“I believe that my son, George, would see nothing to object to in that attitude, Tommy.”
“All we have been told on the course, sir, is that the Germans – our probable enemy – are highly professional. While our blue-blooded young men pose, they will be organising their artillery to kill them at a distance.”
Monkey stood silent – she was far too well brought-up to consider interrupting any conversation between adults, her parents especially. She listened and wondered if what she was hearing could possibly be correct; she decided to ask Tommy later, after they had taken luncheon.
The ground was full of frost, far too hard to take riding horses out, and they went for a walk along the lanes, well wrapped-up against the cold.
“When will war come, Tommy?”
He could tell her not to bother her head about adult business, but she was sixteen now, or very nearly; that reminded him, there must be a birthday present.
“This year or next, so Captain Paine says, Monkey. Major Trenchard believes it will certainly be this year; he is pushing for a command that will take him into the field when the first bullets fly.”
“What of you, Tommy?”
“I shall do as I am told. I am a lieutenant – very nearly the lowest specimen of life to be found in an aeroplane. In fact, I can expect to be made captain very quickly – if the war lasts two or three years I shall certainly be promoted as the Corps expands. In peacetime it might take eight years to go up to captain, so I shall do well from a conflict.”
“But… does not war make flying more dangerous?”
Her voice trembled, despite her efforts to speak lightly. Tommy was sorry for her, realising suddenly that she must stay at home, worrying, while he went out to play the young man’s game. For the first time ever, he wondered if Society was fair to the female – but it was the way things were, there was nothing he could do about it, he consoled himself. Perhaps he might try to assuage her fears… but he did not lie to Monkey, not even little white lies of omission.
“Yes. It must. War is about men shooting guns at each other, and hitting sometimes. But, I think an aeroplane must be safer in many ways, you know, Monkey. We shall be up in the sky, looking down at the battles, telling the generals what is happening, flying our scouts. The infantry and the cavalry down on the ground will be in far more danger, or so it seems to me. They may try to shoot at us, but it will be no easy matter to hit an aeroplane travelling at seventy or eighty miles an hour and a thousand feet or more above them!”
She was not convinced.
“Won’t they invent new guns, Tommy? To shoot at aeroplanes?”
“I don’t expect the war will last long enough for that to happen. They tell us at the School that France and Russia can put huge armies into the field, outnumbering the Germans and quite rapidly, while Britain will control the seas and take all of the German colonies in quick time. The Austro-Hungarian Empire is so out of date and so inefficient that they will be no more than a comic opera side-show. The Ottomans are neutral but might just join Germany because they are enemies of Russia; if that is the case, then as soon as Germany is forced to call for peace, the British and the French will carve up the Turks between them. The Arab countries will be added to the Indian Empire, so they say. That may take a year or two to complete, but the Ottomans will not invent new guns, that is for sure – they have their work cut out to make old ones!”
“How long will the big war, in Europe, be?”
“Russia will be able to advance into the east of Germany within three months; they will need that long for not having many railway lines, or so Captain Paine says. France will be fully mobilised in four weeks and will push up into Belgium and throw the Germans back in the week following. Britain will send an Expeditionary Force to aid Belgium, but it can only be tiny because we have a small army and most of it is in India and Africa. Our job will be to take all of the German colonies so that they will have to agree to make peace in Europe to get them back again – negotiating pieces, Captain Paine says. Much less than a year to get the business over and send the Germans back home.”
She nodded, knowing his words could only be true – he had always been the older, the source of all wisdom.
“It will not harm England – we can never be invaded – but many ordinary folk overseas will experience the death and destruction of armies fighting over their lands. As well, a year is long enough for many men to die, Tommy.”
“It is, Monkey. I shall be surprised if fewer than ten thousand English soldiers and sailors die.”
They were silent for a while, considering such a huge loss of young men.
“What about George, Tommy? He will wish to join up if there is to be a war.”
Tommy had not really considered that mere amateurs would also be involved; he was already a career airman in his mind.
“As a soldier? A lieutenant, like me? Will he be an infantryman or would he want the cavalry? He will not wish to fly, I must imagine!”
That was a ridiculous idea; he could not.
“He would have to join the Hampshires, Tommy. Our family always does – they are our regiment.”
Tommy was surprised that George would not wish to ride into battle – he was enthusiastic in the saddle.
“He has no choice, Tommy. Family comes first!”
“So it does. It will take two or three months of training before they would let him go to war. If he joins when war is declared, then he might just be in time to join the advance across the Rhine, but he would be more likely to miss all of the fighting.”
“He will be disappointed, if he does not see a battle, or so I think, Tommy.”
“I shan’t be, Monkey. I don’t really want to watch men die.”
The men sat over their port after dinner, Squire, George and Tommy discussing Ireland first and foremost – they were sure that the threat of Home Rule was exercising every mind in the country. The main problem was to protect the Protestants of the North, who had the right to be rewarded for their long loyalty to the Crown, or so they believed. It was certainly the case that every country in which the Catholic Church prevailed was primitive and backwards, they told each other, and modern, forward-looking people had the right to be preserved from censorship and the rule of bullying priests.
