Praying That We Meet Again, page 6
“Come and see me when you are done, Griffin. Got a few problems to tidy up, old chap. Down to four bloody hundred! Christ knows what we do now!”
“Two companies, sir. Cranfield and myself the only captains and short of lieutenants as well. Two full companies will be the simplest way of organising ourselves, sir. I lost both the green hands you gave me yesterday, sir. Both of them with their wounds to the front, so we can say they went well.”
“Not yet lunchtime on the first day, Griffin! I haven’t spoken to the Hampshires yet, don’t know what may have happened there.”
“I hope my brothers may have survived, sir. The odds are against it. Neither of them will have hung back.”
“Not from your family, Griffin! Not the way you chaps go on! Go back to the front and pull the companies together. I will talk to A and B. You take C and D. I shall inform the Brigadier-General and get his imprimatur – big word that, for me! Being acting as colonel, it is as well to have the senior man confirm my decision. Rossiter will give it, but occasionally it is as well to get things on paper. You have done well this morning, Griffin. Far better than one might look for from a man who is essentially just in for the duration of the war. Any regular officer would be pleased to have done as well as you have today, Griffin. Off you go and don’t die today! Can’t ask for a lot more than that!”
Alfred suspected that was military humour. He peeled off a salute and marched away, straight backed and trying to swing his arms properly, to set an example for all who saw him. His left hand hurt like hell and he wanted to cradle it in his chest, but that was not the way an officer behaved, he was certain of that.
“Sergeant Warner. We are bringing C and D Companies into one. I want you to be senior sergeant. That will be acting company sergeant major.”
“Thank you, sir. D Company has one second lieutenant left and has lost both sergeants, sir. We need to make corporals up, sir. The second lieutenant joined us yesterday, sir, and don’t really know what’s going on.”
“Ask him to come across to me, Warner.”
Second Lieutenant Compton doubled across to Alfred’s side.
“Reporting, sir. I am sole officer left in D Company, sir. What must I do?”
“C and D Companies have been amalgamated, Mr Compton. You are my second in command. Bring your senior corporals across to me and we will see what can be done.”
An hour and the companies had been divided into four fairly equal platoons and a new sergeant had been named as well as four corporals. They had a total of two hundred and ten men.
“General officer, sir!”
“Thank you, Warner.”
Alfred stood, cap correctly worn, tunic buttoned, tie straight, greeted Brigadier-General Rossiter with a precise salute.
“At ease, Griffin. What have you done with your company?”
Alfred briefly explained, the two companies combined and spread out along the face of the woodland, in place to resist the next attack.
“Spare rifles loaded and placed beside the old soldiers, sir, to give them immediate extra rounds.”
“Well done. You are acting major, with immediate effect. You have half of the battalion and that is a major’s command, sir. Five months to major – not unheard of, but it ain’t common, Griffin! Well done!”
Chapter Four
“Must get across and see old Alfred, John.”
“When we have time, Peter. I am told he did well this morning. No surprise there!”
“The sole surprise is that the three of us survived that bloody encounter, brother.”
“So it was, Peter. We were lucky that the bulk of the Hun went up against the Kents rather than us. Even so, our losses are bloody horrendous. The company is down to less than a hundred men. Best we pull them together into two platoons. How are you off for old hands?”
“Kept the bulk of them, John. Of forty-six remaining to me, thirty-eight are older men. Experienced riflemen who fought like hell but managed to keep their heads down at the right time. The youngsters who came in just didn’t know their way around, John. I think I have lost eighteen of the last twenty replacements to come in!”
“I presume that includes the second lieutenants?”
“Both of mine gone, John. One wounded and gone back and might survive. Belly shot but might be lucky, straight through and nothing too much shot up. The other took a bayonet high in the chest and throat and bled out inside a minute. Unstoppable.”
“Again, too green to have learned their way around. I have kept one of my youngsters. The other was head shot, looking up to see what was happening when the Spandaus fired. The one who made it, Winslade, showed well, rifle and bayonet in hand and well bloodied.”
“Useful, John. Hats on and ties done up, sir, that’s a general in the distance and coming this way!”
Both officers were perfectly presented when Brigadier-General Rossiter greeted them.
Colonel Caine introduced the pair.
“Captain and Lieutenant Griffin, sir.”
“Ah, yes! Brothers to Alfred Griffin, are you not? I spoke to him an hour ago and had the pleasure of making him major. Minor wound to one hand, lost a little finger, that’s all, after fighting like a madman!”
“Oh, that’s good to hear, sir! Alfred is a long way the best of us! Major in five months, sir! He can buy us a drink for that when we get out of the line!”
“We may well all of us be buying him a drink yet. What are your losses?”
John answered as senior man of the Company.
“Our latest count gives one hundred and two men and three officers, sir. I have one surviving sergeant and two corporals. Temporarily, I have amalgamated the men into two platoons.”
“You are a little better off than the Kents, it would seem. I am leaving the Kents and Hampshires up and the Surreys will offer support as required, using their additional men as our mobile reserve. If we get green replacements, I shall feed them into the Surreys and they can get experience with them for a day or two before coming up to you. Any experienced men can come straight to you.”
