by Pamela Pope
His head throbbed from the incessant pounding of the shells. Every village and promontory had been hard-fought for along the way, the engineers repairing bridges and keeping open light rail-links which were working to capacity to supply guns and ammunition. He had watched planes bombing the highways ahead, leaving a carnage of men and horses, and a jumble of twisted vehicles, carts and guns to block the Boche escape route.
The German garrison was attacked mercilessly for four hours, and at five in the morning the American assault troops went over the top while French tanks pressed ahead at the same pace, crossing trenches and destroying enemy positions. By eight in the evening, thirteen thousand German prisoners had been taken, and the rest had left St Mihiel by the only route left to them. The following morning, French troops rescued the remaining population of mostly women and children, all of whom wept and sang with joy at their release, and the American engineers crossed the bridge into town to resounding cheers, the Old Glory flag flying.
There was no rest. They had to deal with the havoc to communications left by the retreating Germans. Old tracks had to be reconstructed, and new lines to take extra rolling-stock through to the advancing armies had to be laid down in record time by men working continuously day and night.
Their most vital task was to reopen the main Paris-Nancy trunk line a few kilometres beyond St Mihiel which had been cut off throughout the German occupation. William had been ordered to take his men southwards towards Com-mercy where the rail-link had been under constant barrage from hostile batteries for years, but around the hamlet of St Baussant huddling in the shadow of Mont Sec, a natural fortress the Germans still held, they were targeted by German artillery positions sheltering in the heights above them. Casualties mounted. Motor transport ferrying vast numbers of wounded French and American troops from the front to the nearest field hospitals had to come to the aid of the engineers.
After many gruelling hours, William moved away from the platoon for a brief respite to consult new instructions from headquarters, but when he sat down at the roadside for the first time in hours, he was overcome with fatigue. He put his head in his hands. The war for which he had volunteered nearly eighteen months ago with such patriotic enthusiasm was more terrible than anything he had ever imagined. He now held the rank ofCaptain, but it gave him no satisfaction. He felt as if he had only ever known mud and filth and blood and death, and he was so tired his limbs moved mechanically. His eyes burned, his skin was sore and flaking and his throat was parched.
He felt rather than saw yet another Red Cross vehicle negotiating the road through the rubble which had once been a village. Grit showered into his matted hair and rattled on the tin helmet he had removed. It smelt of sweat that had collected on the inner leather rim. He didn’t look up until it sounded as if this car had become entrenched in a muddy shell-hole. The noise of the revving engine as the driver tried to get it out was like a sword passing through his pain-racked body.
‘You’re making things worse doing that,’ he yelled.
‘Then get up off your arse and do something to help,’ came the vulgar reply, though the voice sounded distinctly feminine.
He got up reluctantly and slouched across. When he stood still he was swaying with tiredness. An orderly in Medical Corps uniform opened the door at the back of the ambulance, jumped down and made straight for the driver.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? There are two very sick men in here, one with serious head injuries.’
‘I didn’t make the bloody hole.’
The girl switched off the engine and got down. She was of medium height and dressed in khaki. Her hair was tucked up inside a military tin helmet, and William was not sure whether the marks on her face were freckles or mud.
The orderly got him to help lift out the stretchers bearing the two wounded men and they laid them on the side of the road, then William went behind the ambulance and heaved his shoulder against it.
‘You’re not trying,’ the girl accused, also using brute strength, and so close beside him he could see that she had green eyes.
‘Get in and start the engine again,’ he ordered.
Several more battle-weary soldiers came to give assistance, but even with their combined strength it took several more minutes before the vehicle was once more on comparatively level ground. The men went back to laying rails. Only William stayed with the girl.
Damage had been done to the engine. It coughed and spluttered, then ceased altogether.
‘Let me try,’ said William. But when he urged her to move over so that he could take the wheel she was angry and obstinate.
‘I’ve been driving and mending one of these things for the last three years. I know a damned sight more about it than you do.’ She got down again and lifted the bonnet.
‘Linnie, if we don’t get goin’ fast it’ll be too late,’ called the orderly, who was holding a bowl of water to one of the wounded men’s lips. The other was moaning in agony.
The girl called Linnie struggled with spanners, her head under the bonnet of the ambulance. She was swearing like a man, and although she wore an American uniform her accent sounded British. William made another attempt to help, having seen what was wrong, but she kicked his shin, forcing him to stand aside. As he watched he felt an ache growing inside him which was totally separate from bodily exhaustion. This girl was at breaking point. She was trying to work in a frenzy and accomplishing nothing. The dampness he had seen on her cheeks and thought was sweat became an unstoppable stream of tears.
He risked further assault from her heavy footwear and moved closer, taking the tools from her feverish hands. This time she put up no resistance.
‘You’ve had enough,’ he said gently. ‘No one expects you to carry on until you drop.’
‘Yes, they do. No one cares as long as the ambulance gets through.’
‘Well, if you go on like this you’ll be in it instead of driving it.’
‘I’ve got to get these men to the hospital.’
