Chapter 23:

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Wednesday, October 11, 1916

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Eddie groaned and cuffed Private Marshall upside the head. "Stuff it, PBI. Stop picking on a blind man." One of the men in the small ward guffawed. More kept wandering in. There had to be ten enlisted men present already.

"Oi! Respect yer elders, Itchy." Marshall waggled his knitting in Eddie's face, just close enough to constitute assault upon an officer. Itchy felt not the least bit threatened. Marshall was a plump old pussycat.

"Stop waving that fucking yarn at me then, old man."

"Ooh, such language from an officer. Kiss yer mum with that mouth, do yer?" He dangled the knitting so it just brushed Eddie's trous.

Eddie pushed Marshall's arm away with his forearm. "If you keep waving that fucking wool at me, girly, I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." Some of the men began to laugh and nudge each other.

"I wouldn't mess with him if I were you," Jazz said as he came into the room. "We call him Mace for a reason. Man hits like a bloody sledgehammer."

"How'd you know that, then?" Marshall demanded.

"Watched him take down more than his fair share of Krauts in Ypres. Bastard hardly left any for the rest of us."

"Did he?" Marshall's tone conveyed more respect. "Thought he was a bit of a Nance." Ah, and there was the teasing.

Eddie took a cigarette out of his case and waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Kiss my ass." He passed the case to Marshall, who gladly set aside his knitting in favour of a fag.

Jazz crossed his arms. "Mace didn't mouse out when they made him wear the wool, PBI. You'd do well to remember he's hard as fucking steel."

Eddie snorted and passed the cigarette case to the next man. "There are only six, so you'll have to pass them around." He'd learned not to bring too many of his Dunhill's with him to work. Somebody always needed to bum a fag. Admittedly, they were a great way to foster camaraderie, as was Private Barker, who was happily lapping up the attention of a dozen lonely hands.

"Ooh, fanks guv!" one of the men exclaimed. "Vese are ve good-uns."

"You're welcome."

"How long'd you wear the uniform, then?" Marshall asked, saluting him with his fag.

"Three years, or thereabouts." Eddie knocked on Marshall's knee with his bad hand. "Now, Private, would you like to explain why you're threatening a superior officer with whatever shitty item that is that you're knitting? What are you knitting, anyhow, your own personal flag? Or is it a really horrendous pair of ladies' skivvies?"

"Fuck off, Johnny, it's a scarf," Marshall said with obvious pleasure while his mates razzed him. He shifted in his chair. "Seriously, though. Are the upper yobs trying to turn the Old Sweats into pansies? This is woman's work."i

Eddie sobered. He sucked in on his fag and let the smoke exit his nose. "I wish I could knit." The men stopped chatting and he knew they were staring. He took another hasty draw, then, flicked his ash into the nearest ashtray. "I can't do fucking anything but blather at people. It was so bloody cold in Gallipoli. What I wouldn't have given for all my mates to have scarves and gloves, and dry socks."

One of the men near the back cleared his throat quietly. "I was in Gallipoli last month."

"Oh, yeah? What part?" As Eddie listened, a few of the men picked up knitting needles and corking spools.ii

"Didn't make it past the shoreline. Fucking ice cracked when we got off the boat and half my mates went under. My lung collapsed."

"Yeah." Eddie dragged on his fag. "Fucking Turks." He shuddered dramatically.

"Right cock-up that was."

"Indeed." A shaft of light pierced Eddie's eyes. Across the hall from the ward, a man had opened his door. It could only be Jonathan Keller. Eddie waved at his blurry form. "Hey." The man disappeared and the door clicked shut.

"You don't want to talk to him, mate," Ensign Drury said, flicking his ash into the tray. "He's not fit to be amongst us."

"Hm." Eddie exhaled smoke and stubbed out his butt. "It's my job." Not that he'd seen Keller in his three days of employment, mind. But Eddie had to admit he was exceedingly curious. Perhaps it was time to discover if the man had any redeeming qualities. Harris had reminded Eddie daily that the Brass wanted Keller back.

Eddie stretched, picked up his cane and stood. "No time like the present."

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Drury?"

"My gran used to knit using strips of cotton instead of wool."

"Really? Maybe I can help after all."

"Yer going, guv?"

"Can't just sit here all day, can I?" He carefully tapped his way to the door. "If I do, they'll call me a dildo and chuck me out on my ass."

