A/N: The version of the chapter title song by Neil Young, sound effects and all, is recommended.
The following storey contains adult themes and depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Blowin' In The Wind
Tuesday, August 4, 1914
Mary kept glancing around, worried that she had missed Matthew's arrival at the garden party. Every new arrival was scrutinized and found wanting. Where was he? In his last letter, received a fortnight ago, he said he was coming. Where was he? There should have been two more letters since then. Since Sybil's ball they had been exchanging weekly letters. Why hadn't he written? Where was he? Had he been injured in all this training he had told her they were doing, or worse killed? Where was he? This week was supposed to be their honeymoon. She wanted him. She needed him. She felt like stamping her foot.
She walked over to Isobel. "Have you heard from Matthew?" This was only the fourth time in the last six hours she had asked. Isobel shook her head. Mary could tell her mother-in-law was anxious as well.
"No, not all" Isobel reached out and took Mary's hand. "I'm sure he's OK. Something must have come up. He'll let us know what's happening"
Just then they heard Robert calling out for everyone's attention. They turned towards him. He was waving a piece of paper over his head.
Sunday, August 9, 1914
On the tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time Company C of the Second Battalion of The Manchester Regiment, part of the British Expeditionary Force, landed in France. Second Lieutenant Matthew Crawley was at war.
Saturday, August 29, 1914
Matthew watched the rabbit, maybe a hare?, through his binoculars. It was not eating. It was alert, long ears twitching. Finally it could not stand the tension any further and it hopped off. Run rabbit run Matthew thought, if I was a rabbit I'd run too. He shifted the focus of the binoculars up the road. Nothing distinct yet but he could see a cloud of dust in the distance.
He had been walking backwards from Mons almost two weeks and two hundred miles now. He and Sergeant Harper were the only members of Company C still left. All the rest were dead, wounded (and it took two able bodied men to take a casualty back, stretcher bearers who did not always return to the fight), captured or possibly deserted, although he didn't know to where anything bigger than a rabbit could run.
Company C and Company D had been tasked with acting as the rearguard on one of the secondary roads, cow trails really, which paralleled the main roads heading west from Mons. A Bavarian regiment had been tasked as their opposition, acting as the vanguard of the German secondary advance.
The two companies had played leap frog. One harassing the Germans while the other retreated. But the constant irregular fighting had taken its toll.
He and Harper were supposed to meet up with the remnants of Company D in this little village, 'Saint Pierre and the goats' or some such but when they had arrived twenty minutes ago they found it deserted. Deserted that is except for a solitary Royal Engineer, Lt. Thomas Silverfish, as he introduced himself, who was busily wiring the bridge across the small tributary of the Marne which flowed past the village.
Matthew asked the obvious question "Where in the hell is everyone?"
"They were ordered to abandon their positions here and fall back farther west."
Matthew asked the obvious follow up question "So why in the hell are you still here?"
"I thought I'd blow this bridge first."
"Well don't let us stop you. Blow it and let's get out of here. There's a horde of Bavarians heading this way with unfriendly intent."
"Thing is I need an hour to do the job properly. I want to drop the bridge into the river so it can't be repaired. Then they'll have to throw up a temporary bridge, which should slow them down for three – four hours."
Matthew looked at Harper who shook his head. "We can give you forty minutes easy, it'll take them that long to get here. The last twenty minutes will be iffy. I've only got a drum and a half left for my Lewis gun. Sgt. Harper here has what? Seven rounds left for his sniper rifle and maybe two dozen for his Lee-Enfield."
"Sniper rifle? Where'd you get that? I didn't know we issued them" Lt. Silverfish asked.
"No, but the German Army does" answered Harper "They lent me this one for a trial"
"I see. Spoils of war eh? Anyway I better get back to work. Any time you can buy me would be appreciated" and the Engineer went back to running his wires.
Matthew looked at Harper. They both shrugged at the same time. "Well let's see if we can round up something to eat while we wait."
-0-
Matthew sat in the easternmost house of the village watching the grey column march up the road. Any time now they would be Harper's range. He was in the top of the church tower. Seven shots, hopefully seven kills, then he was going to scamper back to the bridge and cover Matthew's retreat. He was under strict orders to blow his whistle as soon as Lt. Silverfish was ready to blow the bridge and then Matthew was out of here. Matthew watched through his binoculars and waited.
