Rain Along The Firestep

Chapter 13 - 'The Sergeant Major'

Zero Minus 24 Hours

The journey back from the Devonshire Regiments' Sector to that of the 'Londons' was going to be a long one for The Sergeant Major; both in distance and also, by virtue of the company he was going to be keeping: that of Private Featherstonehaugh!

The Sergeant Major had been selected, for the particularly unusual and onerous task of escorting this former-2nd lieutenant to his new Battalion Lines, by virtue of his discretion, experience and most-unusually for any company sergeant major; his sensitivity.

He was fully-aware from what he had been told however, that this trip was likely to be something of a testing-time for him. So, he had made a promise to himself; if his charge was going to be a 'bit of a hand-full'; he was going to make absolutely certain to see to it that it would be a 'testing time' for him, also!

*****

Featherstonehaugh, having got finally been issued with his new uniform; which looked as though it could easily have fitted someone five stone heavier and six inches taller, had hurriedly-thrust the remainder of his personal effects into his new kitbag; his name, new rank and regimental number, still yet to be painted upon it.

With a now, almost palpable, feeling oozing all over him from every pore of his old battalion, for him to just get out of its' Lines and never come back; Featherstonehaugh, along with The Sergeant Major, had set off via an incredibly complex network of Reserve and Communications Trenches, for his new regiment.

For the first hour of their travels it was, understandably, The Sergeant Major who did virtually-all of the talking; mainly that of the small, stilted variety and more-so, for his rather than Featherstonehaugh's benefit, as one thing that The Sergeant Major could not bear and that was protracted silences!

As the two of them had trudged, clumsily and awkwardly, along the countless mud-smeared and broken duck-boards, The Sergeant Major had glanced-over at Featherstonehaugh from time to time; as though still weighing-him up.

He thought to himself, as he plodded, laboriously, along; this ex-officer was no more than a boy really, straight-out of some expensive 'posh' public school in Berkshire or somewhere and then, had been, virtually-immediately, expected to lead men; men old enough to be his father, or even his grandfather, to possible death, injury or mutilation, in what must be one of the most dangerous and hideously-desolate places upon God's earth!

In his 'book', this was just too much to expect from these callow adolescents; these 'young lads' they were being sent all along the Front, by a War Office that really just did not seem to care! It was not so much that Featherstonehaugh had completely 'funked it' and fallen to pieces, that had really surprised The Sergeant Major; but more-so that even far- more of his kind had not!

As The Sergeant Major continued to plod along, he now reminisced. About a year ago, one of these green, unseasoned 2nd lieutenants from his battalion had gone one step further than Featherstonehaugh and actually gone absent without leave. He had been captured, quickly and easily, within only a few hours of his departure a few miles away, apparently trying to cadge a lift from a military lorry on its way to the coast.

The Sergeant Major had not really known a great deal about the reasons behind the lad's possible desertion; but, he had felt pity for him all the same.

When the Military Police had brought him back to their Battalion Lines, he had worn all the tell-tale cuts and bruises, in testament to an hour or so in their company, all over his face. These 'Red Caps' had, obviously, already decided to find this young officer 'Guilty' and had decided that it was their role and responsibility to be judge and jury; although not quite executioner: that would come later!