Simon Called Peter Part 21

Peter pulled at his arm, and Louise stooped to help him. Once up, he got his arm round him, and demanded where he lived.

The man stared at them foolishly. Peter gave him a bit of a shake, and demanded the address again, "Come on," he said. "Pull yourself together, for the Lord's sake. We shall end before the A.P.M. if you don't. What's your camp, you fool?"

At that the man told him, stammeringly, and Peter sighed his relief.

"I know," he said to Louise. "It's not far. I'll maybe get a taxi at the corner." She pushed him towards a doorway: "Wait a minute," she said.

"I live here; it's all right. I will get a fiacre. I know where to find one."

She darted away. It seemed long to Peter, but in a few minutes a horn tooted and a cab came round the corner. Between them, they got the subaltern in, and Peter gave the address. Then he pulled out his purse before stepping in himself, opened it, found a ten-franc note, and offered it to Louise.

The girl of the street and the tavern pushed it away. "La!" she exclaimed. "Vite! Get in. Bon Dieu! Should I be paid for a kindness? Poor boy! he does not know what he does. He will 'ave a head--ah! terrible--in the morning. And see, he has fought for la patrie." She pointed to a gold wound-stripe on his arm. "Bon soir, monsieur."

She stepped back and spoke quickly to the driver, who was watching sardonically. He nodded. "Bon soir, monsieur," she said again, and disappeared in the doorway.

CHAPTER IX

A few weeks later the War Office--if it was the War Office, but one gets into the habit of attributing these things to the War Office--had one of its regular spasms. It woke up suddenly with a touch of nightmare, and it got fearfully busy for a few weeks before going to sleep again. All manner of innocent people were dragged into the vortex of its activities, and blameless lives were disturbed and terrorised. This particular enthusiasm involved even such placid and contented souls as the Chaplain-General, the Princ.i.p.al Chaplain, their entire staffs and a great many of their rank and file. It created a new department, acquired many additional offices for the B.E.F., dragged from their comfortable billets a certain number of high-principled base officers, and then (by the mercy of Providence) flickered out almost as soon as the said officers bad made themselves a little more comfortable than before in their new posts.

It was so widespread a disturbance that even Peter Graham, most harmless of men, with plenty of his own fish to fry, was dragged into it, as some leaf, floating placidly downstream, may be caught and whirled away in an excited eddy. More definitely, it removed him from Havre and Julie just when he was beginning to want most definitely to stay there, and of course, when it happened, he could hardly know that it was to be but a temporary separation.

He was summoned, then, one fine morning, to his A.C.G.'s office in town, and he departed on a bicycle, turning over in his mind such indiscretions of which he had been guilty and wondering which of them was about to trip him. Pennell had been confident, indeed, and particular.

"You're for it, old bean," he had said. "There's a limit to the patience even of the Church. They are going to say that there is no need for you to visit hospitals after dark, and that their padres mustn't be seen out with nurses who smoke in public. And all power to their elbow, I say."

Peter's reply was certainly not in the Prayer-Book, and would probably have scandalised its compilers, but he thought, secretly, that there might be something in what his friend said. Consequently he rode his bicycle carelessly, and was indifferent to tram-lines and some six inches of nice sticky mud on parts of the _pave_. In the ordinary course, therefore, these things revenged themselves upon him. He came off neatly and conveniently opposite a small _cafe debit_ at a turn in the dock road, and the mud prevented the _pave_ from seriously hurting him.

A Frenchman, minding the cross-lines, picked him up, and he, madame, her a.s.sistant, and a customer, carried him into the kitchen off the bar and washed and dried him. The least he could do was a gla.s.s of French beer all round, with a franc to the dock labourer who straightened his handle-bars and tucked in a loose spoke, and for all this the War Office--if it was the War Office, for it may, quite possibly, have been Lord Northcliffe or Mr. Bottomley, or some other controller of our national life--was directly responsible. When one thinks that in a hundred places just such disturbances were in progress in ten times as many innocent lives, one is appalled at their effrontery. They ought to eat and drink more carefully, or take liver pills.

However, in due time Peter sailed up to the office of his immediate chief but little the worse for wear, and was ushered in. He was prepared for a solitary interview, but he found a council of some two dozen persons, who included an itinerant Bishop, an Oxford Professor, a few Y.M.C.A. ladies, and--triumph of the A.C.G.--a Labour member. Peter could not conceive that so great a weight of intellect could be involved in his affairs, and took comfort. He seated himself on a wooden chair, and put on his most intelligent appearance; and if it was slightly marred by a mud streak at the back of his ear, overlooked by madame's kindly a.s.sistant who had attended to that side of him, he was not really to blame. Again, it was the fault of Lord Northcliffe or--or any of the rest of them.

