‘Szymanski’s gone a bit too far this time,’ Pennistone said. ‘They’ve sent him to detention. It was bound to come.’
There was a barracks, under the control of a British commandant, specially to accommodate delinquent Allied personnel.
I asked how recently that had happened.
‘A week or so ago.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Masham. ‘Though one’s got to admit the man was rather a card. It looks as if this North African switch-over will mean a back place for de Gaulle.’
‘Has anyone else hanged himself in his braces in that Free French snuggery behind Selfridge’s?’ asked Borrit.
‘Nobody hanged himself in his braces there or in any other Free French establishment,’ said Masham, rather irritably. ‘You’ve got the story wrong.’
Like all his Mission, Masham was, as he himself would have expressed it, plus catholique que le Pape, far more Francophil than the Free French themselves, who on the whole rather enjoyed a good laugh at less reputable aspects of their own corporate body. When in due course I had direct dealings with them myself, they were always telling stories about some guerrilla of theirs who divided his time between being parachuted into France to make contact with the Resistance, and returning to London to run a couple of girls on Shaftesbury Avenue.
‘What did happen then?’
‘There was some fuss about an interrogation.’
‘De Gaulle was pretty cross when our people enquired about it.’
‘He’s got to steer his own show, hasn’t he?’ said Masham, ‘Anyway, it looks as if he’s on the way out. By the way, Jenkins, the successful candidate for the job you applied to us for caught it at Bir Hakim.’
Kucherman rang up at that moment, and, by the time I had finished with Belgian business, Masham had gone up to see Finn. Transfer to the Belgians and Czechs meant no more physically than ceasing to sit next to Pennistone, though it vitiated a strong alliance in resisting Blackhead. The two Allied contingents with which I was now in liaison were, of course, even in their aggregate, much smaller numerically than the Polish Corps. At first sight, in spite of certain advantages in being one’s own master, responsible only to Finn, a loss in other directions seemed threatened by diminution of variety in the general field of activity. A claustrophobic existence offered, in this respect, the consolation of exceptional opportunities for observing people and situations closely in a particular aspect of war. Our Section’s viewpoint was no doubt less all embracing than, say, Widmerpool’s in his subterranean lair; at the same time could provide keener, more individual savour of things noted at first-hand.
It had been stimulating, for example, to watch the quickly gathering momentum of the apparatus — infinitesimally propelled, among others, by oneself — that reduced to some order the circumstances of the hundred and fifteen thousand Poles permitted to cross the Russian frontier into Iran; assisting, as it were, Pennistone’s ‘one man and a boy’ at the receiving end. Hundreds of thousands were left behind, of course, while those who got out were in poorish shape. All the same, these were the elements to form the Second Polish Army Corps; later so creditably concerned at Monte Cassino and elsewhere. Regarded superficially, the new Belgian and Czech assignments seemed to offer problems less obviously engrossing. However, as matters turned out, plenty of channels for fresh experience were provided by these two. Even the earliest meetings with Major Kucherman and Colonel Hlava promised that.
Precise in manner, serious about detail, Hewetson was judged to perform his duties pretty well, though he possessed no particular qualifications as expert on Belgian affairs, still less those of Czechoslovakia. Before I took over from him, he gave me a briefing about the characteristics of the Allies in question.
‘An excellent point about the Belgians,’ he said, ‘is not caring in the least what they say about each other, or their own national failings. They have none of that painful wish to make a good impression typical of some small nations. It’s a great relief. At the same time their standards in certain respects — food and drink, for example — are high ones. They are essentially easy to get on with. Do not believe disobliging propaganda, chiefly French, about them. They are not, it must be admitted, indifferent to social distinction. Their assistant MA, Gauthier de Graef, likes telling a story, no doubt dating from the last war, of an English officer, French officer, and Belgian officer, when a woman rode by on a horse. The Englishman said: “What a fine horse”; the Frenchman, “What a fine woman”: the Belgian, “I wonder what she was née”. Of course I don’t suggest that would happen today.’
‘One can’t make the classless society retroactive.’
Another saying of Gauthier’s is that when he wakes up in the night in a wagon-lit and hears a frightful row going on in the next compartment, he knows he’s back in his own beloved country — though I must say I haven’t been subjected to the smallest ill-humour myself on the part of my Belgian charges.’
‘They sound all right.’
‘One small snag — Lannoo was given promotion the other day, and has already left for his new job. The Belgian authorities still won’t make up their minds whom to appoint in his place. I’ve been dealing with Gauthier de Graef for weeks, who of course can’t take the decisions his boss could. I suppose this delay is the sort of thing the Belgians themselves grumble about.’
As it turned out, the official appointment of Kucherman came through only on the day when Hewetson left the Section. There was some misunderstanding about certain customary formalities, one of those departmental awkwardnesses that take place from time to time and can cause coolness. The fact was Kucherman himself was a figure of much more standing at home than the average officer likely to be found in that post. Possibly some of the Belgian Government thought this fact might overweigh the job; others, that more experience was desirable in purely military matters. At least that was the explanation given to Hewetson when things were in the air. As he had said, a particular charm possessed by the Belgians was, in a world everyday increasingly cautious about hazarding in public opinions about public affairs, no Belgian minded in the least criticizing his Government, individually or collectively.
‘One of their best points,’ Hewetson repeated.
In short, by the time I introduced myself to Kucherman, a faint sense of embarrassment had been infused into the atmosphere by interchanges at a much higher level than Finn’s. Kucherman was only a major, because the Belgians were rather justly proud of keeping their ranks low.
‘After all the heavy weather that’s been made, you’ll have to be careful not to get off on the wrong foot, Nicholas,’ said Finn. ‘Kucherman’s own people may have been to blame for some of that, but we’ve been rather stiff and unaccommodating ourselves. You’ll have to step carefully. Kucherman’s a well known international figure.’
I repeated these remarks of Finn’s to Pennistone.
‘Kucherman’s a big shot all right,’ said Pennistone. ‘I used to hear a lot about him and his products when I was still in business. He’s head of probably the largest textile firm. That’s just one of his concerns. He’s also a coal owner on an extensive scale, not to mention important interests in the Far East — if they still survive. We shall expect your manner to alter after a week or two of putting through deals with Kucherman.’
The picture was a shade disconcerting. One imagined a figure, younger perhaps, but somewhat on the lines of Sir Magnus Donners: talclass="underline" schoolmasterish; enigmatic. As it turned out, Kucherman’s exterior was quite different from that. Of medium height, neat, brisk, with a high forehead and grey hair, he seemed to belong to the eighteenth- century, the latter half, as if he were wearing a wig of the period tied behind with a black bow. This, I found later, was one of the Belgian physical types, rather an unexpected one, even in a nation rich in physiognomies recalling the past.