She started sobbing and he knew instinctively it was the first time she had given way. A great feeling of pity welled up in him and he cursed the war more vociferously than at any other time. Women ought not to be subjected to this. It was far more than their weaker constitution was meant to stand, and if he could have demanded her withdrawal from the front line right then he would have done so. His anger at her plight was so strong it diminished his own exhaustion.
Without any embarrassment he drew her into his arms and cradled her there for several minutes while the sobbing wracked her body. It was the first time he had held a woman since he had left the States and the feel of her was disturbing, even through the coarse uniform. Her tin hat fell off and rolled between their feet. Her head came to rest against his chest. He found himself murmuring words of comfort against her ear, and a silent bond seemed to be forged even though she was a complete stranger. With rough hands he stroked her hair. It was dark with grease and badly in need of a wash, yet as it fell over her shoulders it was more beautiful than anything he had touched in over a year.
‘Linnie, for God’s sake get that vehicle moving,’ yelled the orderly, from the side of the road.
‘I can’t do it,’ the girl wept. She jerked out of William’s embrace and clasped her hands against her temples. ‘You’ll have to drive the bloody thing yourself.’
One of the engineers picked up some tools and started working on the ambulance’s engine. Another joined him. The moans of the soldier with blood-soaked head bandages turned to screams. The girl let forth at William with new bitterness.
‘Aren’t you ashamed to have been sitting down? This is the Paris to Nancy trunk route. It’ll save hours getting ambulance trains to the Channel ports, and time can save lives.’
He was impressed with her knowledge. ‘This part of the line’s been German controlled almost since the war started. The track might not take ambulance trains yet.’
‘You don’t know w
hat you’re talking about, mister.’
‘And you do, I suppose.’
‘I should. I own a company that’s been building them.’
William stared at her in amazement, his red-rimmed eyes stinging as they widened, and a rash reply came without thought. ‘Half a company.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said you only own half a company, Galina.’ It was her turn to stare. ‘You are Galina Devlin, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know you. How do you know me?’
‘I’m your cousin, William Berman. My father owns the other half of Court Carriages and he’s willed it to me, so mind what you’re claiming as your own.’
‘William! Oh, my God!’ Tears sprang afresh to her eyes and she trembled visibly. ‘I never used to swear. Uncle Max would be horrified.’
‘I won’t tell him,’ he promised.
After several awkward moments he reached out and drew her close again, holding her as if they were lovers reunited. He could feel her heart beating against his own, strong as a traction engine, and when he reluctantly let her go he brought her calloused palms to his lips and kissed them tenderly. It was the most extraordinary meeting. Then she drew away.
‘I’ve had a grudge against you for years,’ she said. ‘I swore you’d never get your hands on my company. Why is it I’m ridiculously pleased to see you?’
‘We’re family, and the war changes everything,’ said William. ‘Tell me where I can find you. I must see you again soon.’
‘I’ll write. Give me your field address.’
The stretcher cases were back in the ambulance and the orderly caught sight of his driver being overfamiliar with an Army Captain she’d only just met. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ he demanded furiously. ‘I’m going to report you, Devlin.’
Galina lifted her arms in the air as if in praise of the Powers above, and she turned a complete circle. Her face no longer registered defeat, but shone with unexpected joy.
‘I’ve found my Cousin William,’ she cried, so that everyone could hear. ‘Isn’t it amazing!’
The men gathered round, hungry for every scrap of good news, and they were noisy in their appreciation. Their respect and affection for their commanding officer was much in evidence.
‘I’m due a few days’ leave soon, William,’ Galina said. ‘I plan to spend it in Paris.’
‘You haven’t had a break since we came out here, sir,’ said one of the engineers. ‘You deserve a spell of furlough if ever anyone did.’
William hesitated, then smiled as he looked at his cousin, ‘I’ll be there.’
The orderly knew the urgency to get moving and went back to the ambulance, stepping on the footplate preparatory to climbing in behind the wheel. Galina raced over.
‘Get down from there, you bastard,’ she cried, but this time without animosity. ‘No one does my job for me.’
She pushed him away and slipped into the driving seat, filled with renewed energy.
‘Goodbye, William,’ she called, waving as she started off along the shell-cratered road. ‘See you in Paris.’
Twenty-One
At the beginning of November 1918, Ellie found herself on a train to Southampton, something she had vowed she would not be doing. Not all her memories of the time she had spent in the town were unpleasant, but a phobia about the dockside lingered, and if she’d had to arrive at Southampton from America in her Red Cross capacity she dreaded to think what sort of state she would have been in.
Her destination in the town was also a place she had never wanted to see again, but her orders to go there had been issued by the top authority at Richmond Hospital. The hospital was now fully functional and her own work there as an administrator had grown less demanding.
‘It’s important that one of our senior staff inspect the ambulance train, Mrs Berman,’ she had been told. ‘Court Carriage Works have done a wonderful job, I hear, but before it’s shipped to France we need to be sure it contains all the necessary medical equipment. It’s the first one they’ve built for us Americans.’
