Field Service (8 page)

Guthrie pulled back his cuff and looked at his watch. ‘I see,' he said.

Caroline Mortimer came away from the chaplain to stand beside Reid. ‘I hear you're being delayed by flooding,' she said. ‘The villagers know everything.'

‘I'm sure they do,' Reid said. He pointed to the stream. ‘Whoever drew up the plans probably imagined it to be a lot smaller and considerably more intermittent than it actually is.'

‘It's water,' Guthrie said, but nothing more.

The three of them then sat together at the edge of the trees.

‘And you?' Reid asked Guthrie. ‘Do you have a specific duty here?' It was something he had been considering since meeting the man earlier in the day.

‘As I believe I told you, I was chaplain to the Royal West Surreys. Over the past year I have officiated at a great many of their burials. Brigadier Ronaldson was assiduous at locating as many of our lost and missing men as humanly possible. He's back at home now. I promised him I would continue to do what I could. I'm here for another three months, on attachment to the Commission. You might say I am finishing the job for him.'

This answer left Reid none the wiser, and he tried to remember if any of the Surrey dead had already been assigned to Morlancourt.

‘You will no doubt be aware, of course, that a number of recently retrieved Surreys are to come to you here,' Guthrie said.

‘Of course.'

‘Then, naturally, I shall perform my duties here on their behalf.'

Reid could only say, ‘Of course,' again.

Guthrie took off his cap and wiped his forehead with a clean white handkerchief. Everything he said continued to sound both detached and rehearsed. ‘I was hoping you might show me on your plans where the graves will eventually lie.'

To hide his ignorance, Reid explained that he would need to consult the maps in his room back in Morlancourt. He guessed that some of the men awaiting delivery would remain unidentified. ‘Perhaps you might be able to help with identification where necessary,' he suggested.

‘Of course,' Guthrie said, but with little conviction. ‘Though I daresay the opportunity for that, like a great deal else, is already long past. I knew a good many of those men personally. I wrote to their families.' He glanced at Caroline Mortimer sitting close beside him. ‘I told Colonel Wheeler – Edmund – that he must avail himself of my services at all times. The war itself may be long over, and all that … I spent a week in the Flesquières salient when the pits there were uncovered. A hundred and seventy bodies were removed, and all of them – imagine that, Captain Reid – all of them, every single one, were fully and properly identified. I daresay there were many other instances when not a solitary corpse was afforded that same privilege.'

‘Many,' Reid said, uncertain how they had come so swiftly on to this other path. He wanted to signal to the man to watch what he said in front of Caroline.

Catching something of Reid's concern, Caroline herself said, ‘I am equally fortunate in knowing the identities of every one of my nurses. I, too, wrote to their families – their parents, usually – and I gained considerable balm from both writing those letters and receiving their many replies.' She closed her eyes as she said this, perhaps remembering the women.

‘At Havrincourt,' Guthrie went on, almost as though she had not spoken, ‘I held a service close to our support artillery. The shells flew over our heads as we knelt and prayed. Nine-fives, long-distance jobs.'

It seemed an odd remark to make, and Reid was reminded of an incident when three of his own men had been killed by a solitary shell that had fallen on the railhead at Brouchy, which had landed a dud but had then exploded the following day as the men were loading timber for new trench work.

‘I mention this because it is my intention to hold a service here,' Guthrie said loudly, distracting Reid from his thoughts.

‘Sorry?'

‘A service. I shall hold one here, at the cemetery. Soon. Sometime in the coming weeks.'

‘While the work is going on?' Reid said. ‘Surely not?'

Plans had already been made by the Commission for inaugural ceremonies when all the nearby burial grounds were completed and handed over to their eventual keepers.

‘You'll need to talk to Wheeler,' Reid said, angry at what Guthrie had just proposed, but convinced that Wheeler would prevent whatever the man was planning while the ground itself remained in a state of such obvious turmoil and disarray.

‘I've already done so,' Guthrie said. ‘Edmund told me I must do whatever I see fit to honour the Surreys – everyone, in fact.'

‘I doubt if—' Reid began to say.

