The colonel seems a little better and he has slept well. George is a bit off his feed I notice, probably because eggs and bacon, as well as jam and tea do not mix with unlimited whisky at 10.00a.m. George and I have our breakfast together in the one and only dugout, now almost collapsed. So I took the risk on the less rigid outlook. Of course a court martial could only mean one thing – dismissal and I felt that, although I knew George would enlist as a Tommy if dismissed, he would probably go to the dogs as well, sooner or later. I knew others didn’t know much, as he got drunk in his dugout, after the two men were lost and never left it.
I knew it wouldn’t occur again, if he said so. Of course I suppose I should have ‘run’ Gaffikin but I knew him and his men. “I want you,” I say,” to tell the men at stand-to that Captain Gaffikin has been much overcome by the stress of the weather and the loss of those two men last night and that he’s coming down to my headquarters to rest for few hours.” “Come on George,” I add.
On the way I pass Gold, anxious, perturved and obviously inquisitive. “Will you give me your word of honour not to touch liquor again so long as you are with the battalion? I don’t care what you do when you’re on leave,” I say slowly.
#Ilift top hat full#
I look at the watch on my wrist – I wear it still – and stare George full in the face, for what seems like five minutes. ” I say and I do likewise, on an old back less kitchen chair, taken from some house. The officer commanding “B” company stands up. As I approach, the old servant disappears. George is sitting on his bed, his face covered by his hands, his elbows on his knees. and I must see how the Colonel is.Īfter a brief rest I make my way back to Gaffikin across the muddy shell-pocked and water-logged ground. In any case I must go back to headquarters before going to see Gaffikin at stand-to, as the situation report has to be telephoned in at 4 a.m. “Will you please overlook this? He has had an awful time.” I don’t answer. “Take all the liquor away: also the ammunition” Gold follows me out. “Don’t let him leave here until I come back just before stand-to,” I order. “Drunk,” I say, looking at an almost empty whisky bottle. I see no Gaffikin but I know where the bed is. I enter the chalk cave which serves as a company headquarters. Now Gold is a very good fellow, no fool and of mature years. Where is Gaffikin?” “In his dugout, Sir,” comes the quick answer. “Good heavens,” I reply, “what’s the matter with him, has he gone mad? Tell the men to get on with their work. Gaffikin ordered two platoons to go over and fetch them back!” We have lost two men on patrol Sir,” says Gold, “Capt. “Here Sir”, comes a voice form the distance. “Does he?” says I, “Why?” “Two of our fellars is taken prisoner” says he, “’an we’ve got to go and pull them back!” “We’re going over the top, Sir”, says a grimy Rifleman. ”What the devil’s all this noise! I say ,”do you want to be shelled to hell? What are you doing?” As if by magic a veritable babel greets my ears – Belfast voices, loud, excited and overpowering, fill the air. I jump into the trench and grope my way along. “That’s all right,” I answer cheerfully, “no harm done”. “Beg pardon Sir,” comes the reply, “didn’t know it was you”. “Sorry,” I reply, ”but you know who I am and, and I’m damned if I know where I am, and I’d rather be shot than drowned any night.”
Suddenly as I near the front line I hear an angry voice, “Put that -Light out you. To stumble and fall into one of these means death by drowning and suffocation. Shell holes and huge craters, some ten feet deep, abound and are full of water. It is always quite impossible to get quickly to the left company, commanded by George Gaffikin, by way of the trenches, as there are none, so, Followed by Mullins, an ex sailor, who has become my new orderly and with an electric torch in hand I make for the chalky line, over the top.