Regret to Inform You... (28 page)

I waited through that day but could see none of my men, I am sure they must all have been killed. That night I moved away from the village in the direction that we had advanced. My arm was increasingly painful and I had difficulty in walking. I have only a vague memory of the time from then until finding myself in hospital. I believe that was the middle of February.

This is an honest statement which I give freely and willingly.

Arthur sat back and placed the document alongside the others. Yes, this was what he knew of his father over forty years ago, a story he had learnt when a child. A story that had made him proud and, he thought now, revere his father. So what
of
the other documents? He picked up the second one, much briefer: a statement by Captain Bertram Oliver Pickering dated 20 January 1874. Arthur realised this second document was recorded just under a week after his father had been brought back severely injured:

On the 10th January I was ordered by Major Greensmith to convey messages to two groups that had not returned, including that of Lieutenant Windle. We were to provide any necessary backup.

I organised 20 men and with 3 guides and carriers we set out, a march of five days.

It was very hot and regular rests were necessary. After much forest we came to a cleared area probably by natives for farming. It was barren with just tree stumps and rocks. I ordered a ten minute break.

My sergeant suddenly pointed to a bird flying low. Probably a quarter mile away. It landed on a tree stump and as I looked I saw a slight movement nearby.

With two men I went to investigate. I realised it was a wounded soldier, unconscious but still breathing.

We poured water over him; there was little else we could immediately do.

In relays we conveyed him back to base, arriving on 20th January. He was admitted to hospital.

It was later I learnt this was Lieutenant Windle.

This confirmed the story Arthur knew so well, there was nothing that should have caused his mother undue distress so many years after the event. He picked up the third document dated 19 September 1874, with names of recorders, a witness to the proceedings and the two members of the Ashanti people who gave evidence. It was clearly a combination of what the two had said but in the translator's words.

Our
village is Akrowbi. The people are good and peaceful. Many of our men were away hunting. Women were repairing two huts. We were skinning animals. Suddenly we saw many soldiers. Their guns were pointing at us. Three of the soldiers, one with white hair was their chief, came forward. Kwaku our chief went to greet them. Two of our young men went with him. As they got nearer, the young men raised their spears in greeting, but suddenly the white haired soldier shouted. The guns made big noises and the three men all fell. The guns went on firing and many were killed. The women and children ran into their huts. We hid. We watched the white haired chieftain give orders. He and other soldiers took the branches for repairing the hut roofs, held them in the fire and set the huts alight. As the children and women came out to escape the fires the soldiers shot them. There was much screaming and fire. One of the huts near the edge set fire to some nearby trees, it was the dry season. All the people except the soldiers and the two of us were dead. We were very frightened, we should have tried to stop it but just watched. The fire had been seen by our many men who were hunting. The soldiers were resting and later there was sudden noise as our men came out of the trees and attacked the soldiers. There was very much fighting and many were killed. Soon most were dead. We saw the white haired chieftain and one other run into the trees. They were chased by Yoofi. We do not know what happened to them.

We stayed hidden and later searched. Soldiers and our people were all dead except two young children who were injured. We each picked one up and carried them to another village a long way. There was much smoke and some trees were burning. After a long time we got to the village.

Horror at the enormity of what he had read descended upon Arthur. How much had the interpreter and the recorder fairly translated the witnesses' stories into a record? Yet his
mother
said that his father admitted to everything in the document. Across the bottom of the third page were written three comments in a different hand, the writing clear, but the signature indecipherable. This addition to the report was dated 10 November 1874. Anxiously, Arthur tried to understand these comments:

Captain Windle indicated it was totally untrue and was to deflect attention from the natives' barbaric behaviour.

No further action to be taken.

File.

Arthur involuntarily dropped the document alongside the others. This was a terrible nightmare. It may have been forty years ago, but Arthur could see it happening: the screaming children and women, the pointless killing, the burning. On the first occasion that his father had led men on such a mission, had he panicked? That seemed to have started the senseless slaughter. He felt sick, the sickness turned to anger. Anger at what his father had done, anger at how he was now causing misery to his wife, how he had built his life, his army career on such a terrible lie. How could anyone talk of forgiveness?

Where was God in all this? What did God tell him about forgiveness; was it for him to forgive and what of his mother? He waited and prayed, but could hear nothing. Each of his forty-seven years had been torn away. Yet he still believed there was a God, somewhere. ‘Oh God, help my unbelief. Bring comfort to my mother. I know it is alone for you to forgive, yet help me to forgive my father for all the years of this secret. You alone know that I, too, am guilty of sinning.'

Arthur turned as the door opened. Eleanor was shocked at her husband's face; she could see misery and despair. He stood and went towards his mother. They flung their arms round each other and cried. Eleanor had never seen her beloved Arthur in such a distressed state even though he had borne
so
much sad news in his life and she shuddered at what she still had to learn. A sense of great pain lay upon the house. A little later, Eleanor read the papers and shared the pain with the others; no words could be found to speak their thoughts.

An hour later, Arthur went upstairs. His father, his hair sparse and white, was asleep. How could this old, dying man have carried out such an atrocity over forty years ago? How much grief had he caused his wife since telling her; did he really believe that confessing to her would remove his guilt? Arthur sat on a small chair in the corner of the bedroom. His head sank into his hands.

He just did not know how to comfort his beloved mother. As he paused in the hope that God would speak to him, some other words from a confessional prayer came to him: ‘Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hidden'. Perhaps God had always known of his father's dreadful act and had forgiven him. But what of his own secrets, was he not as guilty as his father; surely everyone has secrets?

