Angels at Mons

by Carl Leckey

  I am toying with the idea of setting up a haulage company using trucks. There will be plenty of surplus vehicles on the market when our troops withdraw. I shall be looking for some good reliable drivers, would you be interested?”

  “Just the opportunity I would be looking for Sir. I love driving and believe trucks will be the future way of moving materials, count me in please.”

  I respond enthusiastically.

  “You could have a word with some of your mates, see if they are interested? They have all proved to be good men and it would be pleasure to employ them. I’ll have a talk with you when Christmas is out of the way.” He shakes my hand and moves on to talk to other soldiers.

  Some of the new lads were amazed I have such a close relationship with a senior Officer. But he is that kind of a man this exceptional Officer.

  I have a feeling he has kept an eye on my progress since first I confessed to him I was only sixteen when I signed on.

  I enjoy being on the road again in Girty without being governed by a convoy despite the cold. The prospect of employment driving trucks when my Demob comes through pleased me a great deal. I have already made my mind up to leave the Army when my time is up after the conversation with the Colonel.

  When I enrolled it was as a hostilities only soldier anyway, so my time in the Army appears to be coming to an end. Some of the men I know are already being sent home for Demob but I feel in no particular rush to get out myself.

  One of the female nurses heading for home leave accompanies me she boards Girty at the front gate, as I am about to leave taking the position in the second mans seat alongside me. The nurse has evidently travelled in the open cab of these vehicles in cold weather before. The woman is clothed in a heavy coat that brushes the ground as she walks. Her hands are buried in a fur muffler, a present from an Officer admirer I suppose. Ever since they appeared at the station the nurses very rarely fraternised with the common soldier except in a nursing capacity.

  The only part of her face showing between the thick scarf and woollen hat are her beautiful eyes.

  The lads in the back having enjoyed a good Christmas settle down in the stretcher cots to sleep off their hangovers. I hope they will give me no problems on the run to the docks, but at least I do have a nurse on board this time.

  I have over indulged myself last night at the party and can’t possibly face any traumas, blood, or vomit on this trip.

  I become aware of the nurse is giving me sidelong glances. The curse I thought I’d overcome the dreaded blush flushes my face yet again. On one occasion she takes Lulu down from her hook on the cab roof and examined it in detail before replacing the doll. I touch the suspended doll and explain briefly “Her name is Lulu and she is my good luck charm, and my only girl friend.” I add with a chuckle.

  She does not reply but nods her head in what I believe is a gesture of approval. Strange woman, but those flashing eyes intrigue me as I catch a glimpse of them in my mirror.

  On arrival at the area where I give the lads a chance for rest and relief I find the place has changed considerably since my last visit. Along with the makeshift latrines that were once the only facility on the site. Wooden offices, compounds, a field kitchen and roadblocks have been erected. MPs organise the movement of vehicles and personnel. I show my papers to the MP at the road barrier he directs me to a parking space with orders to report to the movement control office.

  He appears friendly enough so I ask him. “What’s this all about then? I have a cross channel ferry to meet so these poor blighters can get off home as soon as possible.”

  “Le Havre is bloody chaos mate so are every one of the channel ports as a matter of fact. What with lads going home and Prisoners of war being brought back for release it’s a nightmare down there, you can only proceed to the port with a special pass. They do all the processing here now. With a bit of luck you shouldn’t be too much delayed.”

  I park up in the designated space and explain to the lads in the back the situation. The ones that are capable of walking without assistance decide to try and get a hot meal for themselves. They assure me they would bring some back for their mates while I go to the office to sort things out. The nurse chooses to stay with the lads in the ambulance.

  She is a funny woman, she has not spoken to me during the entire trip and she has kept her face wrapped in the scarf. Maybe the poor girl has toothache and can’t stand the cold. My! She does have lovely eyes though.

  What a turn up when I finally get to the front after waiting in a long queue, sitting at the desk is a Major and a clerk. The Officer ignores my salute and reaches for the patients papers with a bored expression on his face. When he has checked them through he asks me for my personal papers.

  I hand him my pay book and casualty station identity card.

  He consults a list on his desk has a word with the clerk then turns to me. “You are listed for demobilisation. I see here from my records you are due six weeks pay and you have not had any leave since joining up, is this correct?”

  His statement comes as a shock to me. To be honest I never dreamed the end of my military career would be announced in such a way.

  “Yes as far as I know Sir.”

  “Right take these papers with you and these.” The clerk hands him a couple of forms, he signs and stamps them. “Go next door. They will pay you what you are owed, and they will explain what you have to do next.” He stood up shook my hand and said. “Good luck in civvy street soldier.”

  I left the office in a daze clasping the hand full of papers, this is the first occasion I have been personally addressed as soldier and it will most probably be my last.

  I received my back pay and orders the passes to proceed to Le Havre are verified and duly stamped. My orders entail delivering the passengers to the boat and then take Girty to a compound the Movement Officer at the docks will direct me to where I will be leaving my vehicle.

  I opted to take week’s leave in Le Havre before catching the boat to the UK and Demob. The prospect of a week sampling Oscar’s good ladies with a pocket full of money proves irresistible. I feel my pulse quicken as I head for the field kitchen.

