Bold, Brash and Brave

by Alan Tansley

  ‘It is, and glad to see you have taste as well, my boy. Get it drunk anyway, it’s all they have. While we eat, I’ll inform you of my intentions.’

  Timothy was amazed when the Brigadier began to inform him about the whole battle strategy that would begin in two weeks’ time. Another thirty thousand men were being transported over, as well as three of the recently-built armoured tanks. ‘We must push this bloody enemy back to where they came from. I’ve been in discussions with the ministers concerned over the weekend, and together we agreed we are losing too many men. The week before I had my leave, do you know, we lost one hundred and eighty horses? We can’t breed the buggers fast enough.’

  Watching him tuck in, Timothy thought of Henry. ‘Men are in short supply as well,’ he thought. The noises coming from the Brigadier’s stomach began to put him off his food. Timothy began to eat his own meal as quickly as possible, before he drunk up his wine.

  ‘Right, lad, now hear my intentions. I have five Captains; three are shit, but one’s not too bad. You come highly recommended, so you’ll be the spear-head, and all together, you will mount a surprise attack—oh shit, where has he put that bloody map?’

  ‘Excuse me, sir? What did you just say?’

  ‘Don’t give me any of that bulling up crap. You’ll do as you are ordered—now pass me my case from behind you.’

  Timothy found the case and handed it over the table.

  ‘Right then, let’s get you sorted out, lad.’ The Brigadier watched Timothy finger through the papers inside the case, then snapped, ‘Now. Pour out the drinks!’

  For the next hour, Timothy sat in amazement and listened to top secret battle plans. Fortunately, the wine hadn’t gone to his head, so he soaked in every detail, and when asked what he thought, he gave an honest opinion. With his on-site experience and familiarity with the terrain, he began to add his own strategy, which instantly raised the bushy eyebrows of the Brigadier.

  The Brigadier had a valet, or a batman as they were commonly known. For some strange reason, Timothy didn’t trust him. Even before he knew his true rank, Timothy was always careful about what he said in front of him. He was never present when Timothy was in company of the Brigadier, but Timothy suspected that he could overhear their conversations.

  Now that he was treated like royalty, Timothy enjoyed the journey immensely, from leaving the ship to reaching their billet, about a mile inland. Once they were in their headquarters, they soon converted it into a strategic centre, with tables pushed together with maps and plans spread over them. Two hours later, with most of the officers in attendance, the Brigadier, using a carved ivory-tipped rosewood walking stick, began to inform them of his plan of attack. Timothy sat with a smile on his face as he observed that parts of the plan had been changed in accordance with his suggestions.

  The Brigadier rambled on, and his last words made Timothy gulp. ‘And Captain Timothy Cotton-Walters here will be in charge of the blue section. He’s new to you, so get to know him fast, because unlike some of you lot, he never makes mistakes.’

  Timothy stared when heard the Brigadier’s words, but instantly felt chuffed, especially as when the meeting closed, he was completely surrounded by new friends. After handshakes and slaps on the back welcomed him into the officer’s circle, Timothy realised that it was now crunch time; he had a great deal to live up to. He either didn’t understand or couldn’t take in what most of his counterparts said, however, as his technical mind blocked out everything that sounded like rubbish.

  Back in England, the Major and Penelope visited their lawyer, and proceedings were instigated towards getting the Major a divorce. When all was signed and the documents completed, the Major changed his will in favour of Timothy and Penelope. She asked ‘Are you sure about this, dad? We are at war, and so much can happen. What about other members of your family?’

  ‘Damn it, girl, they never gave a shit about me so why should I give a shit about them. Dad shared out his money equally, but why should I? No, it’s all for you two, and let me tell you this, my girl, Timothy is not only one hell of a good soldier, he’s a real man’s man.’

  ‘His parents didn’t seem to think so. Well, you know the story. Oh, I miss him so much, dad.’

  ‘He’ll return safely, don’t you worry—he has soldier’s brains, and unfortunately for us, there are very few of them on this earth.’