They agreed it would give the green youngsters a slightly better chance of living for a few days.
“We have artillery dropping their trails just now, so you will have a little more support than was available this morning. A battery of four of the thirty-hundredweight six inch guns as a first support. There is a promise of howitzers for this afternoon. Count those chickens when they are hatched, gentlemen!”
The six inch guns fired a heavy shell. If they had adequate spotters, they could provide a massive improvement to the defence.
“There is an expectation of a new division to arrive in the next day or two. Canadians who are actually ashore at Boulogne and should be moving this afternoon. They will be at full strength and will be placed to your immediate right. Obviously, you will offer all assistance possible to them. They tend to be dry, I am told, but do have supplies of coffee as well as tea.”
“I have almost forgotten what coffee tastes like, sir.”
Rossiter laughed but gave no promise of sending any up to the front.
“Major, John! That’s fast going even for old Alfred!”
“So it is, Peter. My younger brother, a wartime amateur, outstripping me! I could be jealous if I was not so very pleased for him. The old chap will be delighted, I should imagine.”
“Father will be pleased we all three lived through this morning. I am amazed!”
“Still this afternoon to come. At least the brigadier was right about those guns.”
They heard a first shot from the rear, watched as the battery registered on the German lines, firing three rounds from each gun to establish a range.
“Using HE as well, John. That will cause damage in their trenches.”
“Provided they have full caissons and plenty to the rear, those will be useful guns, Peter. Double sentries at night and crews to the Vickers. What have we by way of flare pistols?”
“One in my dugout, John. A dozen each of red, green and white flares. Why?”
“Guns are less valuable at night, brother! If we have big guns which will cut up an attack made in daylight, then it makes more sense to come through the hours of darkness. Warn the Vickers to fire on fixed lines if alerted by flares in the night. Ignore a single white, shoot on a second flare of any colour.”
Major Leggett came strolling up from the left, notebook to hand.
“Collating the figures for the battalion, gentlemen. Not looking so very jolly just now.”
“Remaining bodies, sir, fit and able to shoot a rifle, one hundred and two men and three officers. One sergeant and two corporals, sir. I have reduced the company to two platoons.”
“Correct to do so. C Company has done the same. I have A and B Companies, you have C and D as acting major, Mr Griffin. Put up the crowns, if you please. Your family is doing well for promotions today! We have made the senior lieutenant of C Company up to captain – Griffin junior, you must wait to the next round for your captaincy. It will very likely come then, provided you keep your head down! You are both up for Mentions, by the way. I believe Major Alfred Griffin has been cited for more than that. All the reports suggest he certainly deserves recognition.”
“He would, sir. So very much the most able of the family in just about every possible way. If he wasn’t such a thoroughly good chap with it, I would be jealous of him. Can’t be jealous of Alfred, though – just so thoroughly fine a fellow!”
Leggett was pleased to hear that. It was rare for brothers to have so high a degree of affection for each other.
Peter agreed. He had always been proud of his brother.
“He had a damned good name up at Oxford, sir. I can’t recall anyone with a bad word for him. Rugger Blue as well as a good First in Mathematics and working for a research doctorate which was expected to make a real difference in the design of aeroplanes. I confidently expected to hear of his engagement to a duke’s daughter next.”
Leggett laughed and shook his head. The man sounded to be a true paragon. He suspected he might be too good to live, but he did not say that aloud.
Colonel Caine said nothing aloud as he surveyed the little procession in front of him.
“Second Lieutenant Windebank, sir, one sergeant and forty two men, replacements, sir.”
“All recent volunteers, Windebank?”
“Yes, sir. All with some sort of experience, sir. Cadets and such. The brigadier said we were to go directly to our battalion for knowing our way about, to an extent.”
Caine picked out a dozen faces that had very recently started shaving and as many more who had grey in that morning’s stubble.
“And what of you, Windebank? You are older than the average subaltern. Hampshire name, of course.”
“Yes, sir. Dartmouth and midshipman aboard a cruiser. Then my elder brother died and I became heir and my father ordered me home. I did not love the sea so much as to wish to return to the Navy, sir, and put my name forward for the County regiment, the Hampshires, when it became clear this was to be a bigger war than had been expected.”
“Very good. Our casualties have been massive and we need every man who will step forward. We have had to amalgamate our companies and you will go to Second Company, the old C and D. Do you know the men you have brought out?”
“Not well yet, sir. No more than a dozen by name, but I only met them the day before yesterday.”
“Good enough. Take twenty, including the dozen you know. Your sergeant will have the remainder and will bring them across to First Company. You can expect to go almost immediately into action. What have you by way of baggage?”
“Nothing, sir, other than a change of underclothes. I was ordered to leave everything else at Brigade, sir.”
“Quite right. Better far than losing your trunks here. You will probably lose them there, but not quite so quickly. You will gather we do not change for dinner in a trench.”
Windebank had not been aware of that, but his short training course had made no mention of trenches in any case.
“You have your sidearm with you, Windebank?”
