Back In Action

Chapter Twelve

Tompkins stood to attention when David entered the room. "Good morning, Sir."

David looked at his freshly made bed and said, "You needn't do this. I can do it myself."

"Sir, it's one of my responsibilities. What shall I bring you for breakfast?"

"I think it best I go to the mess and become acquainted with the others. Maybe later, as the course progresses, I can breakfast here."

"As you wish, Sir."

"You can show me where the mess is, though." He glanced at his watch. "Breakfast begins in six minutes."

"Yes, Sir. I've a shortcut we can take. It'll save us going the long way."

Tompkins led David to a blank door and along a narrow corridor. "This is the way I was shown for bringing you food from the mess. Otherwise, it's outside across the Quadrangle and around the end of the wing, then in the other side."

They emerged into the foyer at the entrance to the mess to see several dozen cadets lined up waiting for the doors to be opened. "Sergeant Atkins said the passage saves about three minutes."

David looked at the rapidly growing line, then turned to Tompkins and said, "We're having a presentation on uniforms this morning. I'll give you details at noon."

"Very good, Sir." Tompkins saluted, turned and marched back across the foyer.

As David joined the end of the line, he looked at the others. Everyone in uniform. Guess it's only a few of the new entry people who are without, though most of the others on the Quadrangle were wearing their old issue. A voice broke his thoughts.

"Looks like this greenhorn forgot his uniform."

"Also forgot to shave this morning. Many mornings."

"Love to hear his Sergeant-Major when he reams his ass."

David listened to the continuing taunting, then smiled and said, "Good morning, Gentlemen."

"It even speaks."

"That's not speech, that's noise."

"Orrible bloooody accent."

The taunting escalated until Tompkins returned and saluted. "Sir, I forgot to ask. Will you also be taking your lunch here, or shall I bring it to your quarters?"

"I think I should dine here each meal for the first several days, Tompkins. It appears I need to do some socialising."

"Very good, Sir." Tompkins saluted again, turned and marched away.

David looked at a few gaping faces and smiled. "As I was saying, good morning, Gentlemen. I'm David."

"I'm Garth," the young man further along the line said as he took a few steps and extended his hand to shake. "You sound Canadian. I'm from Saskatchewan, Weyburn."

"From the flat lands. I'm from the middle of the mountains, Trail, British Columbia." He looked along the line toward the entrance. "Let's go back up to your place in line. I'm sure these fine gentlemen won't mind. It's started to move, anyway."

The line moved quickly along, then inside and around the perimeter of the dining room to the hot line. "There's a cold buffet over there." Garth pointed to a long table against the wall. "It's great for those mornings when you're running late."

"How long have you been here?"

"Nine weeks now, starting my tenth. Left the trenches three days before the first gas attack."

"You're lucky. I left three days after the chlorine." They arrived at the steam table.

"Don't take the poached eggs unless you like heavy vinegar. The baked eggs are my favourite. This pan. Avoid the sausages, they're mostly meal and fat. The ham is the least greasy." They filled their plates, grabbed mugs of coffee, then Garth led the way across the room to an empty table. "So you were there for the gas?"

"Rolled over us just along from my position, took about half my company. Horrible. The French Colonial troops took the worst of it, though. Those who weren't affected turned and ran." He took a sip of coffee. "We had to fill the wide gap they left."

"So I heard. You said you left three days later."

"The Germans swept over our position. I ended up taking some shrapnel, and when came to, I was behind their new lines." Four more cadets joined them at the table, and Garth did a round of introductions.

"So you were wounded and behind their lines. Captured, I guess. Then you escaped."

"No, I evaded them and made my way to Switzerland."

"That's a long way to go through enemy territory, particularly wearing a Canadian uniform."

"I left my uniform there." He looked at his clothes and smiled. "These are the latest German fashions." He looked at Garth's uniform. "I need an entire new kit. Where did you have yours made?"

"There are several clothiers in the High Street, but I used one of the tailors who visit from London. You'll have a uniform session today, and they'll all have displays there. You get a uniform grant that'll cover most of it."

"Bloody Hell, you Canadians. The Army gives us nowt."

Garth looked at Richard. "Yes, but once you're commissioned, your pay will nearly catch up to ours."

"But at a quarter your rate all these months, I've not two farthings to jingle. Be a year and more before I pay for my kit." He looked down at his uniform.

David examined the details of Garth's tunic. "That's finely crafted. Which firm built it?"

"Turnbull and Asser. Their people should be here for your session today; that's how I met them. They're in London's Jermyn Street, and they boast of having received a Royal Warrant from King Edward."

"Do you know of Hawkes and Company?"

"Superb reputation. They weren't at our uniform day, though."

"Tompkins, my batman was working with them before the war. His father's one of the tailors."

"You've a batman?" Richard asked.

"Yes, appears I do. Not accustomed to the idea yet, but he presented himself to me when I arrived last evening. He's not done it either, so we're both learning."

"You hold a commission already, then. Why are you here?"

"To learn how to properly handle the trust I've been granted."