‘Thank you,’ I murmur.
From the corner of my eye, I see him nod and we step down from the train together.
9
A bald man in baggy overalls is standing beside the engine, doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He cuffs the sweat from his face and points at a second man, clearly the train driver, who is perched on the step of the cab. The driver shouts something at the breathless man while wiping oil-stained fingers almost aggressively on a grimy rag. Meanwhile doors snap open along the length of the train, the capped heads of officers poking out. As our compartment is nearest the front, Danny and I are the first to reach the railwaymen.
‘What’s going on?’ I call up to the driver in my schoolboy French.
He glares at me and shrugs. ‘This fool is saying that his own train has derailed somewhere further along the line. How the idiot has managed such a thing, God only knows.’
He flicks his rag in the bald-headed man’s direction. I’m not sure why the driver considers his colleague a fool, but the dislike appears to be mutual.
‘Signals are out of order... So maybe I should... Have just let you... Smash yourselves to pieces... Instead of running back... To flag you down?’ He shouts between pants. ‘You old... imbecile!’
At that, the driver ducks back into his cab and returns a moment later with the stoker’s shovel, which he brandishes above his head. ‘Call me that again, Michel. I dare you!’
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Danny flinch, as if struck by some invisible hand. In the next instant, he has scaled up to the cab like a sailor and wrenched the spade out of the startled driver’s grasp. He drops it with a clang to the ground and hops back down. ‘Not sure what those two frogs were going on about,’ he says to me. ‘But I didn’t like the sound of it.’
‘Are you all right?’ I ask. ‘Danny, you seem a little—’
‘I’m fine. Really, sir. Right as rain.’
And he looks it. The tightness of a moment ago has vanished from his features and he appears back to his old self. Meanwhile, the man in the baggy overalls looks grateful for Danny’s intervention. I’m about to call up to him again when a familiar croak reaches us. We have come to a halt in the midst of a dense forest, a wide dirt road running parallel with the rails. Along this road waddles the form of Lieutenant-Colonel Gallagher, the prim Captain Beddowes pacing behind. The battalion commander waves a hand at the engine.
‘What’s the hold up, eh? You, young Wraxall, I want answers.’
He comes to his own chugging, puffing halt beside the engine. It appears from his tone that he blames me personally for this unexpected delay. I exchange a few more words with the drivers, both of whom seem to have calmed down a little, before making my report.
‘Another train has derailed further up the track, sir. This man says it’ll be many hours before the situation can be put right. The problem is, our train is needed back in Étaples by midnight so that it can transport more men to the Front. Which means we can’t wait here for the problem to be fixed. It looks like we’ll have to unload our men and equipment and march the rest of the way to Albert.’ I shoot another question up to the driver, whose muttered answer is delivered with a seesaw gesture of the hand. ‘This man says we’re somewhere between Béthune and Arras but he can’t be precise. He says all these woods and villages look the same.’
‘Helpful blighter, ain’t he?’ Gallagher eyes the man as if he would like nothing better than have him put up against a wall and shot. ‘Well, suppose it can’t be helped. But still, I want all these men in Albert by dawn the day after tomorrow. Got that, Wraxall?’
I stare at him. ‘I can only speak for my own platoon, sir, but if the driver is right about our location, then we’ve a forty-mile march ahead of us with full kit and all this equipment. More than half the day is already gone and these men are tired from the journey.’
‘Nonsense,’ Gallagher barks back. ‘Things are moving at pace, Lieutenant, and there isn’t a moment to spare. These bodies are all needed at the Front post-haste. Anyway, all they’ve been doing is sitting on their rumps for hours. Time they got a little exercise. I’m a good deal older than any of them and I’ll be marching right alongside, you’ll see. Oh, Beddowes, before I forget.’ He gestures to his staff captain, who steps forward. Then, out of the corner of his mouth, the colonel croaks in what he clearly believes to be a whisper, ‘See to it that my horse is watered and saddled.’
‘Marching right alongside us,’ Danny murmurs behind me.
‘What’s that?’ Gallagher turns his gummy gaze on the private.
‘Just saying, sir, that to see you sharing our hardships on the road will be a great comfort to the lads,’ Danny says with a salute. ‘And if we can help in any way, perhaps by taking a turn in the saddle while you stretch those fine legs of yours, well, you just say the word.’
The colonel’s face flushes crimson, a shade that erupts from out of his collar and makes a bright red balloon of his entire head. Meanwhile that sly grin I’ve seen before slides its way under Beddowes’ absurd moustache. I close my eyes.Danny, what have you done...?And then I hear a loud toadish laugh. Opening my eyes again, I see Gallagher pointing his stubby finger at my squire.
‘Impudent rascal!’ he roars. ‘But that’s the Cockney all over, isn’t it? And let me tell you, Beddowes, they might be a rough breed, but there’s no finer Tommy on earth than those born within the sound of Bow Bells. When the chips are down, it’s cheeky young ’uns like this that you want at your side. Not that you’ll ever know the value of such men,’ he says, giving his adjutant a withering gaze. ‘But heroes like Wraxall here know their worth. I assume this is the man you asked to be assigned to you, Lieutenant?’
‘It is, sir,’ I confirm.
Beddowes’ grin hasn’t faltered during the colonel’s putdown. ‘I must agree with the colonel, Wraxall. As he says, I may never have the honour of Private McCormick’spersonalservice, but you have certainly selected a fine-looking man for your soldier-servant.’
‘What?’ Gallagher bellows. ‘If I’ve told you once, Beddowes, I’ve told you a thousand times: don’t mumble in my presence. Anyway, I leave it to you to inform the other officers of my orders and get this whole show on the road, Wraxall. No dillydallying. Remember, I want us in Albert by dawn on the eleventh.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
Gallagher returns my salute and begins to plod back to his compartment. One he no doubt has to himself and where cushions are provided. Before he scurries after the colonel, Beddowes throws a glance between Danny and me, and the lip under that pathetic moustache curls upwards again.
‘Well,’ Danny puffs out his cheeks. ‘Those two are a barrel of laughs.’
