Archie's War

by Margi McAllister

  He opened the door and Star ran straight to the blanket, scraping and pulling at it.

  “Settle down, you daft pup,” said Archie. “We have to get going sharpish tomorrow. Let’s find our Will and get home.”

  But they didn’t find Will at Amberhurst the next day, nor at Littledown the next. The journey to Overton was so long that by the time they reached Fivewells the great cast-iron gates had been locked.

  In rage and disbelief Archie shook at them. For miles he had been thinking of the shed, and a place to lie down, and nobody had told him that they locked up at night. He tried climbing, but the gates and walls had been built to keep intruders out. He might have been able to manage it on his own, but not with Star to hold on to, and there wasn’t even room for Star to wriggle underneath. There was nothing to do but to huddle under his jacket for a cold night that seemed to last for ever. He had half a bread bun in his pocket and gave most of it to Star.

  The next time they had a long journey to a camp he made sure to pack his bag with food, water, Star’s bowl and the blankets from the shed. It turned out to be a very good thing that he did.

  It was a normal day for Archie, if a normal day meant cycling for hours through the countryside to an army base and trying to find one underage soldier in a camp the size of a small town. But this time, this one time, the sergeant at the gate took a good look at Archie, told him to wait, and went to whisper to an officer. Presently he came back.

  “This way, son,” said the sergeant. “Major Marshall wants to talk to you. You can bring your dog.”

  “Carr, heel!” called Archie and patted his leg. To his great relief Star stayed at his heel all the way to the tin hut where an officer sat behind a desk. He had a large grey moustache and looked as old as Lord Hazelgrove, and Archie guessed that he was a retired soldier. Archie stood very straight.

  “Stand at ease,” said the major, who was reading something on his desk. He seemed puzzled when he looked up.

  “This is the lad I just told you about, Major Marshall, sir,” said the sergeant.

  “Oh, yes!” said the captain. “Remind me, your name is…?”

  “Archie Sparrow,” said Archie. “I’m looking for my brother Will.”

  “May be calling himself Taylor, sir,” prompted the sergeant.

  “Yes,” said the major. “I see. Find young Taylor, sergeant.”

  The sergeant saluted and marched away. Major Marshall smiled at Archie.

  “Jolly nice little dog, that,” he observed.

  “Yes, sir,” said Archie. “We go everywhere together, sir.”

  “And you’re a Yorkshire lad from the sound of it,” said the major. “You’re a long way from home to be looking for your brother around here.” Archie was telling him about Will and Master Ted when the sound of marching feet made him look round.

  “Private William Taylor, sir!” said the sergeant, and Archie turned with a lift of the heart, because in a few seconds his search would be over. Will would be angry but that wouldn’t matter. He would be safe, that was what mattered, they would go – but he found himself looking into the face of a stranger.

  This boy wasn’t Will. He was the same sort of build as Archie and a bit taller, and he could understand why the sergeant had thought they might be brothers. But hope drained out of him and left him feeling tired, empty, and even a bit sick with disappointment.

  “This isn’t my brother, sir,” he said. He bent and stroked the top of Star’s head to hide his face.

  “You’re dismissed, Taylor,” said the major. The young soldier gave a glance of withering scorn in Archie’s direction and marched away.

  “All the same, sergeant,” said Major Marshall, “ask Taylor a few questions. He looks jolly young to me.” He looked up at Archie. “Better luck next time.”

  “Sorry I’ve wasted your time, sir,” said Archie, because he liked the major and the sergeant who had taken time to help him.

  “Not at all. I hope you and your dog find him. Sergeant, see young Mr Sparrow out.”

  He had seemed so close to finding Will, and now he was back to the beginning again, and the ride home was long. Maybe he was being a little careless, or maybe there was nothing he could have done about it, but one second he was making good speed along a straight road and the next there was a jolt that sent the bicycle lurching sideways towards the roadside hedge. Archie threw himself forward to protect Star, and then there was nothing but earth and sky spinning around him.

