A Longer War 26

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CHAPTER 26
“LEFF RAH LEFF RAH LEFF RAH HALT! CAP—OFF!”

With a clash of stamping boots Bob was marched in, halted and then sat with his advocate, our little accountant Captain Flanagan. He in turn gave Bob a nod, as my own little crew sat awaiting our turn.

‘Crew’. That was a deeper thought, for it brought back memories of what that word had meant such a short time before, when the only thing that had stood between us and a very painful death had been our mates, our crew. That was how it felt right then, our little crew of four ready to fight for the fifth member. I had rung Cyril at the shop early that morning, for I knew exactly what time he was up and at his ovens, and brought him up to date with what was about to happen.

“Aye, Gerald. We’re right proud of you, son, your loyalty, aye? Honour, that’s what they call it in the stories. Not turning your back on a pal, that’s what we say, and that’s the mark of a proper man. Happen… look, what is he going to do if you manage to get him off charge? I mean, even with, like, well. They won’t be happy with him in Regiment, will they? He got anywhere to go?”

“What are you saying, Cyril?”

“Well, Gerald. Well… look. I know he’s a shirtlifter and all that, aye? So do folk up here. They know what you’re doing, and who for, and why, but there’s some as doesn’t understand that last bit, the why. Happen there’s some of us who do bloody understand, and I were having a word, like, with your Dad and a couple of others, lads who know what it’s about, like. He’s got place up here if he needs it, afterwards, like”

“For a, well, for someone like him? You’d do that?”

“For the man that brought our lad back safe, aye. Debts are there to be paid, son. Pay them we will, and in full”

I couldn’t help asking myself what I had ever done to deserve my friends, my family, but I had said the right things to Cyril, the manly things, before we set off for Bob’s day.

It went the way these things do, if my experience of them was anything to go by, limited as it was to films and stories from old hands. I missed so much of the prosecution’s side of things, sat as I was outside awaiting my turn, but when it came I marched in as sharply as I could Double stamp to attention, feel the boots hit the ground. Salute so hard my hand quivered. Cap off.

“Stand easy, Private Barker. Or would you prefer to be addressed as the civilian you now are?”

I was astonished at the phrase that came to my mind, because I had never used such a word. Fuck you, you bastard. Tread carefully, Gerald.

“I am proud of my service, sir. I also believe that I earned my right to wear this uniform, of which I am also proud”

The Judge Advocate smiled, just a little, at that. “Very well, Private Barker. Your service is not in question, and this court concedes your right to its rewards. You will shortly be placed on oath, but please remember that this is not a civilian court, so please forget any ideas you may have gained from theatrical or cinematic dramas. Mister Sullivan, if you please”

“Sir! Take the book in your right hand and repeat after me—“

In a prison whisper, as I finished the oath, the Staff Sergeant muttered “Well done, son”

A Brylcreem Boy major started the proceedings.

“Private Barker, how do you know the accused?”

“He were my tank commander in last lot, sir. I mean, the one before Korea. France and Germany. I didn’t do Korea”

Calm down, Barker. Keep it simple.

“Where did you meet?”

“Training, sir. Once we were through basic stuff at Bovington they formed us into crews, and WO Wainwright were skipper of ours. Stayed with him throughout”

“When did he first make an improper approach to you, Private Barker?”

That word was back. Fuck off.

“He never did”

“We have testimony from another trooper that he was seen with his arms around you, Private Barker. That you slept together”

Bastard. Your turn, now. “Would that have been after Goodwood, sir?”

“Goodwood?”

“Attack outside Caen. Lots of casualties. We were on recon, up high for observation. Watched a lot of mates burned alive that day. I had a bit of a break down. Happens sometimes when you see a bit too much”

I paused. “Bob made me a soldier again, made sure I didn’t get lost in it all. Brought me home, brought most of us home”

He curled his lip. “By cuddling you?”