  I down a serving of thick soup and fill my thermos at the tea urn then rounding up the lads assist the loading and we were on our way.

  On the outskirts of Le Havre I notice the nurse out of the corner of my eye unwrapping the scarf from around her face. I am concentrating on crawling passed an overturned cart partially blocking the road when she says with wonderful French accent.

  “I have no pass or ticket to go aboard the boat to England Adam.”

  My God it is Denise. I recover the vehicle by swerving hard left just before I run into a horse, joy and happiness swamp me. I reach over and grasp her tiny hand at last we were together. After riding along for a while my head in the clouds reality dawns and questions began plaguing my mind. What am I going to do with her? How did she escape the convent and the control of her Grandfather? How will I get her across to England? I glance sideways at her she looks as lovely as I remember, although she still appears very much a child.

  The opposite must apply to me, in the short time I have known her I have matured into an experienced man.

  As we near the ferry terminal I know I have to solve the problem of passes covering her presence in the vehicle. There is no way I can take her through the dock gates. The solution comes to me in a flash prompted by my doll Lulu Oscar certainly owes me a favour.

  I head for the parking area where I left Pompey Lill close to the brothel. Good God what would a convent girl think when I take her into one of those dens of iniquity? I have no choice the MPs will be checking vehicles thoroughly if passage to the UK is at a premium.

  I know Oscar is a gentleman and will help me out of this scrape. Consulting his watch I reckon I have about an hour to spare before the ferry is due. I join the line of vehicles and we continue on towards the port until I divert at the parking area. The charabanc remains exactly where I have left
it some time ago although now Pompey Lill is surrounded by other vehicles. When I confide my plan to Denise she accepts it without question. Fortunately the same fitter I encountered on my last visit came across to see what my problem is.

  Wrapping the box of Belgian chocolates in my jacket I jump down from the cab and head to cut him off out of earshot of my passengers.

  As the man approaches he recognised me immediately and calls a greeting. “Hiya Scouse if it’s about the Bloomin charabanc?” I shake my head.

  “No it’s not. I need about twenty minutes mate to sort a little business out over there.” I point in the general direction of the brothel.

  “Nice box of chocs for your sweetie if you can arrange it?”

  I uncovered the chocs to give him a glimpse. He gives me the thumbs up sign grins and says in a loud voice.

  “Leave it over there driver, I’ll check her out for you, running a bit hot is she? Ha-ha!” He gives me a knowing wink.

  Before I park Girty I lie glibly to the passengers the reason for the short delay.

  After assisting Denise down we head for the house of love. What a trusting girl, if she only knew where I intended taking her. With fingers crossed I rap on the door. When there is no response my feeling of joy slumps. This time I wrap again more vigorously as I am frantically planning an alternative when the small hatch opens. Oscar voice emanates from the darkened interior.

  He speaks in French, “Sorry my dear. I don’t need any more working girls, they say Paris is looking for talented ladies.”

  Denise looks totally confused. Oscar repeats the message in English.

  I realise from the angle we are standing he can only see Denise. I jump forward as the hatch begins to close. “Bloomin heck Oscar, it’s me, open the door for God’s sake I’ve only got a few minutes.”

  I hear the bolt being withdrawn then the door opens I bundle Denise inside.

  He greets me like a long lost son. I hurriedly introduce them and explain the position to my friend. He immediately takes charge and sends me on my way. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” I promise then race towards Girty.

  It goes as smooth as clock work after that, although very slowly.

  I discharge the lads, take Girty to the allotted place and retrieve Lulu from her place of honour throw all my gear into the kit bag. My next chore is to have my paperwork and leave pass stamped by my pal the movement control clerk. As I leave his office it dawns on me like a revelation I am free for a week to please myself what I do for the first time since I joined up. Hefting my kit bag over my shoulder, I head towards the house of love about three hours after leaving Denise, my mind is in turmoil.

  I arrive back breathless. Oscar opens the door and admits me in response to my first knock. He leads me down the once darkened hall now illuminated by gas mantles. He leads me towards the parlour, the room Billy referred to as the selection suite I follow him with mounting anger.

  How can a God fearing man like Oscar be so thoughtless to let a pure innocent like Denise mix with the prostitutes? I am about to tackle him when the interior is revealed, there is no sign of the working girls

  The extremely lude pictures and price list have vanished. In their place pastoral scenes cover the walls. Denise sits on the very chez lounge the large blonde lady occupied so enticingly on my last visit. She places her cup down on a small table and rushes to me. I embrace her and our lips meet in a feverish kiss.

  After our initial embrace and kiss we sit holding hands. Oscar fusses over us like a mother hen. When I begin to tell my story he hushes me.

  “Let us eat first and talk later, you must be starving?”

  I have to agree with him, my stomach does rumble slightly. Denise and I kiss and cuddle in the parlour while Oscar busies himself in the kitchen. Once or twice in between kissing, I attempt to find out how she escaped from the convent. Instead of replying she smothers me in even more passionate kisses.

  After a short time Oscar returns with a laden tray and directs us to a table, where he provides us with a very enjoyable meal.

