Belatedly they noticed the staff quarters in the roof, three small rooms with discreet windows facing to the rear; they thought they might put a pipe up and install a wash handbasin to each room – cold water only, of course.
“Three rooms for staff. Are three servants sufficient, Monkey?”
“Well, not really, Tommy. Cook and downstairs maid must live in, and nursery maid in time, of course.”
She blushed, sure that they would have children but rather uncertain of the technical details surrounding the matter. That was for another day, however!
“The other staff can live out, Tommy. We shall want two more village girls for upstairs maid and tweenie, and a gardener and a boy for so large an expanse, and a driver who can double as groom for any ponies we may acquire. All five may be expected to be villagers and can live at home, except that it might not be possible to find a man who could drive in so small a village.”
They agreed that they could cross that bridge when they came to it. If need be, they could build a cottage for a chauffeur for little more than fifty pounds.
“You could learn to drive yourself, Monkey. It is not wholly impossible for a girl to control a motor vehicle, you know.”
She feared that it might be to appear singular, which was not desirable in a small village, or so she had always been told. She moved on to more important matters – Lavinia was to be wed early in August, her fiancé’s family having agreed that there was little point to a long engagement.
“I shall attend, of course, Monkey – provided it is possible. I must imagine that young Mr Monkton will not wish to join up?”
“I do not think so – neither has mentioned the possibility, but I do not think that Lavinia believes there will be a war. Wars are unpleasant things, and as such have no place in Lavinia’s life, as you will appreciate, Tommy.”
“I hope she may continue in that way, Monkey. I have my doubts, you know!”
“Surely this war will not be so big as to interfere with our lives here, will it, Tommy?”
“I do not know – but there are a few very able officers at headquarters, and every so often they look thoughtful while assuring us that all will be well and Britannia will triumph over all. I do not see that we can lose – because we have the Channel and an invasion is impossible while the navy rules the sea – but actually winning may not be as easy as many people say. I can imagine a war that lasted for a whole year, you know, Monkey.”
It seemed inconceivable; she did not want to accept that possibility.
None of the junior officers in the concentration camp wished to consider a long war; they would have a jolly good time, rather like an extended fox hunt they suggested, at the end of which the Germans or, less probably, the French would be driven back to their kennels and all would be well again. A few of the unlucky would die, that they admitted – but one could break one’s neck jumping a rasper when out hunting – bad luck if it came about. They would have a thoroughly good time and then life would go back to normal, except that the fortunate few who had actually taken part in the fun would be made men.
“Who will get the promotions afterwards, Tommy? The men who flew during the battles, that’s who! And if we send in our papers and look for a career in civilian life – all of the best jobs will be ours – the men who fought will not be forgotten!”
Charlie was full of enthusiasm for the war; it could not come soon enough.
“Think of the poor chaps who will see nothing of it, Tommy! Our Second Battalion is in India and they will do no more than read in the newspapers of all that has happened in Europe. When it comes to promotion to major-general in twenty years from now, Tommy, they will be ruing their luck while we say thank’ee kindly and put the braid up on our hats!”
The audience of pilots in the Mess, enjoying a relaxing beer before facing up to dinner, murmured their agreement.
“I hope so, Charlie. Why not? I know that I have become a cynic and see the gloomy side of everything, after all. Too many years at a young age listening to enthusiastic engineers telling me how wonderful their new machines are, while they keep both feet on the ground and I am sat in the cockpit. It can make a realist of a fourteen-year-old boy, you know, taxying across the grass and watching the wings flex before actually taking the air and then rising to twenty feet and hearing the main spar fracture and flying wires ‘ping’, ‘ping’, ‘ping’ as they snap. Oh, I remember that one well! I cut the engine and dropped the nose and landed smack in the middle of the pigsties that used to be next door to the fence at Brooklands. Made for a soft landing, admittedly, skidding along throwing up a bow wave of pig shit, all of which came down to land on top of me! I banged my head and was sat there half-way knocked out with thirty old sows up on their hind trotters and peering in the cockpit and squealing at me; my father didn’t stop laughing for a week!”
Tommy ceased his reminiscence to discover Charlie and at least half of the pilots on the field clutching each other in helpless laughter. It did his sense of dignity little good to see Colonel Sykes almost weeping on Major Becke’s shoulder.
“Always wondered why you wouldn’t eat pork sausages, Tommy! Too many memories!”
There was another howl of glee.
“Add to that, the bugger who designed it had promised me a fiver to fly it for him, and I never saw a penny of it. They took me to the cottage hospital to get stitches in my head and by the time I came back he was gone and was never seen at Brooklands no more!”
There were pilots rolling on the ground by this time, unable to stand for laughing so hard.
Charlie tried to be sympathetic.
“Is that the scar across your hairline, Tommy?”
“Fourteen stitches and thick for being scrubbed with carbolic before they would work on it. They washed me down with buckets of disinfectant before they would let me inside the door!”
Major Becke tried to bring a note of solemnity to the proceedings.
