Louis de Bernières - The Dust That Falls From Dreams

Rosie rang for Millicent, and she soon appeared with a small trolley.

‘I’ve never seen such dainty teacups in all my born days,’ said Corporal Hutchinson admiringly, as he sipped at his tea. He had horrified Rosie by heaping mountains of sugar into it.

He was ruddy-faced and strong, with a crease across his cheek that must have been left by a bullet. His ears and nose were coarse, and his lips somewhat out of kilter, but the overall effect was pleasant, giving the impression of good humour and kindness. She noticed that his hands shook when he picked up his teacup, and that sometimes he steadied it by drinking with both hands.

‘I’ve come about Ash,’ he said.

‘Yes, you did say so.’

‘We had an agreement. I’d go and see you if something happened, and he’d go and see my lot if something happened to me.’

‘He gave you a message?’

‘Not so much a message. He wanted me to tell you that he was loved by his comrades and that he died well.’

‘I do know how he died. His mother had a letter from Major Phillips, and she showed it to me, and the Reverend Captain Fairhead has written to both of us several times. He didn’t die well. Not as he would have wished. It wasn’t a soldier’s death, was it?’

‘Course, it was, miss. We die in hospital as well as in the field. More of us do, I’d say. He weren’t killed outright in a charge, if that’s what you mean. A soldier’s death, it don’t often happen very quick. And most of us is got by shells. You know, splinters and shrapnel. They say that there’s many more die of sickness than wounds. Anyway, the other bit’s true.’

‘The other bit?’

‘The bit about being well loved by his comrades. That’s why I’m here. We loved him, miss. He was a right good comrade, and there was no man braver. And he was mighty strong. He carried me half a mile once, when I did me ankle in, and that’s with all our kit. And he always won the sandbag-filling competitions. In the end there was no point betting.’

‘Where are you from, Corporal Hutchinson?’

‘Walthamstow, miss. It’s a long way out. Just a village, really. Close enough to enlist with the HAC, though.’

‘How did you get in, if you don’t mind me putting it so bluntly?’

‘I don’t mind, miss. You mean I’m not a gentleman ranker.’ Hutchinson looked up at her and explained. ‘I was chauffeur to a gentleman, miss, and so we went out together. You’ll find many a gentleman and his valet, or his gamekeeper, or his chauffeur. Mine said he wouldn’t come if I wasn’t allowed, so they allowed. They always do, miss. Anyway, he’s gone now. Killed straight away, pretty much. Caught a moaning minnie.’

‘I am sorry. That must have been terrible for you.’

‘It was, miss. It’s hard to get over, that kind of thing.’

‘Is it true that you called Ash “Yank”?’

Corporal Hutchinson nodded. ‘He didn’t mind a bit. Some of the lads called me Rabbit.’

Rosie looked puzzled, so he explained. ‘Hutchinson … Hutch … Rabbit. One-a these days they’ll be calling me Bunny, I just know it.’

‘Is it as bad as they say, in the trenches?’

‘It’s a lot worse, miss.’

‘Is it?’

‘You couldn’t possibly imagine, miss, even if I explained it.’

‘Isn’t there anything good about it?’

Hutchinson pondered and said, ‘The friendship.’ He reached up his right hand and showed her his forefinger and middle finger side by side. ‘Yank and me were like that. Best friends. We would’ve been best friends all our lives. And you know what? I’m nobody from nowhere and he was a toff from round here. That’s one good thing. Then there’s other things.

‘Sometimes the Huns have little concerts in their trenches. They’ve got these brass bands. You can listen to it when there’s not much else goin’ on, and it’s a right treat. They play lovely, things, miss, sad things, and it’s not all blasted out and soldierly at all. Sometimes we give them a clap. And there was a Hun who used to sing, when the sun went down. It was a lullaby, really lovely, sent a chill down your spine, it did, miss, but we in’t heard ’im for weeks. Must have been got, I suppose. And then, when you go to occupy a trench, someone’s always drawn a cap badge on a piece of paper and stuck it up, so you know who was there before. And once we got lovely parcels all put together by a girls’ school, and every parcel had a card in it with a message. And it’s nice watching the Zeppelins and the aeroplanes, and if you can’t sleep the star shells at night are exceeding pretty. And the Very lights, they’re not as strong as magnesium, but they’re still pretty. And it’s nice thinking of home. And the concerts are very jolly. You get officers dressing up in frocks and doing daft songs. And there’s going to estaminets for egg and chips when you’re behind the lines. And I saw some violets growing where you wouldn’t expect it. And there’s Flying Corps types who come and do stunts for us, and I think you know one of them, miss. Lieutenant Pitt who used to live next door. He wrote “Long Live the Pals” under his wings, so we’d know it’s him. And it’s even quite nice when we’re just chatting.’

‘I expect you do get a lot of time to talk to one another,’ observed Rosie.

‘No, miss, I mean chatting is getting together round the brazier and delousing.’

‘Oh my goodness!’

‘You can run a taper up the seams and then scrape ’em out dead, but you might burn the stitches, so you got to watch out. Or you can dig ’em out and crack ’em, with your thumbnail. If it’s icy you can turn your shirt inside out and let ’em freeze.’

‘I used to send Harrison’s Pomade to Ash,’ said Rosie ‘He was always asking for it.’

‘Funny stuff, that. You rub it on, and the little blighters come running up the seams and out at your neck, and you have to catch ’em as they pop up out the top.’

‘Lifebuoy soap,’ said Rosie. ‘At Netley we use Lifebuoy. The lice can’t take it if you rub it along the seams.’

‘Really, miss? I didn’t know that.’

‘I’ll give you some before you go. I’m sure we’ve got some in the kitchen.’

‘That’s very good of you, miss.’

Rosie went and called down to Millicent, and then she returned to her armchair. ‘You were telling me what’s good about it.’

Hutchinson fell silent for a second, and then said, ‘Sometimes you can turn bad things into good things. I mean, the rats are something terrible. Bloody terrible. Millions of ’em, all huge, like this —’ he stretched his hands apart — ‘and they run over your face at night, and they nick your food no matter how you try to hide it, and they even eat the candles after lights out. I swear those rats know how to open an ammo box. But it’s damn fine, excusing me, miss, to go on a rat hunt. You block up all the holes with cordite, all except one hole, miss, and then you light it, and when they come rushing outta that last hole, you whack ’em with a trenching tool, but you mustn’t whack ’em with a rifle butt ’cause they break, and then you’re in big trouble, and sometimes when it’s quiet you take a potshot at the ones between the lines, and it don’t matter if you miss because the bullet’s going in the right direction to catch a Boche if you’re lucky. Those rats eat the corpses, miss, which is why they get so huge, and that’s one reason why we hate ’em, and they eat out the bodies inside and then they live in the ribcage, millions of ’em, all squeaking. And I’ll tell you something else, miss. Rats is cannibals. Throw ’em a dead one and they’ll strip it.’

‘We get rats in the cellar sometimes, and now that we’ve got chickens we’ve got them at the end of the garden too,’ said Rosie, so overwhelmed by this information that she had no sensible response to it. Millicent entered, and Rosie told her to find some Lifebuoy soap, and wrap it for Corporal Hutchinson. She took a moment to inspect the guest, and their eyes met. Millicent felt her heart leap in her chest, and he perceived her shock. He gave her a little wry smile, and nodded his head almost imperceptibly. She went out and leaned against the wall beside the door, before scurrying away to find the soap.