Remembrance

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘He was awfie small, and didn’t know his date of birth. And he never looked the Sarge right in the eye when he told him how old he was.’

  ‘There’s lots of small men,’ said Alex. ‘Supposing you are small and the right age, can’t you join up?’

  ‘Och aye,’ said the Private. ‘Some of the big cities like Glasgow and Liverpool have Bantam Battalions. They’re for the little ’uns, and right fearsome fighters they are too.’

  ‘Bantam Battalions.’ Alex repeated the phrase in his head so that he would not forget it.

  ‘I think you deserve something for being on duty so long,’ said Private Cooper. He gave Alex a haversack and put some small round tins in it. ‘Maconochie rations, pork and beans, they’re what we use on active service.’

  Happily Alex went off home. He would ask Maggie to cook this for dinner, and then he could taste what real soldiers ate when they were in battle.

  In Stratharden House, preparations were being made for dinner. Mrs Armstrong-Barnes had invited the staff officers, Captain Dudley and his second lieutenant, to dinner that evening. Charlotte and her mother were fussing over the table settings when Francis came into the dining room.

  ‘I beg to be excused dinner this evening,’ he said.

  His mother frowned. ‘That is not possible, Francis. We have a duty of hospitality and you are the man of the house.’

  ‘But not quite the right sort of man for this evening, surely,’ Francis said mockingly. ‘I am not in uniform, and I appreciate that it is an acute embarrassment to you that I have declined to join Kitchener’s boys. I ask that you entertain His Majesty’s glorious forces without me.’

  Charlotte saw her mother’s colour rise.

  ‘Your sarcasm is inappropriate,’ said Mrs Armstrong-Barnes coldly. ‘These men have recently returned from France, and are recovering from various wounds. No matter what your personal opinions are, one should respect their commitment and have compassion for what they have suffered. Also,’ she added, ‘you are my son. In the absence of my husband I expect your support.’

  Francis’s smile faded, then he said in a low voice, ‘Forgive my flippancy. I will attend dinner this evening.’

  Charlotte glanced anxiously from her mother to her brother. She hated friction between friends or family.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, little sister,’ said Francis. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

  Much to Charlotte’s relief Francis kept his promise. When Captain Dudley, accompanied by a second lieutenant of about twenty years old, arrived just after eight o’clock he was there to greet them. During dinner he asked interested and informed questions about the progress of the War. Both officers had seen action at Neuve Chapelle. At one point, when the Captain spoke of ‘unavoidable slaughter’ Charlotte saw Francis’s lips tighten, but her brother did not make any comment on this, and only said he hoped things would progress better with the Autumn Offensive.

  ‘I suppose the idea is to sustain a breakthrough along a cohesive section?’

  ‘You are remarkably well informed,’ said Captain Dudley. ‘Obviously you are taking a keen interest. I hope that your commission comes through soon.’

  There was the slightest of pauses.

  ‘More wine?’ said Francis.

  ‘Charlotte is doing her bit too,’ said Mrs Armstrong-Barnes smoothly. ‘She nurses at the Cottage Hospital.’

  ‘I would hardly call it proper nursing,’ said Charlotte. ‘I am one of the Voluntary Aid Detachment, although I am taking Nursing Certificates. We have not dealt directly with any wounded soldiers. The Cottage Hospital does now take every civilian case possible so that it can free up space elsewhere, but I do little more than basic first aid … and interminable bandage-rolling.’

  ‘My dear,’ said Captain Dudley. ‘You have no idea how the sisters and orderlies are valued by the men at the Front. They are truly magnificent, and work under the most appalling conditions. I have quite reversed my opinion of the fairer sex. They can be as stout-hearted as any man.’

  The young Lieutenant, who had not taken his eyes from Charlotte’s face all evening, nodded his agreement. ‘Without them I surely would have died. When one is wounded, the sight of a nurse is like a vision of heaven.’

  Charlotte laughed. ‘You would change your mind if you saw what I wear when on duty. The uniform is very heavily starched and quite unbecoming.’