"That'd start a big row," Marshall said.

"Can't fight the Brass. Besides, you're merely in love with my dog. Later, gentlemen." Eddie gave the men a crisp salute, then, used his cane to tap his way across the hall. He left Private Barker with his affectionate admirers. Jazz caught up with Eddie and took hold of his arm.

"You want me to come along?"

"Nah. I need to get a bead on him."

"Okay."

"How's Cap this afternoon?"

"Seems a bit better today."

"Good. You got any fags?"

"Sure."

"I only need one." Eddie took a fag out of the tin Jazz presented. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Have fun in there, eh?"

"Right. Cheerio, mate."

"Pip pip."

︻┳═一

"Hello?" Eddie called softly as he opened the door. "May I come in?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm Eddie. I work here. They call me Itchy. Or Mace."

"Answer the question."

"Thought you might want some company, that's all."

"Well, I don't, so bugger off."

"Fine." Eddie put his hand on the latch but paused. "I can see you're just bogged down with guests. Have a good day."

"Right. There are no good days."

Eddie rolled his eyes but it hurt so he stopped. "It's not so bad here."

"And you'd say that because you work here."

"Actually, I used to be a patient. I was in here for weeks."

"What for?"

"Tried to top myself."

"You're joshing."

"Nope. Want a cigarette?"

Keller paused. "Is this where you hold it out to me and then snatch it back and laugh?"

"Of course not." Eddie walked over to Keller and offered him Jazz's fag. After Keller took it, Eddie offered him his lighter. Keller took a deep drag and blew out his breath. He dropped Eddie's lighter into his hand. Eddie was surprised he let his fingers brush his palm. Keller wasn't as abrasive as he let on.

"That's heaven." He exhaled with obvious pleasure.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"Suit yourself."

Eddie grasped the back of the plain wooden chair and moved it closer to Keller's. For the first time, he was able to get a look at him. Eddie was surprised. Keller had all the wholesome looks of a farm boy. Blond and tan, possibly freckled. Except, he had purple circles under his eyes and one side of his face was swollen up like a balloon.iii

"What happened to your face?"

Keller said nothing.

"Who hit you?" Eddie still didn't get an answer. "The men don't like you."

Keller snorted. "They've no reason to. Especially since Harris thought it would be a good idea to tell a few of them why I'm here."

Eddie shook his head. "The man has good intentions but he's a bit touched. Think he's spent too much time here." Not even a laugh. But what did Keller have to laugh about? "How did it happen?"

Keller paused. "Thought you'd butter me up with a fag, eh?"

"Well, it couldn't hurt, eh?" He rested his elbows on his knees. "They didn't court-marshal you, and they want you back."

"I am never, never going back!" Keller spat.

"Tell me about the tanks."

"Why?"

"The technology is amazing. I wish we'd had them at Beaumont-Hamel."

"You were at Beaumont-Hamel?" Keller asked softly.

"First day of the Battle of the Somme. That's how I lost my sight. Got a few other souvenirs, too. But the worst thing is the guilt."

"Guilt?"

"I was in charge of a platoon. Led my boys over the top. They all perished. And here I am."

"How many?"

"Fifty nine."

"That's twice as many as me, almost. But you did it intentionally."

Eddie pushed away a flare of panic. He'd never expected to be judged. But wasn't it natural that Keller would want to push off his guilt on someone else? Hadn't Eddie done the same thing when he found out about Keller? "I followed orders. Every day, I wish I hadn't. But, you know, my wife would have suffered if I'd refused."

"And this is why you tried to top yourself."

"Yeah."

Keller was quiet for a few moments. He grabbed the pristine ashtray off his small table and stubbed out the butt. "You don't look old enough to be married. Or to have been in charge of a platoon."

"I was one of the most senior officers on the battlefield. The Brass promoted me because there was no one else. And yes, I married young."

"How old?"

"I'm eighteen now."

"Jesus fucking—"

"Don't blaspheme."

Keller crossed his arms. "There is no God."

"Well." Eddie had never felt so ill equipped to deal with a man's upset. "I can see why you would feel that way, so I guess it won't do any good to tell you that we're still here because God's not finished with us yet."

"You guess correctly. The only reason I'm still here is that the sons of bitches won't let me die."

"There's still plenty to live for."

