by Carl Leckey
I was heading for the workhouse classed as a pauper. The brewery was refusing to supply me with new stock. The Colonel he rescued me by buying half shares in the pub. I was able to pay my debts and I got the pub back on its feet and I haven’t touched a drop since. You will like this part, all he wanted in return for getting me out of the shit when I asked him was. He wanted me to change the name of the pub from The Volunteer to The Reluctant Volunteer. He had a weird sense of humour you know? But at the same time I understand the sentiment.”
He fell out with the local parish council. The Colonel was very upset by the councillors haggling on where exactly the war memorial should be located. He got fed up with them in the end made his own mind up where the memorial should be. He did this without having to beg money from the council and villagers. He had purchased a piece of land for a business venture on the crossroads at the edge of the village I believe he was going to start up a transport business? Anyway when the argument with the council began he changed his mind. A masonry memorial is being prepared containing the names of the war dead from around this area paid for by him. Do you know he has even included the dead from the Boer wars? The Colonel has chosen to be buried underneath the memorial. He has also made provision for war veterans to be buried free of charge on the piece of land he has named it the Final Victory Memorial Park.”
I reply. “Thanks for explaining all that, it’s typical of the Colonel. Did you know him very well personally, I mean.”
The Landlord reveals. “When he came home from the war I knew him just as my officer from South Africa and a customer at first. It was not long before he became my very good friend. He had big ideas at first about starting a transport business as I explained, it came to nothing after he purchased the piece of land he did nothing about starting the business. It was sad to witness but I gathered from the long talks we had usually after I closed up for the night he was becoming more and more depressed. Towards the end to be honest he drank too much.” He added hurriedly. “But we all tolerated him. I took him home drunk as a Lord on many occasions, some nights he even slept in the lounge bar too drunk to get home. He kept referring to the good men that had been killed while under his command. On the tenth of November he was really depressed and got very drunk. He was rambling on about.
“Why didn’t we stop it all at the Christmas truce in nineteen fourteen we had the opportunity and we let it go by. How many tragedies could have been avoided if we had only had the courage to say to those in positions of power. No More Damned War.”
He condemned the Generals, arms manufacturers, and Politicians that night. I have never seen him so angry.
It was as if he held himself personally responsible for all tragedies of the war. Did you know he had witnessed the appearance of the Angels at the battle of Mons?”
I am astounded when I retort. “I didn’t know that. All through my army service I have met people that saw the Angels but I didn’t know the Colonel was one of them.”
George remarks with a guffaw. “Let’s face it a British Army Colonel would hardly tell you a private soldier he had seen the Angels Scouse. Come on be real.”
I had to agree with him even though I felt privileged to be close to the Colonel he would hardly have admitted that to me.
Arthur continues. “The final straw came when there was a dispute about the war memorial and it had not been settled by Armistice Day as we all expected.” Edward was now repeating information he had already given us.” He pauses then continues. “I like his tribute to the lads that died in South Africa and there were quite a few from around here believe me. I know when my time comes I will be buried alongside my mates within sight of the Colonel. The villagers were collecting money at a very slow pace. People are short of cash just now we never had many tourists during the war you see and we depend on them around here. Anyway what they did collect can go to another good cause I reckon. God knows there are plenty of them about due to the damned war.”
I enquire. “Has the Colonel any relatives, a Wife or kids?”
He shakes his head. “That was another tragedy he suffered when he was in South Africa. His Wife died in childbirth he lost the baby as well. Before you ask, no he never did re marry.”
He pauses again for a moment as if considering something then gives us an invitation.
“By the way we are having a kind of get together or wake if you like tonight in the pub. Of course it will be back here after the burial, all the Colonel’s friends and comrades are welcome to attend.”
Arthur stands up ready to leave but changes his mind he discloses more details. “Do you know he kept these plans secret from his friends, he only told me about it on the tenth of November. You most probably know what happened next it was in all the national papers?
We never had a clue what he was going to do. You will have to excuse me. I still get upset about the loss of my dear friend.” He leaves the room.
The evening is just like a good old booze up during the war. The pub is packed with veterans singing the old songs we loved so much during the bad wartime days. At ten o’clock the names are placed in a hat and the draw takes place. I am one of the fortunate six to be selected as a pall bearer.
The party breaks up about midnight. I retire to my room where I sleep like a log until disturbed at seven o’clock by the sound of a bugle playing reveille. As it is still dark for a minute or so, I am confused believing I am still in the services I leap out of bed and begin to dress. What a game, I arrive downstairs where the rest of the guests are assembled.
One of the old boys is laughing hilariously. The old veteran is in the full dress uniform of a Boer war soldier, pith helmet and all, hanging from his shoulder on a spotless white lanyard is a gleaming army bugle. After the initial anger at being woken up to that horrible unforgettable sound everyone takes the joke in good spirits. The day goes well after that, breakfast is a great affair with the men giving us a stream of funny stories and anecdotes of their experiences during the war. No one mentions the bad times, an outsider listening in could believe war was one long round of fun and laughter booze session and sexual encounters.
