‘Cecily Hanson,’ she said, meeting his glittering gaze with relief and warm appreciation. ‘Thank you so much for helping to save me again.’
‘My pleasure, honey.’
‘I do hope you haven’t damaged your shoulder even more.’
‘I’m pretty fit, alive and well, so I’m sure it’ll be fixed soon.’
They did seem to be caught up in an entanglement of barbed wire, but the stretcher-bearers rushed over to place him on a stretcher. Louis gave her hand a quick squeeze before they carried him away. ‘If I don’t see you again, thanks for accepting I’m not the enemy.’
‘You certainly aren’t. Sorry I assumed you were. I’ll call in to see you soon. Chin up,’ she said, aware of how he’d endured considerable trauma yet still looked kind and friendly.
Cecily too was lifted free of the wire and carried away on a stretcher to the medical hut where she was put in a queue, waiting to have her leg and foot checked. She heard that a number of French and English soldiers, as well as German prisoners, had been killed or badly injured. She kept anxiously asking where her sister and mother were, the nurse attending to her promising to send this enquiry out. How she wished she was fit enough to go searching for them herself. The fear of losing her beloved family, as she’d lost Ewan, was far too dreadful to contemplate.
Later, to her huge relief they came rushing in, each of them enveloping her in a warm hug of love and happiness. ‘Oh, thank God you’re alive and well,’ Cecily said, tears of relief filling her eyes. ‘How fortunate we are to have survived this bombing.’
‘I’m still around thanks to Johnny,’ Queenie said. ‘He came rushing to grab me and dragged me away from the falling bombs.’ She went on to say how two of the men whose tent he shared were not so lucky. ‘They both got hit and killed as they ran for it.’
‘So did Corporal Lewis,’ Merryn said.
‘Oh no, he was such a lovely, friendly man.’ Cecily felt rife with dismay at this news. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He was in the hut that was being used as a ward when the bomb hit,’ Lena said, coming to join them. ‘Like me, he saved quite a lot of patients and tragically didn’t get out in time, poor fellow. I managed to help some escape but for those who were strapped to their bed in some way, it was far too difficult. Such is reality.’
‘I feel utterly heartbroken at his loss,’ Cecily groaned. ‘Lewis will be sorely missed. He was a most brave young man. He was always happy to drive us everywhere, as well as help prepare the stage and props and sort out all the many military rules. He was so kind and accommodating.’
‘Indeed he was,’ Lena said. ‘He had two brothers, the three of them having gone through many campaigns together, including the nightmare here at Ypres at the start of the war. One was lost at Gallipoli in December 1915. Then his younger brother was killed in the Battle of the Somme the following year. Sadly, now his beloved parents have lost him too.’
‘Oh no, to lose all three of your sons is dreadful. My heart goes out to them,’ Cecily quietly said, intensely aware of the grief they would suffer.
‘Mine too,’ Merryn murmured, her face pale with fear and agony.
‘Enough of this sad conversation, girls. We are in sore need of rest and a good sleep,’ Queenie said, with a yawn.
Lena smiled. ‘I’m sure you are. I just took this short break from the ward to check that you were all safe. See you tomorrow, ladies.’
‘We certainly will,’ Merryn agreed and saying goodnight, gave her sister a loving kiss and went off with her mother back to their tent. Cecily settled in the hospital bed and made a quiet prayer of thanks.
It took over a week before Cecily felt able to walk. Her foot was not broken but simply sprained, as Queenie had once suffered on stage. Once she was well enough, she went to the hospital in search of Louis Casey, the French Canadian. Unable to find him anywhere, she spotted Lena who told her that he’d been released, his dislocated shoulder having been fixed.
‘Thank goodness for that. He’s a most resilient man who did help to save me, for which I thanked him.’
‘It’s so good to see you’re looking better, Cecily.’
‘I’m largely recovered, thank you. I have washed myself down, so I don’t stink any more,’ Cecily remarked firmly, meeting her anxious gaze with a grin.