‘In fact, I was rather hoping you might see your way to rearranging your schedules somewhat – I doubt they are set in stone – so that all the necessary graves are dug and filled at the same time. Edmund certainly seemed to believe this to be well within your capabilities. He told me to tell you that you might contact him directly if you have any concerns regarding what I've just asked of you.'

Reid saw how completely he had been outmanoeuvred. He quickly calculated the changes required to his schedules, and what extra work this might entail, especially in light of Alexander Lucas's earlier revelation. He was convinced that Wheeler –
Edmund
– had only agreed to Guthrie's proposal because it had been put to the Commission in a manner that had made it difficult for anyone to refuse him. It would be almost impossible, Reid knew, especially given the labour and transportation required, to reinter all the Surreys either soon or at a single ceremony, even if this
had
already been sanctioned by some distant figure at the Commission.

‘We usually manage ten to fifteen burials a day,' he said. ‘To correspond with the bodies delivered to us each morning.'

Guthrie considered this, clearly aware of Reid's objections to what he had just proposed. ‘I shall be seeing Edmund later this evening,' he said. ‘Perhaps he and I might consider things then at greater length.'

‘And say what?' Reid said. ‘Like I say, the pace and routine of the work here is dictated to us by the number of bodies – mostly reinterments and new retrievals these days – sent to us from the Graves depots. Most days we fulfil our quotas, and other days we fall behind. Even here, some men are interred and then later removed for burial elsewhere. It's more common than you'd think. I imagine even Colonel Wheeler—'

‘Please, I meant no criticism of you or your achievement here,' Guthrie said. He looked at Caroline and smiled as he said this, as though expecting her to share his surprise at Reid's objections. He then held Reid's arm for a moment and Reid felt himself flinch at the man's touch. ‘And I certainly never meant to cause you any offence, Captain Reid.'

Everything Guthrie said and suggested kept Reid at a disadvantage.

‘No, of course not,' Reid said, regretting even this small concession. He looked away from Guthrie, watching a group of diggers who lay along the low banks of the stream and scooped water from it in their cupped palms. He regretted more than ever Caroline Mortimer's presence beside them.

‘Perhaps I might be able to do something similar for my nurses,' she said hesitantly. ‘A small ceremony, I mean. Something separate from whatever Colonel Wheeler intends at a later date.'

‘I hardly think—' Guthrie began to say, but stopped abruptly when she turned to him and held his gaze.

‘I don't see why not,' Reid said.

The graves for the women were already dug and waiting. Every man who had worked on them had known who they were intended for, and greater care than usual had been put into their preparation on that account. Several of the diggers had even approached Reid to say that they would appreciate some further element of ceremony to the day's routine when the women finally came to them. Given the usual constraints, Reid had promised them he would do his best. Perhaps what Caroline was now suggesting – after all, she was unlikely to be refused by Wheeler – would be the perfect solution.

Guthrie looked again at his watch and, seeing this, Reid took out his whistle and blew on it. Caroline had already covered her ears with her hands, but the sound surprised Guthrie and he gave a start, afterwards laughing at himself.

All across the cemetery, men rose from where they had been lying and sitting and walked singly and in small groups back to their work.

‘“See them toil in the fields of the Lord”,' Guthrie said, then he too rose and without a word to either Reid or Caroline, walked quickly down the slope towards the road.

REID SAW NOTHING
of Alexander Lucas for the whole of the following day. As agreed, he had arranged a room for Lucas in his own small
pension
and had anticipated spending the evening with him upon his return from Prezière. But by ten that night, Lucas had not appeared, and neither had his men and their lorries.

When Lucas did finally come, at six the following morning, he was alone and driving himself. He sat in the street beneath Reid's window and sounded his horn.

Reid went to his window and Lucas beckoned for him to go down to him.

Reid arrived at the car and started to tell him about the room he had arranged.

‘I'll bring some of my stuff later,' Lucas said, interrupting him, yawning, and showing little interest in what Reid was telling him. ‘It's a Hudson,' he said, meaning the car. ‘Last time, they gave me a Daimler. Beautiful machine. I own a Sunbeam at home.' He yawned again and stopped speaking.