“By making sure I knew I weren’t alone, that I had mates, comrades like”

I fixed his gaze, his sneer. “Happen I don’t believe you’ve ever been shot at. Sir”

The Judge Advocate coughed. “Private Barker…”

“Yes sir, but it’s different when you’ve not been there, aye? There’s times when you need the hand on the shoulder, the hug, and there’s nowt queer about it. It’s just being mates, comrades, aye? No, Bob never did anything wrong with me, never tried anything, never grabbed me privates, nowt. The major there can ask it however many times he likes, and it will be the same answer”

He looked over at Brylcreem Boy. “I believe you have had your answer fairly and honestly, Charles. Perhaps the advocate for WO Wainwright, unless you… no? Captain Flanagan”

Our accountant was up now. “Private Barker, thank you for your time and expense in attending this court. May I ask why you have made such an effort? After all, you do live in the North Riding of Yorkshire, not so?”

“Aye. Yes, sir. It’s for Bob. That’s why me and Ernie came down. Bob’s reason why both of us are still here, like. I mean, still breathing, not just in Colchester”

“Explain”

I could see what he was doing there. He knew I had the history, the memories, and he was giving me the room to let them out to breathe and educate the ignorant, like that smarmy bastard with the slicked back hair.

“We got ashore on day two, not in the first wave, like, and first day was fine except… except he had me out of the hatch so we could steer better. Didn’t want to run over any of the lads that had copped it already, he said. Show them respect. First day weren’t too bad, but next one, well, we did get shot at, and you never get used to it no matter how familiar it gets, but then it only gets familiar if you don’t stop one. That were Bob, that were his skill. He took us right up to Denmark, and he had a nose for it, for where not to be when the next AP round comes screaming up the road and you hear your mates screaming over the net as they burn”

I gave Charles a stare at that one. Definitely never been at the sharp end. Bastard.

“And Bob hit me once, in Normandy. I froze. I was watching all those lads dying in the wheat, burning, and I froze, so he slapped me round the head and told me to do my job, and I suppose that’ll get him on another charge, aye?”

“It’s all right, Private Barker”

“No, it’s not. Bob slapped me because it were right thing to do, and he hugged me for same reason, and he got us all blind drunk after I shot that Jerry in the neck and Wilf copped it, and they are all not in accordance with proper military discipline, aye?

“Indeed, Gerald. Now, let us go back to Normandy…”

He led me through it all, slowly, gently, and when we got to Belsen, and Harry…

“Was Harry unavailable for this trial, Gerald?”

“Harry couldn’t get the smell of that place out of his boots. He had an accident with a pistol on ferry home”

Captain Flanagan paused, just a minute, then asked the question. “How have you been sleeping, Gerald?”

I sighed. “Badly, that’s how. I get dreams, sometimes when I’m awake. Something sets me off at times. I mean, there were a deer run over on back road a while ago, and it were there for weeks, and the smell, well. Mostly, it’s faces. Usually bloke I shot in neck. He took too long to die”
“The court will remember earlier testimony as to the incident with the SS man in Belgium, and the death of Private Braithwaite. Private Barker, thank you for your service to this court. I have no further questions”

The Judge Advocate looked at Brylcreem Boy, who shook his head. “Private Barker, you may take a seat in the rear of this court while we hear the other witnesses, or you may depart”

He shot a sharp look at our Captain. “And this court DOES thank for your service to it. Next witness.

Ernie was in next, and he told much the same story as me, without the bit about hugs, until our man brought it up.

“Aye, sir. Ginge—Private Barker—he’s a sensitive lad, a bit innocent, like. Goodwood were a mess, but difference is I were in turret all the time, even when we’re not closed down I see nowt, but Ginge and Bob, WO Wainwright, they had a grandstand view. I just saw it after, like. Sorry, didn’t mean the joke about grandstand, what with it being Goodwood, sir”

“I understand, Ernest. What happened that day?”

“Ginge got gripped. I mean, we’d seen, he’d seen plenty of dead, aye? But this was like being at pictures, the way the lads described it, tank after tank, bang, flash, flames and screaming”

He paused. “I got some of the screams, like, over net. Not good. Not at all”

“And what did WO Wainwright do?”

“Clipped Ginge round head, told him to do his fucking job—sorry. Told him to do job he were there for”

“And afterwards? After you returned to replenish?”

Ernie stared at him. “Weren’t nowt queer about that. Ginge were breaking, and Bob gave him a hug, brought him back to us. We all need that in places like, well, when Wilf went, I think we all got a bit merry”

“Stinking drunk, I believe”

“Aye, absolutely. Well, we were fast asleep in tent, someone had put blankets over us, and we were ALL cuddled up. I were first awake; happen I needed to pee—urinate .Nowt queer about that, either”

“How is your sleep, Ernie?”

