"That Captain Malcolm, sir. He is thought pretty well of here, I think. He is a staff officer. One of them thoroughgoing politicians, beggin' your pardon, sir."
"Well?"
"I am pretty sure that everybody is getting ready to leave this place. The men looked starved and there ain't anything in the country around here. I think that is why we were called back. Begging the lieutenant's pardon."
"And what of that?"
"I think Captain Malcolm is going to be given command of the brigade, sir.
He acted like that and he ain't any field officer. He's weak and hes soft and all he knows how to do¯"
"You are speaking of an officer, Mawkey."
"Beg pardon, sir. But I'm speakin' of one of them staff things that come over a couple years ago. And the B.C.R was always so rotten that whatever they wanted to get rid of must've been pretty¯"
"Yessir."
Mawkey withdrew and began to fuss with the forgotten baggage, seeing if there was anything there that his lieutenant could use. Now and then he bent a glance at his officer. Plainly he was worried.
In two hours the runner dragged himself up to the door to announce that the lieutenant was ordered to report to the adjutant colonel and the officer followed him.
As they passed the batman by the door, Mawkey whispered: "Be careful, sir."
They went down, down, down into the earth until it seemed that the staff of G.H.Q. wanted to be as close as possible to the devil. The lieutenant noted the emptiness and filth of the fortress in general and was inclined to agree with Mawkey that the place would soon be abandoned.
They came at last to the office of the adjutant colonel, a place wholly encased in lead plate so that voices repeated themselves hollowly and endlessly. This room did not bear the same stamp as the rest of the fortress. The five juniors who sat at desks in the outer chamber did not appear to be starved. Their uniforms were strictly regulation and, if a little old, were not much worn; they had had, after all, the whole fortress to pick from. There was something unhealthy about these fellows which the lieutenant could not immediately recognize. He was used to men tanned by wind and sun and darkened with dirt, men who had hard faces and wasted few words or actions. These faces were like women's, and not very reputable women at that. They seemed to be somewhat amused by the lieutenant's appearance and, as soon as he had passed, went back to their ceaseless chattering.
The adjutant colonel's name was Graves and certainly he resembled nothing more than an undertaker. He sat at his desk as though it was a coffin and he was melancholy about the dear, dead deceased. He was a dark, small, greasy man and his eyes were not honestly evil like Mawkey's; they were masked and hypocritical.
Graves showed scant attention to the lieutenant, but required him to stand for some minutes in front of the desk before he saw fit to glance up. Then he did not speak, but sent a junior in to find if the lieutenant could be seen.
The junior came back and Graves stood up. Graves went down the hall and stepped into a larger office encased in even thicker lead plate.
"Officer commanding the Fourth Brigade, Second Division, Tenth Army Corps," said Graves. He beckoned the lieutenant to follow him in. Another junior announced them in the inner chamber and then the lieutenant was beckoned into a large room. A table occupied most of the space and about the table sat men much like those in the adjutant's outer office. They were all shaven and brushed and anointed and wore their insignia conspicuously. They wanted no mistake made about their rank, which was high, or their staff position, which they thought was high.
The lieutenant was sensible of their regard and knew they were staring somewhat dismayed at the mud which caked the battle cloak and the boots and the dirt which stained the unshaven face. It did not come to them immediately that the lieutenant's hands were covered by the cape and that the cape was bullet proof. It was very unseemly that he should come so armed, and censure was directed at the adjutant, all in silence.
General Victor, a very small and dehydrated man with too large a head and too small a mouth, sat at the head of the table. He glanced once at the lieutenant and then, finding that the eyes had a shocking power, hastily returned to a perusal of reports. He did not much like these field officers. They came in smelling of battle and full of commerit upon their orders and generally made a man feel unsure of himself.
The lieutenant thought that this looked more like a court-martial than a conference. He caught sight of Malcolm, now beautifully groomed, standing against the wall, looking carefully disinterested.
A colonel named Smythe, on Victor's fight, glanced to Victor for permission and then, receiving it, turned to the lieutenant. In Smythes hand was the lieutenant's report.
"This is very little to submit," said Smythe.
"It is complete enough," said the lieutenant.
"But you give no detail of casualties or desertions or troops fought."
"I knew you wouldn't be interested," said the lieutenant.
New interest came into the eyes about the table, for the lieutenant's tone was not in the least tempered with courtesy.
"Come now," said Smythe, "give us an account. We must know what troops there are out there which might impede our movements."
"There are about a thousand Russians heading south to Italy. They are the last of the Imperial White Russian Army. You might possibly contact them, but I doubt it."
"That's better," said Smythe, with a toothy smile which made him look very much like a rabbit. "Now, we have had reports about roving bands of soldiers, without officers, who have been laying waste the countryside.
Have you met some of these?"
"Why should P"
"Why should you? My dear fellow, it is the duty¯"
"I was ordered to return here. I think the countryside will take care of those who still remain of the enemy¯and of our own troops, too."
"We did not request an opinion," said Smythe.
