Chapter 22:

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Monday, October 9, 1916

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"How was your night?" Eddie asked as Bella poured hot tea for the four of them. Emmett didn't respond. He was staring off into space. Eddie tapped his hand and repeated his question but Cap didn't show any sign of having heard him.

"He had wicked nightmares," Jazz said.

"Blast. I was hoping both of you would get a better rest here than at the hospital."

Jazz took a careful sip of his tea, and licked his lip. "It was a wonderful evening. It's just… standing up for us took a lot out of him."

"I know." Eddie reached across the table and took Emmett's hand. "Cap?" He gave it a firm squeeze. "Cap, you're not going back to the war, remember?"

Emmett returned the pressure of the handshake. "M'I going west?"

"No, sir. You're a Blighty like us. We're all staying right here."

"Grand slam's coming. They told us."[i] His tone was eerily flat.

"Maybe, but we won't be part of it."

"Dunno what's real."

"Buck up. We all feel that way sometimes. Do you know where we are?"

"Mumma's table. Don't like…"

"What is it?"

Emmett pointed toward the corner with a shaking hand. "There's a Turk over there."

Eddie wished he could see what Emmett was pointing at. "Sir?"

"Over there." Emmett swallowed hard. "Hiding beside the fire."

Bella tut-tutted sympathetically. "Tis nae a Turk, my dear. Tis just Papa Biggins's trench coat. Mother Biggins put it beside the fireplace to dry."

"Heathen devil's spying."

Bella marched over to the hooks on the wall and fetched down Papa Biggins's muddy coat. She delivered it to Emmett, who took hold of it and gave it a good inspection.

"You sure there's no Turk?" he whispered.

"Quite certain. And should one dare to stick his ugly mush in here, I shall shoot him." She returned the trench coat to its place.[ii]

Eddie couldn't help but smile. "With what shall you shoot him, dear Bella?"

"Why, with Papa Biggins's elephant gun, of course."

"Fanny Adams," Emmett murmured reverently.

"Does he really have an elephant gun?" Jazz wanted to know.

"Indeed, he does. And ye need not go looking for it. He keeps it locked up."

"Golly." Jazz hid behind his hair. "Be nothing left of a Turk if she shot him with that."

"Break her shoulder," Emmett warned. "Kicks back."

"I doubt it," Eddie said. "I think she'd do just fine."

"She is the cat."[iii] Bella plucked up her chef's rings, shook the frypan and tipped its contents into a cloth-lined basket, which she delivered to the table. "Now, my dears, I hope ye'll make quick work of this breakfast. We need tae get tae the hospital soon."

"Hot crumpets," Jazz said with relish.

"With butter." Bella set down the small dish on the table. "Fall in, gentlemen."

The crumpets were delightfully chewy and perfectly soggy with sweet butter. The quartet gobbled up eleven, leaving only two for Mother Biggins to eat at her leisure. A hot buttered crumpet and strong tea make everything better. As they rose from the table, they were all still licking melted butter from their fingers.

After some debate, Jazz and Cap had decided not to wear any of their new things back to the hospital lest they be lost. When Jazz carried Cap outside to his wheelchair before sunrise, Bella thought it necessary to wrap him in a blanket, for the autumn air was chilly. Eddie took hold of her arm and murmured to her before she could dash upstairs.

"Not an army blanket."

"Should I take one from Bernard's room?"

"Yes. You can bring it back after we take the men back to their room."

"All right."

Eddie shivered slightly as he strolled back over to his friends. "We're going to have to get winter clothes soon."

"Yes." Jazz grasped the push-bar of Cap's chair. "God help the poor bastards in the Somme."

︻┳═一

At oh-six hundred, Eddie sank onto his usual chair in Harris's office. The doctor was pacing, which normally meant he was disposed to be nervous. Eddie waited calmly for the man to get to the point. Finally, on his twelfth pass, Harris cleared his throat.

"There's a…" He stopped, seemingly unable to decide how to proceed. After a few beats, he cleared his throat to try again. "We have a very terrible case arriving. I think I shall need your help with it, but if it becomes too much for you, you must tell me immediately. You don't have the training…"

Eddie shifted his cane to rest against his thigh. "Acknowledged. What is the man's difficulty?"

"Suicidal."

"Ah."

Harris waved his hand dismissively. "That's not why I need you."

"All right."

Sighing, Harris pulled his chair around the desk so he could sit close enough for Eddie to see him. "What do you know about tanks?"

Eddie's forehead crinkled. "Tanks? Water tanks?"

"No, tanks as in secret weapons."

A laugh escaped him. "They're certainly a secret from me."

Harris lifted a shoulder. "I thought you might know something of them, since you're an officer."

