Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [116]
Above in the distance the Turkish guns occasionally raked the sea with shot, but most of the boats were just out of range, and the warships returned fire with a roar of shelling.
The score of men in the same boat with Joseph were huddled together, pale and excited, wanting to appear brave and not having any idea what to do. The fact that they wanted to do anything at all made their innocence heartbreakingly obvious. Seasoned men would have been happy to do nothing, knowing the time would come.
The prow of the boat scraped the sand and the foremost men leaped out. Joseph scrambled ashore with them. The water was warm and the sand soft under his weight. He ran through the gentle surf and floundered up to a pile of ammunition crates where a couple of medical orderlies were passing around water. One of them noticed Joseph’s uniform with its clerical collar.
“We don’t need you yet, cobber!” he said cheerfully. His accent was broad Australian, his face sunburned and lantern-jawed.
Joseph gave him a gesture of salute. “I’m looking for General Hamilton’s headquarters,” he said. “At least I’m actually looking for his ADC, Major Mynott. It’s urgent I find him.”
“Yeah?” the soldier was unimpressed. “Pass me that splint, will yer? Everything’s urgent here, including that bleedin’ water!”
Joseph reached for the canteen and handed it to him, and the splint, then looked around slowly. As far along it as he could see, the beach was crowded. Long lines of the injured stood waiting for medical attention. Others, more seriously hurt, lay in silent pain, faces crusted with blood and sand. There seemed to be flies everywhere.
Another soldier saw Joseph’s expression and sauntered over to him. “Welcome to Gallipoli, mate,” he said with a shrug. His face was round with wide blue eyes and ginger-gold hair. His smile was cheerful, as if he were determined to find something, anything, to like about the chaos around him. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after yer.” He led Joseph up the sand past the makeshift medical unit where a nurse was creating as much order as she could.
“Never mind, darlin’!” one of the men called out to her. “We love yer!”
Someone else made an extremely bawdy comment about love. There was a loud burst of laughter.
The nurse was dark-haired and slender, perhaps twenty-five. “Back of the line!” she ordered, pointing her finger at the offender.
He groaned loudly. “Aw c’mon! Don’t be such a . . .”
“Do you want to go to the back twice?” she asked ferociously.
There was more applause.
“Sorry!” the soldier yelled.
“Good!” she called back. “End of the line!”
Grudgingly he obeyed, to still another burst of clapping and catcalls.
Joseph and his guide reached a group of soldiers sitting on the grass eating rough bread and tinned bully beef. A Dixie can of tea hung over a smoldering fire.
One of them looked up. “Wot yer got there, Blue? Reinforcements from Blighty?”
There was a guffaw of laughter again from the half dozen men.
“Only if yer feelin’ like the last rites,” Blue replied, sitting cross-legged in a spare patch without too many small stones. “Sit down, mate,” he invited Joseph.
“Bleedin’ ’ell!” one of the men said, his eyes widening as he realized Joseph was a chaplain. “Are things that bad?”
Another man crossed himself elaborately. “Here we are stuck on the edge of being wiped out, and what do the Pommies send us? One bloody preacher! You going to bury the lot of us then? Or are you the real thing?”
Joseph blushed. “The real thing?”
“Part the waters and we can walk to the other side!”
There was more laughter.
“No use,” Blue said cheerfully. “We don’t want to be on the other side, dumbo!”
“Speak for yourself, mate! I’d love to be on the other side!” He turned to Joseph. “What are you here for, Rev? Maybe you can turn the stones to bread?”
“How about turning the water to wine?” another suggested.
“Actually I’m no use at all,” Joseph said candidly. “I need you to