It transpired that he was slightly late: the Bishop had been speaking. He was a good Bishop and eloquent, and, as the A.C.G. who now rose to take the matter in hand remarked, he had struck the right note. In all probability it was due to Peter's having missed that note that he was so critical of the scheme. The note would have toned him up. He would have felt a more generous sympathy for the lads in the field, and would have been more definitely convinced that something must be done. If not plainly stated in the Holy Scriptures, his lordship had at least found it indicated there, but Peter was not aware of this. He only observed that the note had made everyone solemn and intense except the Labour member.

That gentleman, indeed, interrupted the A.C.G. before he was fairly on his legs with the remark: "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but as this is an informal conference, does anyone mind if I smoke?"...

Peter's A.C.G. was anything but a fool, and the nightmare from Headquarters had genuinely communicated itself to him. He felt all he said, and he said it ably. He lacked only in one regard: he had never been down among the mult.i.tude. He knew exactly what would have to have been in his own mind for him to act as he believed some of them were acting, and he knew exactly how he would, in so deplorable a condition of affairs, have set about remedying it. These things, then, he stated boldly and clearly. As he proceeded, the Y.M.C.A. ladies got out notebooks, the Professor allowed himself occasional applause, and the Labour member lit another pipe.

It appeared that there was extreme unrest and agitation among the troops, or at least a section of the troops, for no one could say that the armies in the field were not magnificent. They had got to remember that the Tommy of to-day was not as the Tommy of yesterday--not that he suffered by comparison, but that he was far better educated and far more inclined to think for himself. They were well aware that a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, or, again, as his friend the Bishop would have doubtless put it, how great a matter a little fire kindleth. There was no escaping it: foreign propaganda, certain undesirable books and papers--books and papers, he need hardly say, outside the control of the reputable Press--and even Socialistic agitators, were abroad in the Army. He did not wish to say too much; it was enough to remind them of what, possibly, they already knew, that certain depots on certain occasions had refused to sing the National Anthem, and were not content with their wages.

Insignificant as these things might be in detail, G.H.Q. had felt there was justifiable cause for alarm. This meeting had gathered to consider plans for a remedy.

Now he thanked G.o.d that they were not Prussians. There must be no attempt at coercion. A war for liberty must be won by free people. One had, of course, to have discipline in the Army, but theirs was to-day a citizen Army. His friend who had left his parliamentary duties to visit France might rest a.s.sured that the organizations represented there that morning would not forget that. In a word, Tommy had a vote, and he was ent.i.tled to it, and should keep it. One day he should even use it; and although no one could wish to change horses crossing a stream, still, they hoped that day would speedily come--the day of peace and victory.

But meantime, what was to be done? As the Bishop had rightly said, something must be done. Resolute on this point, H.Q. had called in the C.G. and the P.C. and, he believed, expert opinion on both sides the House of Commons; and the general opinion agreed upon was that Tommy should be educated to vote correctly when the time came, and to wait peacefully for that time. The Professor could tell them of schemes even now in process of formation at home in order that the land they loved might be cleaner, sweeter, better and happier, in the days to come. But Tommy, meantime, did not know of these things. He was apparently under the delusion that he must work out his own salvation, whereas, in point of fact, it was being worked out for him scientifically and religiously.

If these things were clearly laid before him, H.Q. was convinced that agitation, dissatisfaction, and even revolution--for there were those who thought they were actually trending in that direction--would be nipped in the bud.

The scheme was simple and far-reaching. Lectures would be given all over the areas occupied by British troops. Every base would be organised in such a way that such lectures and even detailed courses of study should be available for everyone. Every chaplain, hutworker, and social entertainer must do his or her bit. They must know how to speak wisely and well--not all in public, but, everyone as the occasion offered, privately, in hut or camp, to inquiring and dissatisfied Tommies. They would doubtless feel themselves insufficient for these things, but study-circles were to be formed and literature obtained which would completely furnish them with information. He would conclude by merely laying on the table a bundle of the splendid papers and tracts already prepared for this work. The Professor would now outline what was being attempted at home, and then the meeting would be open for discussion.

The Professor was given half an hour, and he made an excellent speech for a cornered and academic theorist. The first ten minutes he devoted to explaining that he could not explain in the time; in the second, tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, he pointed out that it was no use his outlining schemes not yet completed, or that they could read for themselves, or that, possibly, without some groundwork, they could not understand; and in the third ten minutes he outlined the committees dealing with the work and containing such well-known names as Robert Smiley, Mr. b.u.t.ton, and Clydens. He sat down. Everyone applauded--the M.P., and possibly the A.C.G., because they honestly knew and respected these gentlemen, and the rest because they felt they ought to do so. The meeting was then opened for discussion.

