Praying That We Meet Again, page 16
Christmas day was celebrated traditionally, the officers serving the men’s meal before retiring to the mess where they ate vastly of roasted meats and puddings before drinking far too much than was good for them.
They heard next day of stories of a truce in the lines, of football matches and men fraternising for hours, exchanging bottles and names and addresses to write to each other after the war.
“Glad we were not there for that bloody nonsense, Peter!”
“Damned right, brother! Not the way to run a war!”
They took a drink to wake themselves up before sitting down to a buffet lunch of cold goose and pickles, much as they would have at home. They heard artillery firing as they finished their meal.
“Ended that business of truces, John!”
They took a quiet drink and relaxed, content to be alive for the while.
The regiment was given a week of complete idleness, recognition of the work they had done and of just how exhausted they were. They managed to celebrate New Year, almost finishing their alcohol supply, and were called to formal parade next day, the Brigadier inspecting them and making a brief speech of congratulations for the efforts they had made since the beginning of the war.
He then set about awarding Distinguished Conduct Medals to the other ranks, commenting on the number of worthy recipients and regretting the many who had died unrecognised. He turned to the officers afterwards, announcing the new award, the Military Cross, backdated to the commencement of hostilities.
“As only befits their family, Major Griffin and Captain Griffin have been awarded the new medal. I would add that their renowned brother from the Kents, Major Alfred Griffin VC also now carries an MC as well. It is uncommon indeed for a family to be so distinguished.”
“One dead; one crippled; three surviving to fight on. Distinguished indeed, brother!”
“Agreed, but a new medal has much to say for itself, particularly as it has a ribbon to display. A DSO for you before too long, John, and you will be well set up for the postwar army.”
It could not hurt from a career perspective.
“I need to live first and foremost. I can consider a career after that, Peter.”
Their week of idleness up, the battalion was drafted for fatigues, mainly unloading trains as they pulled into the massive goods yard that had grown to the south of Ypres. The Army’s Engineers had built sidings and warehouses, and then had constructed railway lines in standard and narrow gauge to run out to delivery points for the trenches. They were said to have more than a hundred locomotives operating on their own railway network. The mainline trains were all French, running to no known timetables and demanding labour gangs at any hour of day or night.
The yards swarmed with military police and thieves in equal numbers, stores disappearing in every direction. The battalion expected to be searched on leaving the yards for the night, most of its fatigues taking place after the quartermasters had knocked off for the day. Amazingly, the searches never turned up any stolen goods.
“Bloody weird how they are getting away with it, John.”
“With what?”
“We have just spent the night unloading canned goods, mostly for the various senior messes of the Salient. Canned peaches, hams, sardines, butter, apricot jam, marmalade, pickles – that’s just what I noticed. Not a single item to be found on the men. Wait for the men to sit down to an afternoon break later today. Watch what they will be eating.”
“Navy biscuit and bully beef – the official allowance. I shall see nothing else, I assure you, Peter.”
“Quite right, John. I shall see nothing, but I will bet any money that Easterbrook will supply me with a ham sandwich with pickles.”
“Me too. That’s why I see nothing. I certainly did not see a handcart move out two hours ago, down the little path leading towards the back of our barracks area. It was much too dark to pick up anything and I did not recognise the sergeant major.”
“Oh! In that case, it is certain that nothing happened, sir. Can’t have because we were watching our men all night.”
“Exactly. Under no circumstances can it be said that the men helped themselves to staff officers’ food.”
“Can we get away with it for long, John?”
“No man can fool the Army in the long term, Peter. But we shall be sent off within a few days and we can get away with it that long.”
Chapter Ten
“Christmas of ’14, Robert. If I remember correctly, the war should be over now and the boys all at home. Do you think the newspapers might have got it wrong?”
“Impossible, Alfred. The newspapers are never wrong. You misread them.”
“I knew there was an explanation. It must be my fault because it cannot possibly be theirs.”
They grew bored with the game, sat down to a traditional Christmas, uneasy because there was only the two of them at table.
A visit from the Redwoods offered little of cheer.
Victoria made it clear that the holder of the highest award for gallantry was a most desirable target for her ambitions. Alfred did not want to know – she was not very bright and would do better as a high-class tart than as an academic’s wife. He wondered what her response would be if he was to display a diamond necklace; he suspected her skirts would rise in instant reaction. Not for him!
Henrietta was inclined to expend her sympathy on Robert, to sacrifice herself to the comforting of the wounded hero. He was somewhat more inclined to sit next to her and try to hold a conversation. It was a pity she had remarkably little to talk about, not stupid but wilfully ignorant.
“Have you heard from Augusta, Sir George?”
“The occasional letter, Alfred. She has been working every daylight hour, is glad that the hard winter setting in has reduced the fighting, though the troops outdoors in the lines are falling sick with an increasing frequency. The Belgians have staffed more hospitals, it would seem, recruiting nurses and doctors from the Catholic countries and from America. They are no longer overwhelmed by the rush of bodies. She will not leave her post until the war is over. I can only respect her decision.”