Lena laughed. ‘I wouldn’t notice as I’m far too used to the dreadful stench of patients. If you feel in need of a longer break, don’t feel compelled to put on a show any time soon.’
‘We intend to start rehearsing today. And having acquired a new permit, we’ll keep on working until this war is over, assuming we continue to be granted the necessary local passes. Unless that bully of a Major General succeeds in tossing us out.’
‘He’s sadly no longer with us, having been killed in that recent attack.’
‘Oh no, that’s dreadful!’ Cecily was instantly filled with guilt over the insulting remark she’d made about him.
‘He was a long-serving professional soldier for whom some Tommies showed great respect. Others couldn’t stand him as he would shout loudly at them on parade and give them a dressing down, either because he did not approve of their appearance or they hadn’t done what he’d ordered them to do. A very strict and domineering man.’
‘He was indeed but I’m so sorry to hear of his death. How I hate this war and all the losses and tragedy it has created. It’s utterly terrifying.’
She next went to check how Wilhelm Ackermann was. He was lying in bed looking morose, his leg hooked up. ‘Are you feeling any better?’ she asked, attempting to keep a cool distance from him. He smiled, looking pleased to see her, saying how much better he felt, although he was still in pain.
‘Thankfully, I too am on the mend, and not as badly damaged as I expected.’
‘Good! I accept that asking you to save me in my wheelchair didn’t help. We’ve both been lucky, Miss Hanson. My leg is not infected or suffering from gangrene, so with luck will not be amputated.’
This comment reminded her of Boyd and how he had lost part of his leg while being spared those nasty infections. ‘At least you are alive so will fully recover.’
‘Once I get out of here, I’ll be transferred to an internment camp. I’m not looking forward to that, being a Generalleutnant.’
Goodness, he was presumably a Lieutenant General, a most official man. What a dreadful thought that was. However anxious she was to carry out her promise to act as a so-called spy, Cecily did feel a wave of sympathy for him. He was an attractive man, but she had no wish to allow things to develop to a dangerous level between them. Nevertheless, the urge to take the opportunity to interrogate him pummelled within her as she strove to remember the training requirements she was required to apply. What more could she ask, having gained no information from him so far? She said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Do you know where the nearest railway station is and where the trains travel to?’
He blinked at her in surprise. ‘Why ask me that? Are you planning to leave?’
This had merely been an effort to gain some useful information from him, as instructed. He must surely know a good deal about the area his fellow Germans were attempting to take over. But she’d obviously asked a completely stupid question. ‘Oh no, I simply wished to show an interest in how you came to be here. Our small concert party will be going on tour again soon and we cannot assume to always be provided with free transport.’
‘I believe the military is in charge of travelling, so you surely won’t go on tour by train,’ he said, smiling at her with quizzical curiosity.
Nerves pounded within Cecily, keenly aware that she should have asked him something far more important, like where the nearest airfield was, whereabouts in Germany he lived, how long he’d been in the Army and what he felt he was fighting for. And she should also investigate what the enemy’s plan was to be and when they were likely to invade England; whether he’d been engaged in this latest attack and if he knew of any future raids.
The ability to find the courage to make such an enquiry without revealing she was a spy would not be easy and could put herself at risk. Deciding what and how to ask him was extremely difficult, her knowledge of the war and the enemy being almost nil.
‘No one revels in being a prisoner of war,’ she said with a faint smile and a sympathetic bat of her eyelashes, as instructed by Lieutenant Trevain. He’d clearly stated that appearing friendly or a little incompetent could be an effective way for women to grow close to a prisoner. That hadn’t worked for her. She’d had great success supporting the suffragists, but now Cecily felt she was making a complete mess of this alleged role.
He looked up at her with a bland expression in his dark eyes. ‘Thank you for rescuing me. Otherwise I could have been blown to smithereens, so will make no complaints,’ he wryly remarked, meeting her charming gaze with gratitude in his.
Cecily felt quite touched by this remark and not wishing to be viewed as a spy or remind him of what they’d endured on the day they were bombed, she went on to speak of where they’d performed lately and how they were increasingly busy, lightening her tone of voice even more.
