Ghost Soldier Page 2

  At that, he swivelled round and saw that it had indeed stopped a few hundred yards short of the hill.

  ‘There are faces at the windows. And . . . Oh! Some people are getting out!’

  Rob didn’t hear the rest of what Millie was saying. He was already running down the hill towards the railway track. By the time he reached the train, a soldier was standing beside the engine talking to the driver.

  ‘Engine’s overheating,’ Rob heard the driver say as he approached. ‘We need to take on water or we’ll never make that hill and the last run in to Edinburgh. I was told this was the place to make a halt.’ He spotted Rob. ‘There’s a local lad – he might know where there’s a water tank hereabouts.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Rob said quickly, and then spoke directly to the soldier. ‘I’m looking for my dad. He’s gone missing in the war. Soldiers from the Border Guards should be on this train. Can you tell me which carriage they’d be in?’

  ‘What are you talking about, son?’

  ‘My dad enlisted in the local regiment, the Border Guards,’ Rob explained. ‘It was in the newspapers that hospital trains are bringing wounded soldiers home, so the army would take anyone in the Border Guards here to Edinburgh.’

  The soldier gave Rob a strange look. ‘Oh, that’s a real take-on, so it is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘That you think that might happen. We enlisted as pals together, but many a friend I’ve left behind at the Front—’ The soldier’s voice cracked. ‘Did you think we’d all be singing “Goodbye, Dolly Gray” as they carried us off the battlefield?’

  ‘My name’s Millie and my daddy’s a very good singer.’ Millie had arrived, and was smiling up at the soldier. ‘He’d be able to sing that song.’

  The man looked at her. ‘Listen, pet . . .’ he began. He passed his hands across his face. ‘Darlin’ little girl,’ he started again, ‘your daddy . . .’ He made a choking noise in his throat.

  Rob looked at the man in shock. He was crying. He had never seen a man cry before. Except one of their neighbours, Farmer MacAdam, who’d burst into tears when his bull won first prize at the cattle show, but that didn’t really count. This man was a soldier. Soldiers weren’t supposed to cry. There were tears on his cheeks but he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

  ‘Pull yourself together, man,’ the engine driver chided the soldier. ‘Why don’t you walk to that farm on the hill with my fireman and ask if there’s water available? The exercise will do you good.’ He jabbed his finger at Rob. ‘I’ve got my eye on you, my lad. Don’t you go trying to get on my train.’

  Rob took Millie’s hand and pulled her away. Drat! He’d been too hasty. He should have thought out what he was going to do. He noticed that a couple more soldiers had got off the train in the company of a nurse. Rob recognized her uniform from his collection of war magazines.

  ‘Do you see those people?’ he whispered to Millie.

  She nodded.

  ‘The lady is wearing a nurse’s outfit with the red cape of the Queen Alexandra nurses, so she must be working on the train. We’ll go and talk to them. While I keep them chatting, you sneak behind and climb into one of the carriages. Once you’re inside, ask where the soldiers from the Border Guards regiment are on the train. When you find out, go straight to that carriage and . . . and . . .’

  ‘I’ll take the tea towel from my basket and wave it out the window so you’ll know where I am,’ Millie finished the sentence for him.

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ Rob agreed. ‘Do you think you can do that?’

  ‘Of course,’ Millie said, and then added, ‘I told you I’d be helpful.’

  She skipped to the side of the track to gather wild flowers and put them in her basket. Rob saw that she was moving beyond the group. He had to concede that his little sister was being helpful.

  As Millie sidled off, he saw that the two men wore the staff-and-serpent collar badge of medical orderlies. He asked them the same question he’d asked the first soldier about his father.

  ‘There are trains going to the military hospitals in lots of different parts of Britain,’ one of the men replied. ‘Why did ye think yer dad might be on this particular train?’

  ‘’Cos it’s bound for Edinburgh,’ Rob told him, ‘and they’d put the men that lived here on it so they’d be near their families.’

  The orderly laughed out loud. But it wasn’t a nice laugh. It was harsh and ugly. ‘Is that what ye thought? Listen to me, boy. The wounded are lucky to get on any train. They’re lucky if they get picked up off the battlefields and not left for the rats to eat them alive. They’re lucky if they survive the dressing station. Can you imagine the paperwork? No one’s checking their home address when they’re slinging them on the ships.’

  ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘What did ye think?’ the orderly went on. ‘That it were a Sunday School trip? Did yer da think he were off on a picnic? Eh? Did he?’

  ‘Leave him be, Chesney,’ the other orderly cut in. ‘He’s but a boy.’

  ‘I know that, Bert, but we’ve both seen ones as young as he is out there getting slaughtered.’ Chesney twisted away abruptly.

  Rob turned to the nurse. ‘Please, miss. Can I ask you if anyone from the Border Guards is on the train?’

  ‘Son, things get really mixed up’ – the nurse’s voice was friendly – ‘so there are men from lots of regiments scattered through the train. But despite the paperwork’ – she gave the man called Chesney a firm look – ‘they do make some attempt to place the soldiers near their homes. We’ll sort it out when we reach Edinburgh.’

  ‘But aren’t the men from the same regiment together when they’re fighting?’ Rob thought of the illustrations in his school books where he’d seen the vivid red line of the British Army uniforms as the soldiers went forward side by side. ‘And they’d stick together when in battle. I mean, they’d look out for each other if they got wounded, wouldn’t they? The rest wouldn’t go and leave them?’

  Nobody said anything. Eventually the nurse spoke. ‘It can get very busy when the big guns go off.’

  ‘Yes, but afterwards . . .’ Rob persisted. ‘When the battle stops, or at night, or during a ceasefire, then whoever was bringing the wounded in—’

  ‘The stretcher-bearers . . .’ The nurse supplied the word for him.

  ‘The stretcher-bearers,’ said Rob. ‘The stretcher-bearers who collect the fallen would . . .’ His voice tailed off. What did happen to the wounded men? He supposed they’d end up in a hospital somewhere, being looked after by nurses and doctors, but he hadn’t thought of how they got there.

  The nurse was listening to him with a sympathetic expression on her face. ‘The first thing the medics do is a wound assessment. In the Casualty Clearing Stations they try to patch up as many as they can as fast as they can and get them back into active service. The rest . . .’ She paused. ‘Erm, it depends on how badly hurt they are.’

  Rob saw her eyes cloud over. He guessed she must have been there, nursing soldiers on the Western Front. ‘What is it like – at the Front?’ he asked her.

  The nurse blinked. ‘Oh, look!’ she said brightly. ‘They seem to be bringing water from that farm on the hill. We should be on our way soon.’

  Farmer Gordon was unwinding a hose pipe down the hill and the soldier and the fireman were carrying buckets. Behind the nurse, Rob saw Millie climb up onto the train. He had to keep these three talking to give his sister time to go through the carriages.

  ‘What happens to them then?’ Rob asked the nurse.

  ‘When?’

  ‘To the rest of the wounded? The ones they can’t patch up. What happens to them?’

  ‘Oh, well, they transport the more seriously wounded men back to base.’ She glanced round at her companions, as if for help.

  ‘Why do you want to know about the wounded?’ said the orderly called Bert.

  ‘Our dad joined the Border Guards,’ Rob answered, ‘and he sent letters ever
y day, but then they stopped.’

  ‘Do you know where he was stationed?’ Chesney asked.

  ‘The last letter we got, he was near a river called the Somme.’

  The men exchanged a look.

  ‘The Somme,’ the nurse repeated.

  Rob nodded.

  ‘When did he last write to you?’

  ‘Two months ago. Near the end of June. And then—’ Rob stopped.

  ‘And then?’ the nurse prompted him.

  ‘My mum got . . .’ He wanted to tell them about the telegram but couldn’t get the words out.

  ‘Did your mother receive a telegram from the War Office?’ the nurse asked gently.

  ‘Yes, b-b–but it didn’t say Dad was dead,’ Rob stuttered. ‘It just said he was missing in action.’

  ‘Oh, one of those telegrams,’ Chesney said sourly.

  ‘Hush!’ The nurse flapped her hand at him. ‘The Border Guards are a brave regiment and I’m sure they look after their own. But you know, I don’t think there are any Scottish battalions on this train at all.’

