“Sir. I instructed my corporal, Clough, to check Captain Martin-Soper’s gun, sir. I told him to inspect the rounds carefully and then to examine the whole of the mechanism. He found nothing wrong, sir, and instead of reporting direct to me, he asked my sergeant to double-check with him. Sergeant Bass is very good, sir, and merits promotion at the earliest time. He examined everything, and then he stripped the gun down. He found it to be in perfect working order, sir. He checked the rounds in the pan, sir, using a micrometer screw gauge; all were good, well inside tolerance for the three-o-three round. Corporal Clough said that he had loaded all thirteen pans personally before the guns were set up in the hangar, which is why he had requested Sergeant Bass to check his work.”
“The gun was not jammed, you say, Mr Oakes.”
“No, sir.”
Major Case took over.
“As second-in-command, you must be party to this, Major Stark. I much regret that we must take formal action as the incident is known to the Other Ranks, and will be talked about. We cannot silence Corporal Clough, or Sergeant Bass; they will talk about this.”
“I agree, sir. There is no alternative, nothing that we can do to protect him. What is the procedure that we must follow, sir? Should we not ask George for his story again?”
The Adjutant nodded.
“He must be warned that there is an investigation in hand, and that the business cannot be kept confidential to the few of us. Then he should be asked to make his report again, verbally to us, and then agree, in writing, to what he has said. He must be warned that there is a possibility that we may have to request a court-martial.”
“What would the charge be, sir?”
“He was in the face of the enemy and refused to fight, Major Stark. There can only be the one charge. We are talking of ‘Cowardice in the Face of the Enemy’. The firing-squad, I fear.”
Major Case nodded gravely.
“Major Stark, the request for Captain Martin-Soper to come to my office to answer a number of serious allegations must be made by an officer, preferably a superior. Please find Captain Martin-Soper, inform him that he must attend me in this office, and then allow him to retire to his room, in privacy, of course, to change into full uniform before he comes to face me. I shall write down that I have given you this precise order, sir.”
Tommy was almost overwhelmed by the formality, unknown to him previously in the RFC. He gave no thought to the orders, simply left to carry them out.
Tommy found George in the Mess, sat with a pot of tea in front of him, on his own, staring out of the window, it seemed, face utterly blank. He called across to him, received no response, was forced to repeat his call.
“George, old chap!”
Some of the others in the Mess looked across, alerted perhaps by the tone of Tommy’s voice; they realised that something was out of the ordinary.
George jumped, came back to reality.
“Oh! Sorry, Tommy. Miles away, dear boy. What is it? Oh… I can see from your face. Sorry to put such a nasty job on you, old fellow. Checked out the gun, have they? I started to fire and then I just could not do it, you know?”
Tommy did not know, could not understand.
“Yes, George. You are to report to Major Case, in his office. In full dress, George.”
George’s face lightened; he actually smiled.
“That’s jolly decent of him, old fellow! You must escort me to my room, I expect. Nothing to worry about, won’t take long.”
Tommy was at a loss, could not understand George’s meaning. If in doubt it was best to make no comment; he wanted George out of the Mess quickly, before the others started to ask questions.
“I’m sorry about this George, but as your immediate superior, I have to play my part, you know.”
“And a very good part you are playing, Tommy! You will do very well in this war, I do not doubt. That’s a lie, of course, I have had more and more doubts ever since this damned business started last August. I had been thinking of joining the Church, you know, becoming a vicar, but I could hardly resign my commission with a war looming! A shame that I did not, even so. Not to worry, old chap. Might have beens, you know! Pity I never found a wife, to have someone to live for, but I’m not as lucky as you. Here we are now.”
George turned into his room, single for a captain, and closed the door behind him. Tommy stood back a yard or two, so as not to loom over George when he came out, tried to work out, in his mind, just what George had meant. The shot, when it came, took him wholly by surprise. He pushed through the door, realising now what it must be.
George had little more than his face left. He had put his service revolver into his mouth, pointing half upwards. The heavy round had done the job he intended, destroying the bulk of his brain and the back of his head.
“Oh, Christ!”
The back wall and curtains were covered in blood and grey mess; Tommy fought back the vomit.
He stepped out and pulled the door to, stopping as the thought struck him and he looked to see if there was a key on the inside. He took the key and locked the door behind him. Half of the squadron, it seemed, had come running.
“Noah! Here’s the key. I want you to stand guard on the door until we have made other arrangements.” Tommy thought a second, realised that it was obvious what had occurred; it could not be hidden. He raised his voice. “George has shot himself, lads. He’s gone. I think we are all sorry for the poor chap. I must go to the CO.”