  The Major was right. Timothy’s first mission was to mislead the enemy, allowing a two-pronged attack from the south. Against the norm, he decided not to order his men from behind, but lead them from the front, and fortunately his attacks were successful. Two Captains and a handful of men, however, were killed in a separate diversionary attack. The Brigadier, without hesitation, gave the rest of their men to Timothy, so now with ample men and munitions, Timothy quickly organised counter-spearhead attacks to retrieve what his fellow Captains had lost.

  Timothy’s strategy and forward planning was successful, and he luckily kept his losses of men and supplies minimal. Later that evening in his tent, relaxing while studying his plans, Timothy suddenly looked up when the Brigadier entered. After seeing a smart salute, the Brigadier smiled, saying, ‘At ease, lad, and pour out the drinks.’

  ‘Sorry, there’s none available—unfortunately, tea is the order of the day. But while you are here, I need your opinion about this enemy cannon placement there. It’s strategically important to them, and it wants taking out rather quickly,’ said Timothy. He pointed to it on the map.

  The Brigadier took a quick glance before he pulled out a canvas chair and sat down, saying, ‘Listen lad, well, what can I say, really? Pour me out a pot of tea, then, and let’s hear what you have in mind.’

  Timothy’s plan was approved there and then, and he liked it even more, knowing that his information couldn’t travel that fast into enemy hands. The order was left with him to execute the attack, and it was carried out successfully.

  Two days later, he was seated in their headquarters, eating dinner with two other Captains and the Brigadier. He eyed a folder tied up with blue ribbon, wondering if it was his next orders, and wondered why there was an uncanny silence surrounding them. When he’d finished his meal, the Brigadier deliberately had a drink while the others finished eating. Afterwards, he picked up the folder and passed it to Timothy, still holding it as he said, ‘I’m very sorry about this, lad.’

  Timothy couldn’t grasp the meaning of his words as he untied the ribbon, opened the folder and, taking out the first of two pages, sat back in his chair to read them. When the other two Captains asked to be excused, the Brigadier just waved to them, knowing the contents of the folder. It was a recommendation that Henry Cotton should be awarded a medal for his bravery while saving George Cotton and leading two more of his platoon members to safety, during which efforts he fended off two enemy attacks on their trench, and was noted to have killed at least six enemy soldiers single-handedly.

  The names of three witnesses were written across the bottom of the second page, but Timothy only recognised the signature of the trench guard Lionel Walker. Quietly, the Brigadier passed him a cup, saying, ‘Here, lad, there’s a brandy.’

  ‘How long have you known about this?’

  ‘Since just before you went home on leave,’ was the reply. The Brigadier grimaced, knowing full well that he had done wrong.

  ‘Not in time to stop the execution, or as it now looks, not in time to stop me murdering my youngest brother,’ gasped Timothy, then gulped his drink down in one go.

  ‘What we can’t understand is why you have a different surname.’

  ‘I acquired it because of a family argument. The way things look at the moment, I might have to change my surname to something completely different now. I have been home to explain. I have personally given my parents the necessary paperwork concerning Henry, informing them that I was doing my duty and had no idea who the defendants were at the time of the execution.’

  ‘Stop, lad. Now listen to me, this is a grave error—some
one should have checked before whisking those men outside to get rid of them, and sorry to say this, but it was all your Major’s fault.’

  ‘Will all of this go on my record?’

  ‘No, but it will go on Major Templeton-Smythe’s. However, he seems to have beaten us all to it and resigned his position due to ill health, so I bet those in the ivory towers will really sweep it all under the carpet now.’

  Timothy was now alienated from his family because of Henry’s death, even though he didn’t know who was to be executed. Leading his men from the front was an attempt to make amends for this unforgiveable error, but Timothy knew it was a bad idea in the long run. Smiling at Penelope’s hints of preparing a bedroom as a nursery, and knowing full well she wanted a child, Timothy now decided to command from the rear, where he might be at least a little safer. However, he couldn’t restrain his gung-ho attitude, pacing his tent continually until his men returned. He often murmured, ‘This is like waiting to be hanged’ to himself, then grimaced.