Matthew was up next, his full name and honours causing a small stir, and he talked the Board through that day he lost his friend, and then gave an account of the view he had been given of the Tiger we had killed.

“I would not care to venture exactly how many of my men owe their lives to the actions of this one crew that afternoon, but the number in question is not inconsiderable”

“How is your sleep, Major Folland?”

Rodney made me want to cry, not just with his account of the things we had shared, but of what had happened so soon afterwards.

“There are bugle calls, each time. They believe it saps morale, and they may be correct. We had Cents then, Centurions, far superior to our kit for the previous show, but even so… They attack in crowds, human waves they apparently call it, and it is most peculiar. So many targets one cannot actually focus on a target, and there were instances when one saw and marvelled, because it could not be real. I saw men urinating in the midst of battles, because it was the only way to cool their MG barrels. Even in the snow, our gun and mortar crews were working without blouses or shirts the effort was so great, and all the time men were being killed next to each of us”

“Your arm, Major?”

“Oh yes. My arm. We were hit, lost a track. Two rounds hit the glacis and didn’t penetrate, and I was getting the crew out. They began to machine gun us, and I took one through my elbow. Warrant Officer Wainwright brought his own vehicle forward and placed it between ours and the enemy, and directed counterbattery fire onto the gun. Typical of Bob, absolutely typical. I still lost the arm, though”

“How is your sleep, Major?”

Rodney glared at Brylcreem Boy. “I venture to suggest that those who have walked this path will have no need for an answer to that question. For the benefit of those who have not served their country in such a manner—“

The Major winced. On target, fire for effect.

“One never forgets such events. I know that Gerald hasn’t, for when he was a guest in my house I heard him shouting in the small hours, and my housekeeper has confirmed his distress. I initially sought refuge from the night horrors in sleeping pills from my doctor, but after I was tempted to take rather too many of them when I was feeling particularly unworthy and unable to continue, the MO is unsurprisingly unhappy to offer me another opportunity”

“You attempted suicide, Major?”

“Not at all, Captain, as such is against the law. I merely took rather more than was good for me, and my housekeeper was decent enough to seek medical assistance before my mistake was irrevocable. I took up alcohol instead”

“Are you still drinking, Major, to excess?”

“Not any more, Captain. Young Gerald here has given me something to stay sober for. Bob Wainwright is that reason”

“Thank you, Major Nolan. I have no further questions tor this Officer”

‘Charles’ once more shook his head, and the JA called for him to sum up, and it was as nasty as I could and should have expected, with Bob’s actions not only being prejudicial to good order and discipline, but also too disgusting to be described in the way the prosecution had just done, and against God and Nature, and on at great length. The Judge Advocate looked around the board.

“Captain Flanagan?”

“Sir. It will be evident from the records of this hearing that Warrant Officer Wainwright was intending to offer a plea of guilty as charged, but later felt that to be incorrect and unfair, given his circumstances and history. He has declared that he is not guilty of the offence he was charged with, which is at first sight somewhat bizarre as he has not denied that he was actually discovered committing an unnatural and illegal act with another man and would therefore appear to be guilty in all senses.

“I would ask the Board to consider the events that underlie his behaviour. We have heard from two members of his crew, who have both testified to the pernicious effects arising directly from the horrors encountered during their valiant service to this country, and given the hell they saw, that should be given as valiant service to humanity as a whole.

“Both Privates have movingly told of how he directed, cajoled, chastised and protected them. Major Folland has described his courage and skill in destroying a much more powerful enemy unit, and of how many of his, our, men owed their lives to him. Major Nolan has described how the accused placed himself in harm’s way to save his comrades, and both Majors have told of the same dreadful dreams and night visitors that have resulted from their service.

“Then we have the testimony of WO Wainwright himself. This is a man who served the colours and his country with great distinction, from North Africa to the hills of Korea, a man who has told the same tale of mental disturbance and sleepless nights that his comrades and friends have related. I would assume that all soldiers who have walked that path suffer more or less in the same way. I cannot speak with authority, for I am not one of those to have given such service”

His gaze fell clearly on a major with glossy hair, who had the good grace to look down.