Eddie shook his head. "I'll tell you a military secret. No field officer below the rank of major knows a damn thing that's going on out there. Some Brass pass a plan down the line and hopefully by the time it's put in action, it still resembles the original idea. It's like that parlour game where one person whispers something in the ear of the next, and by the time the last person to hear it recites what he heard, it's a totally different message. Do you understand?"

"But that's…"

"Folly?" Eddie tapped his cane. "The idea is to make sure that as few people as possible know the details. That way, most of the soldiers can't spill their guts under torture."

"Torture?"

Eddie laughed without humour. "Tell me about the tanks, Doctor."

"I needn't tell you to keep the information hush-hush."

"Naturally."

"I include Mrs. Masen in this warning. Tell no one."

"Is this a matter of national security?"

"It goes farther than that. The outcome of the war may depend upon it."

Eddie's jaw dropped. He snapped it shut and clutched his cane. "You may rely upon my discretion."

"Tanks are like lorries with armoured plating. They look rather like turtles. Churchill calls them battleships for crossing dry land."

Eddie leaned forward. "Why are they called tanks?"

"That's the code word for them. If any message was intercepted by the Germans, it was hoped that they'd think our armies were moving water tanks around."

"Smart."

"Yes. They know what tanks are now, of course, as they've met them on the battlefield. So the idea is to drive the tanks right up through the enemy lines. They're very heavy and can crush trenches by driving over them, and they can be heavily armed."

"That's fantastic! They're sure to bring the Krauts to their knees."

"Well," Harris demurred, "they're still prototypes. Haig wanted to use them at Beaumont-Hamel but they weren't ready.[iv] They're still not as effective as one would wish. Machine guns can penetrate their hulls and the shrapnel is dangerous to the crews. The men are supposed to wear chain mail hoods to keep them from being blinded. But the bigger issue is that the gunners can't see out of the tanks very well. Visibility in the battlefield is almost nonexistent. Which brings us to our present problem."

"The new patient."

"Yes. On September 15th, a battle began at Flers-Courcelette, near Pozières. The British sent in the tanks. Guess it scared Fritz pretty badly, but not enough to make him turn tail and run."

"Shame."

"Agreed. Well, as I said, it's very hard to see out of a tank during battle."

"It's hard to see on the battlefield anyway."

"Which is why our patient has not been court-marshaled and shot."

"Uh-oh."

"Precisely. The man has received a lot of specialized training and the higher-ups want him back."

Dread oozed into Eddie's stomach. "What happened?"

"This fellow—Gunnery Sargent Jonathan Keller—is the best gunner of the lot. He'd had a lot of successful hits that day, until everything went bad."

Eddie nodded. "Please continue."

"He saw a large group of men near the German front lines, so he fired a pretty substantial shell at them."

"But?"

"They were British. He killed thirty men and maimed a dozen more."

Eddie steepled his fingers in front of his nose and gasped for breath. Tears burned his eyes. He didn't know whether he was horrified for Keller or by him.

"Keller is Canadian."

Red hot fury blazed through Eddie's chest and left him shaking his head adamantly. "I can't do this."

"I thought you, of all people, would know how it felt to instigate the deaths of many."

"Are you blaming me now?" He was on his feet, raising his voice. "You told me I shouldn't blame myself for following orders!"

"I don't fault you. You were following orders and you had no choice in it. And Keller was also following orders. He simply made a tragic mistake."

Now, Eddie was the one pacing. He shook his fist at his boss. "I am nothing like him. Nothing!"

"But—"

"Do you realize… how fucking hard…" He blinked away hot tears. "I tried to preserve the lives of my men?" He held up his reliquary ring so Harris could see it, then pulled his hand back to his chest and covered it protectively with his left. "I would give anything to have them back. I would sell my soul to have Dildo back, and he wasn't even likeable." He splayed his arms. "Sending fifty-nine boys over the top was no careless accident, Doctor. I agonized over it for what felt like forever. It ripped my heart out." He pressed his memorial band to his lips. "I loved them. They're all dead and there's nothing I can do about it. There's no turning back the clock."

"That's what Keller said."

"Go to hell!" Keller didn't even know the men he slaughtered. Eddie sprinted across the room and argued with the door. He fled out the main door into teeming rain and slithered down the steps. To think he had been optimistic about the job! He wanted to quit. Would Bella be disappointed? He'd be giving up an awful lot of money. But was it worth his peace of mind?

His feet automatically carried him to his favourite haunt. The cold stone was wet upon the backs of his thighs. He traced the face of his casket ring.

"I'm sorry," he said for the millionth time. "I didn't mean to be hateful. If I could only have you back, it would be different. I never meant for you to kill yourself. I don't blame you, I blame myself. I never dreamed you were so miserable that you'd blow yourself up rather than give your life for your country. It's my fault you hated me. I earned it. But just because I wasn't patient with you doesn't mean I didn't love you just as much as I loved the others. What I wouldn't give… to have you here."

