THE CINDER PATH (16 page)

of escape from the farm and that redheaded bastard who had been his brother-inlaw

now for the past year. At times he would question why

their Polly had done it, yet he knew why their

Polly had done it, it was to save his neck.

It was some weeks before Arthur, among others, was

given a rifle, and it was as well, so scoffed the

sergeant at the time, that they would never be called upon to use them. It was a good job Kitchener had sent the

Fifth Division of the British Expeditionary Force

over to France, because if the winning of the war depended on this lot they'd all give up the ghost.

Arthur didn't mind if he never saw France but

the first instant he held the rifle he had a vivid

picture of Ginger Slater standing in front of him,

and his mind went bang! bang! bang! and he saw

Ginger lying with the blood pouring out of him, not only from three places but from his head, his chest, his arms, his legs, his feet. By God! if he ever came across

him.

The war became a puzzle to Arthur as it did

to many another. Where were all the uniforms? Where were all the big guns? It would appear you only got a

uniform if you were going to the front. And the officers, why some of them had been dug up from the Boer

War. He wished he had never joined the bloody

army. At least, so he wished until the

day his unit was sent to Ravensworth Park. From that

day Arthur had an aim in life.

BY THE middle of 1915 the war was settled in, in

trenches so to speak. It was said in high places that it would have been over by the end of 1914 had it not been for the Germans discovering the value of a trench. It was when

the fleeing Germans reached the Aisne and were too

weary to run further from the pursuing British

Expeditionary Force that they dug trenches, and from then checked the Allied advance. So began trench

warfare; bloody, soul-destroying, gut-exposing

trench warfare.

There was at this time dissension among the generals:

Kitchener was going for Sir John French; and

General JofFre, the French

cornmander-in-Chief, came under Kitchener's

instructions to command the British Army. As one

general was heard to say, "You haven't to die before you shed tears of blood."

There were commanders who didn't speak French and,

therefore, had to take their orders through interpreters.

There was confusion, there was massacre; but as the

propaganda said there was also glory for those who gave their lives for their country.

But as thoughtful people dared to say, who can prove that the dead can enjoy what their passing has evoked?

And the fact now that men dying in their thousands brought forth from English women the hysterical desire that more should join them, was not a phenomenon but merely, in the main, the outpouring of frustration. Why should their man be out there, up to the waist in mud and water and crawling with lice, while even one man went about the streets in

a civilian suit?

Charlie had been the target of this frustration more

than once as he had passed through Newcastle and

Gateshead.

"Somebody drained your liver, lad?"

"Don't tell me you're in a reserved

occupation, not a big fellow like you!"

"Flat feet have you? Weak eyes? . . .

weakkneed more bloody like."

Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who

had been subjected to this, but no, torn Skelly was

suspected of falling accidentally on purpose down

a scree hill. The result was a broken leg.

No France for him.

Meeting up with khaki-clad men was the

worst experience. There were three coming along the street now, walking abreast. He lowered his eyes

and went to step into the gutter when he was startled by a hand coming out and grabbing him, and he brought his head up sharply as a voice said, "Charlie! Why,

Charlie!"

"Arthur! My goodness!" They were shaking hands and smiling into each other's face.

"It's good to see you, Charlie."

"And you, Arthur."

Arthur now turned to his two companions standing

to the side and said, "Oh, this is Mr MacFell,

he's me old boss. Wish he was still." He jerked

his head and laughed. "Look, I'll see you later

on. All right, eh?"

They both smiled and nodded and said, "Aye, all

right. So long."

"So long," Arthur said, then turned again

to Charlie, asking now, "have you got a minute?"

"All the minutes you want, Arthur. Are you on

leave?"

"Aye, you could say I was. We think we're

for over the water any time now. . . . Come an' have

a drink."

"Better still, you come along to the house with me and have a bite."

"The house? What house?"

"Oh"-they were walking side by side now-"you wouldn't know about it but Victoria's aunt died just

after the war started and left her and Nellie a house

each. Victoria's is in Newcastle here and

Nellie's is in Gateshead."

"You don't say!"

"Yes."

"And you live here now? What about the farm?"

"Oh, the farm is still going strong, and always will as long as Betty's about. But I'm there most of the time.

I pop over here for an occasional week-end."

"Aye. How things change."

"Yes, they do, Arthur, they do indeed."

"Where's your house?"

"In Jesmond."

"Posh. Oh posh, eh?"

Charlie smiled and said, "I hope you don't

mind, it's a good ten minutes' walk further

on."

"You jokin', Charlie? You're talkin' to the

feller with leather feet." "How are you finding the army, Arthur?" "Oh-was The grin slid from

Arthur's face

and he said soberly, "So-so." Then turning

his head fully towards Charlie, he said,

"I'm glad I met you, Charlie, I've a lot

to tell you. I sometimes thought of takin' a trip out

to the farm to have a natter with you, but then I didn't know whether I'd be welcome as there's no one of ours

left there now, an' old Arnold and Fred didn't

think much of me for goin' off like that, I know. But I just had to get away. You understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand, Arthur."

"I knew you would. But you know somethin', Charlie?

There's an old saying, if the devil's got you

marked out there's no escaping him, and it's true,

by God! I've found out it's true. I met up with

him again, Charlie . . . Slater."

They both paused in their walking now, and Charlie,

shaking his head slowly, said, "No!"

