To Ride the Wind (21 page)

When the operation was over, Sean knew what had happened to him, and he tried not to weep for what he had lost. But in the darkness of the long hospital ward, his tears flowed freely among the screams and shouts of his fellow wounded, reliving in their troubled sleep the awful shell fire and machine-gun chatter that had brought them to this place. The ward echoed with shouted commands to long dead platoons and companies of soldiers that had followed these now shattered men who had been their leaders.

For almost a month Sean had not received any visitors; his world had been reduced to extreme pain and the cheerful encouragement from the doctors and nurses who tended to the shattered men under their care. He had befriended the wounded officer occupying the bed beside his own, a Canadian major in his early forties, married and now minus his arms from the elbows down. From the little that the Canadian shared, it appeared his wife had left him when she heard that her husband had been severely wounded. She had in fact written to him apologising for meeting another man, a civilian working in the civil service, and thought that he had the right to know she would ask for his cooperation in seeking a divorce.

Major Herbert Lancaster was tough, but at night Sean could hear him sobbing from the pain of betrayal. Sean had joked that between them the doctors should be able to put together a whole man: Sean’s legs amputated below the knees and the major’s arms, on one body. Whenever the weather allowed and both men were not being subjected to their recuperation procedures for the fitting of artificial arms and legs respectively, they would spend time on a bench in the garden, Sean lighting and placing a cigarette in the Canadian’s mouth. Major Lancaster sucked on the smoke and sighed. ‘As soon as I get my new arms,’ he said, ‘I’m going to wipe my own arse, then light my own cigarette and finally punch the bastard who has taken my wife from me. Just a few of life’s little luxuries one takes for granted when one has arms.’

The late winter chill carried the smoke from their cigarettes skyward while Sean gazed at the water dripping from the trees as the country emerged from the winter.

‘At least we don’t have to go back,’ he said softly, hunching against the day and staring down at the grass struggling to break through the last ice of winter. There was no response from the Canadian sitting beside him; both were beyond feeling any guilt about leaving their units on the battle front. Both were numbed by constant pain and the effects war had on their futures. When Sean had learned that his comrade had also been a solicitor with a firm in Ontario, they had warmed to each other, often revealing private thoughts on everything from how the war was being prosecuted to the way they went about their legal work in civvy street.

‘Well, old chap,’ Herbert Lancaster said one day, gazing at the stately building that was their temporary home. ‘It appears that you may finally have a visitor – as he is not wearing the uniform of one of ours.’

Sean looked up to see Patrick Duffy strolling towards him in the uniform of a divisional staff officer. Sean’s instinct was to rise to greet his senior officer but he quickly remembered that was something he was not about to do given his current condition.

Patrick reached the two men.

‘Sorry that I cannot salute you, sir,’ Herbert said with a touch of lazy sarcasm. ‘Captain Duffy does all the saluting for both of us.’

Patrick shook his head, brushing off the apology.

‘May I introduce Major Lancaster, sir,’ Sean said. ‘He’s one of those mad Canadians we have had the misfortune of serving alongside of from time to time.’

‘Can’t shake hands either at the moment,’ Herbert replied, the cigarette dangling from his lips.

‘Herbert, this is my cousin, Colonel Duffy,’ Sean continued with a weak smile.

‘I have heard that there are a lot of you former convicts in Australia,’ Herbert said with a wide grin. ‘But I did not think it was that bad that captains could be related to colonels.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Major Lancaster,’ Patrick said and, beyond military protocol, raised his hand in a lazy salute, a gesture not lost on the Canadian.

‘I suspect that you two have a bit to talk about,’ Herbert said, rising from the bench. ‘So, I shall see if there is a brew on in the ward. A pleasure to meet you, sir,’ he said before ambling away towards the old manor.

Patrick took a seat on the bench beside Sean. ‘I was saddened to hear you copped it,’ he said. ‘I only learned about you being evacuated a couple of weeks ago and, as fortune has it, I was sent back here to complete a staff college course. How are you, old chap?’