  ‘I think you would look attractive no matter what you were wearing,’ the young Lieutenant said sincerely.

  Charlotte lowered her eyes.

  ‘Well, you had that poor Second Lieutenant well and truly trussed like a turkey,’ Francis said to Charlotte after the two officers had departed.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘I think what Francis means,’ said Charlotte’s mother, smiling, ‘is that you have an admirer.’

  ‘An admirer!’ exclaimed Charlotte, blushing.

  Francis grabbed his sister round the waist. ‘Look at you,’ he said, ‘turning all pink and feminine. You’re growing up so fast, little sister. I think our tree-climbing days are over.’

  ‘You left those days behind long before me,’ said Charlotte, pushing her brother away from her.

  ‘More’s the pity.’

  ‘We can’t remain children for ever, Francis,’ said Charlotte gently.

  ‘Yes, but I’d like the children to have their childhood at least,’ said Francis. He turned away to go upstairs to bed, disinclined to explain further what he meant. Earlier, from a hill above the village he had seen the schoolchildren playing with the soldiers. They were fascinated of course with the excitement of it all. The band played stirring tunes, and soldiers mingled with them on the streets of their little village, hat badges and buttons glinting. Had it been peacetime, it would not have affected him so much, but watching, and knowing the purpose of the Army’s visit, had made Francis incredibly sad. He turned at the top of the staircase and called down to Charlotte:

  ‘I hope that you go tomorrow, and wave him off, otherwise his heart will be broken.’

  The whole village had turned out the next morning to see the soldiers leave. School was cancelled and people thronged the pavements with the children in front, lined along the edge, waving flags. The Dundas family stood at the shop door to watch the march past. The band came first with the pipes playing ‘We’re no awa tae bide awa’, flags streaming out in the wind. Behind them the soldiers marched in four formation, Captain Dudley leading at the front. They were cheered at every street corner. As soon as he could, John Malcolm, closely followed by Alex, slipped away from his parents and sister. He worked his way through the crowds until he was beside Charlotte.

  ‘Isn’t it glorious?’ he said, eyes shining.

  ‘Glorious,’ Alex repeated.

  Charlotte looked at Alex. He reminded her so much of herself when younger, tagging along after Francis copying everything he did and said.

  ‘They need sixty men to get up to full strength. They got fifteen from us,’ John Malcolm told Charlotte.

  ‘Better than Linn or Ferryglen,’ said Alex proudly. ‘Private Cooper told me that there’s talk of a big battle soon. They could be in France by the end of the month.’

  ‘I so wish I was going now, with the rest of the lads,’ said John Malcolm. ‘It’s so frustrating to be left at home and not be part of it all.’

  Chapter 7

  AT THE HOSPITAL the next day Charlotte kept thinking about her conversation with John Malcolm as she went about her work. She understood his feelings. Her own motivation in offering to help at the hospital had come from a feeling of obligation to assist the war effort, and to be in some way ‘part of it all’.

  When she had approached the Superintendent of the Cottage Hospital she had been made most welcome. He had been grateful that the daughter of Mrs Armstrong-Barnes had chosen their humble little hospital to do her voluntary work. In addition to having an extra pair of hands he saw that it could be socially and financially to
their advantage. Charlotte had suspected that her mother’s position and wealth had smoothed out any objections there might have been to her youth and lack of experience. She had worked hard to prove herself, to let it be seen that she was not put off by disagreeable tasks, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the staff realized that she was quite serious in her intent. They let her assist more and more, until she now felt that she was a valued part of the team. For the most part, it was enjoyable. The Matron was kind, and the nurses and sisters patient in instructing her, to the extent that she was now training to do some genuine nursing. They were pleasant company, and she was heartily glad that she had an excuse not to take part in the social round that her mother had mapped out for her. She realized that she actually looked forward to her days on duty. The menial tasks did not bother her, and she found that she liked helping people. Best of all was when she was allowed to attend to patients, and was rewarded by a thank you and a smile. Their smiles were always readily returned by her and that became her trademark. One day the Matron called her aside, and said, ‘In time, Miss Armstrong-Barnes, you will be a gifted nurse. I have watched you serve with a quiet comforting word, and meet the eyes of the seriously ill with a smile. Not every nurse can do that.’

