at
me as if he did not understand.
‘All right,
sir?’
‘You got
something to eat with the others just now?’
‘Oh, yes, sir.’
‘Enough?’
‘Plenty there,
sir. Didn’t feel much like food, it was.’
‘Are you sick?’
‘Not too good,
sir.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Don’t know
just what, sir.’
‘But you must
know if you’re feeling ill.’
‘Had a bit of
a shock back home, it was.’
This was no
time to go into the home affairs of the platoon’s personnel, now that at last
we were ready and I wanted to give the driver the order to move off.
‘Have a word
with me when we get back to barracks.’
‘All
right, sir.’
I climbed into
the truck beside the driver. We travelled several miles as far as some
crossroads. There we left the truck, which returned to its base. Platoon HQ was
set up in a dilapidated cowshed, part of the buildings of a small farm that lay
not far away across the fields. When everything was pretty well established in
the cowshed, including the siting of the imaginary 2-inch mortar which
travelled round with us, I went off to look for the rope bridge over the canal.
This was found without much difficulty. A corporal was in charge. I explained
my mission, and enquired about the bridge’s capacity.
‘It do wobble
a fair trifle, sir.’
‘Stand by
while I cross.’
‘That I will,
sir.’
I started to
make the transit, falling in after about three or four yards. The water might
have been colder for the time of year. I swam the rest of the way, reaching the
far bank not greatly wetter than the rain had left me. There I wandered about
for a time, making notes of matters to be regarded as important in the
circumstances. After that, I came back to the canal, and, disillusioned as to
the potentialities of the rope bridge, swam across again. The canal banks were
fairly steep, but the corporal helped me out of the water. He did not seem in
the least surprised to find that I had chosen this method of return in
preference to his bridge.
‘Very shaky,
those rope bridges,’ was all he said.
By now it was
dark, rain still falling. I returned to the cowshed. There a wonderful surprise
was waiting. It appeared that Corporal Gwylt, accompanied by Williams, W. H.,
had visited the neighbouring farm and managed to wheedle from the owners a jug
of tea.
‘We saved a
mug for you, sir. Wet you are, by Christ, too.’
I could have
embraced him. The tea was of the kind Uncle Giles used to call ‘a good
sergeant-major’s brew’. It tasted like the best champagne. I felt immediately
ten years younger, hardly wet at all.
‘She was a big
woman that gave us that jug of tea, she was,’ said Corporal Gwylt.
He addressed
Williams, W. H.
‘Ah, she was,’
agreed Williams, W. H.
He looked
thoughtful. Good at running and singing, he was otherwise not greatly gifted.
‘She made me
afraid, she did,’ said Corporal Gwylt. ‘I would have been afraid of that big
woman in a little bed.’
‘Indeed,
I would
too that,’ said Williams, W. H., looking as if
he were sincere in the opinion.
‘Would
you not have been afraid of her, Sergeant Pendry, a
great big woman twice your size?’
‘Shut your
mouth,’ said Sergeant Pendry, with unexpected force. ‘Must you ever be talking
of women?’
Corporal Gwylt was not at all put out.
‘I would be
even more afeared of her in a big bed,’ he said reflectively.
We finished
our tea. A runner came in, brought by a sentry, with a message from Gwatkin. It
contained an order to report to him at a map reference in half an hour’s time.
The place of meeting turned out to be the crossroads not far from the cowshed.
‘Shall I take
the jug back, Corporal?’ asked Williams, W. H.
‘No, lad, I’ll
return that jug,’ said Corporal Gwylt. ‘If I have your permission, sir?’
‘Off you go,
but don’t stay all night.’
‘I won’t take
long, sir.’
Gwylt
disappeared with the jug. The weather was clearing up now. There was a moon.
The air
me as if he did not understand.
‘All right,
sir?’
‘You got
something to eat with the others just now?’
‘Oh, yes, sir.’
‘Enough?’
‘Plenty there,
sir. Didn’t feel much like food, it was.’
‘Are you sick?’
‘Not too good,
sir.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Don’t know
just what, sir.’
‘But you must
know if you’re feeling ill.’
‘Had a bit of
a shock back home, it was.’
This was no
time to go into the home affairs of the platoon’s personnel, now that at last
we were ready and I wanted to give the driver the order to move off.
‘Have a word
with me when we get back to barracks.’
‘All
right, sir.’
I climbed into
the truck beside the driver. We travelled several miles as far as some
crossroads. There we left the truck, which returned to its base. Platoon HQ was
set up in a dilapidated cowshed, part of the buildings of a small farm that lay
not far away across the fields. When everything was pretty well established in
the cowshed, including the siting of the imaginary 2-inch mortar which
travelled round with us, I went off to look for the rope bridge over the canal.
This was found without much difficulty. A corporal was in charge. I explained
my mission, and enquired about the bridge’s capacity.
‘It do wobble
a fair trifle, sir.’
‘Stand by
while I cross.’
‘That I will,
sir.’
I started to
make the transit, falling in after about three or four yards. The water might
have been colder for the time of year. I swam the rest of the way, reaching the
far bank not greatly wetter than the rain had left me. There I wandered about
for a time, making notes of matters to be regarded as important in the
circumstances. After that, I came back to the canal, and, disillusioned as to
the potentialities of the rope bridge, swam across again. The canal banks were
fairly steep, but the corporal helped me out of the water. He did not seem in
the least surprised to find that I had chosen this method of return in
preference to his bridge.
‘Very shaky,
those rope bridges,’ was all he said.
By now it was
dark, rain still falling. I returned to the cowshed. There a wonderful surprise
was waiting. It appeared that Corporal Gwylt, accompanied by Williams, W. H.,
had visited the neighbouring farm and managed to wheedle from the owners a jug
of tea.
‘We saved a
mug for you, sir. Wet you are, by Christ, too.’
I could have
embraced him. The tea was of the kind Uncle Giles used to call ‘a good
sergeant-major’s brew’. It tasted like the best champagne. I felt immediately
ten years younger, hardly wet at all.
‘She was a big
woman that gave us that jug of tea, she was,’ said Corporal Gwylt.
He addressed
Williams, W. H.
‘Ah, she was,’
agreed Williams, W. H.
He looked
thoughtful. Good at running and singing, he was otherwise not greatly gifted.
‘She made me
afraid, she did,’ said Corporal Gwylt. ‘I would have been afraid of that big
woman in a little bed.’
‘Indeed,
I would
too that,’ said Williams, W. H., looking as if
he were sincere in the opinion.
‘Would
you not have been afraid of her, Sergeant Pendry, a
great big woman twice your size?’
‘Shut your
mouth,’ said Sergeant Pendry, with unexpected force. ‘Must you ever be talking
of women?’
Corporal Gwylt was not at all put out.
‘I would be
even more afeared of her in a big bed,’ he said reflectively.
We finished
our tea. A runner came in, brought by a sentry, with a message from Gwatkin. It
contained an order to report to him at a map reference in half an hour’s time.
The place of meeting turned out to be the crossroads not far from the cowshed.
‘Shall I take
the jug back, Corporal?’ asked Williams, W. H.
‘No, lad, I’ll
return that jug,’ said Corporal Gwylt. ‘If I have your permission, sir?’
‘Off you go,
but don’t stay all night.’
‘I won’t take
long, sir.’
Gwylt
disappeared with the jug. The weather was clearing up now. There was a moon.
The air
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