The general was going on. He pointed out that one of his predecessors had lost that very command on account of scandals about women. He had turned the place into a damned harem!
He burst out, looking at Tietjens with a peculiar goggle-eyed intentness:
“If you think I’d care about losing my command over Sylvia or any other damned Society woman….” He said: “I beg your pardon…” and continued reasoningly:
“It’s the men that have to be considered. They think — and they’ve every right to think it if they wish to — that a man who’s a wrong ‘un over women isn’t the man they can trust their lives in the hands of….” He added: “And they’re probably right…. A man who’s a real wrong ‘un…. I don’t mean who sets up a gal in a tea-shop…. But one who sells his wife, or… At any rate, in our army. The French may be different!… Well, a man like that usually has a yellow streak when it comes to fighting…. Mind, I’m not saying always…. Usually…. There was a fellow called…”
He went off into an anecdote….
Tietjens recognised the pathos of his trying to get away from the agonising present moment, back to an India where it was all real soldiering and good leather and parades that had been parades. But he did not feel called upon to follow. He could not follow. He was going up the line….
He occupied himself with his mind. What was it going to do? He cast back along his military history: what had his mind done in similar moments before?… But there had never been a similar moment! There had been the sinister or repulsive businesses of going up, getting over, standing to — even of the casualty clearing-station! But he had always been physically keener, he had never been so depressed or overwhelmed.
He said to the generaclass="underline"
“I recognise that I cannot stop in this command. I regret it, for I have enjoyed having this unit…. But does it necessarily mean the VIth Battalion?”
He wondered what was his own motive at the moment. Why had he asked the general that!… The thing presented itself as pictures: getting down bulkily from a high French train, at dawn. The light picked out for you the white of large hunks of bread — half-loaves — being handed out to troops themselves duskily invisible….. The ovals of light on the hats of English troops; they were mostly West Countrymen. They did not seem to want the bread much…. A long ridge of light above a wooded bank, then suddenly, pervasively, a sound!… For all the world as, sheltering from rain in a cottager’s washhouse on the moors, you hear the cottager’s clothes boiling in a copper… Bubble… bubble… bubbubbub… bubble… Not terribly loud — but terribly demanding attention!… The Great Strafe!…
The general had said:
“If I could think of anything else to do with you, I’d do it… But all the extraordinary rows you’ve got into…. They block me everywhere…. Do you realise that I have requested General O’Hara to suspend his functions until now?…”
It was amazing to Tietjens how the general mistrusted his subordinates — as well as how he trusted them!… It was probably that that made him so successful an officer. Be worked for by men that you trust: but distrust them all the time — along certain lines of frailty; liquor, women, money!… Well, he had long knowledge of men!
He said:
“I admit, sir, that I misjudged General O’Hara. I have said as much to Colonel Levin and explained why.”
The general said with a gloating irony:
“A damn pretty pass to come to…. You put a general officer under arrest… Then you say you had misjudged him!… I am not saying you were not performing a duty….” He went on to recount the classical case of a subaltern, cited in King’s Regulations, temp. William IV, who was court martialled and broken for not putting under arrest his colonel who came drunk on to parade…. He was exhibiting his sensuous delight in misplaced erudition.
Tietjens heard himself say with great slowness:
“I absolutely deny, sir, that I put General O’Hara under arrest! I have gone into the matter very minutely with Colonel Levin.”
The general burst out:
“By God! I had taken that woman to be a saint…. I swear she is a saint…
Tietjens said:
“There is no accusation against Mrs. Tietjens, sir!”
The general said:
“By God, there is!”
Tietjens said:
“I am prepared to take all the blame, sir.”
The general said:
“You shan’t…. I am determined to get to the bottom of all this…. You have treated your wife damn badly…. You admit that….”
Tietjens said:
“With great want of consideration, sir….”
The general said:
“You have been living practically on terms of separation from her for a number of years? You don’t deny that that was on account of your own misbehaviour. For how many years?”
Tietjens said:
“I don’t know, sir…. Six or seven!”
The general said sharply:
“Think, then…. It began when you admitted to me that you had been sold up because you kept a girl in a tobacco-shop? That was at Rye in 1912….”
Tietjens said:
“We have not been on terms since 1912, sir.”
The general said:
“But why?… She’s a most beautiful woman. She’s adorable. What could you want better?… She’s the mother of your child….”
Tietjens said:
“Is it necessary to go into all this, sir?… Our differences were caused by… by differences of temperament. She, as you say, is a beautiful and reckless woman…. Reckless in an admirable way. I, on the other hand…”
The general exclaimed:
“Yes! that’s just it…. What the hell are you?… You’re not a soldier. You’ve got the makings of a damn good soldier. You amaze me at times. Yet you’re a disaster; you are a disaster to every one who has to do with you. You are as conceited as a hog; you are as obstinate as a bullock…. You drive me mad…. And you have ruined the life of that beautiful woman…. For I maintain she once had the disposition of a saint…. Now! I’m waiting for your explanation!”
Tietjens said:
“In civilian life, sir, I was a statistician. Second secretary to the Department of Statistics….”
The general exclaimed convictingly:
“And they’ve thrown you out of that! Because of the mysterious rows you made….”
Tietjens said:
“Because, sir, I was in favour of the single command….”
The general began a long wrangle: “But why were you? What the hell had it got to do with you?” Couldn’t Tietjens have given the Department the statistics they wanted — even if it meant faking them? What was discipline for if subordinates were to act on their consciences? The home Government had wanted statistics faked in order to dish the Allies…. Well… Was Tietjens French or English? Every damn thing Tietjens did… every damn thing, made it more impossible to do anything for him! With his attainments he ought to be attached to the staff of the French Commander-in-Chief. But that was forbidden in his, Tietjens’, confidential report. There was an underlined note in it to that effect. Where else, then, in Heaven’s name, could Tietjens be sent to? He looked at Tietjens with intent blue eyes:
“Where else, in God’s name… I am not using the Almighty’s name blasphemously… can you be sent to? I know it’s probably death to send you up the line — in your condition of health. And to poor Perry’s Army. The Germans will be through it the minute the weather breaks.”