When we assemble outside to face a bright cold day, many of the men are dressed in uniform wearing their medals with pride. Much to my joy three of my wartime comrades have made the effort and greet me with much emotion. Toot, Jake and Dave out of the original six that served together in our ambulance unit only Billy and Sam are missing.
The Sergeant cook from the Chateau is also in attendance with some others I don’t recognise. The men form a column and begin to march to the Colonel’s house when a Rolls Royce joins the procession followed by a large black Humber.
We collect the coffin and set off again with the coffin leading the column of ex servicemen and a few women. On the top of the flag covered casket is the Colonels cap and Sam Brown complete with sword. At the site of the burial is a canvas shrouded object, a flagpole has been erected by the gateway the union flag flutters in a slight breeze. The pall bearers position the coffin on strips of wood spanning the grave. The padre Captain De Silva dressed in his uniform is led to the side of the grave by George. He conducts the service in a very moving manner. Unknown to me arrangements had been made between my friend Sandy and the Padre prior to the service.
Sandy delivers a eulogy he speaks in a firm but emotion charged voice. He reminds us of the kind deeds and consideration the Colonel had shown to all he encountered.
“He was a military man with a conscious.” He appropriately described the Colonel. The bugler takes his position, the wooden strips are removed we lower the casket into the grave to the haunting strains of the last post played by the Boer War veteran on his army bugle. The flag is slowly lowered to half mast. Many a tear is shed by the mourners both male and female at the point when the cover is taken from the monument. It is not the usual type of statue of an armed soldier or a battle scene. The sculptor has captured the essence of pain suffering and futility of war by carving the figure of a woman
. She is reading the dreaded death notice telegram with her two children clutching her skirts. As a couple of workers move in to backfill the grave a disturbance takes place on the fringes of the assembled mourners I am in time to see Sandy land a perfect uppercut to the chin of a man six inches taller than himself.
I am amazed to see Sandy the man of peace behaving violently I rush over to scene. Sandy is shaking with anger he stands over the fallen man as he cowers on the ground.
His voice filled with fuming emotion as he warns the man. “How dare you refer to the Colonel in such a scandalous manner, coward you called him? I’ll give you coward.”
I intercede. “Sandy! What’s up mate, what’s happening?”
He responds angrily. “This is the swine that called the Colonel a coward in his rag of a so called newspaper. I had enough of his slanderous accusations during the war and I am not having it in the peace time. How dare he refer to a man of the Colonels calibre as a coward?”
A murmur begins from the crowd of veterans, the situation is getting a little heated when a uniformed police Sergeant his chest bedecked with campaign medals and ribbons steps forward. He pulls the man to his feet. The reporter complains in a whining voice now he feels safe in the protection of the law.
“He hit me I want you to charge him with assault.” The Sergeant replies incredulously “Hit you when? I never saw that, as far as I could see you tripped and fell over.”
The reporter whinges angrily to the Policeman “They all saw him hit me. I want them all as witnesses.” Toot steps forward and unexpectedly says. “Yes Sergeant I saw it. I’ll bare witness.” There is a hiss of disapproval from the mourners. “What did you see Sir?” The Sergeant enquires in a menacing manner. Toot replies. “I saw this man.” He points to the reporter. “He tripped and this man.” He points towards Sandy. “He tried to save him falling. I think if he still had his two arms he might have saved him. It’s a pity he lost his arm serving his country in the non combatants as a stretcher bearer.” Toot turns to the crowd. “Do you know some newspapers branded them as coward’s lads? Well you were there, and most of you lads know through personal experience what we owe those lads?” The mourners join in their condemnation of the newspapers that branded the stretcher bearers and non combatants as cowards.
I in turn step forward verify Toot’s statement that the reporter tripped. Dave follows.
“That’s what I saw as well Sergeant.” Jake joins him with the same report of the occurrence. One after another the other mourners confirm Toot’s story. The reporter, with tears of frustration in his eyes gathers his gear together. He leaves in a hurry to the sound of boo’s and hisses and other ribald comments from the veterans.
After the funeral parade many of the mourners make their way back to the pub. Unfortunately Dave and Jake have to leave in time to catch a train. They left with a promise to keep in touch.
In the all too brief time I had to chat with them they filled me in on their lives since demob.
Dave had married his widow Lady the evidence of her cooking was easy to see as his waistline has now expanded considerably He informed us proudly they had a child of their own almost six months old. Their small holding is doing well and has grown by ten acres since I saw it last. He has also diversified into contract ploughing and harvesting, that side of his business was also doing well. He explained this was because of the shortage of farm labourers after the war farmers were employing contractors. Another reason being the farmers didn’t want to or couldn’t afford to invest in machinery that lay idle for months on end. His other good news is he rescued his Sister from the clutches of his drunken Mother the girl now lives with his family and they get on great together. He reveals proudly. “She is a striking looking wench now.
Molly looks after her and has taught her good manners and how to dress proper like. She attends the local school and has soon caught up with the other kids. I’ll have to watch out shortly there are already a few local lads got their eyes on her.”