He seemed quite interested in this, asking what she sang and which play they’d performed. ‘It is amazing that you agreed to involve yourself in a concert party so close to the Front.’
‘I love singing if not the dangers and travelling involved,’ she said, having no wish to mention why she was doing her bit in the war. ‘I used to work on the trams before coming to France. What did you do before this dratted war?’
‘I was a language teacher, so can speak English.’
‘That’s interesting. I do wish I were good at languages but I’m not at all. I expect you miss your family, as we all do during this war, assuming that you have one and are perhaps married.’
‘I’ve not yet found myself a wife, having spent much of my late twenties stuck in this dratted war, as you call it, but I’m still hoping to find one,’ he said, a glimmer of interest in his eyes as they slid over her.
‘Oh, I’m sure that you will.’ Cecily felt a confusion of appreciation and anxiety, as she blushed at this response from him.
‘I mostly miss my mother who is old, sick and now a widow, my father having died. I feel I should be there to protect and care for her.’ A harsh bitterness came in his voice that seemed to indicate he was not at all passionate about fighting.
‘How sad. I lost my father too.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Heaving a sigh, he once more thanked her for rescuing him. ‘And as my mother is most anxious for me to remain safe, you could always rescue me again to spare me from being locked up. I could then return home to her.’
Cecily laughed and told him that would not be possible. He did seem to be quite a friendly man, even if he was the enemy. Why would she not trust him? But this had not been an easy conversation, probably because of the rummage of nerves and panic within her over how she should be acting as a so-called spy. She’d asked him entirely the wrong questions. ‘Now I must go and attend our morning rehearsal,’ she said, and quickly marched away, shivering a little with trepidation over this requirement of her that she felt incapable of achieving.
FIFTEEN
ONE MORNING after a good night’s sleep, Cecily rose early and quickly dressed, eager to take breakfast then start preparing for their next rehearsal and performance. Lena came over to join the sisters when she saw them tucking into bread and dripping in the Mess, which had thankfully not been bombed. ‘Morning, I have some good news. You might be interested to learn that the Lieutenant Colonel now in charge has agreed to hold a dance in order to cheer everyone up. The military does like to hold one every now and then for the sake of morale, particularly following such an attack.’
‘Oh, what fun,’ Cecily said with a grin.
‘I could play some music for it,’ Merryn offered.
‘That would be most generous of you. They do have a phonograph to provide most of the music. I’m sure they’d appreciate some tunes played on your accordion too. Don’t offer to do too many though. They are desperately short of women to dance with, apart from a few nurses. Most of the Tommies haven’t danced with a woman in years and accept they have no choice but to dance with each other,’ she said, giving a little chuckle. ‘So you need to happily accommodate them there too.’
Merryn laughed. ‘At least we’re available to do our bit.’ Excited by this news, she offered to go through the costumes she’d made and choose some that were suitably glamorous.
‘You do that, lovey,’ Cecily agreed. ‘Please can I wear that pink silk gown? It always makes me feel sensational.’
‘We all need to look dressy, as we do when we’re on stage. I’ll find one for you too, Lena.’
‘Ooh, that would be wonderful. Now I must return to the hospital, having dealt with the patients stuck here in tents.’
As Merryn trotted off happily, Cecily offered to accompany Lena. ‘I feel in need of some exercise, having been clogged up in our tent for so long and still a bit slow on my aching feet.’
They walked together across the bustling camp towards the line of tents where more wounded were now accommodated, those who would eventually be sent to a hospital when someone was able to take them, or else to a detention centre.
‘It was brave of you to save that German prisoner. I did see you talking to him earlier and I suspect he took a shine to you, appreciating how pretty you are. He was evidently willing to trust you.’
Cecily wrinkled her nose, still wondering if she should trust him. She had attempted to say how sorry she was for all prisoners in the war and what they were suffering, no matter what their nationality. ‘He called for my help, so I did what I could for him.’
