We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [23]
“Right.” Joseph’s heart sank. Another piece of random brutality, pointless but so very understandable. “I’ll be there.”
Snowy nodded, his eyes grave. “Whole lot more for the hospital, Oi reckon. Some o’ the poor sods are knocked about pretty bad. Look loike hell, they do. Oi thought winning weren’t much fun after all, an’ we waited long enough for it. But Oi reckon losing’s got to be a whole lot worse. Roight away, Chaplain, he said.”
“I’m going,” Joseph said impatiently. He resented Hook sending for him over some breach of discipline. There were going to be lots of instances of loss of self-control. He had known people to nurse loved ones over years to a painful death, never complaining. Then when it was all over and there was some ease at last, they were suddenly overwhelmed, letting slip the courage and the selfless endurance that had governed their lives throughout the sacrifice. He could sense now the same longing for peace and fear of change. They wanted to go home to what they had originally left, what this whole bloody war had been about saving, but it wasn’t there anymore. The past never is. The England they had paid for with such a price no longer existed.
He walked quickly through the mud, used to keeping his balance in it, not avoiding the rain because he was already wet and there was no point.
He found Colonel Hook in the command bunker nearly a mile farther east. He looked tired and too thin.
“Ah, Reavley.” He looked up from his maps spread out on top of a packing case. “Odd thing’s come up.” He looked puzzled rather than angry, and it was unusual that he had addressed Joseph by name rather than rank or calling.
Joseph stood to attention. “Yes, sir?”
“Got a German officer, says he’s a colonel, but I think he might be more senior than that, although my German’s not good enough to be certain. Know everyday language well enough, but not the differences of education and class. But he’s asked to speak to you.”
“Is he badly injured?” Joseph was surprised. Snowy Nunn had mentioned only a crushed foot.
“Not at all. Painful, no doubt, but he didn’t even refer to it,” Hook replied. “He didn’t ask for a chaplain, he spoke of you by name—Reavley. Seemed to expect you to be here.” The demand for explanation was clear in Hook’s eyes.
Was this the Peacemaker’s ally in Germany at last? “No idea, sir,” Joseph said aloud, his voice husky. He cleared his throat. “I’ll go and talk to him. Where is he?”
“Casualty Clearing Station,” Hook replied. “His foot’s a mess. Looks like someone pinned him to the ground with a bayonet.” His face was pinched with disgust. “Damn stupid thing to do. If I thought I had a cat in hell’s chance of catching the man who did it, I’d have him up on a charge.”
“What’s his name, sir?” Joseph’s heart was pounding. Could they really be this close to the Peacemaker at last?
“No idea!” Hook said impatiently. “They’ve only got one colonel. Go back and bloody well ask!”
“Yes, sir.” Joseph stood to attention, and then hesitated. He knew Hook wanted to say something more. Their eyes met for a moment. Joseph smiled.
Hook shrugged. “Get out,” he said quietly. “Go and find out what the poor sod wants. No favors.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You mean no, sir,” Hook corrected.
It was Joseph’s turn to shrug. He went out without replying. It was raining hard again. The wet khaki had rubbed his skin raw at his neck and his feet were getting new blisters by the time he caught up with the ambulances. There were very few men around. Most of the troops had moved forward, beyond Ypres now. Joseph remembered the town well, the places where in 1914 and 1915 they had eaten quite decent food, drunk wine, even sung around the piano in one or two of the better estaminets. He wondered how many of the people were still alive after occupation. Or had most of them fled ahead of the German army, back somewhere into France? How many of the buildings were still standing after the incessant bombardment? He had heard that Passchendaele was in ruins, nothing left but scattered stone