  The feeling of pleasure this gave Charlotte lasted for days. She was intelligent enough to appreciate that she could not have attained the warm feeling of satisfaction without first having done the unpleasant tasks. She was also perceptive enough to know that this situation would not have been arrived at if there had been no war. Without the deaths and killing in Europe she would not be in the hospital at all.

  It upset her a little to think this way but she knew that it was true. If the War had not happened, her life would be very different. To pursue any career, even those considered respectable for a woman, such as governess, would have been considered selfish. She did not need money, and therefore it would be quite wrong of her to take a position and deprive those who did. At this moment, without the War, she would be looking to make a good marriage and be learning the skills of managing her own home. She wondered how fulfilling that would have been. Or might she have been happy to accept it as her lot in life, not knowing any different?

  These thoughts were in her mind when she came across two nurses, Grace Howells and Emily Earnshaw, talking in the nurses’ rest room.

  Emily called Charlotte over. ‘Grace and I are thinking of volunteering for the Scottish Women’s Hospital Group. We want to go out to France,’ she said. She waved her hand towards the window. ‘Anything to get away from this dull weather.’

  Charlotte sat down beside them. She wasn’t fooled by Emily’s joke about the weather. Underneath the offhand manner was a woman who thought carefully before making decisions. Emily was the one who read out the newspaper headlines and kept everyone up to date with what the Red Cross and St John’s Ambulance were doing.

  ‘They say that a lot of men die through lack of immediate attention when wounded,’ added Grace. ‘It’s terrible to think that if only there were a few more nurses then they might live.’

  Charlotte knew that Grace wrote each day to her sweetheart and worried desperately about him. ‘I know what you mean,’ said Charlotte. ‘I feel so useless stuck here, and it will be even worse when John Malcolm …’ Her voice tailed off and she blushed. When speaking to her friends she had only ever mentioned John Malcolm Dundas in a very general way, and was unaware that they knew all about her blossoming romance.

  ‘Now that a certain person,’ Emily winked broadly at Grace, ‘will soon be enlisting, Charlotte may find life in Stratharden a bit dull.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean,’ protested Charlotte, her face now bright red. ‘It’s just that there seems to be no-one of my age left at home.’ She stopped as the truth of the words she had just spoken struck her. There were very few young men and women about, and the ones that she saw were mostly in uniform. Her friends and the playmates of her youth were involved. Annie’s two sons, the stable boy, the young men Francis brought to visit during his vacations, all had gone to France. And the girls too were busy elsewhere, many nursing or doing other war work. Whole families, of sometimes ten or even twelve children, were caught up in it. ‘I feel I ought to be doing more,’ Charlotte went on. ‘You two will go off to France, and everyone seems to be doing something definitely connected with the War except me.’

  ‘You could apply to one of the city hospitals,’ said Grace. ‘Or one of the new military ones which have been specially opened to cope with the wounded.’

  ‘There are so many wounded,’ said Charlotte. ‘One wonders who is left in France.’

  ‘They are not telling us the half of it,’ Emily said darkly. ‘If you read the latest newspaper reports carefully you can tell that last battle around Loos did not go as well as they said it did.’

  This was similar to what Francis was saying, thought Charlotte. The official newspaper reports told of parapets ‘melting away’ and barbed wire disappearing under the Allied bombardment. Of British and French troops breaking through on a front many miles long. But more recent news seemed to indicate that the Allies had paid dearly for their initial success, and that the price had been a huge number of casualties, that reserve battalions had been used, but they were untrained and had been sent in too late. Stories were passed from mouth to mouth, and the tales told seemed unbelievable. They said that the men sent forward had no clear instructions, and that they carried insufficient firepower to keep their objectives.