“Tried it back in Cromwell’s day, after all, and the one thing that taught us all was that the Church has no business getting involved in government! If the Irish really want to rule themselves from Dublin, as part of the Empire, like Canada and Australia – well, that’s their business as long as they pay for themselves from their own taxes! But they have no right to interfere with the liberties and freedoms of the Protestants, and that means that the Catholic Church must be slapped down first.”
Tommy and George agreed with the Squire’s words. They could not imagine why the Irish were so upset about rule from London, but if they insisted, well, why not? But they must give absolute guarantees to those who did not want things to change.
“No denying it, sir. Carson is right – ‘Home Rule is Rome rule’, that’s what he says, and if there’s one thing we know in this country, it’s that you cannot trust a Pope!”
That seemed to wrap up the discussion and they turned to the forthcoming war, the very idea of which was alien to Squire.
“Can’t happen, you know, Tommy! Every statesman in Europe knows that there is a threat of war, and they must all be working to prevent it. You say that war is inevitable – well, they know that too, so they must be doing their possible to stop it.”
Tommy knew better; that very question had been discussed at length.
“They can’t, sir. It only takes one government to force a war – and once it starts, every country will have to become involved. The trouble is, sir, that the politicians have not got the power in Russia and Germany and in Vienna. Three Emperors, sir, and none of them better than fairly stupid! The Austrian man is just a clerk who spends his days reading papers and trying to rule the whole of his Empire down
to the spending of the last penny, or whatever they use there. The Russian Tsar is no more than a mystic who believes that God talks to him on a daily basis – we know what to do with that sort in England, sir – that’s what loony bins were made for! The German Emperor is a cripple who believes that he has the right to rule the Earth – another one who should be locked away with a set of toy soldiers to play with! The politicians have got more sense, but they don’t have the power, sir.”
“That’s rather harsh, Tommy, old chap. You can’t really say you had rather see a country governed by Asquith and Lloyd George rather than by a proper king!”
George was quite upset by the thought that any rational being could possibly support the Welsh Devil and his taxes.
“George III was a proper king, George – and he held conversations with the oak trees at Windsor Castle. And as for Queen Victoria – well! Ask that Scots fellow, Brown, who was ruler of this country in her last years!”
Squire was upset.
“I don’t know what they have been telling you at your Flying School, Tommy, but that is the outside of enough! We have a fine monarchy – the best in the world! Now, what about this war?”
“This year or next, sir. The Germans will attack, breaking the Belgian border to reach France by way of the easier country of Flanders. We will be forced to fight because we must protect Belgium. Russia will be pulled in because it is allied to France. Austria-Hungary will then follow, unwillingly and doing almost nothing – that’s how it is seen in Whitehall, sir. The Kaiser believes that we will not go to war over Belgium, and will not be told anything different – he simply will not listen when told he is wrong.”
“A short war, then?”
“It must be, sir. Russia will mobilise more than a million soldiers in a few days, many more later on, and will attack in the east. France can put almost as many in the field, and we can send a few thousands, but well trained, none of them unwilling conscripts. If the war lasts as long as six months, then Russia will be able to put all of her reservists into the fight – and that will be another two or three millions of men.”
George was horrified.
“But, that means I will not be trained in time. I will miss out on all the fun! Even if I applied to Sandhurst now, I would be too late – I could not graduate before the war was begun. If I wait till the war starts, then it will be over before I am ready.”
Squire shook his head – that would be very bad. The war would be an opportunity for a young man, not merely for the adventure, but as a start to a career in politics. It would be simple to find George a safe seat – the family had a sufficiency of money and influence to secure his election – but there were literally hundreds of back-bench Members of Parliament of that sort, undistinguished sons of privilege. A Member who had seen war service, and preferably had at least a Mention, would stand out from the ruck.
“What of the Territorials, my son? Was you to be commissioned there, in the way that Tommy was, then as soon as war became likely and the regiment started to build up its numbers, you could transfer across and take a proper place in the front ranks.”
“I shall make enquiries on Monday, Father! The Hampshires must be one of the regiments to be sent out in an Expeditionary Force. I can be in France in the first week, sir!”
“You must be, George. The family must play its part. Tell you what, my boy! Let us both go up to Town on Monday, and have a word with James at Horse Guards!”
Tommy was not entirely happy with the results of his words; he did not suppose that George might be in any great danger if he went to war, but a few men did die in any conflict. He consoled himself that most of the deaths were the result of illness rather than enemy action; if he remembered the lesson correctly, then in the Boer War there were at least six deaths from fever for every one from a Mauser bullet. George was a powerfully built chap, fit and ruddy in the face, very agricultural in fact, not like one of the recruits from the lower classes, pallid and open to every infection – he should be safe!
