The Death of Hope Andrew Wareham (book club reads TXT) 📖

stamp from the War Office. Same for lieutenantto captain. Major has to be approved at Corps and anything higher is handled inLondon.”

“Good. What have you in mind for theconscripts?”

“A choice of their own platoons, separatefor training purposes, or feeding them into the existing company structure, tofill in the gaps. I don’t like the idea of keeping them apart from the men.Makes them pariahs. My advice, sir, is to treat them like any other replacementcoming up the line.”

“I’ll have a word with Major Vokes. Unlesshe has strong opinions otherwise, that’s what we shall do.”

“I expect most of them will fit in, sir.If they don’t, we can make them.”

Chapter Nine

Thedinner party was, Simon imagined, a great success.

His uncle took pride of place, havingseniority in station over all present. Simon took the next chair, a baronet’swife on one side, a knight’s lady on the other. As heir to the viscountcy, hesupposed he had some social standing. Being the proud fiancé, he must also begiven prominence; add to that, he had some rank and good decorations. Thecombination made him visible and valuable to Mrs Parrett, concerned to increaseher already high standing in the County. The Lord Lieutenant was not present,to her regret, she could not yet call on the very highest to grace her table;that would come, she did not doubt, when her new son-in-law acceded to hisuncle’s honours.

The one great worry, clouding her triumph,was that dear Simon insisted still on sailing off to war, risking his valuablelife. An early wedding, followed, she much trusted, by a rapid pregnancy andthere would be an heir in his line, a grandson to keep the title in the Parrettfamily. She must hope that he could achieve another leave, although he had saidthat he expected to be many months aboard ship now, could not look for a secondspell of rest in the next twelvemonth. He would be able to pay fleeting visits,a day or two at a time, totally inadequate for a wedding. The war was anuisance, interfering with the important things in life!

Mrs Parrett was a little chagrined thatshe was stepping up on the back of her youngest child, rather than her ownendeavours, consoled herself that dear Alice had always been her favourite. Apity that her husband had never been willing to work for a title; she was surethat he could have done so, had no doubt they could have found the moneyinvolved, the family had pots of it, after all!

Two of the invited families had sent lateapologies, had just gone into mourning for sons lost in a flare-up at the Front.Both had been lieutenants in the Suffolks. She wondered if her eldest son,recently joined the regiment, might have been involved. They had received notelegram, had no rational cause for worry, and she was not to disturb her peaceof mind with such gloomy speculations. All was well in her world, as it alwayshad been and must ever continue.

The ladies withdrew and the men clusteredaround the head of the table, the decanters circulating.

“What have you heard in London, my lord?Even so close as Ipswich, we pick up little of the latest information.”

“The Battle of Loos is winding down, MrParrett. Fifty thousand losses and almost nothing gained. French cannot last.It is a matter of a very few weeks now while the government tidies all anddecides who must go where. Haig is being consulted, of course, and will havethe final say on who is promoted, who will be sent away among the generals. Nonames available yet.”

He had said very little. It was more thanthe newspapers had to offer.

“There was talk of advances made,territory held, my lord.”

“Much talk. Little eventuality, I fear.The newspapers are no longer to be relied upon. Perhaps the only accurate itemsare the lists of names.”

“Fifty thousand dead and wounded! How manyof them will be fit ever to return to service, my lord?”

“That is unclear. More than twentythousand died. The machine guns and artillery took a heavy toll. Of thewounded, at least one half will never fully recover. Many are suffering fromgas, their lungs impaired for life, a shortened life in all probability.”

“What swine the Huns are to use poisongas!”

Viscount Perceval chose not to enlightenthem; they would not understand how it could come about that British gas hadcaused the bulk of such casualties, possibly all. He did not know that theGermans had released any gas in that battle.

“What of the sea, Captain Sturton? Have weregained command of the oceans?”

“No, sir. The submarine is the menace. Wehave no way of discovering submarines under the surface. We will see far more lossesto the boats over the coming years.”

Conversation became increasingly gloomy asthey concluded that the country was close to losing the war.

“Is there a way to win, Captain Sturton?”

“Not in France, sir. New weapons, and Ihave no idea what they might be, could possibly bring a breakthrough. Atpresent, there is stalemate. The defence is stronger than the offence. If thereis to be a victory, then it must take place elsewhere than in Flanders.”

The Viscount offered an insight.

“Germany is short of foodstuffs for herlarge population. As are we, of course. We can bring wheat from America,provided the submarines do not sink too much. Germany has no outside source,unless the Kaiser can take the whole of Poland and the Steppes and pullharvests from them. Our blockade may be the answer.”

“To starve the Hun rather than to defeatthem in open war, you say, my lord.”

“It seems so, sir.”

It was no way to fight a war. Where wasthe honour?

“Can the cavalry not be released, my lord?Fifty regiments of horse must turn the war in our favour.”

“The cavalry has no part to play inFrance, sir. They are irrelevant, in fact. The war is between artillery andinfantry. Horse has nothing to say.”

That was an obvious nonsense. Cavalry wonwars. The infantry was to hold the ground they took; the artillery played itsrole in sieges and in set-piece battles. That had been the case since the daysof the Iron Duke. How could war have changed now?

“We have invented barbed wire and themachine gun, sir. The two between them