“Your way takes too long,” Thomas said. “I notice that you burn the threads if the flame gets too close. Then you have holes in your shirt. I have decided to try something else.”
A few feet away, Lieutenant Norman used a long-handled wooden spoon to reach over his shoulder and scratch his back. His shirt was on a branch beside him. Lieutenant Norman had his eyes closed and sighed with satisfaction as he rubbed the spoon on his skin.
“Charlie,” Thomas said, “would you do me a favor?”
Charlie didn’t look up from running a candle flame along the seams of his own shirt. “I’m busy.”
“He’s not the kind of guy who does favors,” Jake said. “Haven’t you figured that out?”
“Charlie,” Thomas said, “if you will do me a favor, I will give you chocolate when the mail gets here.”
Charlie looked up and frowned. “I’d sure like to know why you get so many more packages in the mail than anyone else around here.”
Thomas said, “You are not interested in doing me a favor for chocolate?”
“Then it wouldn’t be a favor,” Charlie said. “It would be a deal.”
“Then let us make the deal,” Thomas said. “Hold my shirt for me. And in exchange I will give you chocolate the next time a package comes in the mail.”
“In my mansion in Toronto,” Charlie said, “I wouldn’t have to stoop this low for chocolate. I’d snap my fingers and a maid would bring me some.”
“Does this look like Toronto to you?” Jake asked.
Charlie turned to Thomas, “Give me the shirt.”
Charlie stood. Thomas handed Charlie the shirt.
“Hold it away from you,” Thomas said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Hurt?”
Thomas picked up a shovel that was leaning against a tree. He whacked the shirt with the shovel blade, like he was beating a rug. Black dots sprayed everywhere from his shirt.
“Hey!” Charlie shouted. Charlie dropped the shirt and slapped himself as the black dots ran all across his skin. “Now I’ve got your lice.”
“As usual, I have impressed myself,” Thomas said to Jake. “I must have knocked off a couple hundred of them with just one swing. How long will it take you to get that many with a candle?”
“I like the sound when the flame makes them pop,” Jake said. “It’s the only revenge I can take against these lice.”
“Hey,” Charlie said to Thomas. “Didn’t you hear me? Your lice are on my body.”
“At least you are popular with something,” Jake said.
“If this was Toronto,” Charlie began, “you would see—”
“Look around for the streetcars,” Jake interrupted. “Oh, right. There are none. It’s safe to cross the road. Why? Because this isn’t Toronto. And your mommy isn’t here to kiss all your boo-boos better.”
Charlie took two steps toward Jake. “I’ve had enough from you.”
Lieutenant Norman spoke. “Boys, save the fighting for the enemy.”
“He started it,” Charlie said.
Lieutenant Norman laughed. “You sound like children. Except you’re going to have to get along for at least one afternoon because I’ve got orders for you three to join me in a meeting with Major McNaughton as soon as a car arrives to take us to his headquarters.”
“Major McNaughton?” Charlie said, almost gasping. “The Major McNaughton?”
“He puts his legs in his pants one at a time like the rest of us,” Lieutenant Norman said. “Even so, I suppose the three of you should try to clean up as best as possible. Whatever it is, it must be important.”
—
“It’s that building down the street,” the driver said. “The small house with the red door. You can walk the rest of the way.”
It had been a half hour ride in the open-roofed car, bumping along cobblestone roads through the French countryside to reach the large village. They had not driven away from the front line of trenches, but alongside it, so in the distance they could still hear the booming of artillery shells.
Lieutenant Norman stepped out first, followed by Jake, Charlie and Thomas. Clouds threatened rain, but so far it was dry.
Jake scratched a few times. It was impossible to get all of the lice out of a uniform.
Charlie scratched too, and every time he did, he gave Thomas a dirty look.
They headed toward the building, with soldiers and officers walking in small groups around them in both directions. A small dog began to follow them. It had floppy ears, wiry fur and a bearded muzzle.
“Who is this?” Jake said, leaning down to scratch the dog’s ears.
“Do not do that,” Thomas said. “It will follow you forever.”
The dog trotted over to Thomas and whined.
“Go away,” Thomas said. “I will not scratch your head. You look like a scruffy British officer. Like the one on the street ahead of us.”
The dog stayed right at Thomas’s heels.
“Grr,” Thomas said. The dog stopped and lifted a paw.
“Grr,” Thomas said and kept walking. It stayed close to him.
Halfway down the street, that officer in British uniform stopped them.
The dog growled. Thomas put his hand on the dog and it stopped growling.
“I didn’t see a salute from any of you,” the British officer said. He had a haughty British accent. His uniform was pressed and perfectly clean. His mustache was trimmed and he looked at them through round spectacles.
Lieutenant Norman stared at the British officer. Lieutenant Norman’s shoulders straightened. Jake had seen that posture before. It meant that he was angry. It didn’t happen too often, but when it did, the men of the platoon listened carefully to anything he said.
“I said I didn’t see a salute from any of you,” the British officer repeated.
Lieutenant Norman said, “Then your glasses provide you with excellent vision. Thanks for sharing your observation with us.”
Jake wanted to laugh but knew this wasn’t the time.