"But you have it," said the lieutenant. He had been taking accurate stock of the room and had found that four enlisted men were posted at the board and two others stood behind Victor.
"What are those fellows doing here?" said the lieutenant, with a motion in their general direction.
"The Soldiers' Council representatives," said Smythe. And then, with sarcasm: "Of course, if you object¯" The titter about the board pleased him.
The representatives were witless-looking fellows, rather better fed than their compatriots of the barracks. They did not instantly perceive that they had been affronted, and when they did it was too late.
"We have a report here," said Smythe, "that you failed to organize, at any time, or permit the organization of a soldiers' council in your brigade.
Is that true?"
"Yes."
"And I believe, according to the record here, that we sent out a man named Farquarson, a private, to help organize such a council in your brigade. He does not seem to be with you now and we can get no word of him from your troops. "
"He was killed," said the lieutenant.
"What's this?"
"If you'd sent a soldier he might have lived a while. But as it was, the first time we were under fire he was shot."
"You infer that you¯"
"I infer nothing, gentlemen. It was not necessary to shoot the troublemaker myself. It takes a man to live these days." And he looked around the board, plainly not finding any.
Smythe and the general put their heads together and whispered, glancing at the lieutenant the while. Then Victor whispered something to the officer on his left, who whispered to the next, and so on about the board. At last Smythe had it back again and whispered to the two soldiers back of the general, who both nodded stupidly.
Squaring himself about, Smythe addressed the lieutenant. "We have come to the conclusion that you are incompetent in the direction of your command, sir. We have decided that you shall be removed from that office. Because you have not sufficient rank to be attached to the staff, you will consider yourself a
s a supernumerary to the garrison without duties and, consequently, on half rations."
"And my command?" said the lieutenant.
"Will be provided for carefully. I believe Captain Malcolm here is better fitted for the duty. The Fourth Brigade will be assimilated as a company by the First Brigade of the First Division of the First Army Corps and will be stricken from the Army List. You will please turn over to Captain Malcolm your records and standards."
"Gentlemen," said the lieutenant, "your wishes are law. May I ask one question?"
"Certainly," said Smythe, somewhat mollified by this statement, which he took to be complete acquiescence.
"You intend to leave this place. I can perhaps give you some data upon the conditions in the surrounding countryside, where you can get provisions and so on."
"I am afraid we do not need your advice," said Smythe. "But there is no reason not to tell you that we intend to take a certain area far to the south which is reported to be fertile. And, by the way, lieutenant, I do not believe there is any occasion for you to revisit your own troops. The guard will be informed to include your name on the ' list of those barred from communicating with the men. There are several of your field officers here, and we can't have any trouble, you know."
"I am barred¯"
"Certainly. It is necessity. Colonel Graves, will you please make certain that even his batman is sent to the barrack before the lieutenant returns to his quarters. "
"This, then," said the lieutenant, "is arrest!"
Smythe shrugged. "That is a hard name. You do not seem to share our political views and as such your opinions must, of course, be isolated. Your room probably should be changed as well."
"Does it come to you that you gentlemen may regret this?"
"Come, come," said Smythe, amused. "No threats, now. You are excused, lieutenant."
Captain Malcolm could not help smiling over his complete victory.
Chapter V
L lieutenant discovered his quarters moved to the south passages, at the greatest possible distance from his troops. Of Mawkey there was no sign; only the pack on the table showed that he had been there.
When the orderly had shuffled away, the lieutenant unfastened his cloak from about his shoulders and dropped it to the table. He put his helmet upon it but he did not remove his side arms. It had rather amused him that nobody had quite dared ask for his weapons, but now even that faded.
Dispiritedly he sat down on a stool and began to clean the mud from his boots with a splinter from the table.
That he was preoccupied completely showed when it became apparent that he was not alone in the room. The oversight, when he noted it, alarmed him for it indicated how the grip on himself had slipped. This would never do. An officer with nerves was a dead officer.
A large, hopeless-looking youth swung his legs down from an upper bunk. He seemed to have lost all pride in both self and appearance for his blond hair was matted and snarled and his greasy tunic was buttoned awry where it was buttoned at all. His dull insignia showed that he was a subaltern.
He looked disinterestedly at the lieutenant.
From the bunk opposite another pair of legs showed and the lieutenant glanced in that direction. This second officer was a major, probably in his thirties, though his hair was already gray. He, too, was a big man, bearing that stamp of hopelessness which characterized the first. A black patch covered the place where his left eye had been and his left sleeve was tucked into his belt. But he still took care of his person, for his mustache was carefully trimmed and his jowl blue with the razor. His right eye brightened.
"May I introduce myself?" he said. "I am Major Swinburne and that lad there is Mr. Carstair, an Australian.'?
"Pleased," said the lieutenant, going back to work on his boots.
"What organization?" asked Major Swinburne.
"Fourth Brigade, Second Division, Tenth Army Corps, commanding."
"Well, well! You still have your organization, then. My regiment has been stricken from the Army List and Mr. Carstair's company as well. I say, old boy, if you don't mind my being curious, just how did you manage to keep your command away from those ghouls?"