  Grace shrugged. ‘Who knows what to believe? Once we get there, Charlotte, we will write to you and tell you all about it.’

  It was not only in the hospital that there were stories being told of the inefficiency of the Allied offensive. One evening in mid-October just before closing time in the shop Maggie asked her father about it.

  ‘People are saying that we had not enough shells to win the battles around Loos. Could that be true?’

  Her father glanced beyond her head. Francis had just come into the shop. ‘There’s a man who might know.’ He handed Francis his newspaper. ‘You keep a close eye on what is happening, Mr Armstrong-Barnes, what do you think?’

  Francis shrugged. ‘I know very little more than what is in the newspapers.’ He hesitated. ‘However … it would appear that there is a shortage of ammunition. The Times carried a report recently by trade union representatives who visited the Front in September. They reported that there was a need for more shells.’

  Maggie’s father snorted. ‘Trade unions! Agitators, no doubt.’

  ‘Well, you must read the news and interpret it in your own way,’ said Francis. ‘The article stated that it was the officers in particular who wished it to be known at home that there was an inadequate supply of ammunition.’

  ‘That is appalling,’ exclaimed Maggie.

  Francis gave her a wry smile. ‘I suppose it is. After all, if one gets in a fight, then the very least one can do is ensure that one’s gun is bigger than the other fellow’s, and that one has at least as many bullets to fire.’

  Maggie looked at him. There was something about his tone of voice which suggested that he was not taking the subject seriously.

  But it was serious, very serious indeed. So serious in fact that after thinking about it for several days she decided that she was going to do something about it herself. One night halfway through dinner she announced her decision.

  ‘They’re advertising for munitions workers,’ she said, ‘and I might apply.’ She glanced at her brother across the table, and then said in an innocent voice to no-one in particular, ‘Village gossip tells me that Miss Charlotte Armstrong-Barnes from the big house is now taking a Nursing Certificate. If she can do something to help, so can I.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her brother’s face colour up.

  ‘You are needed in the shop,’ said her father.

  ‘The money I bring in can be used to employ someone in the shop, the boy Willie for example. Goodness knows, with all those children, hi
s mother would appreciate some money coming in.’

  ‘Your mother appreciates your help,’ her father said shortly. ‘You know that she keeps poor health.’

  Maggie’s mother stretched her hand out and pressed Maggie’s own. ‘I couldn’t manage without you,’ she said.

  ‘Alex will have to do more,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘Being the youngest, he’s been spoiled by us all. When we were his age John Malcolm and I did many more chores in the house and the shop. Alex is up the glen every night after school, doing goodness knows what.’

  ‘We want him to stay longer at school if he can so he needs time to study at home, and he’s barely fourteen,’ protested Maggie’s mother.

  ‘He’s a big lad for his age,’ said Maggie. ‘And can fetch and carry as well as I can.’

  ‘There’s men’s work and women’s work,’ said her father.

  ‘Look at the casualty lists!’ Maggie’s voice rose. ‘If the War goes on like this there will be no men left!’

  ‘I am engaged in war work,’ said Alex importantly.

  ‘And so will I be,’ said Maggie. ‘You can help out a bit more around the house.’

  ‘I do enough,’ said Alex.

  ‘More needs to be done,’ said Maggie pleasantly.

  ‘Stop bickering. I want to hear no more of this,’ said her father.

  Maggie glared at her father. She was almost eighteen years old and he had chided her in the same terms as her little brother! He was viewing her discussion as though it were part of a small boy’s squabble. If Alex had spoken to John Malcolm in that manner he would have had his ear cuffed. Her twin was due the respect of a man, but, as a woman, she was relegated to the status of a child.

  She made a huge effort to control her temper. ‘There is a munitions factory at Springbank on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Tomorrow I’m catching the early morning bus there to see if they will take me on.’

  Maggie’s father gave her a severe look. ‘Your mind’s being affected by all this women’s emancipation nonsense.’