“What’s the chance of the war ending this year, Colonel Baker?”
“Very slight, sir. We lack numbers, guns and ammunition. I doubt it is possible to break through the trenches at present. The war might end if the campaign in Turkey is successful and the troops there are able to attack Austria-Hungary from the Black Sea. I have not seen the reports from Gallipoli.”
“Disaster, Colonel! Forget about victory there. The sole question being considered now is how to get out safely. The army has been put ashore there and it will not be easy to take it off again.”
“Then, sir, we have a war for at least another year. Kitchener’s New Army may do the job for us next summer, if it is used properly.”
“And what will that proper use be, Colonel?”
“Invasion, my lord. Land a hundred thousand men on the German coast north of Holland. Set up a front and push hard towards Kiel and Hamburg, forcing the Kaiser to pull troops from France and weaken his resistance there. It would lose half of the Grand Fleet, I do not doubt, to mines and submarines, and the Navy will not like that, but it would force the Kaiser to call an armistice and to pull his troops out of France and Belgium.”
“Risky, Colonel! A chancy expedition, and we cannot afford to send millions of pounds worth of dreadnoughts to the bottom. We must keep the fleet-in-being intact.”
It was not the place to argue. If the fleet was to be unused, it had as well never been built in Richard’s unvoiced opinion.
“What do you think of Sir John French. Colonel Baker?”
“A cavalryman, sir. He is used to allowing his horse to think for him on the field of battle. Regrettably, the horse cannot deputise for him as Commander-in-Chief. A womaniser and a gambler, one is told, and an inadequate senior officer. He would have had a brilliant career as a captain of cavalry in Wellington’s army, I do not doubt. He is hopeless as a general in this war.”
Richard listened to his own, true, words, and decided he had had a glass too many. The wise man did not utter the truth in front of the politically powerful; they must be told only what they wanted to hear.
Conversation stalled, turned rapidly to considerations of industry and agriculture.
“Mr Baker, you must know more than us of iron and steel – is it the case that we are not producing sufficient for our needs?”
“Aye, my lord. Definitely so. In part, too many of my men volunteered last year and are carrying a rifle in France. It were better they should be sent home again to better use their skills. There are shopmen and office workers who could go out in their place. More sensible to ensure that the skilled workers of every trade remained in their jobs and that the mere labourers and clerks replaced them in the services. That aside, we need a better organisation of purchasing for the Army and Navy, my lord. This last week I have had a deputation from the War Office demanding that I produce armour plate for a project of theirs; at the same moment, there was a party of naval people asking for more plate for their ships. I cannot supply both and need be told which is more important, my lord. I hear the same from all of my competitors, my lord. We try our best to meet the needs of the nation and are left to guess what they might be.”
Lord Elkthorn promised to instantly form a committee to investigate the problem, which he had not known to exist. He seemed to think that to be a sensible and sufficient response.
They joined the ladies and mingled determinedly, all of those new to each other to exchange a word, as was demanded by courtesy.
“Such a pleasure, Colonel, to be told that little Primrose was to marry and to so distinguished a soldier!
Richard smiled at the fifth repetition of the comment, made his stock reply of how happy he was that she had consented to wed him.
“Next year, I expect, ma’am.”
“When the war is over, you mean, Colonel?”
“No, ma’am. I have no desire to wait out the decade!”
Richard escorted the family to St Pancras next day, made his farewells and assured his father that he had shown well on the previous evening.
“It ain’t my place in the world to be mixing with lords and such, Richard! I like your little Primrose, my son! We talked a bit, her and I, and she is sensible and down to earth, that girl! Got a good head on her shoulders. You made a good choice there, Richard. I asked her where she wanted to live and she said a place in Norfolk would do her well, next to the sea. She went there on a holiday once and likes the country. If you do not object, I shall seek a place there for you.”
“Don’t know it, sir. If she likes it, that will do for me.”
“You have grown up, my son. I like the man you have become, much more than the boy. Good luck!”
They boarded the train and left Richard and Paisley to make their way to Paddington and the West Country.
Major Vokes arrived in the barracks at Devizes early on the Monday morning, reporting briskly. He was in his thirties, a heavily tanned career soldier with years in India behind him, recently promoted at an early age for a regular.
“Vokes, sir. I gather that I have to fill the shoes of one of the old brigade.”
“You do, Major. You are welcome indeed. We entrain on Thursday and I much suspect that there is a deal of organisation still to be done. Sergeant Cooper will know exactly what remains for you. Have you seen the Trenches?”
“No, sir. Disembarked from India two weeks ago. Service on the Frontier is all I know of action, sir. Believe it or not, I was shot with an old musket and spent the journey recuperating!”
“You will learn. Our Sergeant-Major knows his way about, joined me from the 3rd Battalion. He is a useful man and I would listen to his advice. The bulk of the battalion is green. All are willing and have learned to march and to point a rifle. The rest they can learn quickly under fire. Food, ammunition and rum, in that order, and the battalion will become effective in service. Where possible, turn the blind eye, Major. I prefer to see as little as possible of what happens in the dugouts. Keep a firm hand on the young officers – most of the lieutenants know nothing other than their Cadet Corps; be sure that they do not make foolish demands on the rank and file. No parade gloss on the boots or that damned nonsense!”
Vokes said that he had heard the trenches were full of mud.
“Exactly, Major. We shall be active, trench raiding and such, that being the way to keep morale up. You will have the opportunity to go out of a night, letting the men know that we lead from the front. I can’t go out too often – colonels are not allowed to – but I shall make sure I get my hands dirty on occasion. You should do the same.”
Vokes was sure he would be delighted.
“Dinners and mess fees, Major. Most of the youngsters live on their pay, so no extravagance in the Mess. It’s wartime.”
“Last word, Major – the Adjutant ain’t the most wide-awake I have ever seen and you will be carrying him more often than not. I haven’t found out how to make him useful – you try!”
Richard found himself almost bereft of words next morning as he welcomed his new second lieutenant.
“What are you doing here, Mr Wincanton?”
“The battalion was asked to provide a second lieutenant for the 8th Battalion, sir, and I volunteered instantly. The colonel said he was very glad to allow me to join you again, sir!”
Richard was sure that was so and knew exactly why; he was surprised he could not hear the man’s laughter from Devizes.
“Good of him, Mr Wincanton. We go out to France the day after tomorrow, so you have no need to unpack too much. Report to Major Vokes now and he will settle you into your company. I am glad to see you under my command again, Mr Wincanton.”
“I was sure you would be, sir. You put a great deal of effort into assisting me, sir.”