To End All Wars Read online

  Campion led the way upstairs by a different route, which seemed longer than the day’s other journeys combined, so that by the time Forrester recognised the familiar corridor, he was aching and disorientated. As Campion opened the door to his room, Forrester remembered Middleton’s letters. “May I beg one more favour, Sergeant?” he said.

  Considering the pile of books in his hands, Campion placed them deliberately upon the chest of drawers. “What is it?”

  “Only some letters that need sending. Major Forbes told me the post’s somewhat unreliable, but they really are quite important.”

  “I shall have to ask,” Campion responded curtly. “I’m not acquainted with the arrangements myself.”

  “Perhaps I could entrust them to you in the meantime?” Maybe it was a result of his tiredness, but Forrester wanted badly to be rid of the letters and the responsibility they represented.

  “I’ll have to ask,” Campion repeated, and it was clear from his tone that no alternative answer would be forthcoming.

  He waited until Forrester was inside and then closed the door. Forrester heard the customary jangle of the key and the clack of retreating footsteps.

  Settled in bed, Forrester began with the Vasari. However, he was in no condition for reading, and even sitting fatigued him. He sunk into the pillows, focusing less and less on the words beneath his eyes—and woke with a start from shallow sleep, the book in his lap, with no idea of how much time had passed .

  It took him an instant to acknowledge that what had woken him was knocking at his door. “Come in,” he mumbled. He assumed his visitor must be the nurse—what had Campion called her, Nurse Rao?—though from the light outside, it was too early for dinner. Then, realising he’d spoken too quietly for anyone to hear, he hollered, “Come in!”

  He was surprised when the door swung open to reveal Sergeant Campion. He had the look, Forrester thought, of the cat that had got the cream.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get up, sir,” he said, sounding not at all sorry. “The major would like a word with you.”

  Chapter Seven

  F orbes gave Forrester long enough to settle in his chair, but nowhere near time to get comfortable, before he said, “Sergeant Campion has you tagged as a troublemaker.”

  Startled, Forrester took a deliberate moment to prop his crutches and to stretch his injured leg. “Then there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  “Oh, I’m only relaying what the sergeant told me. I promise you, I won’t hold much store by it. Still, we can’t have you making enemies when you’ve not even been here a week.”

  Was Forrester to view Campion as an enemy? “If I get the chance, I’ll try to patch things up.”

  “Good man. But Forrester, please don’t consider me blunt if I say that your position is a delicate one. There are some who feel you’re using up a bed that might be better occupied, when we could simply pack you off to stand trial. My personal opinion is that you’ve a right to be well, as any man has, and that, if it does come to a trial, you should have the full resources of body and mind at your disposal. Would you concur?”

  “Of course. If I have any say in the matter. ”

  Leaning forward, Forbes steepled his fingers, resting his chin lightly upon the tips. “Because yesterday you were of the attitude that my diagnosis was incorrect, and that you are unequivocally not suffering from shell shock.”

  Forrester was reminded of his episode during the night and the epiphany that had provoked it. He could feel the pain just out of his conscious reach. If he was guilty of the deaths of his men, then he must know. “I’ve given the question some thought,” he said, “and I’ve come to appreciate that I’m no expert, perhaps not even on the subject of myself. I’m ready to undergo whatever treatment you decide is appropriate.”

  “And forgive me for asking,” Forbes went on, “but this reversal has nothing to do with you potentially being up on charges? If we’re to get you properly healthy, you must be committed to the process for its own sake.”

  Forrester remembered faces in the murk, pale and immobile as pebbles in a stream beneath their tin pan hats. “I want to be well,” he agreed.

  Forbes pushed back into his chair and gave a terse smile. “Excellent. We’re on the same page, as they say. So would you feel up to starting now? If we should make a little progress, it would be a great help in our case to keep you here.”

  “By all means.” The last thing Forrester wished to do was talk at length, but he could hardly refuse.