He pulled his rosary from his pocket and began to pray in the rain, not caring that his new suit was quite soaked through. He wasn't quite sure what he was praying for, but knew the Spirit would carry pain to God that he couldn't put into words.

There's not a damn thing I can do to turn back the clock.

I can't fix any of that mess.

I wish to God I could bring them all back.

How will I ever surrender this guilt? It's impossible.

Eddie jumped and dropped his rosary as a warm hand settled on the back of his shoulders. Harris picked it up and handed it back, and Eddie wiped it off and tucked it safely into his pocket. Harris sat down beside him on the bench, sharing his large black umbrella in addition to his sheltering arm. Raindrops fell on the silk with the verisimilitude of bullets penetrating flesh and Eddie shivered.

"Please forgive me, Lieutenant."

"I'm not like Keller. I am not careless."

"I know that, Eddie. I spoke carelessly. I didn't mean to imply you were anything less than a consummate soldier."

"Then why do you think I have things in common with this piece of trash? Why do you think I could help him? And why do you think I would want to?"

"Well, you know the old saying. There but for the grace of God go I." Harris gave Eddie a companionable nudge. "I just thought you might be able to relate to the fellow. He was an excellent soldier, too, you know. A hero, like you. And young, like you. Now he can't change what happened no matter how much he longs to. He didn't mean to harm his allies and his life has been nothing but horrors since."

"Is he injured?"

"No. Just mentally unstable."

"I don't know if I can care about him, Doctor."

"You believe that your decision to follow orders was a tragic mistake."

"And you think I can find common ground because he made a tragic mistake?"

"Yes. Will you forgive me for my mistakes?"

Eddie rubbed his chest. "You wounded me. I forgive you, but I don't know if I'll be able to forget it. I thought you respected me."

"I do. I admire you immensely. But I didn't express myself well."

Eddie shook his head and laughed bitterly. " 'But the tongue can no man tame. It is an unruly member, full of deadly poison. With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness'."[v]

"The older we get, the harder it is to tame the tongue."

"Yes. I don't think it's possible to achieve. Not only do we curse others, we curse ourselves."

"So, can you curse this poor sod without becoming a hypocrite?"

Eddie grimaced. "No. But it's bloody hard to be a soldier and love your enemies."

"If the war ended today, would you hate your enemies?"

"Probably."

"Well, that's honest," he said cheerfully.

"It's necessary to dehumanize them. When one is cold, wet and bone tired, if one starts to think that Fritz is wishing he was tucked up in bed at home with his wife, one hesitates long enough to be impaled on his bayonet. There can be no mercy. It's… dispassionate."

"I have seen you express pity for your enemies."

Eddie gritted his teeth. "It depends upon the enemy."

"You surprise me."

"Some men belong in hell, Doctor. And I would be glad to speed them on their way."

"The Hippocratic Oath says to do no harm."

"Does it say to prosper the wicked?"

"No. But your own creed says, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged'."

Eddie shook his head slightly. "The Bible says not to seek vengeance, too, but I would be a liar if I said I haven't done it. I'm not Jesus, Dr. Harris. No man is perfect."

"Which brings us back to Keller."

Eddie sighed. "I'll think about it."

Harris slapped him on the back. "Good man. Now, might we go inside? My backside's getting numb."

"You're soft," Eddie laughed. "You'd never have made it in Gallipoli."

︻┳═一

When Eddie went up to his old room, he found Cap huddled up in bed and Jazz playing solitaire near the window. Eddie's bed was gone so he placed his borrowed hospital blues on the foot of Jasper's bed and stooped to untie his boots.

"What happened to you?" Jazz demanded. "You look like a drowned rat."

"I was outside." He peeled off his sodden jacket and unhooked his suspenders.

"Obviously."

"I'm stuck wearing blues today." His trews hit the floor with a whap.

"Don't they bother your allergies?"

"Flannels are superior to wools. I don't know why." He stripped off the rest of his kit and Jazz threw a towel at him.

"Here."

"Thanks."

"So, how's your first day?"

"I've already told Harris to go to hell, and I'm soaking wet." He put on his borrowed slippers.

"That good, eh?"

"Yep." Nevertheless, he felt better in the warm, dry clothes. "How you doing, Cap?" Emmett began to retch.

"Couple of the doctors used the word regression," Jazz murmured. Eddie saw red. He marched over to Emmett's cot and gave him a sharp pinch on the arm.

"No!" Eddie snapped. The captain was so surprised that he stopped fussing. Eddie latched onto his shoulders. "You are not going to do this, sir," he hissed. "You're better than this. I saw your strength last night. You promised me you'd get strong again, and be here for me and Jazz, and Mother Biggins. You gave me your word that you'd eat and exercise and be home for Christmas."

