Abbeville Camp and Stores, mid-July 1916
A thread holds us to life: Jimmy’s breaks
‘I don’t believe it was an accident. Had you not come across James O’Flynn when you did, he would have done this deed anyway.’
For a moment Albert couldn’t think who this James was, then realized that the officer was referring to young Jimmy. This was a formal hearing, so they would use his proper name. ‘No, sir, it wasn’t like that. The lad was shaking, but not with fear; he was shaking with the ’orror of what he’d seen and realizing that ’is friends hadn’t made it. We all do that. Sometimes it lasts a while, and at other times it goes as we get on with ’elping the wounded. Young Jimmy ain’t a coward. He’s one of the bravest lads I’ve fought alongside.’
‘So how come his gun was loaded and ready to fire? What was he going to fire at, if not himself, to inflict an injury that would get him out of here? The battle was over, so he’d no need to be prepared for attack.’
‘He must ’ave forgotten to unload, sir. He would ’ave come round. He was in a bad way mentally, but he . . .’
‘Exactly! Afraid, and wanting to take the coward’s way out.’
‘No!’
‘Yes, I think so, Corporal. It is admirable that you want to protect him, but where would we be, if we let these cowards off? All the men would be doing the same – shooting themselves just to get home.’
“Ow the fuck dare you—’
‘Corporal, I would remind you who you are speaking to!’
‘And I would remind you, Captain Blakley, that you are out of order speaking of the ranks in that manner.’ General Ickmey’s voice resounded around the wooden barrack room that was being used for young Jimmy’s court martial. It was one of a dozen huts not far from the hospital tents, which were mostly used for stores, although some were used as rest rooms for the men and officers when they took a short break from the front. This one in particular was used as an officers’ mess.
General Ickmey presided over the proceedings and was known as a fair man when dealing with the ranks, though Albert doubted that would make a difference to Jimmy’s fate. But now as the general continued, his voice booming, his words made Albert feel pride – a pride that nudged the hopelessness of Jimmy’s case to one side, just for a moment. . . ‘And might I say that to address such a callous remark to Corporal Price, who has seen so many heroes from the ranks die and has been mentioned in Dispatches, is beyond the pale. Yes, there are cowards amongst the men, but to put them all under the same heading is an insult to the thousands of brave men who have lost their lives and to those still willing to fight for their country.’ After a moment’s pause he turned to Albert and said, ‘However, Corporal Price, this is a court martial, and I will not allow such language, or indeed outbursts of any kind.’
‘I beg your pardon, General Ickmey, sir. Thank you for what you said.’
‘Very well, let us proceed. Captain Blakley, I think we have heard enough evidence now to come to a conclusion. Please round up your questioning.’
Standing and clicking his heels, the captain narrowed his eyes. ‘No more questions for this witness, sir.’
Albert rose and went to sit behind Jimmy. It had only been four days since the incident and the lad looked drained. His eyes were glazed and a dreadful trembling shook his body. Couldn’t they see the lad wasn’t right?
Albert wanted to say something to Jimmy, but knew that if he did he might be removed from the room and he wanted to listen to the summing-up of the evidence given when he hadn’t been in the courtroom. Evidence that gave no hope. Evidence taken from the lad who had told Albert about seeing Jimmy in the trench. His testimony alone – relating that he’d seen Jimmy cowering in a corner, sweating and shaking and then reloading his gun – must have sealed the boy’s fate. Then came a summary of the evidence from the medical staff who had treated Jimmy. Edith, his own Edith, had said that the injury could have been self-inflicted, though he guessed she would have tried to qualify that, by saying that she believed the circumstances under which she was told it had happened. But then even if that was so (and he hadn’t been present during her stand, so didn’t know for sure), no such possibility was permitted in this one-sided summing-up. As the officer’s voice droned on, his tone mocking any idea of Jimmy’s innocence, Albert listened with a sinking heart to the final nail in Jimmy’s coffin being hammered home, as he heard what had been told to the court by the VAD who had worked with Jimmy. She had said that Jimmy told her he had intended suicide.