  After eating, we settled down to talk. Oscar tells his edited story first. I say edited because all referrals to the House of Love and my visits to the ladies were removed for the benefit of Denise. He also failed to mention, he is an escaped German soldier and I have assisted him. According to his story a rich aunt died quite recently and left this house and contents to him. He has decided to live here for awhile until things settle down, then he intends to take up teaching again.

  I tell him in turn how Denise and I have met, and how I have promised to marry her. “Oh, yes Oscar my old friend.” I add.

  “You will like this news, the family have moved back to the farm just as I left. You know where I mean?” A smile of happiness lights up his face. I continue, “There were two girls, the farmer and his wife, I never said anything to them about you. They did not speak any English. But I can assure you they were safe and sound the last time I saw them. Sorry to say, the farmhouse is totally destroyed, but we made sure they had enough food and a good place to shelter for the winter.”

  He is delighted with the news. “Right Scouse, thanks for that. I have made up my mind what I will do. I shall sell this place as soon as possible and use the money to help them sort out the farm. Until then you are my guests, you may even come with me when I leave if you want”

  Thanking him for his offer I inform him.

  “I might take you up on the first part, but I am still in the Army until Demob and we haven’t made any plans yet. I’m on one weeks leave we will have to decide what our future plans are, before my leave runs out.”

  I long to hear from Denise how she had escaped from the convent, but I can see her eyes closing my poor darling is exhausted. I draw Oscar’s attention to her closed eyes, he understands immediately. He gently touches her hand. Denise awakes with a start.

  “Come my dear, I will show you to a room, we can talk some more in the morning.” She accepts his hand and he began to lead her towards the stairs, I stand up to follow, Oscar waves me to remain where I am.

  I have a feeling of déjà vu, as I watch him climb the staircase hand in hand with the girl. Poor Christina. I remembered fondly how much I enjoyed my experience in her Garden of Eden.

  I feel that stirring in my loins again, as my mind conjures up visions of myself and Denise making passionate love in the same way as I have done with Christina. I can’t wait to get up those stairs.

  Oscar returns. “That is a lovely innocent young girl my friend Scouse.”

  I know you brought her here, but while she is under my roof, I consider her my responsibility. She has told me something of herself when you were away. I wouldn’t want you to take advantage of her innocence.”

  Slightly ashamed of myself, I realise Oscar has anticipated what my intentions would be given the chance, but I am well and truly warned off by my friend.

  Oscar brought out a bottle of Cognac and two glasses from a sideboard. “Time to talk and plan I think?” He says as he sits down alongside me. “Before we do anything Oscar, I would like you to accept this back.”

  I hand him the presentation watch he had given me and quelled his protests. “To tell you the truth Oscar, I have always felt guilty about taking it. The watch must mean so much to you I really would like you to have it back. Now, no more protests, please.” I can see by the way he holds it, he is pleased to have it returned, he begins to thank me, but I deftly intercede with a question.

  “Where have all the er, er, um, ladies, gone?” I inquire. He pours out the cognac. “Paris.” He replies.

  “Business began to die here, literally, when the influenza struck, they decided to try their fortunes there. I was never happy being involved with the business, but beggars can’t be choosers at any time. My old friend the Madam needed my help when she became ill, I suppose this is my reward. She always had a sense of humour that one, leaving a brothel to a man with my beliefs would have tickled her pink. Now that’s my story out
of the way, what are your plans?”

  I reply. “Well first of all, I have to know, what is the situation with her family? Her Grandfather must be going mad, knowing she has run away from the convent. Especially if he finds out she is with a British soldier, he hasn’t much time for us you see. I believe he didn’t forgive the English for Waterloo?”

  Oscar reveals. “You don’t have to worry about her Grandfather, she told me he died a few weeks ago. Her Sister rescued Denise from the convent when the old man passed away. It was her Sister that arranged for Denise to travel with you disguised in her nurse’s uniform. Poor child, Denise faced a life of drudgery, working in service if she had stayed at the Chateau.”

  That solves the mystery as far as I am concerned. Now it is up to me to either get her to England, or should I stay in France and try and make a life in a foreign country?

  My wild fantasies of a passionate interlude with Denise are dashed by the presence of Oscar. He watches us like a hawk, an even stricter chaperone than her Sister. I am allocated a bedroom downstairs at the other end of the house, far away from where Denise sleeps.

  During the long, restless night, I even attempt sneaking up to her room. When I creep into the parlour to gain access to the stairs, Oscar thwarts my plans. He sleeps upon the chez lounge like a vigilant watchdog. When he challenges me, I mutter a lame excuse about sleepwalking, and hastily return to my room.

  Morning eventually arrived. I dress and go for a walk.

  The Café where Billy and I frequented is open, the smell of coffee and baking bread are enticing. Hunger pangs rumble in my stomach I go inside. Seated at a table reading a newspaper is the fitter from the workshop, he waves and invites me to join him. He introduces himself as Alec as I sit down. “What you doing here then?” I tell him I am on leave for a week before I notice the paper he is reading is a French National edition. I enquire. “Do you understand French then?”