"Are you a dunce? I killed our boys." He punctuated his words with thumps to his chest. "I set back the war effort. I gave the Brass a good reason to stop investing in tanks. I fucked up and I'm not going back to do it again. How can my parents even hold up their heads? I've destroyed everything that matters!"

"Quiet down," Eddie ordered sharply. "A lot of the men here are terrified of noise and you can start helping by not making it worse."

Keller opened his mouth and shut it again. There was another stretch of uncomfortable silence.

"You said you 'gave the Brass a good reason to stop investing in tanks'."

"So what?"

"So, you want them to keep investing in tanks."

"Tanks could be the saving of this war, but only if they make them more efficient and make it possible to see out of them during battle. It's almost impossible to see. I've watched drivers put them upside down in trenches. That's a mess, believe me."

"I bet."

"And don't you romanticize them. Yes, if they plate them in armour, tanks can keep the men inside safe, but it's hell being in there, like being shut up in a can. It's ungodly hot, and reeks of unwashed men. It's crowded and bumpy. There's only a bucket to piss in. They aren't easy to manoeuvre and all the Huns have to do is lob a potato masher through the top and everyone's done for."

"I see."

"Don't patronize me. I didn't even know I'd bombed our own men until after we returned to base. My mates and I were laughing and congratulating ourselves, and then my CO told us. I should have shot myself right then."

"You shouldn't talk that way."

"What? You tried to do it, didn't you?"

"It was a mistake. We can't change the past but we can try to make the future brighter."

"By going back to the Somme and killing more soldiers?" When Eddie didn't respond, Keller huffed triumphantly. "See, you don't believe that shit either."

"War is hell."

"War is evil."

"We do it to protect our way of life and our loved ones."

"Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep nights?"

Eddie was stunned. "Does attacking me make you feel better?"

Keller bowed his head. "I don't know."

"You're alive. That's not random. Maybe you should use your time to figure out why, instead of wallowing in the muck. Harris read your file to me. You've a lot of potential. Already done a lot for a twenty-year-old. Bit of a phenom yourself, eh?"

"How many men do you suppose feel that way about me?"

"How many supporters do you need?"

"The men here won't even talk to me. They punch me where it doesn't show. They take my things. Part of me loves that because I deserve it. And part of me thinks it's not fair."

Eddie stood. "It's not fair. And the only way to stop bullies is to stand up to them. If part of you is grateful for the abuse, you're probably encouraging the men to dislike you. Put that in your pipe and smoke it."

"Do you find me likeable?"

"Hah! Not very. But you're not trying to make a good impression, are you?"

Keller bowed his head. "Will you come back?"

"Are you going to keep being an asshole?"

"I don't know."

"Thanks for the honesty."

"You're welcome." He peeked up at Eddie. "Do you… have any more fags?"

"Sorry. I go through a lot of them here. I'm going to have to start stashing a couple away for emergencies. I could sure use one right now." He took his case out to prove it was empty. "Once the boys see this come out, they're on me like a pack of wild dogs."

"They like you, though, don't they? You don't need tobacco to make friends."

"They like me because I give them no reason to dislike me."

"Well, I may be the exception."

"Hm?"

"I might just hate you."

Eddie laughed aloud. "You're bloody charming, aren't you?"

"And you're a fake. You don't really care about me, you just want to send me back to the front where I can do more damage. So you can fuck yourself. I am done with living."

Eddie crossed his arms, his grin refusing to fade. "You want the truth, Sargent?"

"That would be refreshing."

"I don't think I've ever met a sorrier sack of shit. You are pathetic. Know what? Harris read me your entire file. I admit, I judged you worthless before he told me about your stellar accomplishments. I hated you for what you'd done. But that's not who I am. I like to think the best of people. I'd like to think you didn't want to hurt our own people and that you're sorry for it. But I can see that you're nothing but a coward."

"Wow, what wonderful bedside manner."

"I came in here and offered you respect and kindness, and you threw it in my face. I told Harris I wouldn't be able to help you, and you've proven me right. Best of luck, Sargent Keller. I hope you find peace." He marched for the door.

"Wait!"

Eddie stopped with his hand on the latch. "What?"

"I need help. I'm lost."

Eddie turned and slowly walked back to his chair. "This is your last chance."

"Okay."

He sat down and held out his bad hand. "Hi, I'm Eddie."