“I do, sir, but it is not the proper sort, I fear. The call for them has been so great it has been impossible to make a purchase in London, sir. There are simply no revolvers in the shops!”
That was not a problem that had occurred to the colonel. He enquired of Windebank’s solution to the problem.
“I thought it best to remain with forty-five calibre, sir, and revolver ammunition, so I was forced to buy a longer barrelled sporting weapon, sir. It is of six inches barrel rather than the proper four and is a Webley.”
He displayed the vast handgun, embarrassed to be so distinguished from the norm.
Caine handled the weapon, showed admiring.
“Perfect balance, Mr Windebank. As you say, a sporting weapon, designed for target practice. I would imagine it to be accurate up to forty yards.”
The pistol might be. Windebank was not at all sure he was.
“No doubt you will find out very soon, Mr Windebank. Take your men to Major Griffin with my compliments. Even a score of new bodies will be most welcome after this morning’s losses.”
Windebank picked out the men he knew and asked his sergeant for another eight. He was given six of the youngest and two who were at least forty, but did not notice the sergeant’s sigh of relief to be rid of them. He marched them through the woodland, seeing the shell damage and wrinkling his nose at the sour smell of high explosive.
“Major Griffin, sir? Windebank and twenty of replacements, sir.”
John took a quick look at the new men and wondered just where they had come from. Schoolboys and pensioners!
“I believe the youngsters are mostly from a merchant navy training school, sir, allowed to volunteer in this time of the Army’s need. The senior class, I am told, almost all of them coming forward, those who remained after going to the Navy, that is.”
“These did not fancy the life at sea?”
“No, sir. I gather that all those who had volunteered to the sea were put on Cressy and the other old cruisers and almost all died at the Broad Fourteens disaster.”
John had vague memories of that, of three cruisers sunk by the same submarine in a single action with thousands dead.
“Don’t blame them for taking the Army. Not likely to live a lot longer but at least they won’t drown! What of the older men?”
“Ah! More useful, I expect, sir. All of them served at least seven years in the Army, sir, and volunteered to return to the Colours.”
“They will be handy with a rifle at least.”
“Yes, sir. Some have their marksman’s badge and a good half have good conduct stripes up. From what I gather, sir, most left because they wanted to get married, which is not practical on a soldier’s pay. They would have stayed if they could have sensibly done so.”
“That accounts for all of them, does it?”
“Not entirely, sir. Six of them were at approved school, sir, and were allowed to volunteer instead of remaining for their last two years. All had a satisfactory conduct record.”
“What is an ‘approved school’?”
“In effect, sir, it is a sort of prison for boys who are too young to go to jail.”
“So, they are juvenile criminals?”
“To an extent, yes, sir. Not perhaps as wholly as it might seem, sir. A boy of eighteen, a young man, might be given a ten shilling fine if he was caught poaching; at most he would get three months inside. A twelve year old might be sent to approved school until he was eighteen for the same offence. The argument is that the younger lad is being given a free education for six years.”
“What do they actually learn, Mr Windebank?”
“Very little, sir, for lack of teachers and textbooks. From what they say, most just learn how to run fast so as not to be buggered by the warders.”
“Ah, yes. Having been a sailor, you would know about such things. Not to worry! Report to Mr Griffin junior and he will set you to work. You and your men will require dugouts. He will show you where to start digging. Looks like rain coming so you will want to be underground and with a roof over your head quickly.”
“Underground, sir?”
“Well, do you see anywhere else to lay your head?”
Windebank did not. He was not pleased to discover they did not march back to barracks on completion of their day’s duty.
“We are here and on duty twenty-four hours of the day, Mr Windebank. The Army kindly permits you to sleep some of that time. The Germans may not.”
“I presume we have a Mess, at least, sir?”
“Not unless you dig a very big hole, Mr Windebank.”
“How does one make these holes waterproof, sir?”
“Cover them with branches and bushes and put a groundsheet over that. With luck, that will keep you dry. A shell knocking down a tree may do you no favours that way.”
“Do we expect reliefs, sir?”
“Not this year, no.”
“So… We fight in the mud and then sleep where we fought.”
“Yes.”
“Somewhat bleak, sir.”
“So it is. Find yourself a servant and he should be able to supply you with tea at frequent intervals.”
“Ah! That will be less bleak, I presume, sir!”
“It will be. On that topic. The men will have their tea buckets almost permanently on the boil. You will see nothing. They need their tea. Do everything you can for their comfort and bugger the regulations. If they happen to be wearing additional woollens or waterproofs, do not notice. Do not have parades or any unessential formalities. Discourage them from indecency and keep the area clean – they are not to crap in the nearby bushes. Otherwise, the lightest of hands, Mr Windebank.”
Windebank was still relatively young. He could not imagine what John, the experienced soldier, meant by ‘indecency’. He was far too young to ask.
Digging in the woodland was hard labour. The tree roots made every inch a fight. The nearby existence of several thousands of bloodthirsty Huns encouraged the men to keep going. Nightfall saw all of them with some sort of protective barrier between them and flying bullets.