  Chapter 25

  In early 1916, England was in a serious state of depression. The government was still living off its monetary gains from the glorious empire days. Generally speaking, working class standards were still the same as at the turn of the century—very poor.

  The upper classes still had it good… no, splendid, and they never had to send their children down the mines for a pittance. The class system created worlds far apart from each other. This was evident when the Major, after resigning, began to receive a very sizable backhander with his pension, especially when he agreed to sell his shares of the family engineering business to the government. His motive for doing so was family disruption, and as soon as the transaction was complete, his lawyers altered his will again, directing the new gains towards Timothy and Penelope.

  Three months later, shortly after hearing that Timothy had successfully spearheaded a massive assault on the enemy, the Major collapsed in his favourite leather chair, with a faint, satisfied, smile on his face, and died.

  A massive heart attack was diagnosed, and Penelope was distraught. She asked their lawyers to arrange the funeral, and contact immediate family members and the necessary defence departments so that Timothy could be notified.

  A wire was sent to a ship at anchor about a mile off the beach. It had just offloaded two thousand troops, and the message was given to the Major in charge, who personally delivered it to Timothy. Once notified, the Brigadier immediately granted Timothy emergency leave, so he returned to England on the same ship that had received the wire, and three days later, with travelling arrangements made on his behalf, he arrived at the Major’s house early in the morning.

  All was not well after the Major’s funeral. The Major’s brothers and sisters, along with their offspring, were present, tearing the Major and his reputation to shreds. Although they were mostly polite to Timothy and Penelope, as soon as the Major’s name was mentioned, all his past was instantly raked up, and it seemed that all everyone wanted to do was despise his memory. The reception was held in a nearby top class hotel, and most of the family was staying there overnight. Timothy and Penelope did the same, but after listening to all their bickering, they decided to retire early.

  When they were in bed, Penelope cheekily informed Timothy that she would like a child. Timothy was over the moon, and they discussed bringing up a family and the financial aspect. Penelope assured him that they could keep her father’s house to use as a family home.

  On the following morning, they deliberately left breakfast until late, hoping that most of Penelope’s family had left. Well over half of the clan had already departed, so the atmosphere in the dining room was more subdued. After more farewells, Timothy decided to offload some of his problems to Penelope.

  ‘Penelope, you do know that I’m now at loggerheads with my family, and I have no income other than my army pay.’

  ‘Timothy, money is not a problem; your safety is the main thing. Our child needs a father, and I need a husband. We are all hoping this war ends soon, so until it does, please be brave and stay safe.’

  That evening, after a tearful farewell, Timothy travelled on the train heading toward the docks. His ship sailed at one in the morning, when he received sealed letters from the Captain. In the remaining few hours at the docks, Timothy decided to sleep before they set off. But as he rested on his bunk, events from the last few days were preying on his mind. ‘My life has been influenced by two deaths,’ he thought, and there is a new life on the way, being born into family arguments and bereavement. Where is all of this going to end?’

  Timothy eventually reached his destination, the battle front. His first task was a meeting with the Brigadier, who updated him on the new enemy tactics that had been observed over the last few days. Timothy rubbed his chin, saying, ‘It’s the old hit and run techniques; they are trying to hold us back while they regroup and rearm. What has happened to those new tanks, what have they done so far?’

  ‘One is stuck nose first in their trenches, and we can’t get to it to dig it out. The other has a busted track, so we are waiting on parts.’

  ‘Right then, is there anything else I should know about?’ asked Timothy, browsing through the latest maps.

  ‘Not really, we’ll have a briefing after lunch, then we’ll make some decisions.’