They joined the ladies and listened to Lavinia play on the pianoforte; Monkey did not offer them any music, which was a relief. It would seem that her mother had finally accepted that the dear girl’s many talents did not include proficiency on an instrument. Lavinia, on the other hand, seemed within reason competent. Tommy possessed no ability in the field of music, and remarkably little interest either, though he had sung ‘Alexander’s Rag-Time Band’ frequently in the Mess, for the irritation it had caused the late, eponymous gentleman; he supposed that he must cease the practise, out of respect for the dead. He sat and listened and smiled, as was obligatory.
Monkey sat next to him, to her mother’s slight disapproval – she must have a quiet word with her daughter – pursuit should be a little less blatant, it might scare the quarry.
“Beethoven, I am sure, Tommy – one of the sonatas, but which I cannot guess!”
“Ssh!”
She grimaced in response.
Music ended and conversation was permitted.
“Dear Grace has her birthday in three weeks, Tommy. Will you be able to attend a small dinner? Possibly with friends from your School?”
“Three weeks, ma’am. Probably – I am in good odour at the moment and should be able to obtain leave of absence for the evening, although our final examinations will take place in the following week. I shall ask Charlie Petersham if he can come with me – he is a good friend and I think you will all like him.”
“When you say ‘examinations’, Tommy, do you mean that you are to sit down with pen and ink to write your answers? Like a schoolboy?”
“Only for some, ma’am. Meteorology and map-reading have theoretical papers; we have already been tested on the aero-engine; we must write an appreciation of the role of the aeroplane in aerial warfare – but that I have completed already, and handed it in. Then will come a practical on flying as a pilot, with an instructor in the front seat of a BE2, telling one what manoeuvres to perform – necessarily limited in that particular machine – followed by half an hour in the Avro 504 which will be much more interesting because it is capable of stunting. Finally, one is to fly as an observer, setting a course for one’s pilot from instructions given one half of an hour before taking off; I have an unfair advantage there, because I have flown over Salisbury Plain for the better part of three years. Given a map and told to fly from one grid reference point to another then I can simply look at the countryside and set my course from knowledge.”
“Will you pass, Tommy?”
“Except the most unexpected of events supervenes, yes, ma’am. My main interest is to ensure that I finish top of the course, for that may be useful in my career. It will always be on my personal records and will be a slight help when it comes to promotion or to picking up a plum posting.”
“Is that so very important, Tommy?”
“Given a choice, I might well prefer a squadron based at Gosport or South Farnborough to being the sole aviator patrolling the Suez Canal for two years. While I am quite certain that Egypt would be a fascinating place, I cannot imagine that my career would benefit from the experience.”
They laughed, but the actual prospect was rather daunting, they agreed.
“What aeroplane will you fly if war actually comes, Tommy?”
“I can only guess, ma’am. I expect it will be the new BE2c, which is promised any day now – but it might be any one of a dozen different sorts of machine. Probably a two-seater, but it might be a single – it depends what is on the aerodrome at any given moment. The most senior men will be given their pick and we mere lieutenants will be allocated the remainder, as our major decides. I expect I shall be a pilot, most commonly, but I might be sent up as an observer at any time.”
It was all very strange, haphazard somehow; Mrs Moncur-Fisher-Hallows came from a military family and had spent seven of her childhood years in India, where there was a place for everything and everyone, laid down and inexorable. She could not quite comprehend a so-called Corps
in which everything seemed to be invented new each morning.
Tommy returned to the school while Monkey discovered a map of Europe and tried to work out quite why Germany must invade Belgium. It became clear to her that there was no sensible alternative for the armies. She asked her father why the armies must march, but he was not at all sure of the answer, saying only that there was too much unrest in the world, and that war might be seen as a solution to problems at home.
“The problem is, my dear, that Russia is falling to bits while Turkey has already done so and Austria-Hungary is waiting her turn. The old empires are dying, and they all are attempting to deny the fact. War is one way of avoiding reality, or so I have been told.”
She was fairly certain that her Uncle James had done the telling – he was so very clever a man!
“But what of the German Empire, and the British?”
“New Empires and very much alive. We have the Dominions, as well – each of them a part of the Empire, but each essentially free countries and joined to us by affection and by blood. India may one day become the same, given a century or two to grow civilised. None of the African places will do so of course, not in the next millennium, but they have much further to go.”
“The Germans are not so fortunate, are they, Papa?”
“They are coming to their inevitable end, I fear. They should know better. It will take only a very few months to convince them of their error.”
“Will George be safe, sir? Will he survive the war?”
“Many more live than die in any war, my dear. The odds are much in his favour, I believe. If not? Well, we shall grieve for him, but will be comforted that he died well. ‘Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori’ – the old words are still valid, I believe.”
“’It is a sweet and proper thing, to die for one’s country’, sir? Is it truly so?”
“So we must comfort ourselves – but it is most unlikely, you know.”
Andrew Wareham Page 10