Albert’s fears deepened with every word uttered by the prosecuting officer.
Once the officer came to the end of his summing-up, every man to the last one knew the outcome. There could be no other, but when Albert heard the general say the words, the bile rose in his stomach.
‘James O’Flynn, you are stripped of the honour of being a member of His Majesty’s Forces and have been found to be a coward. Punishment for this offence is death. You will be taken out at dawn and shot. May God have mercy on your soul.’
A sob came into the silence that followed. It was a weak sob, but the sound cut a deep pain into Albert’s heart. He had to do something – anything – to save Jimmy.
As he walked back to the soldiers’ rest room from the officers’ mess hut Albert’s heart felt heavy with dread. The decision to end Jimmy’s life had been cut-and-dried for the officers. You fought or you were a coward, and that was that. Well, Jimmy had fought; he’d gone over the top without protest and had charged gallantly into the fray, not faltering. And now, for a moment of madness, he was going to die at the hands of his own comrades. Well, here’s one who isn’t going to fire a bullet at him. Nothing is as sure as that. I’ll be called upon, no doubt, but I won’t fire, and I don’t care what happens to me as a consequence!
The summons came within the hour. Albert spat on the ground in disgust. Twelve of them had received the order. Besides himself, the lad who’d testified and hadn’t stopped sniffling since had also been charged to be one of the line-up to fire at Jimmy. They were in the mess hut when it came: a written instruction to fall in for firing-squad duty at 3 a.m. the next morning.
None of them spoke for a full ten minutes. To Albert, it had been settled. How come these particular men were here, ready? Some had given evidence, but not all, and not all had been due a rest break either.
The sound of the battle raging in the distance took the space around them. Albert wondered how many would die today, and knew all would be classed as heroes. Jimmy deserved that accolade. Jimmy is a hero – he is! ‘Damn it, ’e is!’
‘Did you say sommat, Corp?’
He hadn’t realized that he had, but now he knew he’d sworn out loud. ‘Look, lads, it’s odds-on that all of us will be dead sometime in the near future. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want yet another one of our comrades’ blood on me ’ands before I die. As Corporal, I’ll be the one to prepare the guns. I’m going to make sure that I’m one of the ones with the live bullet in me gun, and I’m firing above Jimmy’s ’ead.’
‘But, Corporal, sir, you’ll end up shot yourself!’
‘I don’t care, Brigsy. I’m not shooting young Jimmy, are any of yer with me? You all know the score, some live bullets, some blank. A daft system that’s meant to ’elp us believe that we didn’t shoot the deadly bullet. But we all know if we did or didn’t because the live bullets give a kick-back and the blanks don’t.’
‘What’s your thinking, Corp?’ Brigsy asked.
‘If you’re with me I could make sure who gets the live bullets, and them as do will ’ave to agree to fire above Jimmy’s head. Then he won’t die. And, if that is so, then surely no one could be so inhuman as to make a lad face the firing squad twice, so I see it as a way to try to save ’im.’
‘Aye, I’m with you on that, Corp. I’m not for shooting a fellow northerner, especially one who has shown the courage that Jimmy has. I’ll take a live bullet and fire it above Jimmy’s head, and I’ll take the consequences.’
‘But you’ll be court-martialled.’ This, from Gates, got short shrift from Brigsy: ‘Aye, we knows that. But seeing as the Corp is willing to face that, then the least we can all do is to support him.’ Brigsy looked around at all those called upon.
One by one they agreed. Names were put into a hat and those to have live ammunition didn’t falter on their decision. The talk went to the spark of hope Albert’s plan had given, as they all felt the hopelessness of their lives. And all said words to the effect that if a bullet had their name on it in the near future, they would have a better passing, knowing they had saved Jimmy. Better than dying at the top of the trench and dropping face-down into the mud, having advanced no more than ten yards in a bloody killing field.
