his motive was a change of subject or to take advantage of the atmosphere of intimacy, he plucked up the nerve to ask a question. “Matthew? Can I ask you something?”
Matthew grinned. “Obviously, since you just did. Oh Lord, don’t look at me like that. Come on, out with it, although I shan’t promise to answer.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. I just…” George found he had to stop and take a deep breath. “What happened when you…when you lost your arm?”
“Oh. That.” Matthew’s smile wavered and fell. “Well, you already know some of it, I think. Old Jerry scored a lucky hit with one of his blasted shells, and the dugout collapsed on top of me. I was pretty lucky, actually.” He shrugged.
“ Lucky? ” George stared at him.
“Well, yes. The men were marvellous—wouldn’t stop digging until they found me—but even then it’d have been too late if I hadn’t been over in the corner at the time. I was pinning up a postcard Mother had sent me from the Isle of Wight, would you believe it? Trying to brighten the old place up a bit. Well, being in the corner, the framework protected me a little and gave me a pocket of air to breathe. Poor old Wilkins wasn’t so lucky—they got to him first, as it happened, but he’d already suffocated in the mud, poor chap.” Despite the fire, Matthew shivered.
Marmaduke gave a yowl of displeasure and vacated Matthew’s lap for a more stable resting place upon the hearthrug.
“God, that must have been awful.” George felt ill to think of it—the pain, the darkness and, God, the fear of it all. When he’d been in prison with the other C.O.s, they’d talked—when they were allowed to talk—of being buried alive in those wretched cells, but here Matthew had experienced that for real. “But your arm?”
“Too mangled to save, they told me.” He laughed suddenly. “Do you know, I didn’t even realise at the time? Some of my memories are a little mixed up, but I distinctly remember hearing one of the stretcher bearers saying ‘That arm’ll have to go’, and telling him quite crossly there was nothing wrong with it.”
“Good God. It must have been a fearful shock to wake up without it, then.”
“It was and it wasn’t. After all, there are worse things to lose than an arm. And of course, it meant the end of the war for me. I couldn’t help thinking how pleased Mother would be to at least have most of me back.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t have put it quite like that!”
“That, dear fellow, is where you’re wrong. She put it exactly like that when she came to see me in hospital, once I’d been shipped back to Blighty.”
“Then I can see where you get your sense of humour.” George paused. “Were you glad to be out of it? Or sorry?”
“I…” Matthew hesitated. “You know, I was going to say glad , most definitely, but I was sorry to leave the men behind. It wasn’t all bad, you know. There were rest times, and officer training, when we’d be billeted well back behind the lines. Some of the chaps would get friendly with the nurses in the local Casualty Clearing Station, and we’d go on picnics in the woods.” He grinned. “Sounds absurd now, doesn’t it? As if we didn’t know there was a war on, guns firing and shells falling, only a few miles away.”
“And did you get friendly with any of the nurses?” George couldn’t help but ask.
“Me? Lord, no. There was one orderly I was rather close to… But, well, we quarrelled, and then that blasted shell fell on me, and I never saw him again. I often wonder what he’s doing now.” Matthew got up to put some more coal on the fire, a business that seemed to take longer than it ought.
George’s heart was pounding. That almost sounded like… But it didn’t matter, did it? No matter what common ground he might have with Matthew, he was here to investigate the man.
“So where did you serve?” Matthew asked, turning around suddenly. “Assuming you did, of course. Judging
Matthew grinned. “Obviously, since you just did. Oh Lord, don’t look at me like that. Come on, out with it, although I shan’t promise to answer.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. I just…” George found he had to stop and take a deep breath. “What happened when you…when you lost your arm?”
“Oh. That.” Matthew’s smile wavered and fell. “Well, you already know some of it, I think. Old Jerry scored a lucky hit with one of his blasted shells, and the dugout collapsed on top of me. I was pretty lucky, actually.” He shrugged.
“ Lucky? ” George stared at him.
“Well, yes. The men were marvellous—wouldn’t stop digging until they found me—but even then it’d have been too late if I hadn’t been over in the corner at the time. I was pinning up a postcard Mother had sent me from the Isle of Wight, would you believe it? Trying to brighten the old place up a bit. Well, being in the corner, the framework protected me a little and gave me a pocket of air to breathe. Poor old Wilkins wasn’t so lucky—they got to him first, as it happened, but he’d already suffocated in the mud, poor chap.” Despite the fire, Matthew shivered.
Marmaduke gave a yowl of displeasure and vacated Matthew’s lap for a more stable resting place upon the hearthrug.
“God, that must have been awful.” George felt ill to think of it—the pain, the darkness and, God, the fear of it all. When he’d been in prison with the other C.O.s, they’d talked—when they were allowed to talk—of being buried alive in those wretched cells, but here Matthew had experienced that for real. “But your arm?”
“Too mangled to save, they told me.” He laughed suddenly. “Do you know, I didn’t even realise at the time? Some of my memories are a little mixed up, but I distinctly remember hearing one of the stretcher bearers saying ‘That arm’ll have to go’, and telling him quite crossly there was nothing wrong with it.”
“Good God. It must have been a fearful shock to wake up without it, then.”
“It was and it wasn’t. After all, there are worse things to lose than an arm. And of course, it meant the end of the war for me. I couldn’t help thinking how pleased Mother would be to at least have most of me back.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t have put it quite like that!”
“That, dear fellow, is where you’re wrong. She put it exactly like that when she came to see me in hospital, once I’d been shipped back to Blighty.”
“Then I can see where you get your sense of humour.” George paused. “Were you glad to be out of it? Or sorry?”
“I…” Matthew hesitated. “You know, I was going to say glad , most definitely, but I was sorry to leave the men behind. It wasn’t all bad, you know. There were rest times, and officer training, when we’d be billeted well back behind the lines. Some of the chaps would get friendly with the nurses in the local Casualty Clearing Station, and we’d go on picnics in the woods.” He grinned. “Sounds absurd now, doesn’t it? As if we didn’t know there was a war on, guns firing and shells falling, only a few miles away.”
“And did you get friendly with any of the nurses?” George couldn’t help but ask.
“Me? Lord, no. There was one orderly I was rather close to… But, well, we quarrelled, and then that blasted shell fell on me, and I never saw him again. I often wonder what he’s doing now.” Matthew got up to put some more coal on the fire, a business that seemed to take longer than it ought.
George’s heart was pounding. That almost sounded like… But it didn’t matter, did it? No matter what common ground he might have with Matthew, he was here to investigate the man.
“So where did you serve?” Matthew asked, turning around suddenly. “Assuming you did, of course. Judging
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