Louis de Bernières - The Dust That Falls From Dreams

‘Don’t want to go there,’ said Fluke. ‘Worst place in the world to catch a dose. That’s why we lost in the Dardanelles. We sent the boys to Alexandria first. You can’t fight when you’re stinging with clap.’

‘I wouldn’t mind going back to India,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s plenty of action on the North-West Frontier, and my brother’s there too. I don’t think I can drag Esther and Rosie out there, though. So many disgusting things to die of. Simla’s lovely, of course.’

‘Never give up, do they, those Pathan wallahs?’

‘Indeed they don’t. There’s no one more stupidly courageous, as far as I know, apart from us. Tell me, Fluke, do you ever have doubts about this Empire business? The White Man’s Burden, our civilising mission and all that?’

‘After that last bash, there’s not much to say for civilisation, is there? We did call it “The War for Civilisation”, didn’t we, though? It’s on our medals. Makes you think.’

‘Well, I’ve been thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘About the North-West Frontier. Those Pathans.’

‘What about them?’

‘Well, they’re tribal. They don’t give a farthing about anyone except their own relations. They’re religious fanatics who don’t know a damn thing about their own religion because they can’t read their own language, let alone Arabic. They think that whatever they do, it was the Prophet who told them to do it, even if it’s gelding their prisoners and boiling rice. They’re as high as kites on opium and hashish, and can’t even make sense of each other. They aren’t like us and they don’t want to be like us, and the moment we go they’ll revert to being exactly as they were before.’

‘The moment we go? Are we going? I thought it was all about keeping the Russians at arm’s length. I can’t see an end to that, can you? Now that they’re Bolshies to boot.’

‘It doesn’t feel like that when you’re there,’ said Daniel. ‘The Russians are the last thing you think of. You pay the chiefs to control their own tribesmen and you burn their villages when they don’t. Oddly enough, they often help you do it, because wanton destruction is just about their favourite thing, and anyway they move their pots and pans out first. You hang them for doing things that are perfectly normal for them, like robbing and killing their neighbours, and then you find yourself in the middle of a blood feud that’s never going to finish.’

‘You don’t think it’s all worth it, then? East is East and West is West?’

‘I’m all in favour of having adventures,’ replied Daniel. ‘I had a wonderful time when I was a Frontier Scout, and in the Sikhs, but you know, there does come a time when you have to ask yourself, “Well, are you actually doing any good?”’

‘Truth to tell, I’ve had many a furtive doubt myself.’

‘I lost two brothers in South Africa,’ said Daniel, ‘and my best friend at Westminster died of blackwater fever in Kenya. Another old mucker died of typhoid in India, and his wife too, who was a sweetie if ever I met one, and on and on it goes, Britain’s finest and best swallowed up by the Empire.’ He paused, then added, ‘Don’t mistake my meaning, old chap, I’m as much of a jingo as anyone, and I’ve got two countries to be a jingo for, and I enjoy Empire Day and Bastille Day as much as anyone else. The old chest swells with pride, doesn’t it? You can hardly help it. Even so, look at the price of it all! You build roads and railways, and set up clinics and schools, and then the subject peoples aren’t grateful enough for any of it to be worth it, and when they get awkward about it, we bash them on the head with sticks, and then they get even less grateful. I don’t think we should be wasting our lives on them. Look at Macedonia. You set up a League of Nations mandate to guide the liberated but benighted ones towards democracy, whereat they wax exceeding wroth against the infidel, and they simply have a marvellous time taking potshots at us.’ He paused, and added, ‘In the end, doing something just because the government tells you to isn’t enough, is it? That isn’t what patriotism really means, is it? If you love your country, it shouldn’t be at the expense of anyone else, should it?’

‘Hmm,’ said Fluke, ‘I see that ye are one of little faith these days. Bunking off church parades and backing off from the good old imperium. Better not go round telling too many people; they might think you’re a socialist and stop inviting you to hunt balls.’

‘I generally keep all this to myself. Worry not. And hunt balls are my idea of Hell. But I do suspect that more and more people will start to have the same doubts. I think it’s inevitable.’

‘Time for us both to resign, methinks, before they catch us at ten thousand feet with idle puttees and without a tie on. Hateful thought. We can always join up again if anything exciting happens. You know what,’ said Fluke, ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could buy up some buses and set up in business split-arsing at county shows?’

‘Everyone else has had the same idea; even Rosie’s father suggested it. We should have left the RAF the moment the war ended, like Cecil. He got that wonderful job with Vickers and went straight to China. The market is saturated and bursting at the seams. There are thousand of flyers and thousand of machines. The Yanks have got hordes of barnstormers, but here it hasn’t caught on. The other thing would be to set up postal services in rather big places like Australia or Tanganyika. Has anyone ever thought of a flying medical service? For civilians?’

‘No idea. It does occur to me that if you want to have a passenger service you’d have to buy bombers. Do you suppose there are any Gothas left?’

‘Very crudely built. I’d go for a Vickers Vimy,’ said Daniel, ‘or a Hereford.’

‘Let’s go upstairs for a flip and throw our buses about,’ said Fluke. ‘Let us dispel the gloom, and frolic in the empyrean. Rumour hath it that our machines are warmed up even as we speak, and the cumuli are cotton castles on this fine and frivolous day.’

‘I’ll take that as an order, Squadron Leader,’ said Daniel.

‘Major to you,’ said Fluke.

‘And I shall forever be Captain,’ said Daniel, ‘on the assumption that the prospects of promotion end whenever a war does. If I could take my Snipe with me I’d resign tomorrow.’

What finally caused him to leave was the departure of Fluke himself. Fluke had gone on impulse to the Argentinian Embassy in London in order to offer his services in the setting up of their fledgling air force, and this amazing stroke of initiative had borne fruit almost immediately. There was still plenty of scope for war in South America.

DANIEL FOREWENT THE opportunity to go to Argentina with Fluke, because Rosie had bluntly refused to accompany him. The thought of South America filled her with horror, because she had read accounts of missionaries being eaten by cannibals in the Amazon. She could not be persuaded that the Argentines were just like the Italians, but much more prosperous and civilised, even ignoring the firm opinions of her own father, who was still making decent sums from developing the Argentine railways. He had been quite taken with the idea of having his own daughter on the spot, as a kind of ambassador. She was not, in fact, inclined to go anywhere at all, because of worries that she had been keeping close to her chest, for good reasons of her own that she was frightened to divulge.

The night before Fluke and Daniel left the Royal Air Force, there took place the most marvellous binge since the German surrender. Their mess had been removed from the cricket pavilion because of the danger to it brought about by binges, and was now a small complex of Nissen huts and temporary sheds set up on railway sleepers at the furthest corner of the vast playing field, lest the schoolboys fall witness to the antics of the gallant aviators, and be tempted to emulate them. The food was ordered from a nearby hotel, arriving in aluminium vessels resembling enormous mess tins, and the alcohol was brought in from its cellars.