  “Then let’s begin with your final night at the front. The report sent up with Captain Timperley said that you were leading a night raid, and that you were later found wandering in an apparent state of shock. Would that be a fair summary?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “Rather scant on details, though, for our purposes,” Forbes said. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  So Forrester described their slow creep through No Man’s Land, the gas attack and how he’d got his mask on just in time, and then the brief firefight, his wounding, how he’d called the retreat—until he came to the juncture when he’d tumbled into the crater and had seen the peculiar bright light.

  At that, Forbes held up a hand. “There’s something that wasn’t in the report. This bright light, what was so extraordinary about it? Can you describe what you saw?”

  “Not much better than that. I only witnessed it properly for an instant, and then it was dazzling. The glow was sometimes blue, sometimes green, and shifting all the while, without any conspicuous pattern. It wasn’t harsh, as a flare would have been. Except for the brightness, the effect was quite serene, like watching a still sea.”

  “And when you remember this light, would you say that you attach to it any uncommon significance?”

  Without intending to, Forrester had closed his eyes, and he felt no inclination to open them. Even the memory of the light was somehow soothing. “That last, I suppose. Once or twice when I was a boy, my mother took me to visit her family in Italy, to a place called Portofino. The Mediterranean was exactly like that.” He opened his eyes, struck by a revelation. “When I remember the light, that’s what I think of: an ocean, stretching farther than I can see.”

  To Forrester’s surprise, Forbes’s brows were creased in consternation. “That’s not quite what I meant,” he said. “What I’d like to know is, do you recall any distinctive sensation? An unusual aspect to the experience that makes the sight stand out so uniquely?”

  Forrester did his best to concentrate, since Forbes was obviously driving at some point in particular. But when he probed the memory, all he recollected was blazing brightness, and the association he’d just related. “No. There’s nothing.”

  “Well,” Forbes said—and his irritation was vanished, as though never there—“do keep thinking. It’s evident to me that you’ve attached some connotation to what you observed; likely a flare or a shell exploding, but for as yet undisclosed reasons, your mind has endowed it with special importance.”

  “Except that I saw the same sight again later,” Forrester replied, and regretted doing so immediately. It wasn’t so much what he’d revealed as the attention he had sparked in Forbes’s eyes. “Or something similar,” he amended weakly. “Light emanating from a crater. A partially buried object.”

  “Interesting,” Forbes declared, and it was hard to say if he was aware of the incongruity between the word and his expression. “It’s probable you were hallucinating, or rather, reinterpreting some actual scene in a distorted form, which is more common than hallucination per se. You saw a flare, and then a fire, and for some reason put those two events together and attached meaning to them. Does that make sense to you?”

  “It does,” Forrester granted, though when he challenged his memories, he had no doubt that the two lights had been the same, and that neither had been a flare or any mundane sort of conflagration. “Apart from the fact that I don’t altogether grasp why I’d have done such a thing.”

  �
�Yes, that’s the key, all right. The puzzle isn’t whether you reimagined these particulars but why. With all due respect, Forrester, this talk of calm seas and such is so much hogwash, a screen your subconscious threw up to push us off the right track. The mind will do that, you know; it has no end of tricks to keep us from its secrets. Is there anything else? Close your eyes, if that helps. But I’d like you to really delve deep.”

  Forrester dutifully closed his eyes. Strangely, the resulting dark in itself made him think of the bright light. He had a fleeting glimpse of his dream on the train to Le Havre, an impression of crushing obscurity, and then of a different kind of darkness: expansive, oceanic, thrilling. And there, again, was the sense of pervasive peace, of vast waters at rest .

  But Forbes didn’t want to hear about any of that; no oceans, no boundless, consoling darkness. Forrester opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s all there is.”