  The hedge broke his fall. When the dizziness stopped he picked himself up, grimacing a bit because he was badly scratched by thorns, and whistled for Star. From somewhere near his feet came a bark and he looked down to see Star half in and half and out of a ditch, scrabbling with his front paws to get free. Archie reached him, limping a bit, pulled him out, and ran his hands over the thick coat.

  “You all right?” he said. “Reckon you got off easier than I did. Let’s see. Stand still. All in one piece, Star? We’ve been right lucky, then. Where’s the bicycle? Star, sit. Stay.”

  The bicycle lay in the road. Archie picked it up and examined it. Master Ted had taught him how to ride a bicycle, and had once shown him what to do if the chain fell off. The chain was still on, but the front tyre was flat. Master Ted hadn’t told him what to do about that.

  “Long walk then, Star,” he said. “With luck we’ll be home before dark.”

  But after many miles of walking it became clear that they wouldn’t be home before dark at all. By this time he was carrying Star, and the sky was fading. He knew he couldn’t risk being out in the open after dark, with not even the lights of a cottage to guide him. When he reached a village he recognized, he worked out that he was about an hour’s walk from Fivewells.

  “What do you reckon, Star?” he said. He wanted to press on, to get back to the shed, not to be locked out for another night. But the countryside could be pitch-black within an hour. The village church had a roomy porch where at least they would be sheltered, so he made his way through the churchyard with its old grey stones.

  “It’s like camping out, you and me, i’nt it, Star?” he said as he spread the blankets on the floor of the porch. “Look what I brought from Fivewells for you!”

  There were cold sausages and bread rolls and Archie gave Star the sausages, thinking it was a long way from the chicken and liver he had eaten at Ashlings. But Star gobbled the food down, and they shared the water and curled together at last on the hard floor.

  Lying on the cold ground wrapped around Star, Archie thought he’d never get to sleep. He must have drifted away at last, though, because he fell in and out of dreams where wounded soldiers rose out of a hedge and asked him for help, and he was looking for Master Ted, not Will. He dreamed that he saw Will, and Will was in danger and he couldn’t warn him … he woke up, gasping with relief because it was only a dream after all.

  Where was Star? He sat up. There was no warm dog beside him.

  “Star!” he said softly.

  There was a soft sound outside, a sound like brushing or scuffling. He called Star again, but there was no answer. In the dark, fear clutched at Archie.

  “Star, come!” he ordered sharply, not because he was cross with Star but because he was afraid for him. Why on earth had he decided to stay all night in this place with the dead in their graves all round him? If they were in their graves. He imagined the men and women of Kent rising from their graves, restless because of this war, looking for their sons and grandsons who had marched away to France … the ghosts of dead soldiers, unable to rest in their graves in France, coming home to their own villages … what if they found him? What if they found Star?

  Something growled. Archie held his breath. His heart beat so hard that he could hear it. A sweat of fear broke over him. That was Star’s growl.

  “Star!” he said. “What have you seen?”

  His hands t
rembled as he wrapped a blanket round his shoulders and crept from the porch. Star was still growling, and he put his hand down to find the top of the dog’s head.

  “What, Star?” he whispered, crouching beside him. “What is it?” But his eyes were adjusting now. Kneeling by Star, he saw the gleam of eyes in the dark and smelt the sharp stink of fox. He almost laughed with relief.

  “Is that all?” he said. “A fox? Were you warning it off? You’re a good lad.”

  Ghosts! It seemed ridiculous now, and he was glad that nobody had been there to see him shivering with fear and fearing the dead. It was a good thing Will didn’t know about that. He was still cold, and getting hungry, but he was tired enough to drift off to sleep again until sunrise woke him.

  “Hey up, Star,” he said, stretching stiff cold limbs. “Let’s get to Fivewells for breakfast.”

  He would have gone straight to breakfast but the officer who always talked about Nicholson was running round the grounds shouting, so Archie went to find the doctor. Together they calmed the man down and left him in the care of a nurse.