“By your stripes, I see you are a lieutenant,” the British officer said to Lieutenant Norman. “And by the looks of your uniform, you don’t spend much time this far behind the line.”
“Not much time at all,” Lieutenant Norman said.
“Not much time at all, sir.”
“Thank you,” Lieutenant Norman said. “But by your stripes, it looks like you outrank me. No need to call me sir.”
The British officer’s face darkened. “What I meant was you forgot to add ‘sir’ to your answer. As in, not much time at all, sir.”
Lieutenant Norman said nothing.
“Well?”
“Well, thanks for the advice,” Lieutenant Norman said. “So if you don’t mind, the boys and I have a meeting just down the street with Major McNaughton.”
“Thanks for the advice, sir,” the officer said. “You Canadians need to learn to show respect for uniforms. What I expect is that you salute every superior officer you see as you walk down this street.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m in the Canadian army,” Lieutenant Norman said. “Not the British army. I’ll answer to my own officers, not to you or any other British officers or French. If I see a Canadian officer, I’ll be sure to salute.”
“In any army, rules must be followed. The three men with you are clearly ranked no higher than privates. Not one stripe between the three of them.”
“That’s not correct,” Lieutenant Norman said.
“Of course it is. I don’t see a single stripe.”
“You said not one stripe ‘between’ the three of them,” Lieutenant Norman said. “You only use the word ‘between’ when there are two. ‘Among’ is for three or more. I only point this out because it appears you are concerned about being proper. I believe the correct way to say it is ‘not one stripe among the three of them.’ Thomas, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “Bad grammar is not becoming of an officer at all.”
“A savage no less,” the British officer said in a snooty voice. “The Canadian army has even lower standards than I could imagine.”
He pointed downward at Thomas’s moccasins and sneered “What are those?”
“Feet,” Thomas said. “It is something that all savages are taught by their parents at a young age. I am sad that it appears British parents do not do the same for their own children.”
“Tell him about your toes,” Charlie said to Thomas. “He should know that feet have toes.”
“Why thank you,” Thomas said to Charlie. Thomas turned back to the British officer. “I have five toes on each foot. It is such a help when I need to count things and I run out of fingers.”
The British officer swallowed a few times, as if trying not to explode.
“You have pushed me too far,” the British officer finally said to Lieutenant Norman. “It is not permissible for an officer to walk in public with men who are not officers. Do something about this immediately. No man with stripes shall be seen in social conversation with a private.”
“Jake,” Lieutenant Norman said. “How about lending me your knife.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake emphasized the ‘sir’ like Thomas had, just to make a point to the British officer. Jake took his knife out of the sheath on his belt. He flipped it so that when he gave it to Lieutenant Norman, he was offering the handle, not the blade.
“Thank you,” Lieutenant Norman said.
“Yes, sir,” Jake said. Jake saluted Lieutenant Norman and enjoyed seeing the sour look that crossed the British officer’s face because of the salute.
Lieutenant Norman used his free hand to reach across his shoulder and tug at the stripes on his sleeve. With the knife hand, he cut the stripes off his uniform. He handed the stripes to the British officer.
“Problem solved,” Lieutenant Norman said. “Stripes gone, I can talk to my men. Now if you’ll step aside, the four of us must be on our way.”
—
As they arrived at the house with the red door, the British officer pushed his way in front of them and stomped down the hallway to Major McNaughton’s office.
“Wait until I have a word with your senior officer,” the British officer said over his shoulder to the four of them. “Then we shall see about proper discipline.”
“Stay out here,” Thomas told the dog. “Better yet, go away while we are inside.”
The four of them entered the house. They saw that a soldier stood at the doorway to Major McNaughton’s office.
“Stand aside,” the British officer barked.
“I think—”
“You do not think,” the British officer said. “That is not your job. Your job is to obey without question. What is wrong with the Canadian army? Now stand aside.”
The soldier stepped away, and the British officer pushed open the door and stepped into Major McNaughton’s office.
Jake clearly heard a roar. To him, it sounded like a lion.
Jake also heard a scream. To him, it sounded like a British officer.
The soldier at the doorway shrugged and looked at Lieutenant Norman, Jake, Charlie and Thomas. “I tried telling him.”
They stood at the doorway and peered inside.
The office did not look the way Jake had expected. Cartons were heaped in piles. Metal chairs leaned against the far wall. The desk in the center of the room was not a desk. Instead, it was a sheet of board placed on top of stacked packing cases.
Jake did not see Major McNaughton.
Jake did see the British officer, standing on top of Major McNaughton’s makeshift desk.
Jake also saw a lion cub. It was the size of a large dog. It stood on its hind legs as it swiped at the British officer’s legs with its front paws. It roared again. The British officer screamed again.
“Shoot this thing!” the British officer screamed.
Lieutenant Norman saluted the lion cub.
“Not salute!” the British officer screamed. “Shoot!”
Thomas stepped forward. The lion cub turned and crouched and roared at Thomas.
Thomas said in a calm voice, “He will not taste good, my little friend. Leave the officer be.”
The lion cub tilted his head and roared again.
