No More Parades - Ford Madox Ford (the gingerbread man read aloud .TXT) 📗

A shadow⁠—the shadow of the General Officer Commanding in Chief⁠—falling across the bar of light that the sunlight threw in at his open door seemed providentially to awaken Christopher Tietjens, who would have thought it extremely disagreeable to be found asleep by that officer. Very thin, graceful and gay with his scarlet gilt oak-leaves, and ribbons, of which he had many, the general was stepping attractively over the sill of the door, talking backwards over his shoulder, to someone outside. So, in the old days, Gods had descended! It was, no doubt, really the voices from without that had awakened Tietjens, but he preferred to think the matter a slight intervention of Providence, because he felt in need of a sign of some sort! Immediately upon awakening he was not perfectly certain of where he was, but he had sense enough to answer with coherence the first question that the general put to him and to stand stiffly on his legs. The general had said:

“Will you be good enough to inform me, Captain Tietjens, why you have no fire-extinguishers in your unit? You are aware of the extremely disastrous consequences that would follow a conflagration in your lines?”

Tietjens said stiffly:

“It seems impossible to obtain them, sir.”

The general said:

“How is this? You have indented for them in the proper quarter? Perhaps you do not know what the proper quarter is?”

Tietjens said:

“If this were a British unit, sir, the proper quarter would be the Royal Engineers.” When he had sent his indent in for them to the Royal Engineers they informed him that this being a unit of troops from the Dominions, the quarter to which to apply was the Ordnance. On applying to the Ordnance, he was informed that no provision was made of fire-extinguishers for troops from the Dominions under Imperial officers, and that the proper course was to obtain them from a civilian firm in Great Britain, charging them against barrack damages⁠ ⁠… He had applied to several firms of manufacturers, who all replied that they were forbidden to sell these articles to anyone but to the War Office direct⁠ ⁠… “I am still applying to civilian firms,” he finished.

The officer accompanying the general was Colonel Levin, to whom, over his shoulder, the general said: “Make a note of that, Levin, will you? and get the matter looked into.” He said again to Tietjens:

“In walking across your parade-ground I noticed that your officer in charge of your physical training knew conspicuously nothing about it. You had better put him on to cleaning out your drains. He was unreasonably dirty.”

Tietjens said:

“The sergeant-instructor, sir, is quite competent. The officer is an R.A.S.C. officer. I have at the moment hardly any infantry officers in the unit. But officers have to be on these parades⁠—by A.C.I. They give no orders.”

The general said dryly:

“I am aware from the officer’s uniform of what arm he belonged to. I am not saying you do not do your best with the material at your command.” From Campion on parade this was an extraordinary graciousness. Behind the general’s back Levin was making signs with his eyes which he meaningly closed and opened. The general, however, remained extraordinarily dry in manner, his face having its perfectly expressionless air of studied politeness which allowed no muscle of its polished-cherry surface to move. The extreme politeness of the extremely great to the supremely unimportant!

He glanced round the hut markedly. It was Tietjens’ own office and contained nothing but the blanket-covered tables and, hanging from a strut, an immense calendar on which days were roughly crossed out in red ink and blue pencil. He said:

“Go and get your belt. You will go round your cookhouses with me in a quarter of an hour. You can tell your sergeant-cook. What sort of cooking arrangements have you?”

Tietjens said:

“Very good cookhouses, sir.”

The general said:

“You’re extremely lucky, then. Extremely lucky!⁠ ⁠… Half the units like yours in this camp haven’t anything but company cookers and field ovens in the open⁠ ⁠…” He pointed with his crop at the open door. He repeated with extreme distinctness “Go and get your belt!” Tietjens wavered a very little on his feet. He said:

“You are aware, sir, that I am under arrest.”

Campion imported a threat into his voice:

“I gave you,” he said, “an order. To perform a duty!”

The terrific force of the command from above to below took Tietjens staggering through the door. He heard the general’s voice say: “I’m perfectly aware he’s not drunk.” When he had gone four paces Colonel Levin was beside him.

Levin was supporting him by the elbow. He whispered:

“The general wishes me to go with you if you are feeling unwell. You understand you are released from arrest!” He exclaimed with a sort of rapture: “You’re doing splendidly⁠ ⁠… It’s amazing. Everything I’ve ever told him about you⁠ ⁠… Yours is the only draft that got off this morning⁠ ⁠…”

Tietjens grunted:

“Of course I understand that if I’m given an order to perform a duty, it means I am released from arrest.” He had next to no voice. He managed to say that he would prefer to go alone. He said: “… He’s forced my hand⁠ ⁠… The last thing I want is to be released from arrest⁠ ⁠…”

Levin said breathlessly:

“You can’t refuse⁠ ⁠… You can’t upset him⁠ ⁠… Why, you can’t⁠ ⁠… Besides, an officer cannot demand a court martial.”

“You look,” Tietjens said, “like a slightly faded bunch of wallflowers⁠ ⁠… I’m sure I beg your pardon⁠ ⁠… It came into my head!” The colonel drooped intangibly, his moustache a little ragged, his eyes a little rimmed, his shaving a little ridged. He exclaimed:

“Damn it!⁠ ⁠… Do you suppose I don’t care what happens to you?⁠ ⁠… O’Hara came storming into my quarters at half-past three⁠ ⁠… I’m not going to tell you what he said⁠ ⁠…” Tietjens said gruffly:

“No, don’t! I’ve all I can stand for the moment⁠ ⁠…”

Levin exclaimed desperately:

“I want you to understand⁠ ⁠… It’s impossible to believe anything against⁠ ⁠…”

Tietjens faced him, his teeth showing like a badger’s. He said:

“Whom?⁠ ⁠… Against whom? Curse you!”

Levin said pallidly:

“Against⁠ ⁠… Against⁠ ⁠… either