Albert took each one’s hand in a firm shake of friendship. It hurt him to realize that, in his plan, he would have to make provisions for his own safety and theirs that would mean hurting, and even maiming, some of them. But what upset him most was that he knew he would be deserting these men, as he planned on taking his chances and making a run for it, no matter what that entailed, or what the consequences to himself.
Darkness clothed the hut where the twelve slept. Albert lay awake listening to their snores, though some, he knew, were awake like himself. Safe in the knowledge they wouldn’t question him, he got out of bed and dressed.
Outside, the air held the dampness he’d become used to. Making his way to the stores, he intended to retrieve some things from his box. Like all of his fellow soldiers, he had a box of sorts, holding personal belongings. Most boxes held letters, photos and memorabilia, items the soldiers had picked up, wanting to take home, to capture in some way what their life was like: empty bullet cases, German Army helmets or belts, that kind of thing; some had German weaponry. His own pride and joy was a Chauchat machine rifle. It was a brilliant gun that you held at the hip and it fired round after round, used by the French and many other countries. He’d often wondered why the English hadn’t been issued with them.
Greeting the guard, he stood for a moment and smoked a fag with him. He knew Freddie well, for the two of them had grown up in the same street in the East End. Freddie turned a blind eye while Albert rummaged through his box, not bothering to look at what he pulled out of it or to question the fact that he’d walked out of the store with a long bundle.
The site of the coming execution sickened Albert as he walked up to it, but he kept focused on his plan. Already a working party was in place, preparing the site: a bench for the guns, chairs for the clergy and doctor.
Unrolling the cloth that contained his guns, Albert loaded the handgun and placed it in his pocket. It bulged out, but when his jacket was back in place, the flap covered it. Now he prepared the automatic and strapped it to his back through his jacket belt, hoping it wouldn’t show.
One of the working party must have heard the click of the loading action. He stopped what he was doing, lifted his rifle and shouted, ‘Who goes there?’
Coming into view, Albert answered, ‘Corporal in charge of the firearms.’
‘Oh, righto. How you doing, Corp?’
‘Been better. Have yer the guns unloaded yet?’
‘Aye, they’re in that box over there.’
‘Right, two of yer bring the box to the bench for me. I’ll get on with preparing ’em.’
Working away at laying out the guns and loading some of them with live ammunition and some with blanks, Albert kept his eye on the men. When none of them were looking, he undid his belt and carefully pulled the Chauchat from behind him. The rattle of the bullets hanging from it made him freeze with fear at one point, but none of the others took any notice. He hid the rifle inside the empty box and covered it with the hessian that had been wrapped around the guns, before closing the lid.
Taking out his knife, he made a nick in the underside of the butts of the guns he must allocate to the men who had agreed to have those with live bullets in them. He must get it right. Any mistakes and Jimmy would be a dead man.
A distant church clock struck the half-hour. One-thirty. He needed to get back to his men and prepare them. There would be under an hour to go, by the time he got back.
With everything in place, nerves attacked him. Adrenalin had kept them away till now. Sweat stood out on his body and his stomach churned, to the extent that he had to crouch behind a bush to relieve himself.
Jimmy stood where they placed him. Taking his last glimpse of the world through tear-filled eyes, he looked up at the cloud-covered sky just breaking into light and throwing a purple hue over the shadowy field. Then he let his glance fall on the black outline of the trees and savoured the feel of the breeze as it brushed across his skin. This field had no trenches dug into it, a fact that reassured him that at least he wasn’t going to die in a trench, or on the battlefield, with his fellow men treading his body into the mud.
The prayers of the chaplain came to an end.
With the tying of the blindfold, the calm that had descended on him as they had driven him the short distance to his place of death deserted him. In its place a feeling of being strangled by his own throat muscles took him, as his breath came in short, painful gasps.
