Justice Hall - Laurie R. King [134]
numbers down. Henceforth I am Gabriel Hewetson, second lieutenant in His Majesty’s Forces.
Pater will storm and Mama will weep, but I can no other. Will Susan weep, I wonder? Or will she be proud of me? I believe I made the right decision when I told her there would be no ring until I return in safety. If I came back horribly wounded, she would feel it shameful not to go through with it. We have an understanding; that shall suffice.
27 August
I dreamt last night that I was walking through the Fox Woods above Justice. It was spring-time and the blue-bells were out, so the woods resembled a lake with trees growing up from the brilliant blue water. Mama was there with me, and she was crying and crying, saying we’d never pick blue-bells together again. Good thing I don’t believe in dreams telling the future. I’ll have to think on the symbolism of the dream.
Funny, because I haven’t been dreaming much since coming to training camp. Probably it’s just that I’m so tired at the end of the day, I have no energy for dreaming. I don’t even think very often about Susan before dropping off to sleep, even though she let me kiss her and the feel of her kisses stayed with me for days. The dream was probably my mind telling me that when I get back I’ll marry Susan and we’ll be too busy for me to go blue-belling with Mama, that I’ll have grown out of such childish outings.
The first draught of men set off for the Front today, looking eager and deadly. I suppose by the time we go, there’ll still be some Jerries left for us. Still, I hope we can hurry up this endless drilling.
30 October
Word today that they’ll move up our ship date to France, that it might be before Christmas even. The men are keen but I can see why the higher ranks worry. Without a really solid training, most of these boys won’t have a chance. And I say boys because most of them are ’way younger than me. A couple of them can’t be sixteen, no matter what they told the recruiting officer. Of course, there’s the old duffers too, conscripts forty and more. How are they expected to carry a full pack through the mud and still be fit to shoot? Children and old men. They’ll be issuing rifles to women before much longer.
5 December
Two days’ home leave before shipping out. I’m halfway tempted to stay in camp, or go up to London with some of the others for a last fling. But I can’t; it wouldn’t be fair to the parents. Even though right now I’d just as soon face a German gunner than Mama’s tears for her baby boy. Don’t I wish they’d had another child, a daughter, to take the pressure off. I wonder how Ogilby would react if I asked him to tie a blindfold on me before I went in through the door. Knowing him, he’d just ask if I wished to use my own, or if I wanted him to fetch one, My Lord.
Christmas Day
Behind the lines, but not far. We can smell it now, and my men are acting the way I feel, like a horse at the scent of smoke, jumpy and white-eyed. Lots of jokes, most of them dirty. They’re shelling up the line, our guns or theirs, making the earth quiver like a fractious horse. A few days here, then up to the Front. I pray God I not disgrace my family.
Epiphany 1918
I had my doubts about this name lark, wondered if it wasn’t going to be more trouble than it was worth, being always on the alert for an old friend or one of the men spotting the occasional “Hughenfort” letter and catching on. Still, I’ve only had a couple of sticky moments, and all in all, I think it’s been a good idea. Growing up, close as I was to some of the people on the estate, I knew that “My Lord” was always in the back of their minds, if not actually on their tongues. The men here know my class—how could they not?—but to most of them I’m just another public school boy who doesn’t know the first thing about war, whose job it is to survive long enough to get slapped into shape, and to transmit orders received, and to take the heat from above when necessary. When I came, I was lucky enough not to put