Peter took no part in what followed, and, indeed, nothing over-illuminating was said save one remark, cast upon the waters by the Labour member, which was destined to be found after many days. They were talking of the lectures, and one of the ladies (Peter understood a Girton lecturer) was apparently eager to begin without delay. The M.P. begged to ask a question: Were there to be questions and a discussion?

The A.C.G. glanced at a paper before him, and rose. He apologised for omitting to mention it before, but H.Q. thought it would be subverse of all discipline if, let us say, privates should be allowed to get up and argue with the officers who might have addressed them. They all knew what might be said in the heat of argument. Also, if he might venture to say so, some of their lecturers, though primed with the right lecture, might not be such experts that they could answer every question, and plainly failure to satisfy a questioner might be disastrous. But questions could be written and replies given at the next lecture. He thought, smiling, that some of them would perhaps find that convenient.

The M.P. leaned back in his chair. "Well, sir," he said, "I'm sorry to be a wet-blanket, but if that is so, the scheme is wrecked from the start.

You don't know the men; I do. They're not going to line up, like the pupils of Dotheboys Academy, for a spoonful of brimstone and treacle."

The meeting was slightly scandalised. The chairman, however, rose to the occasion. That, he said, was a matter for H.Q. They were there to do their duty. And, being an able person, he did his. In ten minutes they were formed into study-bands and were pledged to study, with which conclusion the meeting adjourned.

Peter was almost out of the door when he heard his name called, and turning, saw the A.C.G. beckoning him. He went up to the table and shook hands.

"Do you know the Professor?" asked his superior. "Professor, this is Mr.

Graham."

"How do you do?" said the man of science. "You are Graham of Balliol, aren't you? You read Political Science and Economics a little at Oxford, I think? You ought to be the very man for us, especially as you know how to speak."

Peter was confused, but, being human, a little flattered. He confessed to the sins enumerated, and waited for more.

"Well," said the A.C.G., "I've sent in your name already, Graham, and they want you to go to Abbeville for a few weeks. A gathering is to be made there of the more promising material, and you are to get down to the work of making a syllabus, and so on. You will meet other officers from all branches of the Service, and it should be interesting and useful. I presume you will be willing to go? Of course it is entirely optional, but I may say that the men who volunteer will not be forgotten."

"Quite so," said the Professor. "They will render extremely valuable service. I shall hope to be there part of the time myself."

Peter thought quickly of a number of things, as one does at such a moment. Some of them were serious things, and some quite frivolous--like Julie. But he could hardly do otherwise than consent. He asked when he should have to go.

"In a few days. You'll have plenty of time to get ready. I should advise you to write for some books, and begin to read up a little, for I expect you are a bit rusty, like the rest of us. And I shall hope to have you back lecturing in this Army area before long."

So to speak, bowed out, Peter made his way home. In the Rue de Paris Julie pa.s.sed him, sitting with a couple of other nurses in an ambulance motor-lorry, and she waved her hand to him. The incident served to depress him still more, and he was a bit petulant as he entered the mess.

He flung his cap on the table, and threw himself into a chair.

"Well," said Pennell, who was there, "on the peg all right?"

"Don't be a fool!" said Peter sarcastically. "I'm wanted on the Staff.

Haig can't manage without me. I've got to leave this perishing suburb and skip up to H.Q., and don't you forget it, old dear. I shall probably be a Major-General before you get your third pip. Got that?"

Pennell took his pipe from his mouth. "What's in the wind now?" he demanded.

"Well, you might not have noticed it, but I'm a political and economic expert, and Haig's fed up that you boys don't tumble to the wisdom of the centuries as you ought. Consequently I've got to instruct you. I'm going to waltz around in a motor-car, probably with tabs up, and lecture. And there aren't to be any questions asked, for that's subversive of discipline."

"Good Lord, man, do talk sense! What in the world do you mean?"

"I mean jolly well what I say, if you want to know, or something precious like it. The blinking Army's got dry-rot and revolutionary fever, and we may all be murdered in our little beds unless I put a shoulder to the wheel. That's a bit mixed, but it'll stand. I shall be churning out this thing by the yard in a little."

"Any extra pay?" demanded Pennell anxiously. "I can lecture on engineering, and would do for an extra sixpence. Whisky's going up, and I haven't paid my last mess bill."

"You haven't, old son," said Arnold, coming in, "and you've jolly well got to. Here's a letter for you, Graham."

Peter glanced at the envelope and tore it open. Pennell knocked his pipe out with feigned dejection. "The fellow makes me sick, padre," he said.

"He gets billets-doux every hour of the blessed day."