Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

“I have a permanent commission, sir, in the Bedfords.”

“Good. You’ll be useful, and that I never expected. I’ll look after you in the Will, as well, never fear! Can the family come to the Palace on Tuesday? Never been near there. Never thought to.”

“I don’t know. I expect so. I can ask at the depot on Monday. Or, better, I’ll go down to the Drill Hall tomorrow – they will know.”

“Go in uniform. Be seen in town. Good idea! You’ll need some cash, I don’t doubt.”

His father was in a state of amaze, it seemed, and much inclined to dip his hand into his pocket.

“Never been a military man in our family, Richard. You are the first. Best you should take a wife, I think. Daughter of one of the biggest men in the locality, that might be best. I can set you up in a proper size house with gardens and such.”

“No, sir. Thank you for the offer, but I shall be a major if the war lasts two more years. If it goes for more than that, there’s a possibility I’ll make lieutenant-colonel. Once I have a battalion and with the VC, there’s a strong chance I can get higher. Wullie Robertson is a general, and he started as a private soldier, so it can be done – but only if a man fits in. That means a proper wife – toffee nosed and daddy Sir Somebody Something. A manufacturer’s daughter would not be good enough for what I need. If I become a general, it will do you a lot of good, I think.”

“So it will – good to see you can work things out for yourself. I don’t know any nobs, nor any way of getting in with them.”

“The officers of the battalion will look after me that way, sir. They are all of them of the right sort – it was a fashionable regiment. They will introduce me, one way or another. Bound to come back to England on leave occasionally, and we may be posted away from France after a year or two if the war lasts.”

“Well, I’ll leave that to you. Glad to know I can leave things to you now! I’ll talk to the newspaper tomorrow, get your photograph in next week’s edition.”

The meal went very pleasantly, the elder Baker not snubbing Richard once and chuckling kindly when Vicky asked whether Richard might not be able to introduce her to an officer or two.

Richard put on his uniform in mid-morning and walked the mile into town, calling into his bank and discovering that his father had already paid them a visit.

“A chequebook, sir. Correct for an officer and a gentleman.”

Richard gave them his signature, as was necessary.

“There will be a cheque to Gieves, the tailors, which will likely be quite substantial,” he told the manager. “I lost every stitch I possessed in the retreat.”

The manager had refreshed his memory from the Daily Telegraph, knew that Richard had displayed great heroism and English pluck in covering the retreat of his battalion. He was not surprised that he had not had time to pick up his wardrobe.

“There is a balance in your account sufficient to cover any number of tailor’s bills, sir. Your father has assured me of such.”

“Excellent, sir. For the while, I should take a little cash out for my own use. I lost wallet, purse and everything else in the field. I must purchase a watch and another wallet.”

The manager showed Richard how to write a cheque to cash and took him to the counter.

He walked off to the Drill Hall with ten sovereigns tucked away, entered to find Captain Hendricks still there and the building busy with young men learning their drill. He exchanged salutes as they were called to attention and stared in awe.

“Good to see you again, sir! And risen in the world. May I congratulate you, sir?”

“Thank you, Captain Hendricks. Much of my success is yours, sir – you gave me the military grounding I needed.”

“You are flattering indeed, Captain Baker. I would venture to say that the ribbon you wear so proudly was of your doing entirely.”

“A little effort on my part and a vast deal of good fortune, Captain Hendricks. Many another brave man simply was not noticed in the confusion of war.”

“Possibly so, sir – but I have no doubt of your merits, Captain Baker. What of young Smithers? Was he under your command?”

Richard shook his head gravely.

“He was sent back with a party of walking wounded and might not have reached the rear in safety. I have not heard and Colonel Braithwaite of my battalion, the Third Beds, knew nothing of him. Better that way and enough said.”

“Not himself wounded?”

“Forget it, sir! Best I should have said nothing – provided he is dead.”

“Always thought he was a very withdrawn youngster. Shy, would you say?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Pity! Nothing to be said. You are right to keep it out of the public eye. What do you think of the youngsters here? All of them underage and learning their drill to join up on the day they are eighteen and be a useful soldier immediately.”

“Good to see, sir. They will be needed. Tell me, Captain Hendricks. I am to go to the investiture on Tuesday. May my parents come and watch?”

“They can indeed, Captain Baker. They should go to the Palace and show themselves in morning dress as your family, one hour before the investiture, which will normally take place at eleven o’clock. If the procedure has changed, you will be told on Monday, in time to get a telegram to them.”

Richard made his thanks.

“Is there anything you can suggest for the lads going out to France?”

“No, their battalion will provide their needs, unless they are going out as officers. In that case, a pair of field glasses makes sense, and a pocket watch. I am about to buy both as a replacement, if I can find them in Kettering.”

Captain Hendricks shook his head – Kettering was not the place to discover such items of military apparel.

“No barracks here, Captain Baker. Might be possible in Northampton, but difficult to get there, despite it being the county town. A long railway journey for there being no direct link. I would suggest trying in Bedford or in London. Any pocket watch you purchased here would be more suited for the drawing room than for the field.”

“The disadvantages of dwelling in the sticks, sir. Not to worry!”

Richard found himself able to regard such problems philosophically – he had progressed beyond the little provincial town of his birth. He took the salutes of those present in the drill hall and wandered out into the town to take a quick look into the shops before he made his way home again. He stiffened proudly as a group of women shoppers cheered as he passed, calling out to him to kill more of the Huns for them.

“Have you heard the buzz, Sub? Telegram from the Admiralty says the Tsingtao Squadron has definitely been seen on the coast of Chile. They’re sending Defence and Canopus down to Port Stanley as a matter of urgency.”

“Canopus is too slow, sir. Even with her engines working after a full refit she can only muster twelve knots and eight is a more normal expectation. Defence will add a lot of guns, but she has very little in the way of armour.”

The Gunnery Commander was blasé, utterly unconcerned.

“Won’t need armour, my boy. Biggest of all our cruisers with four more nine point twos and ten of seven point fives to add to our broadsides – blow the Huns out of the water before they so much as touch us.”

Hector McDuff was partly convinced.

“Where is she, sir?”

“Oh, somewhere Brazil way, but she is making best speed to join us. She can cruise at a good twenty knots, you know. She’ll come through the Magellan Straits together with Canopus and a collier to meet us after we have rounded Cape Horn, again!”

Sublieutenants were not carried aboard ship to argue with commanders.