Anthony Powell - The Valley of Bones

‘Idwal is your new Company Commander,’ Gwatkin said.

Everything was explained in a flash. There was nothing to do but remain silent.

‘There have been other promotions too,’ said Gwatkin. He spoke as if this fact, that there were other promotions, was at least some small consolation. I looked at Kedward. Then I saw, what I had missed before, that he was in an ecstasy of controlled delight. I had not at first noticed this to be the reason for his tense bearing. The air of strain had been imposed by an effort not to grin too much. Even Kedward must have realized this was a painful moment for Gwatkin. Now, the presence of a third party slightly easing the situation, he allowed a slight smile to appear on his face. It spread. He could no longer limit its extent. The grin, by its broadness, almost concealed his little moustache.

‘Congratulations, Idwal.’

‘Thanks, Nick.’

‘And what about you, Rowland?’

I could hardly imagine Gwatkin was to be promoted major. If that were to happen, he would be looking more cheerful. There was a possibility he might be going to command Headquarter Company, an appointment he was known to covet. I doubted myself whether he were wholly qualified to deal with Headquarter Company’s many components, remembering, among other things, the incident with the bren-carrier. All the same, I was not prepared for the answer I received, even though I knew, as soon as I heard it, that the sentence pronounced on him should have been guessed at the first indication of upheaval.

‘I’m going to the ITC,’ said Gwatkin.

‘Pending—’

‘To await a posting,’ Gwatkin said abruptly.

He could not conceal his own mortification. The corner of his mouth worked a little. It was not surprising he was upset. There was no adequate comment at hand to offer in condolence. Gwatkin had been relieved of his Company. There was nothing more or less to it than that. He was being sent to the Regimental Depot — the Infantry Training Centre — whence he would emerge, probably posted to a Holding Battalion finding drafts for the First Line. His career as a military paragon was at an end, though not perhaps his visions as a monk of war, after the echoes and dreams of action died away. Gwatkin might get a company again, he might not. His Territorial captaincy at least was substantive, so that he could not, like holders of an emergency commission, be reduced in rank. However, a captaincy was not in every respect an advantage for someone who hoped to repair this catastrophe. An unreducible captain could find himself in some dead-end where three pips were by convention required, ship’s adjutant, for example, or like Pinkus at Castlemallock. That would not be much of fate for a Stendhalian hero, a man bent on making a romantic career in arms, the sort of figure I had supposed Gwatkin only a few months before; in Stendhal, I thought this fate would be attributed to malign political intrigue, the work of Ultras or Freemasons.

‘You can fall out, both of you, now,’ said Gwatkin, speaking with forced cheerfulness. ‘I’ll straighten out the papers for you, Idwal. We’ll go through them together tomorrow.’

‘What about the Imprest Account?’ asked Kedward.

‘I’ll bring it up to date.’

‘And the other Company accounts?’

‘Them, too.’

‘I only mention that, Rowland, because you’re sometimes a bit behindhand with them. I don’t want to have to waste a lot of time on paper work. There’s too much to do about the Company without that.’

‘We’ll check everything.’

‘Has that bren been returned we lent to the Anti-Gas School?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I shall want it formally handed over again, before I sign for the Company’s weapons.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then Corporal Rosser’s promotion.’

‘What about it?’

‘Did you decide to make him up?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you told him?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then don’t tell him, Rowland.’

‘Why not?’

‘I want to see more of Rosser before I decide he’s to have a third stripe,’ said Kedward. ‘I shall think about it further.’

Gwatkin’s face took on a shade more colour. These were forcible reminders of Kedward’s changed position. I was myself a little surprised at the manner in which Kedward accepted the Company as his undoubted right. In one sense, he could have behaved in a more tactful manner about the take-over, anyway leave such questions until they were going through the papers together; in another, as Company Commander designate, he was there to arrange matters in the Company’s best interests — by Gwatkin’s own definition — not to be polite or spare Gwatkin’s feelings. Nevertheless, Gwatkin had not cared for being treated in this manner. He tapped with his knuckles on the blanket covering the trestle table, played with his beloved symbol, the rubber stamp. Gwatkin was deeply humiliated, even though keeping himself under control.

‘I want to be alone now, boys,’ he said.

He began to rustle papers. Kedward and I retired. We went along the passage together, Kedward deep in thought.

‘Rowland is taking this pretty hard,’ I said.

Kedward showed surprise.

‘Losing the Company?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I do.’

‘He must have seen it coming.’

‘I don’t think he did for a moment.’

‘Rowland has been getting less and less efficient lately,’ Kedward said. ‘You must have noticed that. You said yourself something was wrong, when you came back from the Aldershot course.’

‘I somehow didn’t expect him to be unstuck just like this.’

‘The Company needs a thorough overhaul,’ said Kedward. ‘There are one or two points I shall want altered in your own Platoon, Nick. It is far from satisfactory. I’ve noticed there’s no snap about them when they march in from training. That’s always a good test of men. They are the worst of the three platoons at musketry, too. You’ll have to give special attention to the range. And another thing, Nick, about your own personal turn-out. Do get that anti-gas cape of yours properly folded. The way you have it done is not according to regulations.’

‘I’ll see to all that, Idwal. Who are you getting as another subaltern?’

‘Lyn Craddock. He’ll go in senior to you, of course. I think Lyn should help pull the Company together.’

‘When do you put your pips up?’

‘Monday. By the way, did I tell you Yanto Breeze is to become a captain too — in the Traffic Control Company. I just heard that this afternoon from one of the drivers who brought some stuff here. It isn’t like getting a company in a battalion, but it’s promotion all the same.’

‘Does Rowland know about Yanto?’

‘I was just telling him when you came into the Company Office — saying it was funny two of his subalterns should become captain at the same moment.’

‘How did Rowland take it?’

‘Didn’t seem much interested. Rowland never liked Yanto. I don’t know whether all that about his sister rankled. I say, Nick, do you know what?’

‘What?’

‘I’m going to write tonight and arrange about the wedding on my next leave.’

‘When’s that going to be?’

‘Getting the Company may mean a postponement, but even then it won’t be too far off. By the way, I’ve got a new snap of my fiancée. Like to see it?’

‘Of course.’

We gazed at the photograph.

‘She’s altered her hair,’ Kedward said.

‘So I see.’

‘I’m not sure I like it the new way,’ he said.

Nevertheless, he gave the photograph its routine kiss before putting it away. His promotion, his fiancée, the wedding in prospect, were matters of fact to him, not, as to Gwatkin, dreams come true. When Gwatkin was given the Company, that must have seemed the first important step in a glorious career; when he first took out Maureen, entry into an equally glorious romance. Kedward, it was true, accepted accession of rank with enthusiasm, but without the smallest romanticism, military or otherwise. As Moreland would have said, it is just the way you look at things. We crossed the hall. Emmot, the Mess waiter, appeared from a doorway. The whole Bithel affair had greatly cheered him up. He looked positively a new man. It was hard to believe he had been sobbing like a child only a few weeks before.