Chapter 4-1
2025 Words
“Hooky"s not telling us everything,” Elliot said over a whisky and water in the Officer"s Mess later that day. “He knows more than he"s saying.”
“Aye, he"s not sending us to India to look pretty,” Jack agreed. “He thinks there is something brewing, or he would not have told us about Lytton, Sher Ali and the Russians.”
“Well, the Royal Malverns are off tomorrow,” Elliot said.
“So I believe,” Jack said. “Malta isn"t it?”
“The seat of operations, my boy, they"re away to Malta to counter the threat of the great Russian bear while we"ll be in India catching cholera and facing the Ghazis.”
“I"m not on duty tomorrow,” Watters said. “I"ll take Mary and wave the Royals goodbye.”
Elliot nodded. “I thought you would.” He poured himself a generous tot of whisky, surveyed his glass and added more. “Watch out for Dorothea. She"s not finished with you yet.”
“Maybe not,” Jack said, “but I"m finished with her.”
“India once more.” Elliot looked at Jack over the rim of his glass. “How do you feel about that, Jack?”
Jack contemplated the whisky in his glass before he replied. “India is my second home, Arthur. Mary is worried about leaving David behind, though.”
“Your boy is fine. He"s got bags of confidence and rides like a centaur,” Elliot said. “If we go to India, we"ll end up in Afghanistan.”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“You know the North-West Frontier, Jack, and you"ll know the old saying, "trust a snake before a woman, and a woman before a Pathan." ”
“I know it,” Jack agreed.
“Is it true?”
“The Pashtuns have a unique code of honour,” Jack said. “There is another saying: "it is impossible to be equal to a Pashtun if you are not a Pashtun." The Pashtun do not see other Afghans as equals.”
Elliot grinned. “Even if they are richer and more powerful?”
Jack nodded. “Wealth is a means to an end for the Pashtun, not an end in itself. The end is freedom and the ability to follow Pashtunwali, the Pashtun"s code of honour. To be a Pashtun is to be above everybody else.”
“The English think the same about themselves,” Elliot said.
Jack smiled. “We do.” His smile broadened. “We don"t think that we"re above everybody else, we know we are.”
know“Maybe we need the Pashtuns to lessen our arrogance,” Elliot said.
“Please God it"s not at the expense of too many lives.”
“Amen to that,” Elliot said.
Yet when Jack closed his eyes, his nightmare returned, with the screaming faces, the raised tulwars and a film of blood over everything.
* * *
Hereford"s streets were busy, with crowds of men, women and children waving and cheering. One strident group were singing God Save the Queen as they flourished their Union flags, while a young woman ran forward with a single rose, which she pressed into the hands of Crimea Windrush.
God Save the QueenCrimea responded with a smile. He glanced furtively at his father riding at the head of the battalion and pecked the woman on the cheek. The crowd and nearest soldiers cheered mightily.
“He"s human after all,” Mary said. “That boy has potential, once his father"s influence is lessened.”
Jack nodded. “Perhaps David would be better joining another regiment, then, away from me.”
Mary frowned. “You"re not your half-brother.”
As the Royal Malverns reached the railway station, a brass band began to play, with the rousing martial airs echoing around the station. Many of the crowd tried to sing the words, with some waving handkerchiefs or throwing flowers as the special train hissed out steam and more crowds gathered around.
One tall civilian carried a huge Union flag, which he waved with gusto, and began to sing a song that Jack did not recognise.
"Let us arm and oft to the field,
"Let us arm and oft to the field,Our bay"nets we"ll cross with the foe;
Our bay"nets we"ll cross with the foe;We long our bright weapons to wield,
We long our bright weapons to wield,We long for the red blood to flow!
We long for the red blood to flow!Away with all barrack-room work
Away with all barrack-room workHurrah for the tent-covered plain!
Hurrah for the tent-covered plain!We"ll join our old ally the Turk,
We"ll join our old ally the Turk,And charge on the Russians again!"
And charge on the Russians again!“I"ll make his red blood flow,” Jack said until Mary placed a restraining hand on his arm.
“Easy, Jack, he doesn"t know what he"s saying.”
Jack nodded. “I"d like him in the 113th for one skirmish against the Russians, just one…”
“Braggarts that don"t join the army,” Mary said. “Calm yourself and look at the crowd.”
“Every man and his brother is here,” Jack said.
“And they"ve brought their sisters and wives with them,” Mary added.
The Royal Malverns boarded the train, with the officers in first class and the NCOs organising the men into the crowded carriages behind. Wives, girlfriends, and relatives surged up as the doors closed, eager for a final word or embrace with their men before the train took them to possible war.
In the front carriage, Colonel William Windrush pushed his head out of the open window. He spoke briefly to Dorothea, gave Jack a stony glance and withdrew inside. Dorothea pressed her gloved palm against the window and moved to the next carriage, where Crimea waited to talk to her.