“You give me no choice,” Thomas said. “Remember, I wanted us to be civil.”
He pointed at the lion and took a step closer and said, “Piyatuk kitha Pi nasin kwayask kowikasin chipatahotani.”
The lion cub whimpered, backed away and hid under the desk.
“As usual,” Thomas said, dusting his hands, “I am nothing but impressive.”
“Need help down from the desk, sir?” Lieutenant Norman asked the British officer.
“I want nothing to do with any of you! Canadians are crazy.”
The British officer slid down from the desk and tried to keep his dignity as he marched past them. “Crazy! I now understand why the Germans are terrified of you.”
The lion cub padded over and Jake began scratching the cub’s head.
“Stand at ease,” Lieutenant Norman said. “When Major McNaughton gets here, we should look like soldiers.”
From down the hallway, they could hear a loud, angry voice. It sounded like a one-sided conversation. It was the British officer. Yelling.
Then came a reply with a Canadian accent. “What a shame. Anything else then?”
Silence.
“What was it you said to the lion?” Charlie asked Thomas. “It sounded a lot like something you say to me sometimes.”
“It is of no matter,” Thomas said. “Notice, however, that the lion was smart enough to pay attention. Perhaps you should do the same when I say those words to you.”
From behind them came a voice. “Welcome to Canadian Field Artillery. Lieutenant Norman, correct?”
The four of them turned. The man in the doorway had dark, piercing eyes and shaggy hair and an equally shaggy mustache. His uniform seemed to be nothing but stripes.
“Andy McNaughton,” the man said.
All four saluted.
“Please,” Major McNaughton said. “No need for that here. Introduce yourselves.”
As they gave Major McNaughton their names, the lion cub came out from under the desk. Major McNaughton scratched behind its ears.
“This is Leo,” Major McNaughton said. “My staff captain was in Paris a few weeks ago and heard that the zoo was going to execute animals because of a shortage of rations. He rescued this fine animal, and I’ve become very fond of Leo. But usually he attacks anyone who enters my office without me. I’m surprised he didn’t send you running.”
“Thomas and Leo had a conversation,” Lieutenant Norman said. “Leo understands Cree, it seems.”
“Excellent,” Major McNaughton said. “Now, you’re probably wondering why I’ve asked the four of you to meet with me. Grab some chairs and let me get started.”
—
“You are aware of the importance of Vimy Ridge,” Major McNaughton began from his chair behind the desk. “So I won’t waste time explaining why we badly need to remove the enemy from that vantage point. You’re also aware that the British failed to take it, as did the French. You’re probably not aware that at high levels the British and French have made it clear they don’t expect the Canadians will be able do it. So I have a question. How badly would you like to prove them wrong?”
Major McNaughton put up a hand to stop any of the four from answering from their own chairs, a tight arc across from his desk.
“I know the answer because on my way in I had to listen to a British officer complain about how badly he’d been treated by a Canadian lieutenant and three privates. Apparently the Canadian lieutenant cut off his own stripes to make a point. Lieutenant Norman, I notice threads hanging from your sleeve and some missing stripes.”
Major McNaughton leaned forward and opened his ot
her hand and let the stripes fall on his desk. “I trust these are yours.”
“I’m prepared to face the consequences,” Lieutenant Norman said. “I want you to know that my men here did nothing wrong and I am fully to blame.”
“Except that one of your men felt the need to suggest the officer’s parents had failed to educate that officer about feet. And another of your men suggested the officer did not know that feet have toes or the number of toes per foot.”
“My fault entirely,” Lieutenant Norman said. “I set the example for them to follow. I should have disciplined them immediately, but instead allowed it to continue.”
“Because you don’t think that officers are superior to the men they lead.”
“If you put it like that, yes. I lead my men, but we are equals. When someone suggests otherwise, I am not as polite as I should be. I will make no apology for that to the British officer.”
“What about to me? Will you apologize to me?”
“I will accept full punishment.”
“But not apologize.”
“I will accept full punishment.”
Major McNaughton grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “You are exactly the type of officer that we need and want. It’s why our top officers refused to allow Canadian soldiers to be split up and put under British command.”
Major McNaughton reached under his desk and scratched Leo’s head again. “You know why I have a lion in my office?”
“To eat British officers?” Thomas asked.
Major McNaughton laughed. “That proves my point. There is no way a British private would dare speak like that in front of a major. And the fact that I find it funny proves something too, doesn’t it.”
The major leaned forward. “There are days I wouldn’t mind if Leo took a good chunk out of a British, or a French, officer. But it’s more than that. Leo is a mascot. Mascots improve morale and are as important to our soldiers as any other animal. There’s a bear named Winnipeg that one of our soldiers brought over, and that animal is so gentle it brings a smile to everyone who meets it.”
Major McNaughton snorted. “That can’t be said about Leo, but when Leo sits beside me in my car, soldiers cheer as we pass them. They know I keep this lion exactly because the British and French repeatedly tell me that it’s not how things are done in the army. Well, the way things are done in their armies hasn’t exactly worked out every time. So Leo reminds them, and me, that I am going to do it differently. And I have the full support of General Byng.”
Innocent Heroes Page 7
