The Lost Soldier (43 page)

“Yes, sir. Private 8523241 Thomas Carter, 1st Battalion, Belshire Light Infantry.”

“I am Colonel Bridger, and I am here from Brigade. We have looked into your case, Carter and it has been decided that you shall be tried by court martial. Your story seems to me to be completely preposterous, but it will be tested by the court which will convene tomorrow at ten o’clock here.”

He looked at Tom’s stunned face and added, “You will be assigned a Prisoner’s Friend. He will come to see you this afternoon so that you can prepare your defence… if you have one.” His tone made it clear to Tom and the others in the room, that he didn’t consider there was a defence. “Right, Sergeant, carry on.”

Sergeant Tucker snapped out the order to move but Tom stood his ground for a moment and said, “Please sir, may I ask if there is any news from Captain Hurst?”

The colonel looked surprised at being addressed, but he said mildly, “No, Carter, nor will there be. He was killed almost immediately, leading his men over. Doing his duty to the end.” He paused and then added, “But perhaps you already knew that, Carter. Perhaps you saw him fall while you were hiding in your shell-hole. You’d know it would be safe to use his name then, wouldn’t you? Know that he couldn’t refute your lies.”

Tom started to speak again, to cry out against such a suggestion, but the colonel snapped, “Enough, Carter. Take him away.”

Tucker marched him back to the cell and then said almost sympathetically, “It doesn’t do no good to argue with them, Carter. Keep that for the court. There’ll be someone to see you later, I expect.”

Lieutenant Hill came into the cell later that afternoon. He brought a chair with him and when he was seated, he took a notepad and pencil from his pocket.

“Now then, Carter,” he began, “I’ve been sent to you as Prisoner’s Friend. We have to make out some sort of case in court, so what’s it to be?”

Tom told him as simply as he could what had happened and how he came to be in the position he was. When he’d finished Lieutenant Hill said, “And you say this Captain Hurst has since been killed and can’t speak up on your behalf.”

“The colonel told me so this morning,” Tom said dismally.

“Who else did you tell that you’d been promised leave?” asked Lieutenant Hill.

“No one,” Tom replied. “Captain Hurst said it was compassionate leave, but that no one else was to know. I gave him my word.”

Tom wished now that he hadn’t kept his word so rigorously to Captain Hurst. If only he had mentioned the promised leave to Cookie, he could have corroborated his story. “He said no one else was to know,” Tom said again.

“I can well understand that,” muttered Lieutenant Hill. “What I can’t understand is him giving it to you at all. You realise the court isn’t very likely to believe you? What else have you to say about it? You say no one else knew?”

“No one, sir,” began Tom and then said, “except Captain Hurst did say he was going to write to his sister about it.”

“His sister!” the young lieutenant was incredulous. “Why on earth would he write to his sister about it?”

“I don’t know if he did,” Tom said wearily. “He said he was going to, but we moved up to the front so soon after, he may not have done.”

“But why would he tell his sister?” Hill asked again.

“Because she was nursing with Molly. I told you it was a nurse at the convent hospital where I was sent when I was wounded. Captain Hurst’s sister is her friend.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Hill frowning, “this officer’s sister is a friend of the girl you, Private Carter, have made pregnant.”

“Of the girl I’m going to marry,” Tom said steadfastly. “Molly was her maid…”

“Ah, light dawns,” said Hill. “You’ve got the family retainer into trouble.”

“You don’t understand,” Tom said. “At home Molly is the maid, but out here they are equals. They’re doing the same job.”

“May be you think they are, but I doubt if Hurst’s sister sees this girl as her equal. That would be most unlikely.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Still, that is neither here nor there. We can’t involve them in this.”

“Surely you can ask her if she had a letter from him?” Tom said.

“Carter,” Hill said wearily, “she’s not here. We can’t ask her. The court martial is tomorrow. The prosecution will bring its witnesses and we have to make our defence, then it’s up to the court.”

“Who are their witnesses?”

“The MPs who found you hiding in the barn…”

“I was not hiding,” protested Tom.