Alfred had to agree. She had shown brave.
“George is settled in New York, has become engaged to the daughter of a major banker. I believe she is to inherit in the absence of a son. I do not expect to see him in England for some years. He will undoubtedly eventually return to take his proper place in the City and in Society and to allow his wife to enjoy the place she has bought. After the war, that will be.”
There was nothing to say there.
“Do you know anything of Henry, sir?”
“Nothing. I have made no enquiries. I have never mixed in the circles that might know what was happening. I have merely been informed that he is serving King and Country in an unconventional but most valuable fashion. I was informed this week that he remains in good health.”
“Then we must express our pleasure that he has found his own way of serving, sir. It is far more than I expected of him. I am glad that he has shown himself of better character than I had feared, Sir George.”
“Well put, Alfred. I had written him off as a weakling, a mere lounger about Town. He has shown himself to be more than that.”
The older man said nothing more, did not commit himself to having any liking for his son. He would however guarantee him an income for life, and at a respectable level.
“Do you know what you are to do next, Alfred? Are you to return to the Kents?”
“Not a word as yet, sir, and I do not myself know what I want. I have exchanged letters with two of my tutors at Oxford and both have suggested that Mr O’Gorman, at the Royal Aircraft Factory, is an impossible man to work with. He and he alone is the font of all wisdom at Farnborough. They have suggested that he would find me as nothing more than a competitor. He would not work with me, or allow me to work on any basis of equality with him. Such being the case, I do not think I would be well advised to enter his employment.”
“Have you heard of Sopwith? I am told he could use the services of a mathematician to take his design further than rule of thumb. He is renowned for his willingness to work with others. I could put you in contact with him. I do not know that he could pay any vast salary. He is not the wisest of businessmen.”
“I have an allowance that is more than sufficient to live on, Sir George. I have played my part in Flanders and feel I could do a lot more for my country in other fields.”
“What will the War Office say, Alfred?”
“I suspect, sir, they may wish to see me distant from any front line posting. They would not wish to see me prominent in a casualty list, giving a most undesirable front page headline.”
Sir George accepted that immediately. It was typical of how that sort would think.
“My advice, for what it is worth, Alfred, would be to talk to your people at Oxford and discover if it would be possible to return to them while acting as a consultant to Sopwith, possibly de Havilland as well. Two or three days a week with the aircraft firms, the other half devoted to your research studies. You would be contributing in several ways to the war, I do not doubt. Having been seriously wounded, there can be no public surprise that you are not to return to the firing line.”
Alfred discovered that he was relieved to hear that. If ordered, he would go back to the battalion and do his duty there. He discovered, a little to his surprise, that he did not want to. He had had enough. It was not impossible that he had already done too much. He wondered if he had become a coward…
That led to any number of other questions, none of which he could answer for himself.
Not at Christmas with guests in the house. It was no time to ask himself almost impossible questions and he certainly could not express his fears to others. The gentleman maintained the stiff upper lip; he did not admit to weakness, even to himself.
“I think I shall take your advice, Sir George. The College would be inclined to look kindly at me, I suspect. Would your two manufacturers have a use for a scholar’s advice on their supremely practical problems?”
“Geoffrey de Havilland certainly would. He is the most able of men, an intellectual in his own right. Tommy Sopwith is more of a rule of thumb man, but I think he could be persuaded by his own righthand men. It would be as well for you to speak to them personally. I could put you in contact with both.”
“I would be obliged to you if you would, sir.”
Sir George pledged himself to do so, as soon as possible. Both firms would be working again on the twenty-seventh, the Christmas holiday being of two days duration.
“Another possibility, Alfred, and one I might personally beg you to consider, would be for you to become a member of the Redwood Board. The bank is a private company, incorporated under the specific laws relating to merchant banks. We cannot accept customers’ deposits or offer current accounts. The shares are owned ninety per cent by the family, which effectively means me. The remaining ten per cent are in the possession of a pair of trusts, set up effectively for the purpose, so as to make it impossible for one person to own the bank outright, except that I do, of course. Because the bank is a company, it must have a board of directors, who meet annually, drink a cup of coffee and approve the accounts which I put before them. Their actual importance is that their names appear on the bank’s headed notepaper. One peer of the realm, a pair of MPs, four other gentlemen known to the City, myself obviously. I would like to add Major Griffin, VC, to that list. You can appreciate why I would wish to do so.”
It was a little tasteless; vulgar, in fact.
“And all I would have to do would be to show up in the City once a year, sir?”
“That is correct, Alfred. You would append your signature to half a dozen documents, eat a good dinner and go home again. I would much appreciate your doing so.”
“I think I can do that, Sir George. The families have been close for many years, after all.”
“Excellent, Alfred. By law, I must pay a salary and expenses to the directors. No great amount but it will cover your costs, ensure you are not out of pocket.”
Alfred asked no more, made his agreement then and there.