  Forbes looked let down, like a teacher disappointed by a favoured pupil. “I’ll speak plainly, Forrester, because it’s crucial that you fully appreciate your position. Perhaps it’s through no fault of your own, but you have made enemies for yourself, powerful enemies, and I am the sole bulwark between you and them. It’s a responsibility I’m glad to bear, but my proviso is that you give me your very best endeavours. Whatever resentment you hold toward your circumstances, you must put it aside. Whatever I require of you, you must give it your all. Forgive me for belabouring the point, but I have to be certain you understand.”

  “I do understand,” Forrester affirmed. “And I’m grateful for your efforts on my behalf.”

  “Then please do stick with this. I believe it’s important ... the key, like I said. Once we have that, the rest will follow, and we can begin to make you better. But if we were to stall at this first obstacle...”

  “I understand,” Forrester repeated. “I’ll keep trying. I’m sure that if there’s something, I’ll find it.”

  Forbes offered a smile. Yet behind it, he now looked rather wistful. “Yes, that’s all I ask. It must seem that I’m being hard on you. Treatment can be a difficult prospect, especially when one can’t dictate the pace oneself.”

  Forrester attempted to reflect the smile. “Maybe I should get back to my room and make a start.”

  “You mustn’t overtax yourself,” Forbes told him seriously. “Take the rest of the day off; we must heal your body too. It’s doubtful I’ll be able to see you tomorrow, so that will be an opportunity for reflection. Perhaps you’d like to go out into the grounds? Sergeant Campion could make the arrangements. ”

  “Thank you,” Forrester said. Reclaiming a crutch, he began the laborious process of hauling himself to his feet.

  “Oh,” Forbes added absently, “the sergeant mentioned that you have some letters you want carrying.”

  Already out of the chair, propped uncomfortably on one crutch and fumbling for the other, Forrester hesitated. “Yes, two of them. From a man I served with, Middleton, to his family. He led a platoon in the raid, the same as I did. Only, he didn’t make it back. Probably they’ll have heard of his death by now, but it might give them comfort to have a last word from him.”

  “I imagine you’re right.” Forbes bobbed his head gravely. “And what was your relationship to this man, Middleton?”

  “My relationship? He was a platoon leader, like myself. We shared a dugout.”

  “A friend, then?”

  “I hadn’t known him for very long. But yes, a good friend.”

  “Nothing more?”

  The question nearly froze him. “Look here,” Forrester mumbled, “I’m not sure what you’re driving at.”

  Forbes didn’t respond right away. He merely sat, gazing at a spot in the middle distance. Slowly, Forrester’s tension began to abate. His breathing, grown rapid and wheezing, steadied. Then Forbes said, “I meant no offence, lieutenant.”

  Strengthless, Forrester slumped into his chair. “So what did you mean?” he asked, not yet ready to relinquish his indignation.

  Forbes held up a cardboard folder sealed with treasury tags. “Your file came through this morning.”

  It would never have occurred to Forrester that he had such a thing as a file. “Yes?” he said guardedly.

  “You may not have been aware, but the army had some doubts about taking you in the first place. ”

  “I wasn’t aware.”

  “The business at Oxford.” Forbes said it as casually as though they were discussing some shared reminiscence. “They thought you might be too much of a gamble.”

  “The business?” Forrester echoed.

  “There was an incident in your third year at Oxford. The father of a young man of your acquaintance causing a commotion and writing to the chancellor, trying to have you thrown out. There was even talk of criminal charges. Well, I’m sure you remember.”

  Forrester’s mouth was dry, his cheeks and brow inflamed. “Yes, I remember. But that was ... it was a misapprehension. Nothing at all, really. And it quickly got cleared up.”

  Forbes consulted the file in his hands. “When your father intervened, yes. And there aren’t many more details than that, which is why they felt they had to let you in. I’d be interested in hearing your version of events.”

  “I don’t know that I’d be interested in telling them,” Forrester said.

  “And that’s your prerogative. Nevertheless, I hope you won’t mind me reminding you that you’ve given your word to cooperate. You have a right to keep things to yourself, but the more barriers you impose, the less able I will be to help you.”