He tried to think of his ma, but her face wouldn’t come to him. Then he thought of Betsy, and although at times he’d been annoyed at how she put herself in his way whenever she could, he knew he’d been pleased really, and wouldn’t know what to do without her. He thought about her beauty, her golden curls, her smiley eyes and her full lips. How he longed to have her with him now. He would hold her cuddly body to his, and kiss every part of her.
‘Firing squad, fall in! Firing squad, take aim.’
A trickle of warm water ran down his leg. Please God, don’t let me mates see as I’ve wet meself. His breath laboured even more. His heart thudded against his chest. Clamping his teeth on his lips, he waited.
‘Fire!’
The deafening crack of the rifles had him gasping in a deep breath of fear. Then he felt nothing. No pain, no falling to the ground, no blackness . . . He wasn’t dead! The angry voice of the officer in charge broke the silence:
‘What the . . . ? How dare you disobey an order! Christ, you’ll all be shot for this. Corporal, I saw you and some of your men raise their rifles. You must have planned this. You blithering idiot. What did you think? That you would save the snivelling coward? Well, that will happen over my dead body.’
A blast made Jimmy jump. Then a hot pain registered, flaming a redness through his brain, before an impenetrable blackness engulfed him. It was a swirling blackness that lifted him as if he was a feather and took him towards a beautiful light. As he floated, all fear and feeling left him, and a happiness like none he’d ever felt before settled on him. Into this happiness came a voice. A voice that he loved and had missed so much – that of their Bobby: ‘Come on, lad. Eeh, you took your time; we were expecting you five minutes since.’
Nothing moved; even the breeze died. Albert stared at the crumpled body of Jimmy as he tried to process what had happened. He hadn’t reckoned on the fact that the officer in charge had a handgun with which to finish the job, if the squad hadn’t hit the target. How could he forget such a vital piece of information?
An intense rage boiled inside him. It took away all reasoning. Tearing at the officer, he raised his rifle and, with blood-curdling screams, brought the weapon crashing down on the cowering figure of the man, who no longer held any authority for him. Blow after crushing blow reduced the man’s head to a bloody mess.
‘Stop, for Christ’s sake! Corp, stop!’
These words, and the hands that restrained him, brought Albert back to sanity. With the return of his reasoning came remembrance of his plan. Shaking himself free, he dashed over to the box, retrieved his Chauchat machine rifle and stood, holding them all back.
Their shocked faces reflected back to him the enormity of what he intended to do, but he couldn’t change his mind.
‘Corporal, for God’s sake! Whatever your intention, allow me to tend to Private O’Flynn and the officer. I have to make sure O’Flynn is dead, and the officer may need my help.’
Registering the medic and the priest standing on the sidelines for the first time since before the shooting, Albert waved the medic forward. Once he’d done his checks, Albert ordered him and the now-kneeling priest to lie facedown in front of him, where he could see them.
His men had quietened. They stood like statues, gaping at him. None of them had a weapon to hand with which to stop him, having swapped theirs for the ones he’d given them.
‘I’m sorry.’ Opening fire, he made every bullet count. Each soldier – whether still standing in his shocked position, or on the move ready to run for his life – took a bullet in the knee or thigh.
The air filled with their screams of agony.
Cries of ‘You fucking bastard!’, ‘You fucking traitor!’ and ‘Why?’ came to him, and the horror of the scene with his men, his faithful comrades-in-arms, writhing in a bloodbath of pain, nearly undid him. But his reason for inflicting the pain helped him to cope, as he tried to explain. ‘Shut up and listen. I’m sorry, but I ’ad to do it . . .’
‘Fuck off, you bastard!’
‘Listen, Jacky. I’m telling yer, I ’ad to. I won’t be with you, to ’elp save you. I’m off. This way, I’ve given yer your tickets ’ome.’
As no further protests broke the moans of agony, Albert turned his attention to the prostrate figures of the priest and medic in front of him. Taking out his shotgun, he aimed it at the priest.
