We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [39]
He swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. “We’ve got to get this solved, and get Schenckendorff back to London,” he finally said. “His foot is a bit better today. His fever seems to be breaking.”
“That’s the least of our worries,” Matthew answered grimly. “Somebody butchered that girl, which would be bad enough at any time, but as you know, out here nurses are viewed pretty well like angels. They’re the one link with the women they love who represent home, and decency, and everything they’re fighting for. For one or two I spoke to, it was as if something inside them had been violated, too.”
Joseph stared, realizing suddenly that this was what he had seen in Morel and the others he had spoken to. They assumed it was rape, although the details of the crime had been kept quiet. That kind of violation, he realized, causes a deep internal injury to men also, all decent men.
Matthew gave a little shrug. “If we don’t solve it soon, Joe, there’s going to be a whole lot more violence, possibly toward the German prisoners. Our men want it to be one of them, not one of our own. I’ve heard some ugly things said. The veneer is thin; it won’t take much to break it.”
It was another hard night, but most of the casualties were taken to a clearing station five miles away, which was closer to the actual fighting as it moved eastward. Joseph arrived back to find Matthew waiting for him outside the tent for the walking wounded. His face was haggard and his uniform sodden wet in the rain. As soon as he saw Joseph he strode toward him, splashing through the mud with complete disregard.
“Joe, it’s getting worse,” he said abruptly. “There’s been more violence. Several British soldiers, three or four at least, lit into half a dozen German prisoners and beat the hell out of them. The worst thing is that the officer in charge didn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t even punish them for it after. What in God’s name is this…this whole bloody slaughter for”—he swung his arm around violently to encompass the entire battlefield—“if we end up acting like barbarians ourselves? We might just as well have surrendered in the first place. We had nothing worth saving.” He was so shaken that his hands were trembling. “We’ve got to get Schenckendorff out of here,” he went on, deliberately lowering his voice. “If he still thinks we’re worth saving?”
Joseph understood his anger. The sight and the stench of so much suffering, and so unaccountably many dead, had temporarily torn away his normal reserve. His brother was used to the intellectual tensions of waiting, of cat-and-mouse games of the mind, but the sheer physicality of the line was new to him. “Who were they, do you know?” he asked.
“Two of them were Black and Youngman. I don’t know the others.”
“Bill Harrison’s men. I’ll go and speak to him.”
“The officer already knows!” Matthew said impatiently. “I told you, he didn’t give a damn. He just let it go.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Joseph turned and walked away.
He found Harrison surprisingly easily in the Casualty Clearing Station. Stan Tidyman, one of his men, had lost a leg; the officer had come to see if he was still alive and give whatever support he could.
Joseph looked at Stan’s gray face and sunken eyes, and waited until Harrison was ready to leave him. Not that you were ever ready, but there came a time when it was necessary.
He waited outside and spoke to Harrison as he stepped onto the boards and into the wind. His face was tight and vulnerable with pity, and he looked relieved to see Joseph. “There’s not much you can do right now, Chaplain,” he said grimly. “But he’ll be pleased to see you.”
Joseph felt a stab of guilt. “Actually it is you I was looking for,” he answered. “Four men beat more injured German prisoners last night. Two of them at least were from