"Aye. Aye, Charlie. He's a bloody

sergeant instructor, would you believe that? That skinny undersized bastard that he was, who could neither read nor write, he's a bloody sergeant, an' by God!

didn't he let me know it. Do you know something,

Charlie? I nearly added a second notch to me

totem pole, I did that. It was the lads, those

two I left back there, who saved me skin more

than once. Pit

lads they are ... or were, sensible,

stubborn, good mates. They fought me battle for

me, but in a backhand kind of way; they waylaid

him one night and they did him up. By God! they

did that; he was in hospital for a week. The whole

camp was afire with it, but he couldn't lay the blame

on me "cos the bastard had put me on guard

duty just afore he went out and I was still on it when they carried him in."

"Who goes there?" Arthur stopped in the middle of the pavement and took up the pose of holding a

rifle at the ready.

"One Sergeant Sidney Slater who's been

done up."

"Pass friends and God be with you."

Charlie put his head back now and indulged in his

rare deep roar of laughter and Arthur, himself shaking

with his mirth, flapped his hand against Charlie's chest as he spluttered, "And the best of it was those two that did it carried him in, found him in the lane they

reported." Again he struck a pose, saluted and

said, "Yes, sir; we, me and Private

Blackett, were returnin" to camp, sir. It was

Private Blackett, sir, who tripped over his

foot in the dark. We thought it was the ... leg ...

of ... a couple, sir, who were at

it... pardon me, sir, you know what I mean,

sir, but when the foot didn't move, sir, we

investigated an' found Sergeant Slater, sir, in

a bloody ... in a right mess, sir. Yes,

sir. Thank you, sir ... About turn! Quick

march!"

To the amusement of some passers-by, Arthur now

did a quick turn a few steps away from Charlie and

again they were roaring their heads off, but they hadn't traversed another street before Arthur said

solemnly, "But it was no laughing matter,

Charlie, not really, not then. God! he put me through

it. And you know what?" He turned his head slowly and met Charlie's gaze. "We're going to meet up

again-it would only be a big injustice if we

didn't-an' over there they say a lot of funny

things happen. I've heard tell of officers being

shot in the back but I won't shoot him in the

back, Charlie. No, right atween his two bloody

eyes. An' I'll have to be quick, because if he can

get me first he will. I know that. Oh, I know he

will,"

After a pause while they tramped in step up a

broad avenue lined with trees, Charlie said

quietly, "I hope you never meet up,

Arthur; and it isn't likely if he's an

instructor."

"Oh." Arthur's tone was light again, "Oh, you can never tell with this set-up; they're shakin' you around all the time. In the past year I've been in

Durham, Jarrow, Shields, Boldon

Colliery, Roker; you're shuffled about like a

bloody pack of cards. Them up there, begod! I

doubt if any of them know what they're doin'.

They've got to make a show to fill up their forms, so

they say, you, you and you, pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag and get the hell out of this, and there you land up in some field or some bloody great house.

Not that we ever get billeted in the houses; no,

that's for the top brass. And some of them officers, nowt but kids with fancy voices, you can't understand a

bloody word they say. An' mind"-he now pushed

Charlie in the side-"the poor young buggers look

all at sea when the Geordies get crackin'.

As one young bloke said, "I can understand German but damned if I can make out a word these fellows

say"."

"There were these lads from Shields"- Arthur was laughing again-"they were pit lads into the bargain and when you add the pitmatic to the Geordie twang,

well believe me, I can't understand half what they

say meself. . . . Oh, we're here then."

Arthur stopped at the gate and looked up the short

drive to the detached house. It was built of red

brick and the paintwork was black.

"Eeh, by! it's a fine looking place, big

an' all. Any stables?" They were walking towards the front door now.

"No, no stables, Arthur, just a coachhouse."

"Miss Victoria won't like that; she'll miss

her stables."

Charlie inserted a key in the front door and

opened it, then stood aside, saying to Arthur who was

hesitating on the step, "Come on, come in."

Slowly Arthur entered the hall. His cap in his

hand, he gazed about him. Like the outside, the woodwork in the hall was black and the walls in between white. There was a red carpet in the middle of the polished floor and red carpet also padded the stout looking stairs; the

newel post, shining with the dark hue of polished oak,

looked as if it had been rooted there.

"Come into the kitchen, there's generally something in the pantry. We have a woman, an old lady, Mrs

Crawford, she comes in every morning and sees to the

place. But I think her main passion is

cooking, and she always finds something to cook with here greater-than

TCP 7

we're not short of an egg or two." He turned

and grinned at Arthur, and Arthur added, "Nor

butter, nor cheese, I bet me life."

"Ah yes, here we are." Charlie came out of the pantry carrying a pie. "Ham and egg." He

nodded at Arthur; then putting the plate on the

table, he said, "Coffee or tea? Or something

hard?"

"Both if you don't mind, Charlie, I never

say no to a cup of tea but I'd like a drop of

hard this minute."

"Well, come on."

Arthur now followed Charlie back into the hall and

through a heavy oak door and into what could only be

described as a drawingroom, and the sight of it

silenced Arthur for a moment while he stood gaping

about him. There was a touch of awe in his tone as he

said, "By! I've never seen such furniture,

lovely. Aren't they lovely pieces! What you

call antiques, Charlie?"

"Yes." Charlie had turned from the cabinet in the corner of the room and he, too, stood for a

moment looking about him, and his eyelids were blinking rapidly as he said, "Yes, Arthur,

antiques."

"Eeh! by! she was lucky."

"Yes, she was lucky."

The drinks in their hands, they returned to the kitchen, and presently they sat down at the table which was now

spread with pickles, bread, butter, cheese, and the

ham and egg pie.

"Help yourself, Arthur." Charlie nodded across to the khaki-clad figure, and Arthur, grinning widely

now, answered, "I don't need to be told

twice, Charlie."