“Accordingly, I ask the Board to consider that while Warrant Officer second class Robert Wainwright—I will not list his decorations---that while WO Wainwright has admitted fully and completely his offences, he be found not guilty on the grounds that the balance of his mind was disturbed to such extent that he was incapable of proper reason, and that he be acquitted as not being of sound mind at the time of the offence. Thank you”

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Comments

Steph - thank you

This is just so right.

And very very personal in our family.

Many here will no doubt make some comparisons with "The Imitation Game", but to my mind, indeed knowledge, this is a severely different scenario.

I salute you in your choice of subject matter, and I feel my own attempts at writing will never approach your superlative levels.
You do this subject so much justice and you do it with a style and panache that I envy.

Have I said "Thank you"?

Julia.

Thank you

This is one of those I sat and thought about for ages, before writing it in one sitting. major Nolan, like a lot of my characters, has a large back story. Nancy is writing stuff at the moment about character development, and it is an essential for a story. A character has to act consistently, or if not there must be a good reason for it, otherwise said person is not a human being but a cardboard cut-out.

I've dropped some hints about Folland, and now we see some of what went on between Rodney and Bob. I've worked with people like Bob, who see the fight, know it has to be stopped and know that they are going to get hurt doing so, but they still push their fear to one side and march to the sound of the guns. Even Gerald's innocence wears thin at times, but his eyes are opening. He even understands swearing now!

"how's your sleep?"

My grandfather came back from the war with nightmares, according to my grandmother. I suspect far too many did the same, and never got any kind of help for it. And far too many probably had it eat them up, kill them off quick or slow ...

DogSig.png

THANKS

It was a long time between episodes but worth the wait. Thanks Another Brian

Was glad to see this story

Was glad to see this story chapter, as I had been wondering if the story was "lost" to us. I definitely like the summation of Capt. Flanagan, as I feel he nailed it right on the head as a way to excuse Bob's actions, even though they were a direct violation of the British Army's Codes of Conduct. In today's society, I am left wondering if this would even be an issue now, except for the single fact of Bob and his "lover" being seen enact as it was.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; which was known in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, as "Battle Fatigue"; and "Shell Shock" in WWI, has much more medically aware knowledge about it now than back in those times. Pretty much any place or time where wars or some other major human disaster has occurred or is occurring, someone winds up with this issue. The American Civil War, it was called "Seeing the Elephant". How it affects a person is strictly on a personal level, as each individual is just that; an individual. What one person can take and stand, another may be able to take only 1/2 as much or another can't take any of it, yet that does not make them any less of a person, just different. I do believe the entire crew did Bob proud and I do hope he gets off. Janice Lynn

Delays

Real life does intrude. The thing about something like 'Sisters' is that while there is a lot of Elaine's story to tell, it hinges on the timelines already set out in the rest of the Sussex Stories. With Gerald, I simply have an end point to work towards.

The inspiration is, of course, Fyfe and his 'lavender menace' in which all homosexual men were actual or potential spies for the Soviets, and needed hunting down by such reliable spooks as Philby, Burgess and Maclean, and of course Blunt. It never seemed to occur to the idiots that one can only be blackmailed for something that carries a stigma.

Philby and the rest, of course were as 'lavender' as could be, but they were good Cambridge chaps, don't you know, so above suspicion. I was amused in researching this one to find out that Blunt tried to recruit a man with the rather inappropriate name, given Philby et al's sexuality, of 'Straight'.

As for 'seeing the elephant', I still use that term. It is the reason that all Adam has to say to Stewie in 'Ride On' is "You know, don't you?"

Thank God I was in the Merchant Navy!

Different hardships, different conditions, conditions that served to help my slow recovery not hinder it. Sea voyages ten to fourteen days long at first with many lonely hours to contemplate my future, my destiny, my fate. Thus it was for the first nine years plodding remorselessly across the Atlantic. Later the voyages lasted two years or more as I deliberately chose to somehow avoid whatever temptations the fleshpots of the far east provided. Trans Pacific passages became four to six week ordeals with countless hours of introspection during the long lonely watches whilst I pursued the mighty dollar for every nickel I could garner.

