Read Online Blackstone and the Great War by Sally Spencer - Free Book Online

acceptance of the brutality meted out to him. But there was no point in expressing either of these emotions – because this was not his army or his war.
    â€˜Can I get you anything?’ he asked.
    The soldier grinned again. ‘A pint of best London bitter would be much appreciated,’ he said, ‘but I’ll settle for a drink of water from the fountain.’
    â€˜Get away from that man!’ screamed a voice behind them, and turning around, Blackstone saw a redcap corporal standing in the doorway of the mairie .
    Blackstone laid his carpet bag on the ground, walked across to the fountain, scooped up some water in his cupped hands, and returned to the man on the wheel.
    â€˜Didn’t you hear me?’ the redcap bawled as he strode furiously across the square. ‘I told you to get away from that man!’
    Blackstone held his hands up , and the man on the wheel drank greedily.
    The redcap had drawn level with them now.
    â€˜Can’t you understand the King’s English, you ignorant bloody Frog?’ he demanded. ‘You shouldn’t even be here in this village – let alone be making contact with the prisoner!’
    He gave Blackstone a rough push, and seemed surprised when the other man held his ground.
    â€˜Now listen,’ he continued, raising his fist threateningly, ‘if you don’t do what I say, you could get hurt.’
    Blackstone balled up his own fists.
    â€˜Touch me again, and I’ll break your nose,’ he promised.
    Perhaps it was his tone of calm confidence that caused the redcap to lower his arm, or perhaps it was simply the fact that he realized he was dealing with a fellow countryman.
    â€˜You’re English!’ he said.
    â€˜You’re as sharp as a needle aren’t you?’ Blackstone asked.
    The redcap frowned. ‘You’re not that copper from New Scotland Yard, are you?’ he asked, incredulously.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I expected somebody a bit smarter-looking.’
    â€˜If you were expecting me, I assume that makes you the welcoming committee,’ Blackstone said.
    The redcap’s frown deepened. ‘I’m Corporal Johnson, the bloke what’s been ordered to show you your billet, but you ain’t welcome in any shape or form,’ he said. ‘The MFP are the law out here on the Western Front, an’ we don’t like no civilian coming in and telling us how to do our job.’
    Blackstone ran his eyes quickly up and down the other man. Johnson was around twenty-three or twenty-four, he guessed. He was of average height and had the sort of face which would not stand out in even a small crowd. His eyes suggested steadiness, but no great intelligence. He was someone you could put in charge of any routine task with confidence – but if you were expecting any leaps of imagination from him, you were almost bound to be disappointed.
    â€˜Did you hear what I said,’ the corporal repeated. ‘We don’t want no civilians coming in and telling us how to do our job.’
    â€˜You do know that your superiors are trying to pin Lieutenant Fortesque’s murder on one of your own people, don’t you?’ Blackstone asked.
    â€˜One of my own people?’ the corporal repeated, as if Blackstone had suddenly switched to a foreign language. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    â€˜They want to put the blame on someone from the ranks.’
    â€˜And how are they my own people ? I’m no common soldier – I’m a corporal,’ Johnson said, tapping his stripes with two fingers, in case Blackstone hadn’t noticed them. ‘These mean that I’m a non-commissioned officer .’
    â€˜And your old man – or is it your uncle? – is a porter at Billingsgate Fish Market,’ Blackstone said.
    Johnson looked thunderstruck.
    â€˜Who told you  . . . how did you know  . . . ?’ he began.
    I know because your accent gives you