Andrew Wareham: End to Illusion

Conversation stalled, turned rapidly to considerations of industry and agriculture.

“Mr Baker, you must know more than us of iron and steel – is it the case that we are not producing sufficient for our needs?”

“Aye, my lord. Definitely so. In part, too many of my men volunteered last year and are carrying a rifle in France. It were better they should be sent home again to better use their skills. There are shopmen and office workers who could go out in their place. More sensible to ensure that the skilled workers of every trade remained in their jobs and that the mere labourers and clerks replaced them in the services. That aside, we need a better organisation of purchasing for the Army and Navy, my lord. This last week I have had a deputation from the War Office demanding that I produce armour plate for a project of theirs; at the same moment, there was a party of naval people asking for more plate for their ships. I cannot supply both and need be told which is more important, my lord. I hear the same from all of my competitors, my lord. We try our best to meet the needs of the nation and are left to guess what they might be.”

Lord Elkthorn promised to instantly form a committee to investigate the problem, which he had not known to exist. He seemed to think that to be a sensible and sufficient response.

They joined the ladies and mingled determinedly, all of those new to each other to exchange a word, as was demanded by courtesy.

“Such a pleasure, Colonel, to be told that little Primrose was to marry and to so distinguished a soldier!

Richard smiled at the fifth repetition of the comment, made his stock reply of how happy he was that she had consented to wed him.

“Next year, I expect, ma’am.”

“When the war is over, you mean, Colonel?”

“No, ma’am. I have no desire to wait out the decade!”

Richard escorted the family to St Pancras next day, made his farewells and assured his father that he had shown well on the previous evening.

“It ain’t my place in the world to be mixing with lords and such, Richard! I like your little Primrose, my son! We talked a bit, her and I, and she is sensible and down to earth, that girl! Got a good head on her shoulders. You made a good choice there, Richard. I asked her where she wanted to live and she said a place in Norfolk would do her well, next to the sea. She went there on a holiday once and likes the country. If you do not object, I shall seek a place there for you.”

“Don’t know it, sir. If she likes it, that will do for me.”

“You have grown up, my son. I like the man you have become, much more than the boy. Good luck!”

They boarded the train and left Richard and Paisley to make their way to Paddington and the West Country.

Major Vokes arrived in the barracks at Devizes early on the Monday morning, reporting briskly. He was in his thirties, a heavily tanned career soldier with years in India behind him, recently promoted at an early age for a regular.

“Vokes, sir. I gather that I have to fill the shoes of one of the old brigade.”

“You do, Major. You are welcome indeed. We entrain on Thursday and I much suspect that there is a deal of organisation still to be done. Sergeant Cooper will know exactly what remains for you. Have you seen the Trenches?”

“No, sir. Disembarked from India two weeks ago. Service on the Frontier is all I know of action, sir. Believe it or not, I was shot with an old musket and spent the journey recuperating!”

“You will learn. Our Sergeant-Major knows his way about, joined me from the 3 rdBattalion. He is a useful man and I would listen to his advice. The bulk of the battalion is green. All are willing and have learned to march and to point a rifle. The rest they can learn quickly under fire. Food, ammunition and rum, in that order, and the battalion will become effective in service. Where possible, turn the blind eye, Major. I prefer to see as little as possible of what happens in the dugouts. Keep a firm hand on the young officers – most of the lieutenants know nothing other than their Cadet Corps; be sure that they do not make foolish demands on the rank and file. No parade gloss on the boots or that damned nonsense!”

Vokes said that he had heard the trenches were full of mud.

“Exactly, Major. We shall be active, trench raiding and such, that being the way to keep morale up. You will have the opportunity to go out of a night, letting the men know that we lead from the front. I can’t go out too often – colonels are not allowed to – but I shall make sure I get my hands dirty on occasion. You should do the same.”

Vokes was sure he would be delighted.

“Dinners and mess fees, Major. Most of the youngsters live on their pay, so no extravagance in the Mess. It’s wartime.”

“Last word, Major – the Adjutant ain’t the most wide-awake I have ever seen and you will be carrying him more often than not. I haven’t found out how to make him useful – you try!”

Richard found himself almost bereft of words next morning as he welcomed his new second lieutenant.

“What are you doing here, Mr Wincanton?”

“The battalion was asked to provide a second lieutenant for the 8 thBattalion, sir, and I volunteered instantly. The colonel said he was very glad to allow me to join you again, sir!”

Richard was sure that was so and knew exactly why; he was surprised he could not hear the man’s laughter from Devizes.

“Good of him, Mr Wincanton. We go out to France the day after tomorrow, so you have no need to unpack too much. Report to Major Vokes now and he will settle you into your company. I am glad to see you under my command again, Mr Wincanton.”

“I was sure you would be, sir. You put a great deal of effort into assisting me, sir.”

“So I did. Let me pass you across to Major Vokes now.”

Richard sat back and debated making a telephone call to Bedford. It would achieve little, he suspected, other than to cause offence. He intercepted Vokes when he returned to the offices.

“Which company has he gone to, Major?”

“C. In direct place of the youngster who was hospitalised. You know him, he tells me. Most pleased to return to your command.”

“Wincanton is a complete idiot, Major. He has yet to work out that I did not speak to him in friendship and that I really meant my threats to place him before a court and break him down to the ranks. He is a clever lad as well – just bone idle and not fit to be let out on his own!”

“A month at the front will do him some good, sir. One way or the other. He’ll learn or he’ll be six feet under.”

“I am worried that he will take many of his company down with him, Major. A hopeless object, I fear.”

Two trains were waiting at Devizes station, off in the sidings waiting for the battalion and its necessary stores. Major Vokes had a timetable worked out and the companies marched in, each behind three general service wagons which they unloaded into marked freight cars before themselves boarding their carriages. Five hours saw the whole battalion aboard and waiting to pull out.

The officers took the leading first-class carriage and Major Vokes spoke to the stationmaster and jumped aboard as they joined the main line within seconds of their scheduled time.

“Well done, Major! Most efficient.”

“Done it a dozen times in India, sir. Had to shift about the subcontinent every few months. It’s easy enough when one is practised. Bit of a nuisance having to board a ship – will take extra time, moving the stores into the holds and out again on the other side. No overwhelming difficulty, however.”

It was useful to have a professional with fifteen years of experience to hand, Richard reflected. The old Army had its uses. He wondered how Vokes felt about serving under a colonel so much younger than him; there was no way of asking.