“Tell me, Tommy, seriously now – were any of the pigs hurt?”
“Not one of the fat sods, Major! They all of them hid away in their sties whenever they heard an engine, for not approving of flying machines living next door to them.”
This seemed funnier still.
Colonel Sykes was counting.
“Tell me Mr Stark, just how old were you when you picked up your flying licence?”
“Eighteen, sir. Must have been – they don’t issue them any younger.”
“Of course! Why did I not realise that?”
They enjoyed their camp and decided it had been a great success for none of the machines crashing – or not too much so – and no pilot or observer being killed in the whole month. The squadrons slowly dispersed and returned to their original airfields, Two Squadron making the trek back to Montrose slightly less slowly than it had come down, having the experience of cross-country now.
Six Squadron had a short distance to fly and the lorries and tenders could make the trip in three hours so they had gained little from the actual movement process. They had watched the others carefully, however and knew just what they were to do when the time came. Major Becke called them together on the morning after the return to camp.
“First things first, gentlemen. I wish you all to take leave this month, starting this week, in fact. I want you off camp by this time tomorrow at latest, leaving a contact with the adjutant. You must be accessible by telegram at all times and be able to commence a return within minutes of recall. Make the most of your leave, because you may not see another one for a long time!”
Captain Harris was senior and asked the obvious question.
“Is it certain now, sir?”
“Colonel Henderson will become Brigadier and is identifying landing grounds across the Channel as from today. This assassination in Sarajevo may be the trigger for a war between Austria and Servia, so I am told, and that, if it occurs, will bring Russia in against the Austrians, which may cause France and Germany to get involved, or may not. We do not know a
ll the details of the treaties between Germany and Austria, or between Russia and France for that matter. It is likely in fact that Servia will knuckle under and will accept Austrian terms, because that will give them the excuse to get rid of this damned Black Hand Gang which is poisoning their whole country. There is still a greater chance that the war will start because of a squabble between France and Germany, probably relating to their colonies in Africa. But the word is that Germany has issued a preliminary warning to prepare for mobilisation, so it is highly probable that there will be war soon.”
“Where do we expect to be based, sir, in France?”
“The squadron will not be, for several months, due to being short-handed. The six pilots and twelve observers will be dispersed between Two, Three, Four and Five Squadrons, according to their needs. You know that One Squadron is still changing from airships to heavier than air machines, so the four that go must be at full strength. Six Squadron will be reformed as a matter of urgency and hopefully will reach the Continent before the business is over.”
“Which of us will go where, sir?”
“Your telegram will give you full instructions. As yet, the decisions have not been taken. Be sure to keep all of your service kit with you so that you can, quite literally, step on the next train out of the railway station nearest to you. Do not bring your cars, for you will not be able to get them across the Channel.”
“Better perhaps we should empty our billets, sir?”
“It might be as well. It is very likely that you will not return to them. I must make one final point, gentleman, applying to all of us, myself included. Please be careful in all you say. You may make comments to relatives or friends which they may repeat in the unknowing presence of men from the newspapers – you will note that I do not call them ‘gentlemen’. Colonel Sykes informed all squadron commanders of his extreme displeasure at the reports on the concentration camp that appeared in certain newspapers.”
The camp had rarely been able to put as many as thirty machines in the air on any given day, this being the total effective air strength of the United Kingdom. The press had passed this information to its readers, who certainly included the German Embassy.
“Whitehall also read the newspapers, gentlemen, and has responded very sensibly – no doubt to your amazement. More aeroplanes are to be constructed as a matter of urgency and many more are to be purchased. We are to expand our numbers of mechanics and riggers and they are to have workshops equipped for them. Pilots are to be trained – hurriedly. Colonel Sykes is aware of the opinion of certain officers that pilots must be given at least two hundred hours of experience before being sent to their squadrons; he regrets that it cannot be done but hopes that the few highly experienced men we have will take new pilots into their care. To that end there will be the availability of brevets in the field – very rapid acting promotions that will be made permanent as it becomes possible.”
Tommy double-checked that he had heard correctly, that he might become a captain within a few months.
“You may confidently expect to achieve at least one promotion inside the year, gentlemen – provided, of course, you live that long. Now, go, pack your bags and give your address to the adjutant and take leave. If possible, I shall arrange for your servants to be posted to your new squadrons, but that, I cannot guarantee.”
Tommy took the hint and put five sovereigns into Smivvels’ hand.
“We may be together when we go to war, we may not, Smivvels. If we are, then I shall be very pleased – you have worked well for me. I am off on leave, and will be posted away, like all of the other officers, when the telegrams are sent. I need to pack all of my possessions, Smivvels. I shall be driving the car, of course. Put the gun bag into the boot, out of sight, if you would be so good.”
Side-arms had not yet been issued to officers and rifles would not be; Tommy’s little arsenal was at best unofficial.
Tommy arrived at the Big House to find George at home and full of indignation.
