Debits and credits

by Rudyard Kipling

“The ’ole country was pretty noisy, an’ our dumps we’d lit ourselves flarin’ Heavens high as far as you could see. Lyin’ doggo was our best chance. I believe we might ha’ pulled it off, if we’d been left alone, but along towards midnight—there was some small stuff swishin’ about, but nothin’ particular—a nice little baldheaded old gentleman in uniform pushes into the dug-out wipin’ his glasses an’ sayin’ ’e was thinkin’ o’ formin’ a defensive flank on our left with ’is battalion which ’ad just come up. ’Ammick says ’e wouldn’t form much if ’e was ’im. ‘Oh, don’t say that,’ says the old gentleman, very shocked. ‘One must support the Guns, mustn’t one?’ ’Ammick says we was refittin’ an’ about as effective, just then, as a public lav’tory. ‘Go into Amiens,’ he says, ‘an’ defend ’em there.’ ‘Oh no,’ says the old gentleman, ‘me an’ my laddies must make a defensive flank for you,’ an’ he flips out of the dug-out like a performin’ bull-finch, chirruppin’ for his ‘laddies.’ Gawd in ’Eaven knows what sort o’ push they was—little boys mostly—but they ’ung on to ’is coat-tails like a Sunday-school treat, an’ we ’eard ’em muckin’ about in the open for a bit. Then a pretty tight barrage was slapped down for ten minutes, an’ ’Ammick thought the laddies had copped it already. ‘It’ll be our turn next,’ says Mosse. ‘There’s been a covey o’ Gothas messin’ about for the last ’alf-hour—lookin’ for the Railway Shops I expect. They’re just as likely to take us.’ ‘Arisin’ out o’ that,’ says ’Ammick, ‘one of ’em sounds pretty low down now. We’re for it, me learned colleagues!’ ‘Jesus!’ says Gander, ‘I believe you’re right, sir.’ And that was the last word I ’eard on the matter.”

“Did they cop you then?” said Anthony.

“They did. I expect Mosse was right, an’ they took us for the Railway Shops. When I come to, I was lyin’ outside the cuttin’, which was pretty well filled up. The Reverend Collins was all right; but Lady Catherine and the General was past prayin’ for. I lay there, takin’ it in, till I felt cold an’ I looked at meself. Otherwise, I ’adn’t much on excep’ me boots. So I got up an’ walked about to keep warm. Then I saw somethin’ like a mushroom in the moonlight. It was the nice old gentleman’s bald ’ead. I patted it. ’Im and ’is laddies ’ad copped it right enough. Some battalion run out in a ’urry from England, I suppose. They ’adn’t even begun to dig in—pore little perishers! I dressed myself off ’em there, an’ topped off with a British warm. Then I went back to the cuttin’ an’ some one says to me: ‘Dig, you ox, dig! Gander’s under.’ So I ’elped shift things till I threw up blood an’ bile mixed. Then I dropped, an’ they brought Gander out—dead—an’ laid ’im next me. ’Ammick ’ad gone too—fair tore in ’alf, the B. S. M. said; but the funny thing was he talked quite a lot before ’e died, an’ nothin’ to ’im below ’is stummick, they told me. Mosse we never found. ’E’d been standing by Lady Catherine. She’d up-ended an’ gone back on ’em, with ’alf the cuttin’ atop of ’er, by the look of things.”

“And what come to Macklin?” said Anthony.

“Dunno.... ’E was with ’Ammick. I expect I must ha’ been blown clear of all by the first bomb; for I was the on’y Janeite left. We lost about half our crowd either under, or after we’d got ’em out. The B. S. M. went off ’is rocker when mornin’ came, an’ he ran about from one to another sayin’: ‘That was a good push! That was a great crowd! Did ye ever know any push to touch ’em?’ An’ then ’e’d cry. So what was left of us made off for ourselves, an’ I came across a lorry, pretty full, but they took me in.”

“Ah!” said Anthony with pride. “They all take a taxi when it’s rainin’. ’Ever ’eard that song?”

“They went a long way back. Then I walked a bit, an’ there was a hospital-train fillin’ up, an’ one of the Sisters—a grey-headed one—ran at me wavin’ ’er red ’ands an’ sayin’ there wasn’t room for a louse in it. I was past carin’. But she went on talkin’ and talkin’ about the war, an’ her pa in Ladbroke Grove, an’ ’ow strange for ’er at ’er time of life to be doin’ this work with a lot o’ men, an’ next war, ’ow the nurses ’ud ’ave to wear khaki breeches on account o’ the mud, like the Land Girls; an’ that reminded ’er, she’d boil me an egg if she could lay ’ands on one, for she’d run a chicken-farm once. You never ’eard anythin’ like it—outside o’ Jane. It set me off laughin’ again. Then a woman with a nose an’ teeth on ’er, marched up. ‘What’s all this?’ she says. ‘What do you want?’ ‘Nothing,’ I says, ‘only make Miss Bates, there, stop talkin’ or I’ll die.’ ‘Miss Bates?’ she says. ‘What in ’Eaven’s name makes you call ’er that?’ ‘Because she is,’ I says. ‘D’you know what you’re sayin’?’ she says, an’ slings her bony arm round me to get me off the ground. ‘’Course I do,’ I says, ‘an’ if you knew Jane you’d know too.’ ‘That’s enough,’ says she. ‘You’re comin’ on this train if I have to kill a Brigadier for you,’ an’ she an’ an ord’ly fair hove me into the train, on to a stretcher close to the cookers. That beef-tea went down well! Then she shook ’ands with me an’ said I’d hit off Sister Molyneux in one, an’ then she pinched me an extra blanket. It was ’er own ’ospital pretty much. I expect she was the Lady Catherine de Burgh of the area. Well, an’ so, to cut a long story short, nothing further transpired.”

“’Adn’t you ’ad enough by then?” asked Anthony.

“I expect so. Otherwise, if the old Circus ’ad been carryin’ on, I might ’ave ’ad another turn with ’em before Armistice. Our B. S. M. was right. There never was a ’appier push. ’Ammick an’ Mosse an’ Gander an’ the B. S. M. an’ that pore little Macklin-man makin’ an’ passin’ an’ raisin’ me an’ gettin’ me on to the ’ospital train after ’e was dead, all for a couple of Bradburys. I lie awake nights still, reviewing matters. There never was a push to touch ours—never!”

Anthony handed me back the Secretary’s Jewel resplendent.