“So, you tell them that tomorrow. You tell them what you were doing when they found you. Then there will be Major Gyles, who interviewed you on the first day. He will also answer the questions about Captain Hurst. It is no good trying to drag his sister into this, it won’t make any difference. The thing is, Carter, you were absent from your unit without leave, and that’s desertion. All we can do is try and make them see that you thought you had good reason to go.”

“But I didn’t desert,” cried Tom. “I was going back. I had a forty-eight hour pass, and then I was going back.”

“So you say,” agreed Lieutenant Hill, “but they’ve only your word for it, so it’s up to you to try and convince them. I’ve asked around, and the best way seems to be to put you on oath and then let you tell your own story. They may ask you questions, but you can answer in your own words and try to make them believe you.”

Tom stared at him bleakly. “Is that all?” he asked.

“I think so, yes.”

“Can I ask you something, sir? Have you been a Prisoner’s Friend before?” asked Tom.

Lieutenant Hill looked uncomfortable. “No, Carter, I can’t say that I have. It’s not a popular job, you know. No one wants to do it, but,” he added in a rallying tone, “since I am doing it, I will do my very best for you.” He pocketed the notebook in which he had jotted notes of what Tom had told him. “After you have spoken, I can sum up your defence, and then it’ll be up to the court.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said, and then once again the boom of the heavy door cut him off from the world outside.

Tom slept hardly at all that night. His brain churned over and over what he might say to the court in the morning and how best he might say it. From what Lieutenant Hill said it appeared that his being away from his unit would be construed as desertion, whatever he told them. The fact that he had come down from the front line thinking he had permission to do so, would not be believed, or even if it were, would not count as a defence. He watched the grey fingers of dawn creep through the bars of his window, and felt grey fingers of despair creeping with them.

Sergeant Tucker brought him some breakfast, but Tom was not hungry and he ate none of it, just drank the mug of strong tea that went with it. He was given hot water to wash and shave in and then Tucker came back to fetch him.

The court martial had been convened in the main room of HQ. It was in a villa just outside the town. Lieutenant Hill was waiting as Tom was marched up between two MPs. He said hastily, “Colonel Bridger is presiding, with Captain James and Captain Howard. They’re all right, but the colonel is another matter altogether.” He looked Tom over and went on, “We’ll be on one side of the room and the prosecutor, that’s Major Pilton, will be on the other. Don’t speak unless you are spoken to. Understand? Don’t interrupt. Your turn to speak will come.”

Together they went into the room where a table was laid out with paper and pencils, pens, ink and a blotter for each of the tribunal. There was a small table on the right hand side, and next to this sat the prosecutor, Major Pilton. Hill led Tom to the other side where there was one chair and another small table. “Stand there,” he said, indicating the space behind table, and as Tom did so, Hill sat down on the chair, putting his papers on the table beside him. At the back of the room were the two military policemen who had arrested him, and Major Gyles.

The sun streamed in through the floor length windows behind the main table, and as he waited for the tribunal to make its appearance, Tom found himself watching the motes of dust dancing in the shaft of sun. Just so had they danced on summer mornings through the dining-room windows of the London orphanage. Tom found himself with a vision of that old Victorian hall, with its pitted panelling and pock-marked tables, which was so vivid that suddenly it was the small court room, painted a cold and clinical white, which seemed unreal. Only by concentrating on the frivolous dance of the dust in the sunshine did Tom keep from trying to push his way from the room to find the real world outside.

The door swung open and the officers making up the tribunal strode in and sat down behind the table, followed by two more military police, who took up their positions on either side of the door.

Colonel Bridger announced his name and then the names of the officers on either side of him. The prosecutor announced himself as Major Pilton, and then Lieutenant Hill, in a rather hesitant voice, gave his name and said that he appeared as Prisoner’s Friend.

“Stand forward, prisoner, and state your name, rank and number.”

Tom did so, and then the colonel turned back to Major Pilton. “Read the offences that this man is charged with,” he ordered. The prosecutor stood up.

“Private 8523241 Thomas Carter of the 1st Battalion, Belshire Light Infantry is charged on two counts as follow:

1. That on the night of 1st July 1916, when on active service he did, without leave, absent himself from the front line trenches near Beaumont Hamel and remained absent until he was found outside the town of Albert on the morning of 3rd July.