Keller shook it but didn't let go. "I'm Jon." They sat quietly for some time, just holding hands. Eddie decided that Keller was more in need of companionship than counsel so he didn't push. And then the door burst open and a man rushed in, making both Eddie and Keller jump.

"Eddie!" Jazz yelled. "They've taken Cap for Electroshock!"

"Holy shit." Eddie sprang to his feet. "Sorry, gotta go."

︻┳═一

"What's in the box?" Mother Biggins asked excitedly, watching the strapping lad carry it up the stairs. It was large enough to hold the contents of two trunks.

"I expect it's mae winter clothes," Isobel said, waving for Mrs. Biggins to follow her up. "I asked mae auntie to send me a few things."

Mother Biggins held her voluminous black skirts wide as she ascended the stairs. "Oh, that's good, that is. You won't have to spend money on new clothes."

"I just hope some of them still fit me. The last time I wore these, I was fifteen." She opened the door to her room for the delivery boy. "Just set it doon. Thank ye."

"Would you like me to open it, ma'am?"

"Yes, please."

He took a small crow and pried off the lid of the crate. Isobel handed him a haypenny. "Thank you, missus." He tipped his cap and hurried out, doubtless hoping to make a couple more deliveries before the end of the day.

Isobel moved aside the white paper in the top of the crate and found something unexpected. Something white. Almost all of her housedresses were darker colours. "What on earth?" She gently lifted the fabric.

"Heavens." Mother Biggins blinked. "Your aunt's sent you a bridal veil."

Isobel shook her head. "I cannae understand why. Eddie and I haff been married over a year." She set down the almost floor-length piece of lace on the blue chair and took out the next item. "Oh, my. What can she be thinking?"

The Victorian wedding dress took up half the room in the crate. Underneath it was an envelope addressed to Isobel in Aunt Maggie's spidery hand. Isobel set the dress aside and tore open the missive. A stack of pound notes and a small, embossed greeting card fell out. Isobel set those items on the table and unfolded the sheet of letter paper that had been wrapped around them. After she read it, she began to laugh. The laugh sounded bitter even to her.

"What does it say?" Mother Biggins asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Isobel sat in her usual chair and waved the letter. "Ye'd think I neffer told her aught about the wedding. She disnae even begin it with a friendly salutation. How am I gang tae tell Eddie? He'll be sae fashed. Here, read it."

Mother Biggins accepted the single sheet of paper and walked to the window so she might read it in the best light.

Isobel,

You cannot imagine the shock and distress the news of your marriage has brought your family. And now, after four years of rebelliousness, you write to ask me to send you your things. Truthfully, most of the dresses were woefully out of fashion and I disposed of them to the servants two years ago, keeping only enough to clothe you temporarily should you have returned to us, at which time I should have provided a new wardrobe. That duty now falls to your husband. Of course, your other possessions are packed and await your arrival.

I can only assume that your hasty marriage was accomplished out of necessity. I hope, at least, it took place within the sanctity of the Holy See.

Mother Biggins frowned. " 'I shall expect you and Mr. Masen to return to France," she looked up to gawp at Isobel, whose eyes were bright with tears, "where you will present yourselves before the nearest priest for a proper wedding. You shall document the marriage with photographs and bring them to me personally in London. Your husband and you shall present yourselves as guests of honour at a formal wedding party. You will find the invitation enclosed.

" 'The funds necessary to alter this gown and buy suitable attire for your soldier are enclosed. I can only hope that he can be made presentable.' " Mother Biggins gestured with the letter. "She doesn't even sign it with a pleasantry."

Isobel coughed and wiped her eyes. "I didnae anticipate this level disrespect. Eddie grew up in a house far finer than that of Aunt Maggie. I'm offended."

"As well you should be." She handed the letter back to Isobel. "Perhaps you should sever the relationship."

"Yes, but I want mae things. I have mementos of mae father, and books that I cherish, and mae gran's locket. Evidently, the only way I'm going to get them back is to subject Eddie to an audience with Aunt Maggie."

"I expect he's more than up to it, my dear. I wouldn't worry."

︻┳═一

Eddie walked straight into the therapy room with Jazz on his heels just as Emmett cried out. "What the fuck is going on here?" he barked.

A nurse stepped into his path. "Sir, you can't come in here."

