Alasdair Gray - A History Maker

Colonel Wardlaw shrugged a shoulder.

“Frost the window, Jenny!” Wat called to the major domo behind the bar. Between the double sheets of glass a paperthin water fall slid down then froze into starry white patterns which broke the appearance of the crowd and the hills outside into jagged shadows. Wat pulled a chair up to the table and sat watching the players until the Colonel said, “Do you want a hand?”

“I want news from Geneva.”

Tam Wardlaw handed him a printed sheet. Wat held it without reading until his young brother put a whisky in the other hand.

“Wattie Dryhope is at The Macallan,” sang Davie softly.

“Not possible!” said Rab, “Dryhope never touches alcohol. It upsets his chemistry.”

“He’s drinking it now,” said the Colonel, “His chemistry must be out of order.”

“Give us peace,” muttered Wat and read the printout.

The Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva has considered General Dodds’s complaint against the recent draw between Ettrick and Northumbria United. General Dodds accuses Ettrick of obtaining the result by a foul pretence of surrender which did not take place, resulting in the murder of at least three Northumbrians who dropped their guard having been deceived into thinking the battle over. As proof of this he refers the Council to the public eye battle archive .

The Council has scrutinized the battle archive closely and believes there is good reason to condemn Ettrick but not for the action to which General Dodds objects. That a certain amount of deception is an inevitable and accepted part of combat is proved by that sword stroke known as a feint, nor is it unusual for hard-pressed troops to relinquish their standard to an enemy in order to counterattack more strongly. The Northumbrians holding the Ettrick standard believed the momentary pause signified surrender because they knew Ettrick could not win, being hopelessly outnumbered; but the Geneva Convention expressly states NO SOLDIER IS DEEMED TO HAVE SURRENDERED BEFORE HE DROPS HIS WEAPON OR OFFERS THE HILT, BUTT OR HANDLE TO THE OPPONENT. This did not happen. In the slaughter following the resumption of fighting after a twelve-second pause nearly every Ettrick warrior died sword in hand. If any dropped them or flung them away General Dodds’s troops did not notice .

But the Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva is forced to condemn General Jardine Craig Douglas for a war crime worthy of the twentieth century. He was wrong to lead his clan into a third day of battle which must end in the death of nearly all his men, many of them cadets recently promoted from the Boys’ Brigade. His own death — however gladly embraced — is no compensation for theirs, however gladly they embraced it. The purpose of warfare is not scoring points over an opponent: it is to show human contempt of pain and annihilation. Most armies do this without exploiting the self-sacrificial urge of trainees who admire their senior officers. When such exploitation is proposed it is not treachery for officers to defy the general who proposes it. The Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva regrets that Major Wat Dryhope was the only Ettrick warrior who appeared to recognize this fact …

Wat chuckled and said loudly, “I’ve just read the bit that explains why you chaps don’t like me now.”

“Aye,” said the Colonel, “You’re suffering the doom of everyone too good for their kindred.”

“Wat Dryhope, humanity’s darling,” sang Davie.

“Wattie! The standard!” whispered Sandy urgently, “Ask them when we can — ”

“Wheesht,” said Wat and continued reading.

For the past twenty years the Council has noticed a tendency for small, competitive clans to throw younger and younger cadets into the battle line. True lovers of fighting must deplore the harm this does to the noble art of war. By his holocaust of young lives General Jardine Craig Douglas has broken the splendid line of Ettrick victories which began with the century. At least a decade must pass before Ettrick breeds and trains enough adult soldiers to fight again at a professional level.

So the Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva proposes three additions to the Geneva Convention.

1 — No war will extend to a third day of battle.

2 — No cadets of less than sixteen years shall be admitted to the battle line.

3 — When a standard leaves a field of battle by the interposition of a natural feature or phenomenon (cliff, crag, hill, cavern, canyon, pot-hole, volcanic vent or other geological formation; bog, swamp, shifting sands, stream, pond, river, lake, lagoon, sea, ocean or other body of water; breeze, wind, gale, tempest, sandstorm, hurricane, cyclone, tornado, lightning, fireball, aerolith or other meteorological event) the battle will be judged to have ended at that moment of the standard’s departure from the field of battle, and victory will belong to the side which has lost fewest men .

The Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva hereby declares a moratorium upon all armed conflict until a global and interplanetary referendum decides by a simple majority that each of these rules is accepted or rejected as part of the Geneva Convention. Everyone over fifteen years of age will be eligible to vote .

Meanwhile the Global Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva declares that these humanitarian proposals in no way disparage the honesty and courage of the Ettrick soldiers who carried out General Jardine Craig Douglas’s plan, while still condemning absolutely their recklessness in obeying him. The Global and Interplanetary Council for War Regulation Sitting in Geneva agrees with the public eye and the mass of public opinion, in declaring the battle between Northumbria and Ettrick a draw; but also declare it a battle fought in circumstances degrading to the senior officers responsible, a kind of battle which must never be repeated .

Wat screwed the printout into a ball, cried, “Good for Geneva!” and flung the ball lightly at Colonel Wardlaw so that it bounced off his ear. The Colonel flinched then muttered, “Hard on your dad.”

“It’s right about the Dad! But we’ll forgive his bloody craziness if it gets three good rules like that made law.”

“You havenae drunk your whisky,” said Rab.

“I don’t need it now,” said Wat, standing and going to them. They too were drinking Macallan. He tipped a neat third of his glass into each of theirs then signed to the barman for a strong coffee. It was brought.

“I hate Dryhope, he’s a smug bastard,” sang Davie softly.

“He cannae help it,” said Rab, “He wins a world-famous draw by cheatery, fails in his suicide attempt and gets praised by Geneva for standing up to his daddy, though he did exactly what the old man telt him. Do you hate him too, Colonel?”

“Aye, but I hate his wee brother worse. Cadet Dryhope!” yelled the Colonel, “Stop standing there like a replica of Michel-fucking-angelo’s David! In the days before the establishment of our democratic Utopia pretty wee soldiers who stood straight and cocky in front of crippled officers were given a hundred lashes. Slouch like your brother.”

“But the standard! ” whispered the boy trying to slouch and plead frantically at the same time. “Clear out Sandy,” said Wat. Sandy left. As he opened and shut the door they heard a burst of hubbub from below pierced by the music of pipes playing a coronach.

“Colonel Wardlaw!” said Wat sharply, “Tell me now why grown men like the Henderlands and Foulshiels — men with no interest in warrior business — are waiting downstairs among a crowd of weans and lassies.”