  “You’re the lad looking for his brother, aren’t you?” said the doctor. “There’s a camp at Charhurst Common, have you tried that one?”

  “Haven’t even heard of it, sir,” said Archie wearily.

  “Long way and only a small camp, but worth a try,” said the doctor. “Other side of Amberhurst, you’ll see it signposted from there. You look exhausted.”

  “My bicycle’s wrecked, and it isn’t even mine…” he began, and soon he was telling the doctor all about the day before, and their crash, and sleeping in the church porch. “I sometimes…” He was tired, and disappointed, and was thinking things he hardly dared to think. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever find him. He don’t – doesn’t – want to be found.”

  The doctor sat on a bench and indicated the place beside him for Archie.

  “War confuses things,” he said. “They call it the fog of war. People aren’t accounted for, there are misunderstandings and mistakes. Everything muddles up. He’s out there somewhere. When you find him, give him time to tell you where he’s been and what he’s been up to. Working here, I find that most soldiers need a good listening to. Just at the moment I’m more concerned about you. I need to have a word with the housekeeper about you. Good meal and a hot bath.”

  “I need to tell Lady Dunkeld about the bicycle,” said Archie. “And I want to feed my dog.”

  “I’m sure one of the ground staff can sort the wheel out,” said the doctor. “And the housekeeper can find something for your dog to eat. Spare him the hot bath.”

  He felt better for food and a bath, and just for knowing that in this house of troubled men somebody cared about the garden lad. In the evening, Dunn the chauffeur wheeled the fixed bicycle to the shed, grinning, and told him to try not to wreck it again. By morning, Archie felt ready to start once more.

  Star was scratching at the door and scampering about. He wanted to be outside.

  “Go on, you lummox,” said Archie, and opened the door. Star cocked his leg against the nearest fence post, then bounded up to one of the patients who was walking in the grounds. Archie pulled some clothes on and went after him. The patient, who was making friends with Star, straightened up and saluted.

  “Shell landed on the trench, Captain!” he said, then he began to tremble and his eyes widened until the whites showed all round. “Bad show!”

  Archie looked round for help. The kindly doctor was coming out from the house, and Archie waved to catch his eye.

  “You’re all right now,” said Archie. “Here’s someone who can help you.”

  The patient turned, saw the doctor, saluted, and began again. “Shell landed on the trench, sir!”

  “Stand at ease,” said the doctor calmly. “Let’s go and find a stretcher-bearer, shall we?” He led the shaking officer back to the house, glancing over his shoulder to speak quietly to Archie. “Thanks for helping. You look better for a good night’s sleep.”

  “I feel better, sir,” he said. “Thank you.” He was refreshed now and felt that he was on an adventure to rescue his brother, not just trailing up and down hills on an old boneshaker. It was as if he were the older brother, not Will. After a hurried breakfast he helped himself to some bread for later, filled a bottle with water, and wheeled out the bicycle. The letters from Dad and Lady Hazelgrove were in his pockets, and he lifted Star into the basket.

  “Other side of Amberhurst, Star,” he said. “Let’s find him this time.”

  A year ago in Ashlings the traffic in the streets had mostly been horses and carts. Only the Carrs, the doctor and the solicitor had motor cars. Here in Kent motor ambulances passed him all the time bringing wounded soldiers from Dover, and army lorries brought soldiers to the troop ships at Folkestone. Archie nearly pedalled straight into a lorry full of soldiers. There was no getting away from the war.

  He stopped in a village when his legs refused to cycle any further, even though the church clock told him it was too early to eat. The sun was strong, and sweat made his shirt stick to him. There was another long ride, another break after which getting on the bicycle again was almost impossible, and finally he freewheeled down the hill to see the huts and tents of an army camp sprawling in a valley.

  “There it is, Star!” he shouted. He got off and wheeled the bicycle to the sentry post.