  ‘No Border Guards?’ Rob asked in surprise. ‘In a train bound for the north?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s how it is. Thousands of men have to be evacuated and they’re loaded on any which way.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Bert said. ‘Isn’t that young lad in the last carriage a Jock?’

  The nurse frowned at him.

  ‘Oh, right enough,’ Bert said quickly. ‘Never mind him. Definitely not your dad. Far too young. Not much older than you, actually.’

  ‘But if he’s a Scot, then he might be from the Border Guards!’ Hope flared in Rob. ‘Or he might know someone who is.’

  ‘No.’ The nurse shook her head. ‘He won’t be able to help you.’

  ‘May I speak to him please?’ Rob begged her.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘He’s too ill to speak to anyone.’

  ‘But—’ Rob began to protest, when suddenly from inside the train a soldier appeared.

  ‘Get in here quick,’ he shouted at the nurse. ‘There’s a little girl being held hostage by one of the crazies at the back of the train. He’s got a gun and he’s threatening to shoot her!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘MILLIE!’ ROB CRIED out.

  He rushed towards the train steps, but Chesney grasped his wrists. ‘We’ll deal with this.’

  ‘She’s my little sister!’ Rob shouted. ‘I need to go to her!’

  They paid him no heed. As he struggled to free himself, Bert and the nurse hurried up the steps.

  ‘Wait here. And that’s an order.’ Chesney pushed him to the ground and went into the train, slamming the door shut.

  Rob sat there for a moment, shaking with fear and frustration. Then he recalled that Millie had entered the train further down. He jumped up and raced along the line, away from the engine, to the steps he thought his sister had climbed. There was no way he was leaving Millie alone. It was his duty to look after her. Nell was by his side and took a flying leap after him as he hauled himself up and opened the door of the carriage.

  He stopped, brought up short by what he saw. The carriage was packed with wounded men. It seemed to him that they’d been crammed inside the compartments the way he rammed his wooden toy soldiers into their box. Seats and aisles were stacked with dozens and dozens of men, sitting, standing, slumped on the floor, propped up against seats, or leaning against the luggage racks. They were unshaven and dirty, wearing clothes spattered with mud, and wrapped in blood-stained bandages.

  Rob knew he had to get through them fast. Chesney and Bert and the nurse would soon catch up with him, coming from the front of the train.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. Nothing happened. ‘Excuse me.’ Rob raised his voice. ‘I need to go through to the next carriage.’

  Nobody moved. It was as if they couldn’t see or hear him. Most of the men had their eyes closed, even the ones who were standing up. Those who were awake stared vacantly out of the window.

  Anxiety flooded through Rob. If he didn’t get going, Chesney would arrive and fling him off the train.

  It was Nell who solved the problem. She barked. A short bark, friendly but firm. The kind of bark she gave to let the sheep know she was there and must do as she wanted, because she wasn’t going to put up with any of their nonsense.

  The eyes of the nearest man flickered open. ‘Dog . . .’ he murmured. ‘Dog.’ He shifted to let Nell past. ‘There you go, boy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rob said, quashing the urge to inform him that Nell was a girl.

  Another soldier leaned over and patted Nell. ‘Make way, there,’ he said. ‘Make way for the dog.’

  With Nell leading, Rob wormed his way among the soldiers and into the next carriage. There were fewer soldiers here, which made his progress easier, but the men were in a worse state. They were amputees lying on makeshift cots. Rob could see the stump of an arm or a leg, sometimes both, as he manoeuvred along the passageway. Many of their wounds were coated in congealed blood, with a rust-brown liquid seeping from the dressings. Rob was used to farmyard smells, but all around him was an unfamiliar odour of decay and rotting flesh. The stench, combined with stale sweat and urine, almost overpowered him.

  A medical orderly, bending to give a soldier a drink of water, looked up as Rob drew level with them. ‘You shouldn’t be here!’

  The man he was tending moaned. ‘Morphine. Morphine, please.’ His whole chest was swathed in bandages.

  ‘Ain’t got none left, soldier.’ The orderly patted the man’s hand. ‘We’ll be in Edinburgh soon, then you’ll get a pill. I’ll see to it myself.’