‘Don’t, Corp – don’t. What you’ve done so far I can come to live with, but killing innocent men, I couldn’t. I’d not be able to live with it. For Christ’s sake, spare them.’
This plea from Brigsy didn’t penetrate the hot feeling inside him, the searing hate of the officers, which he’d never experienced before. He had to kill them, he had to! He couldn’t leave witnesses. The shots brought forward cries of anguish that would live with him forever, as the pain of killing innocent men pierced his soul.
Without warning, exhaustion crept over Albert. His legs wouldn’t hold him. He slumped to the ground on his knees. He had to make his men understand. ‘I didn’t want to ’urt yer, lads, not ever, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving yer to go through a court martial and a firing squad, when I was out of it. That’s why I did this to yer and why I killed them.’ He pointed at the dead bodies of the priest and the medic. ‘Now, there’s no witnesses as to what ’appened. Tell them that I went berserk and shot everyone. Tell them that you tried to carry out your duty, but that knowing which ones of yer I’d given the live bullets to, I must ’ave shot them first, making it so that you missed. That will explain your rifles ’aving been discharged. Say that the officer, realizing what was ’appening, shot Jimmy, and then I bludgeoned ’im to death. I ’ope you can see me reasoning and can forgive me. I’m done for, anyway. Oh, I’ll take me chance and run for it, but I don’t ’old out much ’ope.’
It was Reeto who spoke. Everyone called Ivan Hardcastle ‘Reeto’ because of his northern accent, and because this is what he said when others said ‘Righto’ to an instruction.
Struggling to speak and still writhing in agony, he muttered, ‘I – I reckon as I can speak for all . . . At this moment I could t – take a gun to thee, Albert Price, but I – I know as I am going to be thanking you in the f – future, ’cause as I see it, you’ve been for saving our lives and giving us a ticket home. That is, if we don’t die of blood loss or some infection or other.’
Feeling his strength come back into him, Albert stood up. ‘Thanks, Reeto, I’m glad you can see me intention. Now, don’t worry, I told Freddie Bird to stay awake. I told ’im that if we weren’t back in the hour, which is what we usually are, then he was to raise the alarm as we would need ’elp. I didn’t tell ’im all of me plan, but enough so that he took notice. You all know ’im, and know he will keep ’is word, so I’ll leave you now and take me chances. Good luck, and thanks for all the times you protected me back. I only ’ope you can come to see that today I was looking after yours.’
Only curses followed him, but he understood that. They gave him a moment of deep remorse, as he straddled the old bike that he’d hidden there earlier. It had been found in a ditch before all the fighting started in earnest. He and a few others had worked on it when they could – pinching stuff from the stores and doing it up and making it road-worthy. That had been a good time, a time of bonding, and the bike had provided them with a means of fun as well as transport.
Since then he’d run the gauntlet of a million chances of death, and had seen good lads killed or maimed in their thousands, and all for nothing. Nothing for him, anyway, as he now faced a life of never going back to his beloved East End. Never to have a laugh with his mates in the Elephant and Castle, or to save up a few coppers and go up west for a night out. Nor would he ever again enjoy a cup of cockles, or juggle a handful of roast chestnuts as he swaggered down the street with a wench on his arm. All gone. And what of the new life he’d planned in his head? But then that was an impossible dream. He had to admit it: his love for Edith – the almost painful feeling for her that consumed him – was never going to go anywhere. He’d be better off dead.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, his fingers curled round the handle of the pistol. Sweat broke out from every pore of his body, and his hand shook. But then a picture of Edith’s face came to him. He saw her lovely, calming smile and knew he had to live. And he knew, too, that he had to live out his life with her. He would go to her and beg her to accompany him; but if she wouldn’t, though it would break his heart to do so, he would force her to at gunpoint.
Edith lay awake. Her mind was too troubled for her to find solace in sleep. Somehow she felt that all was not well at home, but she couldn’t think what could be wrong. Christian had been to see her earlier and had told her Douglas was safe, so she knew they were both well.