Later that day Arthur's mother quietly fed her husband some warm soup, but he could manage only a little. Arthur and Eleanor sat with her. The next day the doctor visited Colonel Windle; he had now fallen into a deep sleep from which he could not be roused. That night he died.

T
HIRTY-FIVE

April 1915

News of the death of the vicar's father reached Rusfield through Arthur's letter to Frederick Richards, who had enabled St Mary's to continue with minimum disruption. Whether through age, illness or war, death brought a united sympathy from the villagers.

Charlotte Windle clearly needed time away from all the unhappiness of her home. The funeral took place in the small village church four days after Colonel Windle died; the large gathering of friends swollen by many army dignitaries. One of his father's contemporaries had sought Arthur out and offered to render a eulogy, but Arthur, knowing full well what would be said, graciously declined.

Eleanor and Arthur were worried about Charlotte's health; she was dreadfully pale and listless, so unlike her normal self. The day after the funeral, the old farmhouse was closed down and accompanied by six cases, Eleanor, Arthur and his mother left the house. After all that had happened, the Rusfield vicarage was wonderfully welcoming. On the hall table were many cards of sympathy and the rooms were full of flowers. Eliza Carey had received much help from Olivia Atkins in preparing for their homecoming.

For Robert Berry and Violet Rushton, the vicar's departure
to
Dorset had created a dilemma. ‘What do you think we should do?' asked the old soldier. ‘It would seem to be insensitive to go ahead with the parcel project without the vicar and his wife, but I don't think they would want it delayed.'

‘Let's wait a few days. Maybe they will stay with Mrs Windle for several weeks, maybe not.'

When word came that the couple were returning, Robert was delighted as were many others; not only churchgoers had missed the vicarage residents. It was after the Sunday service that Robert, with some hesitation, approached Arthur and asked if he felt able to meet. Remembering his mother's recent advice, Arthur concurred; he would get on with life even though his mind was not without some turmoil. It was agreed they meet on the following Wednesday. Many offered words of sympathy, but it was Olivia Atkins who was the first to speak with Arthur's mother: ‘Mrs Windle, all of us are so saddened by your husband's passing. We all want you to know how much we are thinking of you. Please feel very welcome here in Rusfield.' Charlotte Windle stepped forward and kissed the attractive widow on her cheek, tears in her eyes.

Three days later, Violet Rushton, Robert Berry, Eleanor and Arthur shared tea and biscuits in the vicarage conservatory. The quartet knew rumours of the parcel project had already swept round the village. Eleanor had been surprised when going into the butchers, she heard Susannah Jones talking about the plan as if it were a fait accompli. ‘Our boys need all the things we can send them,' she heard Susannah saying to Rita Small. ‘We make up parcels for Albert, but I'm not sure all the lads do so well.'

‘So when are we going to hear more about it? I was talking with the headmaster and he said he would encourage the children to do what they could.'

When Eleanor got home she told Arthur of the conversation. ‘Arthur dear, the four of us meet tomorrow and I think we should get things started. And Arthur, there's one other thing.
This
idea came from Violet Rushton and Robert Berry and it's important that villagers know that. We'll give them all the support we can, but let's remember that,' she smiled. Arthur nodded; he was wise enough to know that Eleanor's advice should be closely regarded.

It had been Violet Rushton who suggested that David Watts, the master at the school, be included in their council and the others had happily agreed; he had proved himself an enthusiastic member of the community as well as a sound headmaster. Maybe not the charisma of his predecessor but, as Eleanor reminded Arthur, ‘He's only been here three years.'

After protracted and sometimes tetchy deliberations with the church council, the street lighting committee and coal club, Arthur found everything about the meeting refreshing. The purpose was clear and the determination of the five participants united. It was one group that did not need official appointments, but Robert Berry slipped in to being unofficial chairman. He was positive, resourceful and his kindness was well shown when he said, ‘Vicar, I wonder if your mother would kindly help? I'm sure she would be an asset.' His growing friendship with Violet Rushton had caused them to work together to clear the rear part of her shop to store items.

They agreed that the following Sunday would be the best day to announce the plan. ‘After all,' Robert Berry quietly mentioned, ‘it's the Sunday nearest to St George's Day, so when could be more appropriate?' The others agreed, but it was at Eleanor's later suggestion that Arthur should read some verses from St Matthew, which she believed encapsulated the Christian message and spoke about the need for action with the parcels. David Watts readily agreed to speak to the children about the plan the day after the Sunday service.

The Sunday dawned bright and this may have encouraged the large congregation. Arthur felt villagers expected something to be said about the scheme. The hymns expressed patriotism and God's care and the prayers were directed to
God
keeping watch over the men who were away, although Eleanor wondered how that matched with Ruby Rowe's feelings at having recently lost her husband.

From the pulpit, Arthur announced that he was deviating from the lectionary and read:
“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?”
When he moved on to explain the idea for everyone to have the opportunity to give to the men away fighting, he heard murmurs of approval, something he could not remember during any other sermon he had preached in over twenty years at St Mary's.

The excitement and determination to make the scheme work could be heard through the eager conversations after the service and Robert Berry and Violet Rushton smiled at each other as they felt the plan taking off. It was over half an hour after the end of the service that Arthur and Eleanor finally got back to the vicarage.

‘Well that started well,' announced Eleanor. ‘It was a good service, Arthur. Thank you,' she added with a kiss on his cheek. ‘I have some cold meats and cheese all ready for lunch, so it will only be a few minutes.'

But the lunch was not to be eaten for several hours as they were interrupted by a sharp, twice repeated knock at the door. Hurrying to the door, Arthur saw fourteen-year-old Harry Johnson on the doorstep. ‘Yes, Harry, what is it?'