"Until I am notified in writing and until my color bearer gives up our standard, the Fourth Brigade still exists and I am still in command."
A monotonous kind of laughter issued for several seconds from the subaltern's throat and then, while he still went through the expression, ceased to make any sound.
"Quite amusing, no doubt," said the lieutenant.
"Don't be hard on the lad," said the major. "He came out four years ago and he's seen every officer of his regiment killed. He brought in his company nearly a year ago and he has not been out of this fortress since, nor has he had duty."
"And YOU?"
"I've only been here a month," said Swinburne, "but it is pretty clear to me now that all field officers are being eliminated from their commands and that General Victor and that crackpot Smythe are thinking of setting up some sort of dukedom or some such thing. I came in just before all communication was cut off with London and so I got caught."
"I understood," said the lieutenant, "that twenty-one commands have reported in. Am I to presume that the rest of the officers are being similarly treated?"
"They were," said Swinburne.
"And where are they?"
"There are still thirty or forty organizations out so far as I know. All but Carstair and myself have managed to get out of here and join them, one way or another."
"And you are telling me that field officers deserted their outfits here?"
"Not exactly. There were desertions of noncoms and a few men as well."
"Then the place has nothing but staff officers and very few field noncoms?"
"Yes."
The lieutenant smiled.
"I fail ' " said Major Swinburne, "to see anything funny in that."
"The confidence of these Tommy-come-afters astounds me," said the lieutenant. "That is all."
"They have little to fear," said Major Swinburne. "Before they left England they were vaccinated against soldier's sickness."
"What's this? There is a vaccine?"
"It was produced in very small quantities by culturing human blood. I understand that only the governmental heads and the staffs have been given it."
"Our natural immunity to it is low enough, Heaven knows," said the lieutenant. "Well! So they can thumb their tails at soldier's sickness. No wonder they're still alive." And again he laughed quietly.
"You seem to be easily amused," said Carstair resentfully, "I was thinking of those poor little weaklings walking through the mud out there not getting their tea on time and being knocked off left and right by every sniper that comes along. The joke of it is, they've been moles so long they think war and disease cleaned the country. Why, a subaltern with twenty men could outmaneuver them and annihilate them before breakfast."
"Not so easily. Some of them have been on field service in central Germany," said Major Swinburne. "Do not underrate them. As I see it, they intend to take ever this entire district, only going south to get into a region where there is food. Most of the still extant organizations, you see, have headed for the Balkans and the Near East. I'm told we've quite a force in Africa. Some two thousand men. Nobody knows, of course'
"You're saying they'll meet no opposition, then?" said the lieutenant. "Why any village leader could cope with these half-starved soldiers and fizz-brain staff rabble'
"The soldiers will carry it through.." said Swinburne. "The thousand which have been on constant garrison duty here are also immune to soldier's sickness by the process of natural selection."
"They'll have eighteen hundred men," said the lieutenant.
"And we'll have nothing but a lingering death from boredom," said Carstair.
"Why didn't you chaps go with the other officers?" asked the lieutenant.
Swinburne looked uneasily across at Carstair and then shrugged. "We sound hopeless. We re
ally aren't. My men, the whole hundred, depended upon me to stick by them. His men, about twenty, have done the same. We occasionally get a message through from our sergeant majors' " '
"And so you stick in the faint hope that you'll be given back your commands."
"Yes," said Swinburne.
"They'll never be given back," said the lieutenant.
"What do you mean?" said both men sharply, with uneasy glances at the door.
Hope had suddenly blazed in their faces.
The lieutenant went on about the task of cleaning his muddy boots.
The barracks had originally been intended to accommodate a thousand men and so there was ample room for two hundred and eight. But for all that the place was damp and gloomy and, to soldiers who had begun to depend upon mobility rather than barricade for protection, it was too near from wall to wall and, compared with the sky, too close from ceiling to floor.
A silence fell upon the Fourth Brigade as they went about preparing their abiding place. For the first few minutes they feverishly got things in order and then, that accomplished, they touched up themselves. But more and more as the hours passed, they glanced inquiringly toward the door. Two or three times false word came that the lieutenant had arrived and there was a scurry of activity to make certain everything was all right. They supposed, naturally, that General Victor would accompany the lieutenant upon this inspection and, above all things, they did not want to disgrace their officer.
Bulger put dinner off and off until everyone was fairly starving, for he did not want to have the place messed up with food and smoke. Finally Pollard gave the word and Bulger's two scarecrows broke up some desks and benches to build a fire under the air outlet. There was another burst of activity to get supper through and cleared away before the inspection should come. And then, once more, they relapsed into waiting.
Little by little the tension died from them. They felt empty and neglected.
They did not even know the time, for they no longer had the sky. A mild attack of claustrophobia was creeping over each of them.
In short, their morale was slipping. As long as they could remember, they had had the lieutenant in sight or alarm distance, and now that they did not know where he was, they felt nervous. What if something should happen? Of course, they knew nothing could happen, but still¯