Christian had looked pale and his cheeks were sunken. His eyes were fearful, as he’d told her that he was to command a force that would try to take Delville Wood. He’d told her that the task was going to be a very difficult and dangerous one, but that he had every faith in his men. ‘That Corporal Price, who gave us the message that you were here, is to be made up to Sergeant and assigned to me. A good man, by all accounts,’ he’d said, and had gone on to say, ‘We are set for tomorrow, but he doesn’t know yet. I am to inform him in the morning.’
She’d had to look away and had felt silly in the presence of her brother, for having the thoughts that had visited her about the corporal. After a moment she’d managed to say, ‘Oh yes, a very good man. He cares about those he is in charge of, but he is suffering badly today, because tonight he has to be in the party that has to shoot one of their own. A young boy, Jimmy O’Flynn. It’s disgusting, Christian. Jimmy is mentally ill, not a coward. Since when do we English put to death our mentally ill patients?’
Christian hung his head. ‘I know, and I agree with you. The practice sickens my stomach. And yet I can see the value of the deterrent, and the need for one. I am sorry for the boy and his family, and I hope Price comes out of this as he always does, with his head held high. He should do, as he has always put his duty above his personal feelings.’
‘Sorry for his family,’ she’d almost shouted. ‘Christian, Jimmy is their last son – their last child! His brothers were killed at the beginning of the war. Jimmy defied the King’s orders that no more of the family would be asked to serve, by coming to do his bit. He is sixteen! Is there nothing you can do to stop this?’
His shamefaced ‘No, I am so sorry’, and the tear she saw in his eye, stopped her from berating him further. Orders were orders at the end of the day and, a captain or not, he had to follow them and uphold them.
Her thoughts went back to Albert. She wasn’t so sure he would cope and come out ready to carry on and do his duty. He had expressed extreme distress at the coming execution, but he also knew it was his responsibility to do this last act for one of his own. Ha! Duty – responsibility! How much of that can they ask of one man?
Edith feared for him, and her fear left her tossing and turning until she felt herself drifting off. But it seemed she’d only just closed her eyes when a hand shook her awake. Terror gripped her, and her dread of bad news came rushing back into her confused mind.
‘Edith, Edith . . . shush . . . ! It’s Albert. Oh, Edith.’
‘Oh, Albert, you frightened me, what are you doing here? Are you all right? What’s happened? Oh, my dear, you are crying.’
‘Come outside. I don’t want to wake anyone. Get your things on, though, as it’s cold and wet out there.’
Whispering as Albert had, Edith told him she would only be a minute. Her arms ached to hold and comfort him, but this made her cross with herself. What was she thinking! Always in control of her emotions, it was disconcerting to have them run away with themselves and propel her into making decisions she might not otherwise take.
Rain soaked her the moment she stepped outside. She should have been used to it by now, but she wasn’t. The mud sucked in her Wellingtons, making it difficult to step towards the huddled figure of Albert waiting at the end of the dormitory tent.
A shock went through her as she neared him and his hand shot out and grabbed her. ‘I ’ave to go, Edith. I’ve done something really bad. I want you to come with me.’
‘What! I can’t – don’t be ridiculous. Let go of me, Albert, you’re hurting my arm. What have you done that has meant you have to go? Surely nothing is that bad that you have to become a deserter?’
‘I killed three officers. I – I lost me reasoning. Please come, Edith. They will be after me by now. I ’ave to leave right now. I’ll tell you all about it as we go. But if we don’t go now and they catch me, they’ll ’ave to shoot me on sight, as I won’t go without a fight. Please, Edith, I – I love you.’
Horror at what he’d said rendered her speechless, but then the thought of Albert being shot made her heart sink as if a heavy weight had landed on it. But despite this, she knew she could not desert her patients and her colleagues, who all relied on her. ‘I cannot believe what you are saying, Albert. This isn’t like you. My brother was here today and he said you had been singled out to go with him; he said you were known as the bravest and most loyal soldier. Why? Why are you doing this?’