  Damn it, was this the rod he was to be perpetually beaten with? The war had long ago taught Forrester to adjust his notions of what was private, what was personal. Those boundaries had been remapped, or else erased, when he stepped into the recruitment station. But this? And the worst was that the matter truly had been nothing; no concern of the army, nothing that should have affected his commission.

  “I became close with a fellow, Fairweather,” Forrester said. “We were good friends, or so I thought. I was very fond of him ... worshipped him a little too, if I’m honest. You know how it can be at that age, you haven’t met many people, and then you come upon someone who seems really remarkable. It’s easy to be overawed.”

  For a moment, the recollection was clear, as though the remembered past were a tableau he could reach and touch. “Except, it turned out he didn’t think quite so highly of me. We had a falling out, and somehow word got back to his father, who was an atrocious bully of a man. He misunderstood and got it into his head that he’d have to make a show, to protect his son’s good name.”

  Forbes regarded him thoughtfully. “And were you in love with this Fairweather?”

  Forrester was almost struck dumb, not only by the substance of what Forbes had asked but because he’d done so with such earnest enquiry and lack of judgement. He found he couldn’t give the answer which had first come to mind, that of course he hadn’t been. “I suppose you would have to say I loved him,” he replied softly. “Not in any indecent way. That is to say, nothing ever happened between us. Nothing inappropriate.”

  “And were you in love also with Lieutenant Middleton?”

  There was a swelling in Forrester’s throat. He didn’t know if he could speak around it. But when he took a deep breath, the ache eased, just enough that air could pass. “I never considered the question. But if you’re asking me now ... then yes, I suppose I was.”

  “Forrester, thank you,” Forbes said. “I value your candour.”

  Forrester made do with a nod. The pain seemed so paralysing that he might never speak again.

  “But you must appreciate that this has to go no further than the two of us. Given the delicacy of your position, any such talk could be the final straw. If this were to get out, it would be impossible for me to protect you. And you must be careful of your behaviour toward the other men. If anything were to be misconstrued—“

  “I can assure you,” Forrester
managed, “that I would never do anything that might be misconstrued.”

  “I don’t mean to propose that you should be a hermit, only that there can be no purpose in your forming any close attachments. You were badly shaken by the death of this Middleton, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. I was badly shaken.” It was such a preposterous understatement that he could have laughed. Yet would he have admitted the truth of his own accord? Would he ever have let himself mourn?

  “There’ll be a part of you,” Forbes said, “that seeks to reconstruct that friendship here at Sherston. You must defend against the impulse, it’s not a healthy one. The grieving process is a profoundly difficult thing, but it must not be denied, let alone circumvented. Have you spoken with any of the young men in our charge?”

  “I talked to Major Morgan.” Forrester resisted the urge to add that Morgan could hardly be called young. “Or rather, Major Morgan talked to me. He seemed a trifle confused.”

  “Yes, poor man,” Forbes concurred. “A shell went off near him, half deafening him. That twitch, however, is wholly psychosomatic. He doesn’t let on, but his nerves are shot. He gets awfully anxious of loud noises, so one might argue that the deafness is a blessing of sorts.”

  Forrester almost said, I was referring more to his paranoia . Something held him back, perhaps the desire not to get Morgan into any trouble. No, it wasn’t that. If Morgan was delusional, wouldn’t Forbes have mentioned the fact? And if he wasn’t, did that imply there was some truth to what he’d alleged? That the other patients had been warned off talking to Forrester, that they’d all been moved at the same time ?

  “That’s what he’s here for?” Forrester said instead. “His nerves?”

  He thought a hint of suspicion flickered across Forbes’s face. “The major is here to convalesce,” he acknowledged. “There’s not a great deal else we can do for him. He’s a good man, though. I hear he was an excellent front-line officer. If you do find yourself in need of a friend, you could certainly do worse.”