‘I’m supposed to be alive,’ Sean replied bitterly. ‘But it does not feel like it.’

Patrick nodded his head, understanding the handsome young man’s meaning. ‘You know that your wounds will have you on a ship back to Sydney soon,’ he said. ‘I presume that you will return to the practice.’

‘I suppose so,’ Sean answered, hardly thinking much about the future.

‘Do you still have the pain?’ Patrick asked.

‘It’s not so bad now,’ Sean answered as a raven took flight from a tree denuded of leaves. ‘They are helping me with a set of artificial legs. I was fortunate that I kept some of my legs below the knees. It helps in my mobility.’

‘I know that what I am about to tell you is no consolation to losing your legs but it has come through divisional orders that you have been gazetted to major. You proved to be a good student on your staff college course and I was able to slot you into a vacancy. You would have had your own company,’ Patrick said. ‘I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, Major Duffy.’

Sean blinked at the news. He had finally received the rank to go with the position he most desired but it was all for nothing now. He would be recuperated back to Sydney and discharged from the army to return to civilian life.

‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate the gesture.’

‘I know that you are going through the bitterness of losing a part of your life but you will be of great value to myself and the family when you return to Sydney,’ Patrick said awkwardly, his face twisted in a grimace. ‘I need you to act on my behalf for the family interests when you return. You are, after all, linked by blood to me.’

Sean glanced at Patrick and could see a pained expression in his face. ‘What I can do to help, I will,’ he said. ‘I suppose as a solicitor I might be able to do something.’

‘You know that I have two sons,’ Patrick continued, staring into the shrubs and rockeries. ‘My youngest, Alexander, is currently posted to a training battalion as a company commander. And my eldest is running the family business. Alexander is a soldier through and through. Perhaps that is my fault for allowing him to follow me in as many ways as he could. Sadly, Alex does not have a head for business, whereas George does.’

‘Then your family matters appear to be well and truly under control,’ Sean responded.

‘I know this will sound shocking coming from a father who is not supposed to differentiate between his children, but I do not trust George any further than I could kick him,’ Patrick said, tapping his swagger stick unconsciously against the side of his boot. ‘So I have drawn up papers giving you full authority to make any decisions that you might think I would make, if I were back home. With that authority is, I hope, a generous salary to oversee my interests. You see, we have shared much in the last two years and I trust you as if you were my third son. I think you will have Alex’s support in your endeavours. He has his military career, but as my proxy you have the requisite legal background to keep an eye on the company affairs.’

Sean was stunned by what his cousin was telling him. It was a huge responsibility and a show of great trust in him. For a moment he was speechless.

‘I beg you to take up my offer,’ Patrick continued. ‘I would trust you with my life.’

‘Sir, you know that I will,’ Sean answered.

Patrick extended his gloved hand, taking Sean’s mitten-covered hand in his own.

‘Then, it is done.’ Patrick rose from the bench. ‘You do not know how much it means to me to have you home looking after the family interests in the competent way that I know you are capable of even when the chips are down.’

‘Sir, you must know I disobeyed orders when I got my wound,’ Sean said in an attempt to test his cousin’s resolve to grant him with the power of attorney.

‘I know all about the trench raid,’ Patrick said, standing over Sean. ‘There was a formal charge submitted by that blithering idiot of a company commander of yours to have you and Kelly court-martialled. But your CO overrode his report and even recommended you both for a decoration. I am afraid the army brass would not come at that, but they did quash the request for a court martial.’

‘Is Hartford still the commander?’

‘I am afraid so. But learning what I have about Kelly, I suspect he will do a good job protecting the men of the company. In fact, Jack Kelly has been recommended for officer training.’

‘That is good to hear,’ Sean answered, nodding his head. ‘Jack is a highly intelligent and brave man with outstanding leadership qualities.’

‘That’s what I deduced,’ Patrick said. ‘I had the pleasure of interviewing him at Div HQ last week. He said that if the army recognised him for anything good, it was because he had the honour of serving under you – as brief as it was.’

