Anthony Powell - The Valley of Bones

‘Now, see it you must, Gareth,’ I heard the Sergeant-Major’s voice once insisting on the other side of the partition. ‘In time of peace — in the mine — you are above me, Gareth, and above Sergeant Pendry. Here, that is not. No longer is it the mine. In the Company we are above you. It would be good you remember that, Gareth.’

Gittins was a figure of some prestige in the Company, not only on account of dominion over valuable stock-in-trade, but also for his forcible character. Dark, stocky, another strongly pre-Celtic type, he could probably have become sergeant — even sergeant-major — without difficulty, had he wished for promotion. Like many others, he preferred to avoid such responsibilities, instead ruling the store, where he guarded every item as if it were his own personal property acquired only after long toil and self-denial. Nothing was more difficult than to extort from him the most insignificant replacement of kit.

‘I tell you, not without the Skipper’s direct order,’ was his usual answer to such requests. This circumspection was very generally respected. To coax anything from Gittins was considered a triumph. One of the attractions of the store was its wireless, which would sometimes be tuned in to Haw-Haw’s propaganda broadcast from Germany. These came on just after midnight:

‘… This is Chairmany calling … Chairmany calling … These are the stations Koln, Hamburg and DJA … Here is the news in English … Fifty-three more British aircraft were shot down over Kiel last night making a total of one hundred and seventeen since Tuesday … One hundred and seventeen more British aircraft have been shot down in forty-eight hours … The British people are asking their Government why British pilots cannot stay in the air … They are asking why British aircraft is inferior to Chairman aircraft … The British people are asking themselves why they have lost the war in the air … They are asking, for example, what has happened to the Imperial Airways Liner Ajax … Why is the Imperial Airways Liner Ajax three weeks overdue, they are asking … We can tell you.. The Imperial Airways Liner Ajax is at the bottom of the sea … The fishes are swimming in and out of the wreckage of the Imperial Airways Liner Ajax … The Imperial Airways Liner Ajax and her escort were shot down by Chairman fighter planes… The British have lost the war in the air … They have lost the war in the air … It is the same on the water … The Admiralty is wondering about the Resourceful … They are worried at the Admiralty about the Resourceful … They need not worry about the Resourceful any more … We will tell them about the Resourceful … The Resourceful is at the bottom of the sea with the Imperial Airways Liner Ajax … The Resourceful was sunk by a Chairman submarine … The Admiralty is in despair at Chairman command of the sea … Britain has lost the war on the sea … One hundred and seventy-five thousand gross registered tons of British shipping was sent to the bottom last week … The British Government is in despair at these losses in the air and on the water … That is not the only thing that makes the British Government despair … Not by any means … The food shortage in Britain is becoming acute … The evacuated women and children are living in misery … Instead of food, they are being fed on lies … Government lies … Only Chairmany can tell you the truth … The Chairman radio speaks the truth … The Chairman radio gives the best and latest news … Chairmany is winning the war … Think it over, Britain, think it over … Chairmany is winning the war … Listen, Britain … Listen, Britain … We repeat to all listeners in the Far East … Listen, South America …’

Someone in the store turned the button. The nagging, sneering, obsessive accents died away with a jerk, as if a sack had been advantageously thrust over the speaker’s head, bestowing an immediate sense of relief at his extinction. There was a long pause next door.

‘I do wonder he can remember all that,’ said a voice, possibly that of Williams, W.H., one of the singers of Sardis, now runner in my platoon.

‘Someone writes it down for him, don’t you see,’ said another voice that could have been Corporal Gwylt’s.

‘And do they give him all those figures too?’

‘Of course they do.’

‘So that is it.’

‘You must know that, lad.’

‘What a lot he do talk.’

‘That’s for they pay him.’

‘Bloody sure he is Germany will win the war. Why does he call it like that — Chairmany — it’s a funny way to speak to be sure.’

‘Maybe that’s the way they say it there.’

‘If Hider wins the war, I tell you, lad, we’ll go down the mine for sixpence a day.’

No one in the store attempted to deny this conclusion. There was another pause and some coughing. It was not easy to tell how many persons were collected there. Gittins himself appeared to have gone to sleep, only Gwylt and Williams, W. H., unable to bring the day to a close. I thought they too must have nodded off, when suddenly Williams’s voice sounded again.

‘How would you like to go up in an aircraft, Ivor?’

‘I would not mind that so much.’

‘I hope I do not have to do that.’

‘We are not in the RAF, lad, what are you thinking?’

‘I would not like it up there I am sure too.’

‘They will not put you up there, no worry.’

‘You do not know what they will do, look at those parachutists, indeed.’

‘You make me think of Dai and Shoni when they went up in a balloon.’

‘And what was that, I wonder.’

‘They took two women with them.’

‘Did they, then?’

‘When the balloon was in the sky, the air began to leak something terrible out of it, it did, and Dai was frightened, so frightened Dai was, and Dai said to Shoni, Look you, Shoni, this balloon is not safe at all, and the air is leaking out of it terrible, we shall have to jump for it, and Shoni said to Dai, But, Dai, what about the women? and Dai said, Oh, fook the women, and Shoni said, But have we time?’

‘We shall not have any time to sleep till morning break, I am telling you, if you will jaw all through the night,’ spoke another voice, certainly Lance-Corporal Gittins, the storeman, this time. ‘How many hundred and hundred of those Dai and Shoni stories have I in all my days had to hear, I should like to know, and most of them said by you, Ivor. Is tarts never out of your thought.’

‘Why, Gareth, you talk about tarts too,’ said Williams, W. H. ‘What was that you was telling my butty of Cath Pendry yesterday?’

‘What about her?’

Gittins sounded more truculent this time.

‘Her and Evans the checkweighman.’

‘You was not meant to hear that, I tell you, Williams, W. H.’

‘Come on, Gareth,’ said Gwylt.

‘Never mind you, Ivor.’

‘Oh, that do sound something I would like to hear.’

No one answered Gwylt. There was a lot more coughing, some throat clearing, then silence. They must all have gone to sleep. I was on the point of doing the same, had even reached a state of only semi-consciousness, when there was a sudden exclamation from the direction of Gwatkin’s bed. He had woken with a start and was feeling for his electric torch. He found the torch at last and, clambering out of bed, began to put up the blackout boards on the window frame.

‘What is it, Rowland?’

‘Turn the light on,’ he said, ‘I’ve got this board fixed now.’

I switched on the light, which was nearer my bed than his.