
“Was it worth it, Paisley? Lost one man,threw a hundred bombs, thereabouts. Damaged or destroyed a big minenwerfer andtwo or three machine guns. Killed a few men. Pretty much pointless, when you lookat it.”
“All the officers and most of the blokeswill be wanting to go out on the next one, sir. Bit of a laugh, ain’t it,waking the Huns up with Mills Bombs about their earholes! They ain’t going tosleep easy these next few nights, that’s for sure.”
Brigadier Braithwaite agreed. He was muchin favour of demonstrating the offensive spirit, said so at some length overthe telephone.
“Thing is though, Baker, it’s not the sortof thing for you to be doing, not in person. I know there’s nothing you like betterthan getting into the Hun, but you are not to be risking your neck in theselittle affairs. Leave them to your subalterns – give them a chance to get some bloodon their hands! I shall send the report up the line, give Division something totell Corps to prove they are busy. Let Haig know that we are fighting this war.He comes in on the 15th, by the way. Day after tomorrow. Your boyMichaels has his MC at last. Took them long enough!”
“Well deserved, sir. I have made him up,acting, as lieutenant.”
“I’ll send through his permanence, Baker.He needs to be looked after – got the right sort of stuff in him. Getting backto you, an order, Baker! You are not to go out on any more of these bombingraids. You have done one, to see if it was possible. You have found that itworks, now don’t do it again! You are far too valuable to be killed in a minorsort of bickering. I shall need you next year when we have made the breakthroughwith the New Army.”
“Right, sir. I shall be good. It does gettedious, sir, sat here a quarter of a mile from the Hun and unable to get myhands round their necks!”
Braithwaite responded appropriately,telling him to calm his fire eating instincts. A few months and he would getall of the blood he wanted.
“For the while, behave yourself, andremember that pretty little girl who is waiting at home for you. She will not wantto put on black for you, Baker!”
“I hope to marry next leave, sir. Providedone comes through that is long enough.”
“In the New Year if our plans work out. Weshall see, Baker.”
Braithwaite managed to sound mysterious,no doubt intentionally.
As Paisley had predicted, Haig took over commandof the BEF on December 15th and the battalion went into reserve thatafternoon. Their attitude made it clear which was the more important.
Richard stood at Hawkeswill’s side and listenedto the queue of men at the delousing station, moaning as they stripped andthrew their uniforms to the last stitch onto a heap outside the doors. They hadbeen forewarned, had put all personal possessions and their all-importantpaybooks into the safekeeping provided and guarded by a pair of Provosts.
“First time I heard of they bastards doingsomething useful.”
He heard the same words a dozen times overas the men complained about standing out in the cold.
“Bloody well ‘urry up! Freezing meknackers off out ‘ere!”
The system was surprisingly efficient infact, the men waiting a very short time before entering hot showers, water underpressure beating down on them as they lathered up the ‘medicated’ soap andshampoo, both reeking of carbolic, and scrubbed themselves clean. Most took advantageof the razors provided and shaved their heads to the barest stubble, clearingout the lice the easy way. A few of the vain persevered with nit combs,scraping the eggs out of their hair.
Out of the showers, they towelled themselvesdry and walked through a stores shed, collecting new uniforms, all of itroughly sized and their responsibility to sew up to fit, but new and clean.There were boots as well, needing to be worked up but clean and solid.
They completed the circle, picking uptheir personal possessions under the eye of the Sergeant Major and collectingtheir rifles before forming up into companies and marching to their tents. Agroup of defaulters from another battalion was piling up their uniforms,pitchforking them into a cart and taking them off to firepits, to be soaked inpetrol and burned.
There were medical orderlies observing asthey dressed, running their eyes over the men for boils and rashes and festeringcuts and scratches, unnoticed at the front by the men themselves.
“Healthier than permitting them to belouse-ridden, sir. Waste of uniforms, maybe, but the only way of keeping themen clean. Can never get all of the lice out, no matter how much you try.”
Richard had seen the men sat in theirdugouts, ‘chatting’ – running a candle flame along the seams of their trousersand tunics, listening to the lice pop and knowing that a few would survive andbreed into hundreds within days. They did their best, could never succeed. Itwas said that some forms of typhus were spread by lice or other bugs. They hadto try to keep them down.
“What’s the word on work parties,Hawkeswill?”
“One week on, two off, sir. Not so muchcoming up at the moment and a labour battalion to hand as well. We should haveChristmas week completely free, sir, which is lucky. Poor sods up in the lineswon’t be so pleased.”
“Neither they will. It won’t kill them.”
“No, sir. The Hun will do that!”
Richard did wish that Hawkeswill would nottry so hard to