Fortunately the merchant navy was never like the forces, a blind eye was often turned to conduct that would have brought the full weight of oppressive military laws down on one's head. Even so, I avoided any danger of association with 'LGBT' others and supressed my feelings for years on end as the voyages dragged on. I envied the gays their openness, especially the cabin stewards who openly flaunted their natures.
I only hope W.O. Wainwright is treated better than Alan Turing was.
Good chapter Steph.

bev_1.jpg

No matter how many days pass.....

D. Eden's picture

No matter how many seasons or years, you never forget. Just when you begin to think that time has dulled the memories, you see something or someone, or you smell something, or hear a particular sound, and you're right back there. The sound of a helicopter can still bring me back, the scream of a jet engine, the smell of burned jet fuel.

I still wake up in the middle of the night periodically, the smell of burned cordite underlying everything, and the all pervading smell of death stuck in my nose. I have to look down at my hands to make sure that they are not still slick with the blood and remains of my RTO's intestines from scooping him back together and holding them in while we transported him to the slick for dust off.

You think you have gotten past it, finally worked through it all and gotten your shit together, and then some little thing brings it all back.

The line about the dead deer was very good - in my case, it was coming home after a few days to the smell of corruption in my own home. Opening the door and entering, and having that smell transport me thousands of miles and years away. Suddenly, your entering a blasted home in another place, the sound of flies in the hot dry air, the pop of automatics weapons all around you, mixed in with the hard breathing of the rest of your team, the rattle of gear, the slap of running feet, and the slow, calming chatter coming from the headset as my assets check into the fire net. The smell swells around you, and suddenly there they are - the bodies of a woman and three children, mutilated and swollen from the heat, flies everywhere.

You push through the memory, knowing it's not real - you're not there anymore. Eventually, after what seems like forever, your vision returns to real time and you realize it's only been a moment, thank God. It was only the remains of dinner that my son left sitting in the kitchen garbage can several days before that I was smelling.

Yeah, it never really goes away. It hides in the shadows awaiting that moment when you least expect it, and then arises to haunt your sleep for a few nights.

It is our memories, our shared experiences that make us who we are. How we react at that critical moment will forever define our very existence. I spent many a night crying and shaking, being watched over and comforted by my team - by the very men that depended on me when on the line. It never impacted my performance while on the line; but like clockwork, the first night we were off the line I would lock myself in my quarters and lose it. It took a few missions, but when you live in each other's pockets, those close to you will eventually figure it out. It was then that I learned the true meaning of loyalty.

You see, in an ANGLICO team, the only reason for existing is the voice on the radio - the one who can run ballistic equations in his head, the one who can stand up under fire and call in spot for the air and gun assets, the one who can stick his head up and hold a laser designator on target while the 7.62 smacks off the concrete all around. But you depend on your security team to keep you safe and watch your back. You depend on your NCOIC to keep them on their toes while you concentrate on your reason for being. But you never expect that they will keep doing it for you even after your off the line. You never expect that they will post guard on your quarters to keep anyone else from hearing you shaking and crying while all the things you've done in the name of your duty come home to roost. You never expect to come out of it with your NCOIC, a Marine Corps Gunnery Sargeant, holding you and rocking you like a little girl.....

I learned the true meaning of loyalty from those men. They knew who I really was inside, they knew about the young woman that I really was, and they didn't care. I kept them safe under fire, and they kept me sane and safe always. I will never forget them, and I will always love them.

That's what it's all about.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

As I said above

You know, don't you?

I Feel So Inadequate

joannebarbarella's picture

When I read the episode and your description of the depths of loyalty that these men have for each other and then read several of the comments by people who have themselves experienced those same or similar traumatic events. I have never been to war and nor do I envy those who have but you bring alive that era of WW2 and other conflicts.

Bev kind of downplays the Merchant Marine's involvement but my father was on the Atlantic convoys and the Murmansk routes and very occasionally he would tell us how awful it was to be visited by German planes when your own armaments were woefully inadequate and it was only when he died that I saw the pictures of the time he was torpedoed with the bodies of dead seamen still hanging from the gaping hole left after the attack.

This has been and still is a powerful story of what war does to ordinary people. I sobbed all the way through this chapter because your depiction is magnificent.