“Do you know what they have done, Tommy?”
Tommy did not.
“They have called the Territorial Forces to service, Tommy, that’s what! I can’t transfer to the Hampshires – I must stay with my own battalion and go to wherever they are posted, which will probably be into garrison in England, or even worse, in Ireland!”
“You will likely be in France within weeks, George. The Regular Army is so small that they will leave a tiny training cadre in England and send out everybody who knows one end of a rifle from the other. They will change the law and make your people liable for overseas service, that is a certainty.”
That was better news for George, but he still much feared that the Territorials would be used as reserve troops, the Regulars taking the front.
“Doubt it, George. Even if they bring all of the troops in India back to Europe – and they can’t risk that, surely – they could barely put fifty thousand men into the field. They must use your people, at least during the first months.”
It did not occur to Tommy that they might go so far as to bring sepoys – Indian battalions – to the war in Europe; this was strictly to be a case of white men killing each other and there was no place for a brown finger on the trigger.
Squire gave his agreement; the Territorials must go across the Narrow Seas because they were generally fit and young.
“All of the old men will be left in England to train the new recruits, George, Regulars and Territorials alike, and they will bring the retired soldiers of the Reserve back to the Colours, again using them mostly to train. You will get your chance, even if not with our regiment.”
Tommy said he thought that would be the case; the numbers of regulars were so small that they would take emergency measures.
“The RFC are to send four full squadrons and to do that they have broken us up. We are to be sent to whoever is short – I do not know which squadron is to be mine. I am sure to go overseas, though. Have you any word on this Sarajevo business, sir?”
Squire had spent many of his days in London in the past fortnight, busy with his stockbroker; if anything was known then the City would have the detailed word.
“Guesswork, Tommy! Half of the men in the city don’t know where Sarajevo is, and the bulk of them do not care. They are mostly convinced that it will all come to nothing – just another Balkans flare-up. Business as usual, but it is noticeable that Consols are edging down in forward trading and armaments are rising just a little. Price of copper for six-months delivery is rising noticeably and zinc is up as well. The word is that both the French manufacturers and the German are buying heavily, Krupps especially.”
Tommy and George showed blank faces.
“Materials for brass! Cartridge cases are made from brass and if there is a war then the demand for the alloy will rise sharply. I bought metal futures last month and will probably be able to sell next week at a very useful little profit. Don’t want to hold on too long – the government may take a hand in the market to stop the price going through the roof.”
The blank faces showed very little more of expression. Squire sighed and told them not to worry themselves; he would look after the family fortunes while they could get on with simply fighting the war.
“While I think of it, Tommy. Those American dollars of yours, have you still got them?”
“Yes, sir. I haven’t been able to think of a way of using them.”
“Pass them across to me, if you would be so good, Tommy. I can find a hand to put them into in London, a friend who wishes buy a favour from a gentleman at the American Embassy. They are talking of neutrality laws and of not permitting munitions of war to be shipped to belligerents, so it will be useful to purchase licences to trade in non-ferrous metals; we shall probably be neutrals – Spanish or Swedish nationality. Far better to use American coinage than British in such a case.”
Tommy was aghast – it sounded much like bribery and corruption to him.
“That’s just another name for business,
my boy! Don’t worry yourself about it!”
“I have no experience of it, sir, and have never learned about it.”
“Don’t! Keep your mind on what you are doing. I shall look after your interests – they are my daughter’s now, after all! I am assisting Mr Knatchbull in the administration of the funds in your trust, by the way – you have already experienced a rise in their value. I much hope there will be more to come.”
Tommy left to find Monkey – he understood everything she talked about, though it did not occur to him that was to a great extent because she made sure not to discuss topics he did not comprehend. She had recently been given a book on Art Nouveau and its successors, was finding it fascinating, but she would not bring it to his attention.
“Have you visited our house since last I was here, Monkey?”
“Father took me there last week, Tommy. He needed to discuss the details of some of the work on the bathrooms, I believe. The builder tells us that he will be finished in two more weeks, which is a few days quicker than he had originally thought. We had planned to go to Salisbury next week to purchase furniture, some of the downstairs rooms being almost empty for the old lady never using them. Will you come?”
“I will if it seems unlikely that the telegram will arrive – if the news of the morning is of mobilisation then I must not be out of contact.”
The London newspapers were available before six in the morning, Farnborough station being so close and the newsagent meeting the five o’clock train and sending his boys out on bicycles within minutes.
The war scare seemed to have died away, nothing at all in the headlines for a week, but then came word of Austria-Hungary sending an ultimatum to Servia, demanding compliance with an onerous set of conditions and particularly insisting on the acceptance of responsibility for the assassinations in Sarajevo. The Servian response had been to call on Russia for aid and the Tsar himself had promised that his Slav friends would not be left unsupported. The English newspapers reported from St Petersburg that mobilisation orders had been sent out and that the mighty Russian military machine was stretching its muscles and readying itself for war.
Andrew Wareham Page 18