‘Good for you. Not just soldiers but civilians too have been captured, all trapped in this hellish world. Many of our boys have been despatched to Germany and gone missing for years. Women who work as prostitutes are often locked away for a different reason,’ she scathingly remarked.
‘Goodness, is there an internment camp near here?’ Cecily quietly asked.
Lena nodded. ‘Many of our soldiers are being held prisoner in parts of the country, having been taken over by the Germans. Prisoners who are considered a problem or keep attempting to escape are often moved around. The worst camps are those across the border in Germany, particularly those known as a Strafenlager, where prisoners are sent in an attempt to discourage the Allies from whatever their next plan is. Wherever our men are imprisoned, they suffer from unsanitary conditions, are frequently beaten and very poorly fed, which results in an increasingly high death rate.’
‘Surely that’s entirely wrong?’
‘It is indeed. Many are forced to work for the German army at or near the Front, despite the danger of shellfire, and long hours spent on railways, roads, agriculture and other tasks such as acting as a stretcher-bearer. Now the French treat German prisoners with equal contempt. They view it as a way of taking reprisals, each blaming the other for treating PoWs in an incorrect manner. Thankfully, the Red Cross is allowed to visit these camps to take in charity parcels of food, as well as check on the injured.’
‘That’s interesting, and are you a member, Lena?’
‘I am. We nurses are allowed to occasionally call in to help care for prisoners’ injuries and give whatever support they need,’ she firmly stated.
‘Are you saying you help them to escape?’
Lena glanced around, as if making sure there was no one to hear, then met Cecily’s curious gaze with a calm rigidity in her own. ‘We offer the odd tip or advice. Telling them where they could safely go were they ever to manage that. The effect of such treatment in these camps can destroy their lives or give them dreadful mental problems, which naturally tempts them to escape. If they manage to do that, they can receive assistance from a quite well-to-do nurse in Brussels, this country being largely under German control. I’m not allowed to state her name but being a brave English woman and a suffragette, s
he has saved hundreds of PoWs’ lives already by helping to smuggle them out to a neutral country like the Netherlands or else back to England. She has a good team of supporters and I help too, whenever possible.’
Cecily felt a flicker of interest and concern, recalling how Lieutenant Trevain, back in Plymouth, had told her of a dancer with the stage name Mata Hari, caught spying for the Germans. Being Dutch, she’d freely crossed borders and in 1916 when arrested and interrogated in London had claimed she worked for French intelligence. Aware of how she’d transmitted radio messages to the Germans in Madrid, she was accused of being one of their spies. In October 1917, she’d been executed by firing squad. The danger of that happening to her or Lena brought a black pit of fear into her stomach. ‘What a valiant woman she must be, and you too. That work can’t be easy.’
‘It certainly isn’t. The team I’m involved with are determined to do their best to rescue men badly in need of assistance, often having been imprisoned for two years or more. If a wounded or mentally distressed PoW is left wandering in a foreign land alone, it can result in him being recaptured or else the Army might assume he’s a deserter, which could have equally disastrous consequences. They each need to be taken to a hideaway then dispatched somewhere safe. Even when we find them they can’t stay here, as Army Headquarters interrogate these men about what they’ve been through at the internment camp, what information they can offer about the enemy and other PoWs, before sending them back to the Front.’
Cecily turned this information over in her head, silent for some minutes, saying nothing of what Lieutenant Trevain had required of her, then quietly said, ‘I’m a member of the suffragettes, as is that Brussels lady you spoke of. I wonder if I could help?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Lena’s face lit with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
‘I’ve been trying for some time to decide if there’s anything more I can do for these men, so far without success. This could be the answer. As you know, we visit various bases so were there to be someone seeking escape, they could come with us to act as a prompt or help with the props, particularly now that we’ve lost Corporal Lewis. They would need to be suitably attired and not look like a prisoner. Then at some point, whenever appropriate, I could drop the escapee off wherever he needed to go. I assume there are safe houses or bases available when you rescue someone?’
Girls of the Great War Page 13