It was clear to Reid that the man was exhausted. ‘Did you get your bodies?' he asked him.

‘We made a start,' Lucas said.

‘You were there all day and night?'

‘Some of us.'

Lucas started the engine and drove them out of the village, stopping a few minutes later alongside the near-empty Ancre canal.

‘What is it?' Reid asked eventually as the two men walked along the embankment.

Lucas arched his back and swung his arms. ‘Wheeler sent a despatch rider to await our arrival,' he said. He sat down on the slope, his feet only a yard above the surface of the green and stagnant water.

Reid sat beside him. Insects swarmed over the surface of the drained channel and rushes grew along most of its length. Its faintly sulphurous smell filled the warming air.

‘Because of what he already knew you'd find there?' Reid said.

‘It's possible. The rider was there to tell me to make the site secure, keep everyone out, and to make sure that every body we retrieved was properly identified – as far as possible – and then fully logged. To be honest, having seen the place and the bodies, my concerns remain elsewhere.'

‘Meaning what?' Reid said, already guessing.

Alexander Lucas rubbed his face with both his hands. ‘The bodies were more severely burned than the farmer's account had suggested.'

Reid watched ripples along the surface of the canal where sluggish fish rose to take the flies.

‘Was the farmer there?' he said.

‘He was working in the fields during the day, but he left in the evening before I could talk to him. I camped in the ruined barn.'

‘With the bodies?'

Lucas smiled. ‘With the bodies. We counted thirty-six of them. None of them are covered as such, just lined up on the ground under the rubble of the collapsed building.'

‘And the burning?'

‘Like I said – worse than I'd anticipated, but in most cases still only superficial. The corpses were certainly all intact. It looks to me as though somebody poured petrol or paraffin over them and set them alight.'

‘Were you able to make your identifications?'

‘They'd been there almost two years. Nothing was instantly identifiable, but most of them were in some kind of uniform and with kit attached. There are some indications of looting – not many watches or cigarette cases or small arms, for instance. But there they are in their neat and tidy rows all the same. Believe me, I wish all our retrievals were as easily accomplished.'

‘Does their being laid out like that suggest that whoever did it was – I don't know – showing them some measure of respect?'

‘It's a possibility. I've seen it before, though usually with far fewer bodies.'

‘Then perhaps they were simply gathered up and laid out by men who assumed they'd be collected by our own teams afterwards,' Reid suggested.

Lucas shrugged. ‘Besides, as Wheeler keeps reminding me, all that matters now is that we've actually found and recovered them.' He yawned and stretched.

‘And not the circumstances of their deaths?'

‘I think we all know where that particular line was long since drawn.'

Reid didn't fully understand the remark, but said nothing.

A dragonfly appeared in front of him, iridescent blue and emerald green, hovering motionless and then flicking itself away from him.

After a silence, he said, ‘Will it delay you?'

‘I'm not sure,' Lucas said. ‘I daresay Wheeler will only breathe easy when everyone's been boxed up and handed over to you. “The earth must bear its secrets,” and all that. Besides, who among us is still truly looking for answers or for explanations?'

‘Perhaps,' Reid said.

After a further silence, Lucas said, ‘Jessop let slip that the old man lost his nephew out here – July 'sixteen – and that he was making discreet enquiries about having the boy's body repatriated so that his sister could bury him in the family plot. The family plot – that sounds like a good solid ending to the story, don't you think?'

‘I doubt if the Commission—'

‘Wheeler
is
the Commission,' Lucas said angrily.

But Reid knew that Wheeler, because of his position, would be more bound than most to abide by the rules concerning repatriation. Besides, it had long since been decided that all recovered bodies would be buried as close as possible to where they had fallen, and wherever possible in the company of their dead companions. In the early days, as all these rules and practices were still being decided, wealthier families had petitioned the War Office and had then made their own private arrangements to retrieve their dead. Almost from the start, the Commission had been keen to prevent this. Wheeler, Reid knew, would have no say whatsoever in what happened to the body of his nephew.