They would hear the whole story before long, but not from Tommy.
Major Case and the Adjutant were waiting for Tommy, were if anything relieved to see him unaccompanied.
“Was that a shot I heard, Tommy?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve locked his door and left Noah on guard with the key.”
“Well done. I must telephone Wing and Trenchard, I do not doubt. Bad business, but better far than a court-martial. One of the Parasol boys to be acting-captain and Flight Commander; must decide who quickly. Uncle, will you check out arrangements for the interment? We want the body gone and the room scrubbed, as quickly as may be. Nothing left as a reminder. New captain to be in residence within the day, if possible.”
Tommy shook his head.
“There’s a big cleaning job, sir. Half his head across the back wall. You’ll want to burn the curtains.”
“One of the melodramatic types, was he? Barrel stuck right inside his mouth? I would have expected him to be tidier than that, bullet through the temple. Leaves them just as dead but far less to clear up afterwards.”
Tommy found the CO’s reaction to be rather callous.
“Seen it before, Tommy. Will see it again, no doubt. Not a coward, but unable to cope with war, finds it easier to die than to live. Bad luck for him, but a bloody nuisance for those who have to make all right afterwards! Thank the Lord he has no wife to write to. What’s his next of kin, Uncle?”
The Adjutant stepped into his office, searched through his files
“Father, a bishop in the Church of England, but located somewhere in India, it seems. Never heard of his diocese! Won’t be sending his body home for burial, that’s for sure!”
“That’s one relief – I was half-afraid he might be an MP or a member of the House of Lords. Let’s make these bloody telephone calls!”
“I did not know… you expected him to do it, didn’t you, sir.”
“I hoped he would, Tommy. It was obvious that he had broken, and there is nothing I could do to help him. If he had not chosen to kill himself then by now he would be standing here listening to me informing him of the court-martial that would find him guilty and see him shot. He was dead, Tommy. This way, there will be less of a noise made. I’m sorry for him, I quite liked the man, but he is better dead here and now than after a drawn out legal process. Better for him; better for me; better for the squadron as a whole. It would have been better still if he had fired off a pan of ammunition and had landed to report that he had missed a Fokker; then he could have develop
ed a shocking bad earache, incurable, that would have grounded him. We both know of officers who have been declared unfit to fly again because their ears won’t stand it; and some of them were telling the truth.”
“Point taken, sir. I should have thought that through myself.”
“You’re young yet, Tommy. Now bugger off and let me get on the telephone.”
Colonel Trenchard was shocked, but glad that the officer had done the right thing; there was only one recourse for the gentleman, only one way to retrieve one’s honour.
“Put him… in a coffin and… nail the lid… tight, Major Case. Accidental death… while on… active service. Chaplain and… firing party. His Flight to… salute. Then… forget him!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, Major… Case. We must… disband the… Bombardment… Squadron. No longer… needed. Experiment… didn’t… work. You to take… one of the… new squadrons. Adjutant… to go… with you. Parasols and… Bristols to… go to different… squadrons. Two new… Bristol pilots… to go… to new squadron. Stark and Arkwright… and one… other to England… training instructors… for three or… four months. Come back… with Flight… DH2s.”
“Yes, sir. Stark to be in command of his squadron when he comes back, sir?”
“Maybe. Young yet. Not to be… bogged down… with paper. Got three… Huns to… his name. Get more yet. Show the… Frogs… we can… fly, too.”
“Yes, sir. When should I disband the squadron?”
“On receipt… of written… orders. Tomorrow.”
The funeral took place in the morning, George’s personal effects cleared up and removed, the curtains ripped down and taken out to burn by men in gloves, bed and wardrobe and chest-of-drawers removed and then a fire-hose turned on the room, a bucket of carbolic disinfectant to follow. No trace, corporeal or spiritual, of George remained.
Major Case addressed the officers in the mess later.
“The Bombardment Squadron is disbanded for a year or two, gentlemen, pending the building of specialist planes for the purpose. At the moment, bombing don’t work, except by going in at fifty feet, which ain’t my idea of how to spend a summer’s day!”
There was a relieved chorus of assent.
“I am to be given a new squadron, one of the many to form this year. Uncle is staying with me. I have requested that as many as possible of you will also come to me.”
They cheered; that was very good of him.