‘I’ve no time to tell you. Just believe me that if we don’t go, I will die.’
‘Then you must go, but I can’t come with you. I’m needed here. I have to stay. Please, let go of me and get away as quickly as you can. I will pray for you, my dear, and send my love with you. Stay safe, and we will meet up in the future, I am sure of that.’
‘You are coming, Edith! Me life is worth nothing without you.’
The cold steel of the barrel of his gun dug into her neck. Stunned, she gasped for breath, drawing droplets of rain into her mouth. ‘No! No, don’t do this. I will scream.’
Choking from his hand clutching her mouth, she felt her body being wrenched towards him. Not wanting to hurt him more than she was already, but having no choice, she kicked out at his shins. But she was no match for his strength, and felt her feet dragged from beneath her as he pulled her along with him.
Though her wits wouldn’t give her a way of escaping Albert, she did think to dig her boots into the mud, in the hope that they would make a trail. But even as she did so, part of her didn’t want him to be caught. His actions were not those of a man who is right in his mind. Something had tipped him over the edge. This was not Albert doing this terrible thing, but something in him that might have lain dormant all his life, had it not been released by some horrific trigger. She could only guess that the trigger must have been Jimmy’s death.
As he dragged her with his hand over her mouth, she had to take gasping breaths. Her neck hurt from the strong hold he had around it. The sound of his breath labouring, as hers was, gave her hope; the struggle was sapping his strength. Making one last effort, she pushed at him. Albert’s hold on her broke, sending her sinking into the mud. Spitting the rain and dirt from her mouth, she allowed a sob to escape her and begged of him once more, ‘P – please, Albert, just go. Go!’ But then her fear was compounded to horror.
‘I am going. Forgive me.’
And she saw, in the dawning light, his gun being placed in his mouth. ‘No, no, Albert. Not that. I’ll come. I’ll come with you . . . Please, not that!’
Lifting herself, Edith went to him and helped to take the gun from his mouth. His body leaned heavily on her, and his pitiful words tugged at the inner part of her that knew she loved him. “Elp me . . .’Elp me.’
‘I will. Don’t worry, I will help you.’ A sudden thought came to her: Marianne! They could make their way to Marianne’s apartment. She would help them and then, when Albert was safe, she could come back here and resume her work, telling them that she’d escaped. Wiping the tears and rain from her eyes, she took hold of Albert’s hand. ‘I have a friend who may help us. She lives in the South of France. We can sort out getting to her later, but for now let’s just get as far away from here as we can. Which is the safest route to take?’
‘I think we should keep to the coast and make our way down towards Spain. But it’s going to be ’ard going, Edith, and I ’ave to make it look as though you are me prisoner, in case they catch up with us.’
‘Will they be looking for you now?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s been an hour or more since it ’appened. So I think them at base-camp know by now what’s gone on. They may wait for it to get lighter and send a party out after me, or they may not be able to spare the men. There’s an offensive planned for later today, and it means splitting the battalion as it is – or, rather, what’s left of it.’
Edith assumed he was referring to the planned offensive on Delville Wood. ‘Yes, I know. I told you, my brother is leading part of it. He was relying on you.’
Albert’s demeanour changed in an instant. He was once more in command of himself and the situation. His hand tightened on hers. ‘I can’t ’elp that. Come on, let’s take the coastal road. But if we see anyone, I will grab you and make it look like you are with me against your will.’
Protesting no more, she did as he said, but inside she thought, I am going against my will, but yet, at the same time, I am willing, if it will save him. With this thought came a self-loathing at the weakness her love for Albert had given her. How could she think like that when so many relied on her to save their lives?
Everything in her wanted to turn and run, but his grip on her felt as though she was being held by an iron fist. What choice did she have? Putting her head down against the onslaught of the wind and the rain, and matching his step, she took no heed of the tears that flowed down her cheeks.