"The hell I can't. Where's Harris?"

"I'm Dr. Morton. Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Masen. I have authority over this patient." Emmett cried out again. "What do you think you're doing?"

"As you can see," Morton said, guiding Eddie over to the tall cot, "this man's limbs move. He simply must be convinced that he can walk."

Emmett stank of sweat, fear and shit. "This ends now," Eddie growled. "This man is mentally unfit to handle this treatment."

"He's deluded. Thinks he can't walk, so he can't."

Eddie flexed his fists. "I know the file inside out. He's emaciated and his muscles are severely atrophied. He'll walk when he's gained weight and strength."

"He'll walk when he faces the fact that he can. Besides, he doesn't eat enough to sustain a man of his height. Refuses food."

"That's not true."

"Water," Emmett moaned. "Help. Please." Jasper slipped up to the stretcher and took Emmett's hand.

"Who gave you authority to treat him?" Eddie demanded.

"He went behind Harris's back," Jazz said. "Harris told Cap this morning that this wouldn't happen."

Eddie held his temper with difficulty. "Is that true?"

Morton crossed his arms. "I have been authorized by the hospital director. We need men with McCarty's expertise at the front."

"He'd be worthless at the front. Look at him shake. I served with this man and he's not a malingerer, he's a hero. But he's physically spent. You need to concentrate your efforts on men who will benefit from them."

"I've worked wonders with men like him."

Eddie took a step closer to the doctor, who should have been intimidated if he'd been smart. "If you've rehabilitated malingerers, I congratulate you. This man is a physical wreck. He's an invalid."

"He's capable of walking."

"In time, with nurturing, he will walk again."

"With coddling? We don't have the luxury of time. Experienced officers are—"

"We're done here." Eddie nudged his friend. "Hale, get him out."

Morton grabbed Jasper's wrist. "Don't you dare touch those electrodes! They're fragile."

"Hale, that's an order," Eddie snapped.

"Yes, Sir!"

"I outrank you here, Mr. Masen."

"I suggest you take it up with Director Humphries."

"If you break my equipment, I'll take it out of your pay."

"Your only other option is to remove the electrodes yourself."

Morton shouldered Eddie and Jazz aside. He carefully collected his wires and clips. All Eddie could pay attention to was the fact that Emmett was lying in shit.

He pointed at the nurse, then at Cap. "Clean him up!"

"Of course," the nurse said.

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Yes, I know I'm mean. I know you've waited forever. Sorry, it's been nuts around here. Surgery for my daughter, appointments for everyone, a planned angioplasty for my son, and a terminally ill BiL. Plus, I've published a short story and it became a bestseller on Amazon. Oh, and I've sent Part One of Cats & Dogs to my editor. Not sure when it will come out. However, it's 40K and there'll be a Part Two of similar length. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I'm so thankful for all of you. 3

i Yob/yobbo: a mid-19th Century British word for boy that evolved by the early 20th Century to mean a rude, noisy, aggressive youth.

ii Corking spools, also known as French knitting, are a simple empty thread spool with four small nails hammered into the top. Wool is wrapped around with the tail dangling down the center hole, and then a hook or fingers are used to loop the yarn over the nails. A tube of knitted yarn exits the bottom. People who aren't able to knit can often cork as it only requires dexterity in one hand and is a very simple movement. The corked tubes can then be sewn together to form hats, mittens, etc. Many kids learn to cork. During WW2, my mother remembers the neighbourhood kids sitting down to cork, and even the boys would do it. Everyone with free time and useful hands was put to work for the war effort.

iii Many cultures used animal intestine to make toy balloons, going back to antiquity, including the Aztecs and ancient Egyptians. Professor Michael Faraday made the first India rubber (gum) balloons in 1824 for use in his experiments with hydrogen. Pioneer rubber manufacturer Thomas Hancock introduced toy rubber balloons in 1825. The toy had to be created by the purchaser, using a bottle of rubber solution and a condensing syringe. The owner would blow up the balloon with the syringe or straw that was included. J.G. Ingram manufactured vulcanized balloons in 1847. They were the prototype of modern toy balloons. Toy and decorative balloons used plain air or hydrogen until 1931. Hydrogen balloons were exceedingly flammable and caused many injuries and fires, leading many locations to ban them. In 1931, helium replaced hydrogen.︻┳═一