Dorothea has made a fine son, Jack thought, I hope that William doesn"t ruin him.
Dorothea has made a fine sonI hope that William doesn"t ruin him.“It"s all bustle here,” Mary said.
“It"ll be our turn soon,” Jack looked away from Dorothea.
“I thought so,” Mary did not flinch. “Where to this time? Is it Malta, like the Royals?”
“India,” Jack said. “And I should not have told you that.”
Mary remained quiet for a few moments. “Which station in India?”
“I don"t know yet,” Jack said, “but I doubt it will be Gondabad. It might be Peshawar, near the Frontier.”
“Wherever it is, we"ll cope.” Mary waved as the engine emitted a colossal gust of steam that engulfed the crowd. When the haze cleared, the train began to leave, slowly at first, so wives and sweethearts walked beside the carriages, saying a final farewell to men they might never see again. As the train picked up speed, the women had to walk quickly, and finally run until they reached the end of the platform, where they stood in a forlorn group, watching the train fade into the distance. A last chorus of good-byes sounded, and the women remained there for a few moments until one by one, they drifted back to the station.
“India is a long way from Sandhurst,” Mary said.
“I know.”
Dorothea paused a few steps away from Jack, glanced at Mary, smiled, and walked rapidly away.
“I don"t understand your sister-in-law,” Mary watched Dorothea disappear into the crowd. “She likes you too much, I think, yet she is not ill-disposed towards me.”
Jack nodded. “Aye, I"m happier with her absence than her presence.”
“I"m glad to hear it, Captain Jack,” Mary said with mock severity. “Or I"d have to take you in hand.”
Jack laughed. “Come on, Mary, we have to get packed.”
Mary stopped, stretching out her hand as she saw one young woman in tears, with an older woman comforting her, and many others hiding their emotion behind false smiles.
“Aye,” Jack said. “It"s hard for women when their men go away.”
Mary nodded. “Come on, Jack, let"s get back home. Enough of this.”
Two weeks later, it was the 113th"s turn to sail. In contrast to the Royals" departure, there was no announcement in the newspapers and no cheering crowds filling the streets.
The men had been busy packing up the heavy luggage, which they loaded onto wagons for the journey to the railway station.
“We won"t see any of that again until we arrive in India,” Jack said. “It"s going off ahead of us.”
“I wonder when it will eventually arrive,” Elliot said with a slight smile. “Oh, it"s all right for us bachelors, we don"t have enough kit to fill a mouse"s earhole, but you married men must think about furniture and feminine gee-gaws.”
“Worrying about it keeps me up all night,” Jack said, with a straight face.
The 113th left the barracks late on Saturday, with the wives and children under orders to remain in their quarters. They would join the men later. Jack took his place near the head of the column as they marched through Worcester"s silent streets. Only the echo of tramping feet accompanied them, and the sharp clip of horses" hooves on the ground. One patrolling police constable stopped to watch, lifting a hand in salute.
“Give the Russkies hell, 113th!” he shouted.
Some of the younger soldiers responded with a cheer until blasted to silence by shocked NCOs. The battalion marched on, a scarlet snake through the dark city, with rifles at the slope and boots crashing in unison. The sound was somehow ominous, like an automaton, a mindless machine rather than hundreds of individuals, each with hopes and dreams, fears and aspirations. But, Jack thought, a battalion was a machine, with each soldier a tiny part and the colonel the brain, only another cog, however necessary.
They boarded the train in a station lit by swinging oil lamps and squeezed onto seats in crowded carriages. Some of the men had never travelled by train before and exclaimed at this new experience. Many had never left their native county and stared out the windows as the train rattled them to Bristol and embarkation for India.
“The boys are growing up,” Jack said.
Lieutenant Harcourt gave a weak smile. “What"s it like, sir?”
“What"s what like?”
“What"s it like to be in action, to have people firing at you?” Harcourt bounced opposite Jack in the first-class carriages that only the officers occupied.
Jack considered for a moment, aware that every other officer in the carriage waited to hear his answer.
“You are often too busy to be scared,” he said. “Before and after the battle, you can be afraid, as long as you don"t let it show. Never let the men see you are scared.”
“We"re British officers,” Major Burridge said. “We are not afraid.”
Jack smiled and looked away. “Then you are a lucky man, Burridge.”
The regiment embarked on SS Seringapatam, with the young soldiers negotiating the gangplanks with tentative steps, looking over the side and ahead at the tall funnels. Jack was on deck, encouraging them on board, even as he wondered how many would make the return journey, and how many he would see buried in India or Afghanistan, a victim of a Pashtun bullet, cholera, sunstroke, or fever. He shook his head, dismissing the black thoughts.
Seringapatam,“Come on, lads! Hurry it up!” Jack encouraged, “The captain wants to make the next tide, or following sea or whatever sailors do. The Empire needs the 113th to protect India. They"re waiting for us with high expectation!”
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