After Max’s visit to the hospital she’d heard nothing from him. It was ridiculous to have felt disappointed. She had made her views so crystal clear he had obviously accepted them as final, which was what she had intended … at the time. Since then she’d reflected on what she had done, and in the empty hours between every sunset and sunrise she’d come to realise the cost of her unyielding pride. Max was still the only man she had ever loved, yet fear of being hurt again made her continue to reject him. She wished he hadn’t given up so quickly. It made the mockery she had suspected of his loving declarations. What she had needed and hoped for was persistence capable of breaking down her contrariness, but he had failed her in that, the same as in everything else.
She had written a very formal letter to tell him of the Red Cross’s wish that she should carry out an inspection of the mobile ambulance facilities. By return of post all she had received was an equally formal acknowledgement.
She was going to arrive quite late. There’d been no car or driver available to take her so it had meant travelling by train, and as there were no timetables she’d not been able to check on the journey beforehand. It had been necessary to change trains twice before she was on the right one to Southampton, and it had been badly delayed so she wouldn’t get there until late afternoon, which was particularly annoying as she might now have to stay somewhere overnight.
Sitting in the crowded train she had time to study her fellow travellers, mostly servicemen with kitbags and young women making the harrowing journey to spend every precious last second with their menfolk leaving for the front. Demonstrations of affection which would have been frowned on before the war were now commonplace, and Ellie’s heart melted to see tears in the eyes of a young wife as she rested her head on her soldier husband’s shoulder.
Life was such a fragile thing. This had been brought home to her with great clarity since the hospital had been filled to capacity with the wounded and dying. It was a terrible tragedy to see the state of young men who had gone to war full of vitality, now with limbs missing, brain damage and gas poisoning. For Ellie, the trauma of witnessing their injuries was magnified by the fear that one day she might look down at a stretcher and see William.
How wicked, therefore, to waste the only things of real value in life — to let pride stand in the way of love. She wondered what these young women would say if they knew how she persistently refused to forgive her husband for a youthful wrongdoing he had admitted was the biggest mistake of his life.
The coming meeting with Max filled her with the same apprehension as before. She wondered how he felt, knowing she was on her way.
She had never seen West Station so crowded. Carts and wagons were piled high with the luggage of troops in transit, and mostly khaki uniforms coloured the scene in a drab yet brave monotone. Ellie elbowed her way through, her Red Cross cape held round her to keep out the cold sea air on that autumn day. The buildings of Court Carriages loomed ahead of her as soon as she came out into the forecourt, and seeing them for the first time in twenty years brought a lump to her throat. She remembered Oliver and Grandfather Cromer. Memories of Julian came crowding back. She would take the opportunity to visit him and Millicent while she was in Southampton, though she felt a certain reluctance.
She was glad of the walk. The fresh air helped to clear her head. There was a new branch line leading from the station which hadn’t been there before, and she guessed it must be the mile-long link-span which connected with the train ferry now operating between Southampton and Dieppe four times a week carrying wounded. Apart from that, not much had changed that she could see, and as she walked into the main office at Court Carriages it seemed like only yesterday that she had left. One big difference here, however, was the replacement of Mr Carew with a female clerk.
‘Oh dear, we thought you weren’t coming after all, and Mr Berman’s out,’ the girl said, flus
tered.
‘Out?’ Ellie’s arched brows rose even higher. At her most imperious she could make junior nurses quake, and now she had the same effect on the clerk. ‘He knew I would be here. Why couldn’t he have waited?’
‘We expected you this morning. And something important cropped up.’
Ellie was livid. It sounded as if she had been deliberately snubbed and, unreasonably, all her magnanimous thoughts on the journey down dissolved in a mist of fresh disillusion. Yet she was late. Max had had every right to give up on her.
‘If you’d like to wait …’
‘No, I would not like to wait. I shall carry out the inspection I was sent to do, and be on the next train back to Richmond.’ She brushed the girl aside impatiently when she offered to escort her. Truth to tell, she was near to tears. ‘I don’t need anyone to show me the way.’
‘Mrs Berman, you can’t go on your own,’
‘If my husband returns from his urgent appointment in the next hour tell him he’ll find me in the Red Cross train.’
‘Mrs Berman, I’m not to let anyone go through to the Works unescorted.’ The clerk earned Ellie’s respect for her efficiency. ‘I’ll arrange for someone to go with you.’
Ten minutes later she stalked through the yard in the company of an elderly gentleman in a black suit called Mr Thorne, who had a job to keep up with her. Her heels clipped the cobbles, her attache case was gripped firmly in her right hand, and she made straight for the vast body shop where she was used to seeing upwards of twenty car bodies in various stages of construction. The men working there now were all over conscription age, and were mostly carrying out repairs. Some of the jobs, such as painting, were being done by women.
The poor man tripping along in her wake tried to make conversation but she was in no mood for it.
‘Did you have a good journey, Mrs Berman? Was the train unbearably crowded? How long is it since you’ve been here?’
‘Twenty years, Mr Thorne, and little has changed apart from the war work. I expected to see signs of modernisation.’ If only Max had waited. She could hardly think of anything else.