"They wanna give me electric shock."

"To the head?" Eddie was agog.

"To the spine. Doctor said it'll get me fit for duty."

"Being able to walk does not make you fit for duty. It's bull. They think they're being encouraging but they don't know shit."

"Don't wanna get court-marshalled, Mace."

"Emmett, you have to trust me."

"Sonny, I'm trying."

"I don't know why we survived when others didn't, Cap, but God obviously isn't finished with us yet."

"I'm scared."

"Me, too."

"Me, three," Jazz said.

"One minute at a time, okay? Let's try not to look too far ahead."

"There's enough trouble in the present without looking to the future," Jazz said.

Eddie shook his head. "I'll say."

Cap rolled toward Eddie and tucked his hand under his cheek. "Flannel and fleece. Sissy knows all about Esmond. Sells bunny blankets."[vi]

"Your sister makes Bunny Esmond baby blankets?" Eddie asked.

"I didn't know that," Jazz said.

"Doesn't make them, she sells them. At the Bay."

"Wow," Jazz said. "Your sister's a shop girl at Hudson's Bay?"

"Yeah."

"I went to that store once. It was sure something to see."

"Yeah."

"When was the last time you heard from her?" Eddie asked.

"Two weeks."

"Do you write back?"

"No."

"You should write back," Jazz murmured. "She's your sister."

Cap pushed himself upright. "Okay, I know. What do I say?"

"Tell her it's been hard but you're getting better," Jazz suggested. "And tell her about us and Mumma Biggins."

"Okay." Emmett opened the drawer beside his bed and took out a sheet of paper.

"And tell her you're sorry you haven't written," Jazz said.

Eddie stood up and stretched. "I'll leave you to it."

"Okay."

"When you're done, give it to me and I'll mail it for you."

"Won't you get in trouble?" Jazz asked. "We're supposed to give our letters to Harris."

"Do you want Harris reading them?"

"Uh, no."

"See you at lunch." Eddie gathered his wet things and went off in search of Katie, for Dr. Harris had told him that she might hang his clothes by a fire to dry.

Eddie wasn't ready to meet Jonathan Keller, but in time he thought he might be able to handle it. Meanwhile, he had a job, and a lot of other unexpected blessings. There had to be a couple of men who needed to hear that their lives weren't over. He would ask Katie where to begin.

[i] Grand Slam: British trench slang for an impending attack or battle.

[ii] Mush: common slang in 1915 meaning face.

[iii] She is the cat: a phrase indicating that it is impolite to talk about someone who is present without naming them.

[iv] Haig was more than a little miffed that the 49 prototype tanks promised to him weren't battle-ready in time for July 1, 1916. However, they were clunky, hard to manoeuvre, could be tipped over, sunk in mud or blown up, and weren't impervious to machine gun fire. As well, on many occasions, tank gunners mistook their targets and wiped out friendlies. Still, they were regarded as a marvelous innovation and adjustments were speedily made to improve them. For example, a chicken wire cage was placed over the top hatch so grenades couldn't be lobbed inside—a simple but masterful tweak. By mid-1917, the world's concept of modern warfare changed forever due to evolved tanks and aircraft. The Germans did not develop their own tanks until after capturing one made by the British. They made some deadly and terrifying tanks of their own, though. The first German tank, the A7V of 1918, was referred to as Sturmpanzerwagen (Storm-armoured-vehicles). By WWII, German tanks were simply referred to as Panzers, which were frighteningly deadly machines.

[v] James 3:8-9, NKJ

[vi] Esmond was a very famous blanket mill in Springfield, Rhode Island from 1906-1948. Their biggest selling items were baby blankets and miniature dolly blankets of wonderfully soft fleece. Esmond's marketing was very canny. They wrote a little paperback storybook about a Bunny named Esmond who's tricked out of his fur by some wily foxes and ends up wearing a blanket that's much softer than his real fur. The book was distributed for free—but always nearby a store that carried the Esmond Bunny Blankets. When I was a child, my mother gave me her baby blankets and 1930's dolly blankets to play with. I still remember having the box, which is quite collectible now. The dolly blankets survived to be passed on to my own children, but I don't think any of the items are still around. However, I still have my wee Bunny Esmond book from the 1930's.

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My Wednesdays have gotten away from me. Since I've disappointed you a couple of times this month, I thought we'd do this today.

I just got back from Vegas and Red Rock Canyon was awesome. Fall is on its way to Canada. In November, I plan to release Cats & Dogs. Since part of the proceeds will go to pediatric cancer research, I'd appreciate any buzz you can give me. The cover reveal is only a couple of weeks away.

Enjoy the last days of August.

Xoox Jess