Jake reveals he had wandered a bit after demob he couldn’t settle down but he now had a job at an airfield on the outskirts of London.
Jake is convinced like my friend Gunter Cogan, aeroplanes would be the mode of travel in the future. I listened to his enthusiasm about aeroplanes with a great deal of scepticism. When they depart only Sandy, Toot and I remain.
Mrs Johnson, Sandy’s lady friend hovers nearby in the Humber ready to take him back to Acton Bridge. After wishing him goodbye and promising to keep in touch he joins her in the car and they also depart. There’s no way I am letting Toot go and steer him to the pub. He informs me he is quite willing to catch a later train. I had a better idea. On the way to the pub I observe a post office. I persuade Toot to telephone the estate and ask permission to stay over an extra night.
He did this hesitantly but is very relieved when Mr Humphreys answers the telephone.
Toot explains something unexpected has arisen and would it be possible to remain overnight.
I watch his face change as he is informed Lady Emily has left this afternoon to visit friends somewhere, he thinks in London. Tom has taken her to the station in the trap. She hasn’t said when she will be back but she did have a great deal of luggage with her. In the light of this Mr Humphreys gives him permission to remain overnight. Toot asked him to notify his Wife of the development. At the pub I find there are now plenty of rooms empty and book my mate in for the night and arrange for his bill to be added to mine. The day is brilliant the Colonel’s medals and the condolence book have already been displayed over his chair as promised by the Land Lord. In turn the mourners toast the reminder of our friend Colonel Sanders. The shindig breaks up about four o’clock and most of the guests leave giving me an opportunity to update Toot on the developments regarding my Mother. We are in the dining room for our evening meal about eight o’clock when to my surprise George Wilkinson enters in the company of Captain de Silva dressed in civilians clothes. They are also accompanied by another man.
I find I am still suspicious regarding the Padre even though George has assured me he is a changed man. However to give him credit he conducted the last farewell for the Colonel in a caring and sincere manner. George guides him over to our table and explains to the Padre who we are. He shakes our hands and introduces his companion as John Baxter the Colonels solicitor. John informs us the Padre and himself had attended university together. I decide on the spur of the moment to forget the past and let bygones be bygones. As we have not yet ordered our meal I invite them to join us for dinner, without hesitation the Padre accepts the invitation and takes a seat opposite me. It is then I am able to see close up his face. There no doubt he has suffered as a result of the explosion. I recall he was very handsome before his injuries but now his face shows signs of burns. His facial and hand skin is crisscrossed with scars. His blind eyes are masked by dark glasses. At first the conversation is stilted but after a couple of pre dinner drinks the atmosphere becomes more congenial without mention of the war. The meals arrive with a selection of wines ordered by the Padre. As the wine is consumed the past is completely forgotten I realise I am enjoying the company of the Padre, George and John Baxter. John explains that he is handling the Colonels will and bequeaths. The half share of the pub is to be used to generate revenue to maintain the veteran’s cemetery. His house and contents are to be disposed of. The resulting cash is to be donated to the war widows and orphans fund. The information John gives me alters a decision I had already made to contribute to the memorial. This is the Colonels scheme and he has made adequate allowances without my input.
When the evening is drawing to a close and the company is about to leave John asks me to drop into his office in Great Malvern before I leave the district. He informs me “If my secretary hasn’t posted it yet there is a letter addressed to you from the late Colonel Sanders, but as you are here you may pick it up if it is still in my office.” The Padre shakes my hand and says in a clear voice that all are able to hear.
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sp; “Please try to forgive me for treating your friend so badly at a time when he needed my support. George informed me you and he were childhood friends. I hope you believe me when I tell you I have attempted to atone for my past sins.” His statement of regret brings a lump to my throat as I recall his death and the sight of Tommy’s poor mutilated body as it tumbled into the open grave. There is an awkward pause until my mate Toot puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a reassuring hug. I use an expression I have heard on many occasions in France in my opinion sums up all the horrors we have experienced. “Ces’t la Geurre. It is over now we should learn to forgive and forget.” I grasp his hand and sincerely shake it
My pal and I have a chat and a smoke then retire for the night.
Toot is already up and about when I arrive downstairs for breakfast.
He has already eaten and is only waiting to wish me goodbye before heading home. Toot looks very embarrassed when he says.
“Thanks for paying my bill Scouse I don’t like sponging off you but I never intended to stay overnight. To be honest I didn’t bring any extra cash with me.”
I know his situation he has a family to support the last thing he needs is an unexpected bill. I lie to him to save his embarrassment.
“Toot my old mate it was my idea to keep you overnight. It will all be booked down as company expenses it won’t cost me a penny so don’t you worry about it.” He looks relieved when I confess this.
I add. “I’ll see you at St Margaret’s before I go back to France. I still haven’t met your family you know? Give my regards to your Misses and blame me for keeping you here.” With a final shake of hands my mate leaves the pub. After breakfast with my bag packed I am ready for the off as I settle my bill I have a nice surprise myself.
