The reveille sounded for six a.m. Private Reginald Scales woke up feeling cold and his right shoulder stiff from having slept in an awkward position. He stretched his arm up trying to relieve his aching muscles and turned his head to the right, facing towards the stranger’s bed. The evening before, the news of the lost boy, as he became known, had spread throughout the adjoining billets. The men speculated about where he’d come from and how he ended up here. Despite Captain Ellis and Webb’s denial, the consensus was that the boy was indeed a deserter. Some of them had urged the captain to phone the Military Police, but Ellis stuck to his guns, preferring to wait until the morning so he could at least hear the boy’s side of the story. Scales’s bed was next to the boy’s. Lights out was at ten, but Scales had had difficulty getting to sleep owing to the deep snoring emanating from the sleeping boy. Eventually, the toll of a day’s shovelling sent Scales to sleep.
Scales yawned. The boy was still asleep, huddled underneath his blanket, oblivious to the sound of the reveille. As Scales stepped out of bed, he realised his blanket was missing. He looked under his bed, but no, it wasn’t there and he wondered where his boots were. The other men in the dormitory were up and about chattering to each other.
‘Our “lost boy” still asleep then, is he?’ asked one.
‘Looks like it,’ replied Scales. Then turning to the sleeping figure, he said, ‘Oi, c’mon, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up.’ But there was no response. Scales leant forward and shook the boy. From the softness of the touch, he knew immediately that the bed was empty. He threw the blanket back and there, on the bed, was his pillow and his blanket. ‘The little sod,’ he murmured.
The other men joined Scales, all staring speechlessly at the empty bed. At that point, Captain Ellis appeared, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. ‘Is he up yet?’ he asked as he entered the dormitory to be confronted by the sight of six gormless soldiers. He followed their eyes and, for a few moments, was also struck dumb. Scales glanced at the captain and could see the look of panic coming to his eyes. Ellis cleared his throat. ‘Maybe he’s just popped out for a jimmy-riddle.’
‘’Fraid not, sir,’ said Scales. ‘He’s tricked us, that’s why all this stuff’s on the bed.’
‘Oh my word.’ The captain was clearly shaken. He looked at Scales and the others. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, go look for him,’ he bellowed.
‘In our pyjamas, sir?’
‘Now!’
The men hopped barefoot into action, telling passers-by what had happened, while Captain Ellis returned to his makeshift office. Soon the word spread, and the whole billet and surrounding area was a hive of activity as semi-dressed soldiers searched frantically around the house and gardens. After fifteen minutes or more, Private Webb, fully dressed, reported back to the captain. ‘He’s definitely gone, sir.’ The captain bowed his head and cursed quietly to himself. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ added Webb. He knew the captain would have to face some awkward questions over this. Ellis may have been a fairly ineffectual officer, but he was generally a decent bloke and Webb liked him.
Scales reappeared. ‘He’s taken a load of food from the kitchen, sir, and, what’s more, the blighter’s gone and nicked me boots and haversack.’
Ellis stomped up and down his office. ‘Damn, damn, damn. Damn him, I knew he was a deserter.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Webb.
‘There’s only one thing for it,’ said the captain, ‘I’m going to have to inform the authorities. They’re not going to like this.’ He stormed out of the room muttering to himself. ‘They’re going to have my guts for garters for this. Damn him.’