“You are most welcome, Alfred. Thank you. Your name will be of value to the bank, silly though it may sound. There are those who are impressed by important names on a Board. Yours is a name that will continue to be known. VCs are not forgotten in this country, rightly so.”
“It is a deal of fuss, sir, for a medal that recognises almost unintentional actions on my part.”
“That is the whole point of it, Alfred. I am told that men who really want the medal almost never get it. It is not awarded to the glory hunter. The VC goes to men who do what they perceive as their duty in almost impossible circumstances, for no reason other than that it is the right thing to do. There is a general agreement, by the way, that your Cross exemplifies everything the medal stands for. I am a mere civilian, I know, but I must express my admiration, Alfred!”
That again brought up the question of what he should do next. Was it still the case that duty called him back to the Salient?
He suspected he would worry about the answer to that for the rest of his existence.
He had played his part. He would speak to the aircraft manufacturers as soon as Sir George gave him the go ahead. That done, then he must confer with his colonel in the Kents, the man at the depot in Canterbury that was. Then the War Office, which he suspected might be easier. Finally, his college, which should be simplest of all.
He escorted Sir George and his wife and two daughters out to their car.
“Cold, sir! Feels like snow coming in.”
“So it does. You should go indoors, Alfred. Cut about as you are, you will feel the chill.”
“Not too much so, sir. I look forward to hearing what Sopwith and de Havilland have to say. I think you have persuaded me. Not the most difficult of tasks.”
The telephone rang in the afternoon of the twenty-seventh.
“Major Griffin? I am Geoffrey de Havilland. Sir George Redwood says we might have something to say to each other.”
A few minutes and they had agreed that Alfred should visit the de Havilland offices in the following week. The prospect of a mathematician with some knowledge of aeronautics being available seemed exciting to de Havilland. That he should be a man who had got his hands dirty in the front lines of the war was even better.
A letter came from General Delacroix, announcing his desire to pay a visit to the Place within the week. Alfred was happy to respond positively. Now that he had come to a decision on his future he was pleased to see Miss Delacroix again. A pretty girl, he knew; he suspected she might have a degree of intelligence as well.
They talked at some length, Alfred explaining his decision to take a less active role in the war.
“I am not recovering quite as quickly as I expected, Miss Delacroix. I am not entirely robust, I fear. I have been told as well that I can be of use in the aircraft industry.”
He went on to explain his research into the mathematics of the aerofoil, the aircraft wing. Currently, all was pragmatic, empirical rather than theoretically sound. The maker of the plane looked at the wing and decided he ‘liked’ the shape of it. There had to be a better, more efficient way of designing the structure.
“One must measure the pressures and the airflow and consider just how all must be balanced, ma’am. Best done mathematically – there must be equations that will tell us precisely what the various angles must be. I am attempting to develop those equations. Working directly with one of the greater manufacturers will be far more practical – will help me turn arid theory into actual, usable, tools for the designer to use.”
She knew little of mathematics but was easily able to see how the academic and the practical could marry to the benefit of both.
They enjoyed their afternoon of conversation. Both wished to repeat the experience, preferably soon.
“Pretty little girl, Alfred. Not so little, thinking on it. Obviously of marriageable age, brother.”
“So she is, Robert. I suspect I might wish to send a letter to the Old Man. Early days yet, but she is one of the most attractive females I have ever come across.”
“Better than Victoria Redwood.”
“And less easily available, I much suspect, Robert!”
“Did you get that impression too, Alfred? By way of being something of a tart, that young lady!”
“Just so, brother! Not my cup of tea, I fear. Her younger sister seemed anxious to speak with you, Robert.”
“Henrietta? Not a great deal about her, Alfred. Not unintelligent – she might well be brighter than me, but no go to her. Nothing to say she was in any way out of the ordinary. To be practical, Alfred, any young female who took me on would have to have a lot about her. Even if I can handle this new boot and tin foot, I shall still hobble at best. I don’t know what I shall be able to do for a living, if anything. This idea of yours about buying up land seems as good as anything I have heard of, but I don’t know if anything can be made of it.”
“Have a look in the newspapers, Robert. The Hampshire Chronicle regularly has land for sale in its back pages, does it not? It would be possible to get an idea of what was about and for what sort of price. Talk to local building firms, as soon as you can get out easily, and get an idea of how much a house would cost to build, and roads as well, of course. You could spend a few months working out the costs and discovering what was possible.”
Alfred was not particularly convinced the suggestion was practical, but it might give Robert an interest and get him back on his feet and busy gain. If he did not find an interest in life he would waste away, decline into inanition, die before he was thirty for having nothing to keep him alive.
He cast his mind over the staff, but none of the females were young and personable. He would otherwise have put a few pounds into one’s hands to persuade her to give Robert a new hobby, a reason for keeping active.
De Havilland’s factory was within easy driving distance of the Place. Alfred took the Rolls across in early afternoon, was brought to the presence of the Captain in his office. De Havilland was still a serving officer in the RFC, though devoting more and more of his time to manufacturing, and presented himself in uniform, as was Alfred, being on wound leave.
