The Valley of Bones - Anthony Powell [33]
‘Can the men sit down again?’ asked Breeze.
‘No,’ said Gwatkin.
He was deeply humiliated by these circumstances, standing silent, fidgeting with his revolver holster. At last the order came. Gwatkin’s company was to proceed by road to Battalion Headquarters in the field. He was himself to report to the Commanding Officer forthwith.
‘I’ve let the whole Battalion down,’ he muttered, as he went off towards his Company Commander’s truck.
Kedward thought the same.
‘Did you ever see such frigging about,’ he said. ‘Why, even as it was, I was behindhand in bringing my platoon up level with the main body of the Company, and by then I’d cut out at least half the things Rowland had told me to do. If I’d done them all, it would have taken a week. We wouldn’t even have got as far as that field where we had a breather.’
We set off for Battalion HQ. By the time I brought my platoon in, it was late in the afternoon. Rain had begun to fall again. The place was a clearing in some woods where field kitchens had been set up. At last there was prospect of something to eat, a subject much on the men’s minds, scarcely less on my own. I was very ready for a meal, breakfast soon after 5 a.m. by now a long way off. For some reason, probably because it was becoming hard to obtain, I carried no chocolate in my haversack. Gwatkin was waiting for us when we arrived. From his appearance it was clear he had been hauled pretty roughly over the coals by the Commanding Officer for failure to bring up the Company in time earlier that day. His face was white.
‘You are to take your platoon out at once on patrol,’ he said.
‘But they’ve had no dinner.’
‘The men just have time for a mouthful, if they’re quick. You can’t. I’ve got to go over the map with you. You are to make a recce, then act as a Standing Patrol. It can’t be helped that you haven’t eaten yourself.’
He gave the impression of rather enjoying this opportunity for working off his feelings. There seemed no necessity to underline the fact that I was to starve until further notice. Whatever the Commanding Officer had said had certainly not improved Gwatkin’s state of mind. He was thoroughly upset. His hand shook when he pointed his pencil at names on the map. He was in a vile temper.
‘You will take your men up to this point,’ he said. ‘There you will establish an HQ. Here is the canal. At this map reference the Pioneers have thrown a rope bridge across. You will personally cross by the rope bridge and make a recce of the far bank from here to here. Then return to your platoon and carry out the duties of a Standing Patrol as laid down in Infantry Training, having reported the map reference of your HQ by runner to me at this point here. In due course I shall come and inspect the position and receive your report. All right?’
‘Yes.’
He handed over some map references.
‘Any questions?’
‘None.’
Gwatkin strode off. I returned to my platoon, far from pleased. The fact that missing a meal or two in the army must be regarded – certainly by an officer – as all in the day’s work, makes these occasions no more acceptable. Sergeant Pendry was falling in the men when I returned to the area of the wood that had been allotted to the Platoon. They were grumbling at the hurried nature of dinner, complaining the stew had ‘tasted’ from being kept in the new containers. The only bright spot was that we were to be transported by truck some of the distance towards the place where we were to undertake these duties. Thirty men take an age to get on, or off, a vehicle of any kind. Jones, D., slipped while climbing up over the wheel, dropping the anti-tank rifle – that inordinately heavy, already obsolete weapon – on the foot of Williams, W. H., the platoon runner, putting him temporarily out of action. Sayce now began a long story about feeling faint, perhaps as a result of eating the stew, and what the MO had said about some disease he, Sayce, was suffering from. These troubles were unwillingly presented to me through the sceptical medium of Corporal