Read Online The Iron Stallions by Max Hennessy - Free Book Online Page B

Bawtry began to stammer ‘–well I can explain that, sir–’
    ‘Don’t bother, Bawtry,’ Josh said grimly. ‘I shall be asking for a new batman. In the meantime, you’d better be getting back to barracks.’
    ‘Sir, I’m on a forty-eight–!’
    ‘You were , Bawtry, you were ! You aren’t any more. I could have you up before the CO for this, but I’m not going to and, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as I say. You’ll go back by the next train and tomorrow you will take that suit and hat to the cleaners and that shirt to the laundry. And you will pay the damage. I shall want to see the bill.’
    ‘Sir.’
    ‘And I shall check at the guardroom to see what time you returned, so don’t try taking a pint in the local with your pals.’ Josh was about to turn away when he stopped and faced Bawtry once more. ‘And, Bawtry, for the future, don’t try to put anything across me again. I may not be as old as you but, through my family, I’ve been in the army quite as long as you have. Now, beat it.’
    ‘Sort him out, old fruit?’ Reeves asked as Josh slipped in alongside his family near the Cenotaph.
    ‘I think so,’ Josh murmured.
    ‘Up before the CO?’
    ‘No. But he’ll not do it again.’
    ‘Be quiet,’ Ailsa hissed. ‘The King’s arrived.’
    Their bemedalled surplices stirring in the breeze, padres were intoning prayers, then the voices of soldiers and ex-soldiers lifted in unison.
    ‘Oh, God our help in ages past–’
    The faint hooting of motor cars from Trafalgar Square came over the words of the chaplain reading the lesson, then they sang O, Valiant Hearts , and trumpeters of the Household Cavalry raised their instruments for the Last Post. At the first note, the pigeons whirled, clattering, to the roofs but they had settled again on the pavements for the silence as the remembrances were intoned.
     
    ‘They shall grow not old, as we who are left grow old.
    Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn–’
     
    Josh felt his eyes pricking as they had not pricked since his grandfather’s funeral. With his father’s grave at the other end of the Mediterranean, that funeral had had to serve for both of them and an enormous sense of loss flooded over him.
    Heels together, chins out, thumbs at the seams of their trousers, they stood stiffly for the two minutes’ silence and the National Anthem. As the final salute was given, the old soldiers marched past behind the bands, heads up in the thin sunshine, campaign medals catching the sun. Josh had no conception of what this ceremony meant to these older men, but he’d heard his grandfather talk of memories. ‘They play puck with your inside,’ he had said once, and it was clear it was playing puck with these men today.
    ‘What happens to them when it’s over?’ Reeves asked as the last group marched past and the crowd began to disperse.
    ‘Drinks together,’ Josh said. ‘Then I suppose they hang feedbags on themselves and bed down for the night before going home tomorrow.’
    ‘Gets you,’ Reeves observed. ‘Never realised till now.’
    It was true, Josh thought. The army was a funny institution. Composed of people who were not supposed to be given to emotion, it still brought you close to tears at times.
    They ate at the Café Royal and because the weather was good they strolled in the park. As the two Reeves brothers paired off with their girl friends, Josh found himself with Ailsa, and because it was cold, she clung to his arm.
    ‘Not done in best cavalry circles,’ he observed. ‘Supposed to walk very straight, carry an umbrella, wear your bowler top-dead centre, avoid smoking in the streets and, above all, eschew strolling in Hyde Park with a pretty girl on your arm.’
    Somehow – Josh decided later it was a put-up job – the Reeves brothers managed to lose them and he found himself with Ailsa on her own. Because it was sunny, he took her to Hampton Court and they ate a tea of cream cakes. In the evening,