“It is intended as a policy that pilots will rotate between France and England every few months. The strain upon you is very heavy and you should have a break from this war. Those of you who are newest will remain for the while. Tommy and Noah and Michael are to return to England with immediate effect. The three of you are to report to training fields on Salisbury Plain next week. I am to inform you all that in recognition of the successful raid on Roulers – details of which are still coming in, but reports to Intelligence are very positive – brevet ranks are made substantive, which affects, I think, four of you, and every officer who flew has been given a Mention, with the exception, again, of Tommy, Noah and Michael. The three exceptions have received the Military Cross; in Tommy’s case, of course, a bar to the MC. It was felt that the surviving Flight commanders must be decorated, and Noah was singled out because he is the only pilot in the RFC to have shot down a motor-lorry – a rare distinction. He is also, and I quote, ‘a most reliable wingman, always in position to protect his leader’. The man in front may make the kills, gentlemen, but he can only do so while he knows that there is a man behind him, and the RFC is determined to recognise those men whose contribution is so vital.”
They applauded, genuinely, for most of them knew they were applauding themselves.
“Gentlemen, the bar is open!”
They applauded even more loudly.
Tommy arrived in Wilton still hungover but doing his utmost to smile his delight. His blooming wife greeted him the more happily for not having expected to see him for many more months.
“Tommy! Are you on leave?”
“Posted to England for a few months, love. Training up at Netheravon, or close to. I am not to go back until de Havilland has put together at least a Flight, and probably a squadron of DH2s – and that cannot be much, if anything, before September.”
That, of course, was wonderful news.
“What is that on your chest, on the MC ribbon, Tommy?”
“A rosette. I have been awarded a second MC.”
“Oh, Tommy! Just what have you been doing now?”
# # #
Thank you for reading A Deadly Caper. If you get a spare moment, please consider leaving a short online review for the book wherever you can. The third book in the series is expected to be released in spring, 2017. In the meantime, please take look at the author’s other books listed on the following pages.
By the Same Author
A Poor Man at the Gate Series: Book One: The Privateersman is FREE on Kindle -Escaping the hangman’s noose in England, commoner Tom Andrews finds himself aboard a privateering ship before fleeing to New York at the time of the Revolutionary War. It is a place where opportunities abound for the unscrupulous. Hastily forced to return to England, he ruthlessly chases riches in the early industrial boom. But will wealth buy him love and social respectability?
Kindle links to the whole series:
US/worldwide
http://tinyurl.com/A-Poor-Man
UK only
http://tinyurl.com/A-Poor-Man-UK
The Duty and Destiny Series: These superbly-crafted novel length sea/land stories are set in the period of the French Revolutionary War (1793 – 1802). The series follows the naval career and love-life of Frederick Harris, the second son of a middling Hampshire landowner, a brave but somewhat reluctant mariner. (Book One was first published in 2014.)
Please note: This series is currently available to Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
Kindle links to the whole series:
US/worldwide:
http://tinyurl.com/Duty-and-Destiny-Series
UK only:
http://tinyurl.com/Duty-and-Destiny-Series-UK
Man of Conflict Series: Youngest son of a wealthy English merchant, Septimus Pearce is an utterly spoiled brat whose disgraceful conduct threatens his family’s good name. His father forces him to join the army in an attempt to reform him, but even the disciplines of army life where he sees bloody action in three countries fail to exorcise his nastier character traits.
Book One Kindle Link http://getBook.at/Conflict-1
Born in a home for fallen women, at the age of eight the barefooted and waiflike Harry is sent out to work. After years of unpaid toil and hunger, he runs away and is cajoled into believing that the Army is his only option. He joins a battalion that is sent to Africa’s Slave Coast where disease is the biggest killer of men. When the much-thinned battalion returns to England and is disbanded, he drifts into smuggling in order to survive. All goes well until he is betrayed and forced back on the run. Leaving the West Country behind, he enlists in a Sussex regiment which is sent to quell rioting in the north where he faces danger from the angry Mob, and from the rage of a sadistic young ensign who is out for Harry’s blood.
Universal Kindle Link
http://viewbook.at/Harry-One
Book One: Long Way Place
In the early 1900s gutter rat, Ned Hawkins aims to rise from the grinding poverty of an English slum, but is forced to flee the country and ends up in Papua. It is a dangerous place where cannibalism and cannibals are never far away. Despite this menacing backdrop, he prospers and almost by accident, finds love. However, there are ominous stirrings in the land that bode ill for the future. Note: Book Two is now available on Kindle.
Universal Kindle Link: http://getbook.at/Cannibal-One
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A Deadly Caper (Innocents At War Series, Book 2) Page 28