  Timothy realised that he hadn’t read his post, and opened his case, staring curiously as he opened an official letter. Suddenly he began to smile, as he read that he had been awarded a medal for bravery. Aware that the Brigadier was eyeing him while he read the memo, Timothy wasn’t surprised when he asked, ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘Yes, but will you please inform the authorities that I do not wish to accept it. It’s like I’m taking it off my dead brother’s uniform.’

  ‘No it isn’t, lad. I have taken the liberty and applied for your brother’s body to be exhumed, and it is to be buried with full military honours.’

  ‘With all respect, there is only me and the burial party who knows where his grave is. Or have you found that out as well?’

  ‘Yes I have,’ was the reply.

  ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’d better check that as well, because nothing’s going right at the moment.’

  ‘Attention!’ shouted the Brigadier.

  Suddenly realising what he had said, Timothy stood regimentally at attention, then snapped, ‘I do apologise, sir, it was a slip of the tongue.’

  ‘Accepted, now at ease, and go about your business,’ growled the Brigadier, and when Timothy saluted before leaving, he had to smile.

  From that day on, Timothy felt more relieved about Henry, knowing that his reputation was clear. He knew, however, that the proposed action of a military funeral wouldn’t gain him any more respect from his parents.

  Two days later, at the break of dawn, Timothy led an attack to destroy what was thought to be one of the enemy’s fuel stores. Again, he was successful at destroying something, and as arranged, when the troops retreated back to base, friendly shelling began to ease their progress. He had not lost a single man, so Timothy thought that he hadn’t managed to pull of his strike; however, when they saw the plume of black smoke on the horizon, the Brigadier, wearing an impressive smile, assured him that they had been successful.

  That evening after dinner, discussions began. Seeming unimpressed, Timothy stood up to make a point, stating, ‘It would be a great advantage to us if we had two of those new bi-planes, instead of us working blind and using less than fifth or sixth-hand information. It would be bloody marvellous to go straight there, create as much damage as possible, and then return unscathed.’

  Grinning, the Brigadier said, ‘In seven days’ time.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very good. They bring make a vast improvement to our attacks.’

  ‘They will indeed. That’s why I’m sending you home to arrange their safe travel over.’

  Taken aback, Timothy quickly replied, ‘Oh, thanks. I should have time to call home then.’

 
; The Brigadier frowned. ‘You can do what you like, so long as those aeroplanes arrive here safely.’

  On the evening tide, Timothy studied documents relating to the aeroplanes. His mind, however, kept wandering, since Penelope did not know of his leave. After reading his orders again, he worked out train times home and realised he would only be able to stay one night.

  After a rushed night of pleasure with Penelope, Timothy had returned to the docks by lunch time the next day. The planes had arrived on time, but the pilots seemed very young. With the planes loaded onboard and having set sail, Timothy ordered a briefing after dinner, during which he noted the pilots’ enthusiasm. Timothy was put in charge of off-loading the planes, and began to arrange their first flights just for the experience. The planes were stored and maintained on the beach, which made a good landing strip, and early the following morning, Timothy approached them, armed with pencils and paper for the pilot.

  He only risked one plane at a time, and watching it take off it made Timothy feel queasy. He knew that they would benefit from the pilot’s ability to survey miles ahead over enemy lines. Because of their lack of speed, at first the pilot didn’t venture near the enemy lines, but in the end, after gaining the maximum height, recalled Timothy’s instructions and risked it. He soaked up every detail, even making notes at the side of hand-drawn maps, and then when he began to be shot at, the pilot turned and retreated to the beach in near panic.

  One hour later, while waiting for breakfast to be served, Timothy began to outline a plan, using the pilot’s drawings to fill in more detail. Resting back, he studied his supply records, which now were a thing of the past. As he himself always had ammunitions stored separately because of safety, he suddenly realised that a certain part on the chart could only be another enemy munitions dump.

  When everyone in attendance was eating, Timothy stood up. Walking over to a map of the area, he began to point out what he had learned. The Brigadier noted his enthusiasm, and asked, ‘Are you sure, lad? We are desperately low on cannon shells; mind you, reinforcements might be here in two days.’