Being the soldier-servant to an aristocrat who has joined the fray in a moment of boredom with the tedious day-to-day concerns of his estate is not what John Bates had in mind when he shipped out to South Africa to fight the Boers. The reason you go to war is to fight, and helping some fop off and on with his various uniforms is a stupid task when the enemy is out there, waiting to kill or be killed. So Bates thinks when he is singled out for this duty. He undertakes it reluctantly. He has come here to kill the Boers.

But Robert Crawley, the Fifth Earl of Grantham, is a pleasant surprise. He is no pampered pet. Clearly he has had an easy life and is used to having things his way. But he is courteous, grateful, and modest. Crawley treats his batman with respect. Both are novices to these particular arrangements, although Crawley has an advantage over Bates in that he has long had a valet to clean his boots and help him into his evening attire at home, whereas Bates has never helped a man on with so much as a coat before. The peculiarities of military dress are a challenge they work out together. And batmans do fight, following their officers into battle. It turns out that Crawley has professional training as a soldier, even if he has not seen combat before. But then, many of the men are green, too. When he sees Crawley in the midst of danger, Bates's apprehensions quickly fall away. The captain is careful with the men under his command and he has a well-grounded understanding of both the strengths and limitations of his training. There is no Napoleonic ego here. And he learns quickly, and in battle demonstrates a cool head as well as a brave heart.

Crawley is in his early thirties, married with three children - daughters - and an estate in Yorkshire called Downton Abbey. His wife in an American. His father died in 1895, making him the Fifth Earl of Grantham. His title brings him the position of Lord Lieutenant of the County, but on enlistment in this war he deliberately requested a more modest rank as captain, acknowledging the limits of his military experience. At first Bates is sceptical of "my lord's" commitment to the fight, but over time he realizes it is possible to be an aristocrat and a patriot, too. Crawley really feels a duty to his country and is prepared to risk his life in meeting it. This is something they have in common.

Bates is more guarded in the personal details he imparts to this officer. He never parts with information unnecessarily. It is just a reflection of his nature. His opportunities to do so are proscribed anyway. While the officer talks expansively of his life at Downton Abbey, on the assumption that the batman cares, he asks few questions of his servant. This is, Bates understands, how it is in domestic service. The staff know the family's intimate secrets, while the family seldom knows anything beyond the names of their employees. This suits Bates. He likes Captain Crawley, thinks him a good man. Despite the social and economic chasms that separate them, they get on well together. Bates is a loner by nature, but the impulses of loyalty and honour run as deep in him as they do in the blue-blooded Earl. It is difficult to breach Bates's internal defenses, but once he is won over, he cannot be shaken. Oddly enough, Captain Crawley appears to share these sensibilities. As they become better acquainted and are obliged to rely on each other in the heat of battle, their appreciation for the other grows, and Bates senses that the Yorkshire aristocrat will stand by him if it becomes necessary. Bates counts on no one to guard his back, but he thinks Crawley would do it admirably.

Crawley has to leave him, of course. There is no time for gratitude or even acknowledgment. He is responsible for his regiment and cannot stay to play nursemaid to a single wounded soldier, even if that soldier were in dire straits, which Bates does not appear to be. Even Salter has to move on, resume more legitimate pursuits. Bates waits, more or less patiently, for the stretcher-bearers to appear and then for those more seriously wounded than he to be removed.

In the field hospital, Bates waits an interminably long time to be treated. He is less concerned about the pain, which he handles with characteristic stoicism, than about the possibility of infection. Gangrene. Sepsis. These are terrible words and may carry a death sentence. For Bates, amputation promises only a slower form of death. He channels his fears into questions about mobility. Will he walk again? Will he walk without assistance? Will he have a limp? The medic cannot answer those questions when finally Bates's turn comes up. Bates does not have that much faith in him. He does not shrink before the rigours of everyday life on the lower stratum of society, nor has he ever recoiled from the dangers of active military service. But he trembles just a little, inwardly, at the unseen menace of infection that may take his life or maim him forever.

Captain Crawley comes looking for him and Bates appreciates this. The officer is responsible for many men and has other duties to attend to. But he comes.

"This means I'll be out of action for a while," Bates tells him, putting a brave face on it.

"We're all going to be out of action before you're up and around again," Crawley says confidently. "We've beaten them soundly. I'm not one for military predictions, Bates, because I'm just not that well informed, but I'd be willing to bet they'll be suing for peace soon. And then we'll all be going home."

"Looking forward to it, sir?"

Crawley looks wistful. "Yes. It's silly to say, but war is a bloody business. Not just bloody, but bloody-minded. It may be necessary sometimes, but it seems to me there ought to be a better way to resolve conflicts. And I am looking forward to seeing my family again. What about you?"

Bates shrugs. "At the moment, I'm only hoping that I'll be able to walk down the gangplank at Southampton unaided."

Crawley smiles encouragingly. "I'm sure you will. And then what? Will you stay in the army?"

Bates certainly hopes he will, hopes this injury hasn't destroyed his career. "This is my life, sir."

Crawley nods soberly. "Yes. So it is." He gets up to go, lingers, and then seems to make up his mind. "Look, Bates, I know what you did on the field. If you hadn't given me warning, we'd be in different places right now. I might not even be here. You would still be whole."

"No, sir," Bates said coolly. "We don't know that. That's a road I won't go down, and neither should you. We act under fire as we do. There's no accounting for it, no excusing or explaining it. It just happens. And here we are."

For a moment it looked as though Crawley might dispute this, and then he simply nods. "I'm grateful, Bates. If I can do anything to facilitate your recovery or to ensure your continued service, please let me know. Letters addressed to Downton Abbey, North Yorkshire, will always find me."

"Thank you, sir."

They part cordially. Bates knows Captain Crawley is sincere. They have shared much these past several months and are as friendly as it is possible to be when one is an aristocrat and an officer and the other a lower class private. But Bates does not expect to see Robert Crawley again. They have walked and will continue to walk very different paths in life. The intersection of the South African War is an aberration that will not be repeated.

Bates hardly has any time to mull over his fleeting acquaintance with this scion of an upper class family. The anxiety he is feeling over his wound, especially as the pain increases, appear to have caught the attention of the medical staff and suddenly. His wound is dressed and he is in an ambulance headed for a stationary hospital in short order. He is bewildered and experiences some consternation when he is passed up the line for more and better treatment. When he is subjected to an imposing diagnostic implement called an "x-ray," he really begins to worry. Is it that bad? Are they going to take his leg off? But he is assured this is the best means available to identify the pieces of shrapnel that have lodged in his knee. But it is only when he is recovering from the surgery to remove them that he knows relief. The leg is still there. The wound is healing wonderfully. Perhaps he will even escape without a limp.

He would describe himself as a perceptive man, but he doesn't put this sum together by himself. It is months before he learns that Captain Crawley, deploying the influence that resides in his aristocratic title of the Earl of Grantham, interceded for him, prompting this rather zealous medical intervention. Whether it was through official channels or merely a casual suggestion made by someone who takes privilege as his due Bates will never know.

No matter how it happens, Bates is grateful. He suspects that Captain Crawley would write this off as a quid pro quo for that episode in the last battle. Then he remembers the other debt of that day and wonders what could ever happen in his life to make him want to call that favour.

Note: This story reflects Bates's point of view which may not always be accurate, either with regard to events or the persons involved in those events.