He was trying to remember what the German was for field mice, feldmaus maybe? The German troops certainly looked like a column of field mice marching up the road in their dusty grey uniforms He saw the only officer riding a horse pitch out of the saddle. Then he heard the crack of Harper's rifle. One. The troops scattered into the barley crop on either side of the road. A couple of the men remained standing waving their arms at the men hiding in the crop. Sergeants probably, trying to rally their men. Matthew knew what they were yelling. Get up. Charge into the village. You're safer there. You're going to be slaughtered out here in the open. Get up! Go! And they were right - if Matthew had a Vickers machine gun and a squad of men at his disposal. If only. Two of the gesturing men went down in quick succession. Two. Three. Kill the senior officers and the sergeants, leave the lieutenants trying to run things. The famous German discipline was kicking in, the troops were up and coming on the double. Four, Five and Six. Matthew wondered if he had missed one then Seven went down. Now Harper would be charging down the steps of the tower and then heading to the bridge. His turn. He put his binoculars back in their case. He had asked Harper once how he knew which of his targets were officers. Harper had replied that he just shot at anyone who had a binocular case around his neck.
Matthew rested the barrel of the Lewis gun on the window sill. Short bursts. Start low on the left side of the line because the barrel would ride up and to the right. Fire and move. Fire and move. There were three windows on the east side of the house. Left window then middle window and then double back to the left window because those methodical Germans would be expecting him to pop up in the right window. Then out the back door to the next house and repeat as required.
Matthew lost track of the time. He was in his fourth house, down to his last half drum of ammunition, starting to worry about being flanked when he heard the whistle. One last burst and then he was zigzagging down the street heading for the bridge. He could feel rather than hear bullets zinging past him, something tugged at his left arm and then he was across and he could see Harper motioning for him to hit the ground. He dove with the Lewis gun cradled in his arms. He hit with an oomph and then the shock wave hit him and he was enveloped in a cloud of dust. He felt someone grab his arm and drag him up and the next thing he knew he was leaning against the wall of a building trying to get his breath back.
Matthew heard someone laughing.
It was Lt. Silverfish. "God, I love blowing things up" he cackled.
Behind him Harper made a circular motion with his finger against the side of his head.
Matthew nodded. "Let's get out of here". And they did.
Tuesday, October 13, 1914
Matthew leaned against his pack trying to write a letter to Mary. He was dead tired. He could barely think let alone write. What to say? In the past two and half months he had fought in three major battles, marched 250 miles into Belgium and then retreated almost all the way back and to top it all off had helped dig up more of France than every badger that had ever existed had ever done.
He couldn't tell her about the killing. He had killed; almost been killed; saw men killed in every way men could be killed. Before the first time he had gone into action he had worried he wouldn't be able to kill; now he worried he could kill so easily. He did not enjoy it, he took no pleasure in it, it had to be done and he did it. Unlike some other men he did not obsess about it. For some reason he remembered Cousin Violet's old Siamese cat, Turandot. Mary and her sisters had been amazed how the cat had taken to him. He now realized why. One killer had recognized another. Professional courtesy. He sighed.
A shadow fell across his page. He looked up. It was Major, no Colonel, Flashman. Matthew got up on his feet and saluted.
There was no long drawn greeting from the Colonel "Crawley go find Sgt. Harper and the two of you meet me in my office" he waved vaguely at the chateau in the distance "in an hour. You two are working for me now" and then he was gone.
An hour later Matthew and Harper were standing at attention in front of Col. Flashman's desk. He motioned for them to sit down. He got right into it. "Now that you've had a taste of trench warfare I'm sure you will be happy to learn that the two of you have been transferred to an unit I am running for Section One of Military Intelligence. MI1 breaks German codes" He looked at them like that explained everything.
It didn't. "Begging the Colonel's pardon" started Matthew "but what would MI1 want with us? I really can't see us counting the number of 'e's in intercepted messages"
The Colonel smiled at him like he had just spelled the last word correctly in a spelling bee. "You are correct. It would be a waste of your particular talents to have you two toiling in a back room somewhere over letter frequencies. Happily there is a faster way to break German codes. I'm going to have you, and a band of cutthroats I am recruiting to assist you, steal code books from the Germans."
Both Matthew and Harper stared at the Colonel. They both thought 'Steal? That means we're going to have to...' They both concluded that maybe trench warfare wasn't that bad after all.
Thursday, October 29, 1914
Mary and Isobel were comparing Matthew's letters to them. These were the second letters they had received him since the start of the war. The first ones were short ones, scribbled by him just after he had landed in France, basically apologizing for not making it to Downton for the garden party 'but he had been called away on business'.
Isobel was grateful he lived, he could write a letter, he was alive.
Mary wanted more. She waved her letter at Isobel. "We know there have been battles, there has been the Great Retreat. It's been in all the papers and he makes it sound like he 'and the lads' have been on some kind of bucolic hike through the French countryside. 'He missed the worst of it.' What does that mean? How bad was the action he was in? What does he mean he's been transferred? To where?" She huffed.
Isobel patted Mary on the arm. "He doesn't want you to worry"
"But I do. I want to comfort him and it's hard to do that when he is so cryptic".
"You'll be able to comfort him in person when he gets some leave. Whenever that is; it doesn't look good for Christmas though."