Sean felt his face flush. After all that happened, Jack Kelly still had a good opinion of him. Although Sean knew his military career had come to an end his heart was still with his old battalion with which he served from the first weeks at Gallipoli up until his wounds in weeks past. ‘I know that Jack will make the grade,’ he said. ‘His men will be ably led.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ Patrick asked.

‘No, I will be okay,’ Sean replied. ‘Just a matter of getting the hang of my new legs and then getting settled back into the practice at home.’

‘Well, time I made it back to London, old chap,’ Patrick said, placing his gloved hand on Sean’s shoulder. ‘Chin up and we will meet home in Sydney as soon as this damned show is over.’

‘Yes, sir. See you when I see you.’

Patrick walked away, leaving Sean alone in the sprawling garden. He gazed at the back of his distant cousin and sighed. He would be going home but some part of him besides his legs would always remain in the filth and mud of the front. His soul would linger over the battlefield forever. He was glad that there was no woman waiting for his return. After all, he was no longer a full man in either body or soul.

Tears rolled down Sean’s cheeks until he found himself sobbing quietly. He cried not for just himself but for the friends he had left behind in the hell of war. Those young men he knew he would never share a drink with in a pub back home.

George Macintosh waited at his table with its starched white tablecloth spread with expensive silver. The hotel dining room was in Sydney’s finest establishment catering to the needs of the well-dressed and wealthy patrons who used the facilities to carry out much of the government of the country as well as businessmen clinching deals. George had extended his invitation to his guest for such a meeting over some excellent food and wine. The purpose of the meeting had been played out in previous casual meetings at dinners and tea parties he had hosted to curry the favour of the right people. He rose as his guest approached the table, a grey-haired, middle-aged man wearing a fashionable suit. George knew the man was a government public servant occupying the position of department head. He also held a knighthood for services rendered to the Empire but was nondescript in every other way.

‘Sir Hubert, I am glad you could break your busy schedule,’ George said, extending his hand. ‘I hope you do not mind but I have ordered for us both, knowing how busy we both are.’

‘Not at all, George,’ Sir Hubert said, taking George’s hand. ‘I am sure that you have chosen well, knowing your reputation for enterprise and taste in food.’

The two men sat facing each other as a waiter poured an excellent claret. They waited until he withdrew before getting down to business. Sir Hubert opened first. ‘You know that another round of honours is pending,’ he said, sipping from his goblet. ‘Despite your youth, your services to the government have been noticed.’

George experienced a wave of euphoria at the veiled hint of being honoured by the King. ‘Oh, one does what one can for his country in these difficult times.’

‘Come, old chap, your donations to the party have been invaluable in keeping our policies in the public’s eye,’ Sir Hubert replied. ‘Not that a little more would not be appreciated – if you understand what I mean.’

George knew exactly what he meant. Despite being a senior civil servant, Sir Hubert secretly supported a political party against the ethics of his employment. George had covertly funnelled financial contributions to the party he suspected would eventually take government owing him favours. ‘Would this be enough?’ George said, scribbling a figure on a page from a notebook and sliding it across the table.

‘In time, enough to buy you a knighthood,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘However, first things first. A rather splendid decoration for services rendered to the country will be announced in the next honours list which I hope will be to your satisfaction and the envy of your father. After all, it is about time the Macintosh family received another knighthood.’

George smiled to himself. The thought of receiving an honour from the King would certainly be a shock to his father who considered such matters the domain of men serving their country in the armed forces. The eventual knighthood would cement his legitimacy to the Macintosh empire.

The meal arrived and as they ate the two men chatted about popular issues of the time. When the meal was over and the claret consumed they rose to leave.

‘Just one other matter,’ George said, extending his hand to the older man. ‘Would it be possible for your colleague controlling the army to have my brother transferred to the Western Front? ’

Sir Hubert looked at George with an expression of surprise. ‘One would have thought that you would do anything to keep your brother on safe shores.’