  “Archie Sparrow,” he announced to the sentry who challenged him. He was a stout, solid man, older than most of the soldiers Archie had seen. “I’ve come for my brother, sir. He’s joined up and he’s underage.”

  “Another one, eh? His name?”

  “Will Sparrow, sir,” said Archie, and prepared himself for a few more jokes about sparrows. He must have heard them all by now.

  The sentry walked stiffly to a hut, jerking his head for Archie to follow. A lot of other soldiers in the hut jumped to their feet and tried to look as if they hadn’t been lounging about chatting. The sentry leafed through a register while Archie leaned the bicycle against the door.

  “Sparrer? No sparrers, not even a spuggie.”

  “He could be…”

  “Calling himself something else, I know. It’s what most of ’em do, if they think anybody could be bothered to come looking for them.” He sat down heavily on a stool and nodded at Star. “What’s that, your dinner?” Then he grinned, took a half-eaten biscuit that was lying on the table, and gave a bit to Star. “He’s a nice dog, that. Have you brought him to sniff your brother out?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve got a brother, a dog with a good nose could smell him three streets away. Then again, so could anyone. Blimey, a dog with no nose at all would know my brother was coming, feet like rotten eggs on a hot day. Don’t suppose you know what your Will might be calling himself?”

  “Could be Taylor or Carr, sir, but it could be…”

  “Could be anything, same old story. Now, son, I’ll tell you. I’ve fought in more battles than you’ve had hot potaters, son, and a war’s no place for a kid. It’s the kids in this country we’re fighting for. These young lads joining up, most of ’em are more trouble than they’re worth. Three months to train up, then a week at the Front and they’ll be crying for their mothers, or what’s worse, dead. If your brother’s here I don’t want him going to the Front any more than you, so let’s see what we can do. What makes you think he’s here?”

  Archie told him about Will working at Fivewells, adding “and I’ve tried all the other camps round there already.” He described Will as well as he could, and the sentry puffed out his cheeks and shook his head.

  “Could be any half-baked country boy. Let’s go and have a walk round the camp, see if you can spot ’im. Me mates here can cover sentry duty just in case the blooming Kaiser turns up. Keep a tight lead on your dog, mind, there’s lads practising on the rifle range and you don’t want ’im shot.” He shook his head ag
ain. “Kids! Your brother’s not the first and he won’t be the last. We had a twelve-year-old last week, twelve-year-old, Lord help him, no bigger than a rabbit. Put his helmet on and couldn’t see out of his eyes. What did you say your name is, Sparrer, was it Alfie?”

  “Archie.”

  “And I’m Corporal Hick. But if you want to go on calling me ‘sir’, I won’t object.” He led the way to a square like a school playground where soldiers were learning to march, counting out loud. “Do you see ’im among this lot?”

  “No, sir.”

  It was the same at the shooting range, too, and at the training ground where men with bayonets ran roaring at stuffed dummies. In hut after hut, Corporal Hick bellowed “Will Sparrow!” through the door and looked to see if any head turned. Will wasn’t in the infirmary, either. The camp was vast and the more Archie saw of it, the more his heart sank. This might be a small camp, but you could still disappear in it if you wanted. His legs began to ache. The sun burned the top of his head.

  “Country boys, you and your brother,” observed Hick. “He might be looking after horses. Worth a try.” He led the way to a stable block where Star raised his head and twitched his nose at the animal smells. Then a stable door opened, and Archie was looking Will in the face.

  For a second, nobody moved. It took Archie a moment to recognize Will in uniform, with his hair cut short. Will seemed too astonished to move. Then he dodged past Archie and fled.

  Corporal Hick shouted an order and at once every soldier in the camp seemed to be running to seize Will. While two of them held his arms, Hick strolled calmly over.

  “Will Sparrow? No need to panic, son,” he said pleasantly. “Let’s go and see your friend the commanding officer, shall we?” And as they marched away, Will turned to glare at Archie with fury.