2. That on the night of 1st July 1916, when on active service, he did desert His Majesty’s service.”

“Guilty or not guilty?” the colonel demanded, staring at Tom.

“Not guilty, sir,” Tom said. He managed to keep his voice steady, but his insides were churning and he had to keep his hands rigidly at his side to stop them from shaking.

“Carry on, Major,” the colonel directed.

“Private Thomas Carter was part of a unit that took part in the attack by the 29th Division on the enemy line at Beaumont Hamel on 1st July. He attacked with his unit through no-man’s-land, and was seen to advance in line with the rest of his comrades. As the attacking force advanced he disappeared and was not seen again. The next time he was seen was at the forward dressing post in the support trenches when he joined Private John Gerard as an ambulance driver and took a horse ambulance back from the lines to the casualty clearing station at Hebecourt. There he had some food with Gerard and then while Gerard was at the latrines, he disappeared again. He did not ride back up to the lines with Gerard, who having searched for him before leaving and been unable to find him, returned to the forward dressing post alone.

“No officer had directed him to the ambulances, no order had been given to him to accompany Gerard to the clearing station. When he appeared beside the ambulance which was preparing to leave, Gerard says he asked if Carter was Henderson’s replacement.” The major glanced across at the colonel, explaining, “Henderson had been Gerard’s co-driver who had been wounded in the shoulder on their last trip. The accused said that he was. Gerard accepted this and Carter joined him on the ambulance. When Gerard reported back to his own officer, Captain Hicks, he discovered no one had sent this man to be his co-driver, and subsequently he has driven with another man to replace the injured Henderson.”

Lieutenant Hill got to his feet and asked tentatively, “May I ask, sir, if this Private Gerard will be appearing as a witness?”

Colonel Bridger looked annoyed at the interruption and snapped, “Your time for questions will come, Lieutenant.”

However, Major Pilton said, “No, Lieutenant, he won’t. He can’t be spared, his work is particularly vital at this time, as you can imagine. His statement has been taken.” The major looked down at his papers again. “From the time the accused left the casualty station at Hebecourt until he was found by the arresting officers, he was absent without leave, and had made no attempt to report himself for duty anywhere.”

“Call your witnesses, Major,” said Colonel Bridger.

The two military policemen were called, and each gave the same version of events as the other. They had been on patrol in the area outside Albert and had found Private Carter hiding in a barn.

When allowed to cross examine, Lieutenant Hill asked Sergeant Tucker, “What made you think that Private Carter was hiding?”

“Stands to reason,” replied Tucker. “We see it from time to time. A bloke goes AWOL and slinks off among the farms trying to get food from the French there.”

“Was Private Carter at a farm?”

“No, sir, in a derelict barn… so that he wouldn’t be seen, sir.”

“Seen by whom?” asked Hill, but before Tucker could answer Colonel Bridger snapped, “I think the sergeant has already answered your question, Lieutenant. He said the man was in hiding from the army.”

“Excuse me sir,” replied Lieutenant Hill bravely, “but I don’t think he said that exactly…”

“It is what he meant,” said the colonel. “Have you any other questions for this man?” His tone implied that there should not be, but Lieutenant Hill said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He turned back to Tucker. “Did the accused try to run away when he saw you?”

“No, sir. He seemed exhausted. Unsteady on his feet, like.”

The next witness was Major Gyles, who briefly described the conversation he had had with Tom when he had been brought in.

“Did you believe his story?” enquired Major Pilton.

“No, not really,” Gyles replied.

“So you had him locked up while you made some enquiries?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what was the result of those enquiries?” asked the prosecutor.

“He said he had been given a forty-eight-hour leave pass on compassionate grounds by his company commander, Captain Frederick Hurst.”

“And does Captain Hurst confirm this?”

“No. I’m afraid Captain Hurst was killed as he led his men into the battle on 1st July.”

“You found no one else who was able to confirm this… leave pass?” He spoke the last two words as if they left a nasty taste in his mouth.