  More men were calling out in pain. The orderly tried to catch Rob by the arm but he evaded him.

  ‘Come back, you!’

  Rob stumbled on. All the soldiers in the next carriage sat or knelt on the floor, and every single one had his eyes bandaged. The skin on their faces and hands was blistered orange, their uniforms blotched with greenish stains. Rob tried to shut out the wheezing gurgle of their breathing.

  He was living one of his nightmares.

  Gripping Nell by her collar, he tried to move as silently as possible so as not to disturb them. But one man shifted position and Nell’s coat made contact with the side of his face.

  This soldier groped out blindly with his hand, saying in surprise, ‘I do believe there’s a dog hereabouts.’

  ‘Shut up, Ralph,’ one of his companions said. ‘If you’re going to imagine you can see something, could you make it a pretty girl instead of a dog?’

  ‘No, truly,’ Ralph insisted. ‘There was the touch of long silky hair against my cheek.’

  ‘Was she blonde?’ another man’s voice rasped. ‘I’d like her to have long blonde ringlets.’

  ‘Oh, dream me up a redhead any day of the week,’ said someone else. ‘They’re much more fun.’

  A few of the men tried to laugh, breath catching in their throats as they did so. With relief Rob slipped quietly out of the carriage. His own breath was crackling in his lungs and Nell was panting hard. He gulped in fresh air. Surely he must be near the end of the train now?

  The next carriage was horribly silent. The soldiers lay flat out on their backs, so still, barely breathing. This must be the carriage of the most seriously wounded. Rob faltered, but knew he had to continue. He had to find Millie. But what was in the final carriage? What was worse than all he had already seen?

  There was no attendant here, so Rob ran straight through and opened the door to face the very last carriage. In front of him was a soldier, his rifle at the ready.

  ‘Stop!’ He held up his hand.

  Rob hesitated for a second, then dived to the side and dragged open the door. He’d made it right to the end of the train! He was in the guard’s van, normally used for boxes and heavy luggage. And there was his sister, standing rigid with terror, clutching her basket of sandwiches.

  There were two soldiers inside. One of them was sitting on the floor with his eyes
shut, mumbling to himself. He was handcuffed to a metal pole.

  The other soldier was free.

  He was holding a gun up against Millie’s head.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘MILLIE!’ ROB GASPED.

  ‘Robbie,’ Millie whispered. ‘I knew you’d come to save me.’

  Rob stared at her, and then at the young lad with the pistol. The boy’s face was dirty grey with a mottled flush high on each cheek. His eyes were red-rimmed and they flashed about, never still.

  Rob had cared for farm animals all his life. Normally they were very biddable, but if the sheep were sick or lambing, or a cow was with calf, they became unpredictable, and therefore dangerous – sometimes extremely dangerous. His dad had told him it was because they were frightened and in pain, and the best way to handle them was to try to understand what they were suffering. One bleak night on the hills they had birthed a lamb from a sick ewe. Hunkered down, his father stroked the writhing creature, teaching Rob how to gentle her into allowing him to help: ‘Think how you would like to be treated if you were scared and didn’t know what was happening to you.’

  The lad in front of him was shaking, his whole body trembling so much he could hardly hold the gun steady. Rob felt fear rising in his throat as he realized that the gun might go off and his sister would be killed. And there was nothing he could do.

  Apart from what his father might have done.

  Rob stepped back, creating a space between himself and the lad. ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. He held his hands out, palms up. ‘It’s all right,’ he repeated.

  He relaxed his body and saw the lad relax slightly too.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Rob said in the same soft voice. ‘I’m not going to do anything at all.’

  Behind him the carriage door crashed open. A voice roaring a command. Chesney’s voice.

  ‘You! Farm boy. Out of here. At once!’

  Without turning round, Rob shook his head. ‘I’m not leaving my sister.’

  ‘I told you,’ Chesney said through gritted teeth, ‘not to get on the train. Now I’m telling you to move aside. Do it!’

  ‘He stays.’ The lad with the pistol addressed Chesney. ‘But you! You get out or I’ll blow your head off! I mean it!’ He pointed the gun at the orderly. ‘Get out or I’ll fire this gun at you!’