‘Constantly. He… er… writes distinctly effusive letters. You know…’ He hesitated. ‘I knew about the hero-worship, but I’m beginning to think it was rather more than that.’
Rivers watched the firelight flicker on Sassoon’s hair and face. He said, ‘It happens.’
‘I just hope I was kind enough.’
‘I’m sure you were.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from the War Office?’
‘On the contrary. I had dinner with Hope the other night, and I have an informal assurance that no obstacles will be put in your way. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s the best I can do.’
Sassoon took a deep breath. ‘All right. Back to the sausage machine.’
‘It doesn’t mean you don’t have to be careful with the Board.’
Sassoon smiled. ‘I shall say as little as possible.’
The Board was chaired by the new CO, Colonel Balfour Graham. The previous evening Rivers and Brock had discussed the likely effects of this on the conduct of the Board, but had not been able to reach any firm conclusion. Balfour Graham hadn’t had time to get to know most of the patients. Either he’d be content simply to move things along as smoothly as possible or, at worst, he might feel obliged to assert his authority by asking both patient and MO more questions than was usual. The third member of the Board was Major Huntley, still — if his conversation over breakfast was anything to go by — obsessed by rose growing and racial degeneracy.
Anderson came first. Balfour Graham expressed some surprise that Rivers was not recommending a general discharge.
‘He still wants to serve his country,’ Rivers said. ‘And there’s absolutely no reason why he shouldn’t be able to do so. In an administrative capacity. I rather think he may be given a desk job in the War Office.’
‘Are we doing the War Office or the patient a favour?’ Balfour Graham asked.
‘He’s an able man. It might be quite good for them to have somebody with extensive experience of France.’
‘Lord, yes,’ said Huntley.
‘It merely occurred to me that it might be convenient for Anderson to be able to postpone the moment when he has to face the prospect of civilian medicine.’
‘That too,’ said Rivers.
The actual interview with Anderson was reasonably quick. Indeed, the whole morning went quickly. They stopped for lunch — over which Rivers professed great interest in mildew and blackspot — and then sat down rather wearily but on time for the next ten. Rivers hardly knew at this stage whether he felt reassured or not. Balfour Graham was quick, courteous, efficient — and shrewd. Huntley’s interventions, though rare, were rather unpredictable, and seemed to depend entirely on whether he liked the patient. He took to Willard at once, and was scandalized when Rivers made some comment deploring Willard’s lack of insight. ‘What’s he want insight for? He’s supposed to be killing the buggers, Rivers, not psychoanalysing them.’
Sassoon was last but one. ‘A slightly unusual case,’ Rivers began, dismissively. ‘In the sense that I’m recommending him for general service overseas.’
‘More than slightly unusual, surely?’ Balfour Graham asked with a faint smile. ‘I don’t think it’s ever been done before. Has it?’
‘I couldn’t make any other recommendation. He’s completely fit, mentally and physically, he wants to go back to France, and… I have been given an assurance by the War Office that no obstacles will be placed in his way.’
‘Why should they be?’ asked Huntley.
Balfour Graham said, ‘This is the young man who believes the war is being fought for the wrong reasons, and that we should explore Germany’s offer of a negotiated peace. Do you think —’
‘Those were his views,’ Rivers said, ‘while he was still suffering from exhaustion and the after-effects of a shoulder wound. Fortunately a brother officer intervened and he was sent here. Really no more was required than a brief period of rest and reflection. He now feels very strongly that it’s his duty to go back.’
‘He was dealt with very leniently, it seems to me,’ Huntley said.
‘He has a good record. MC. Recommended for the D S O.’
‘Ah,’ Huntley said.
‘I do see what you mean by unusual,’ Balfour Graham said.
‘The point is he wants to go back.’
‘Right, let’s see him.’
Sassoon came in and saluted. Rivers watched the other two. Balfour Graham acknowledged the salute pleasantly enough. Major Huntley positively beamed. Rivers took Sassoon through the recent past, framing his questions to require no more than a simple yes or no. Sassoon’s manner was excellent. Exactly the right mixture of confidence and deference. Rivers turned to Balfour Graham.
Balfour Graham was shuffling about among his papers. Suddenly, he looked up. ‘No nightmares?’
‘No, sir.’
Sassoon’s expression didn’t change, but Rivers sensed he was lying.
‘Never?’
‘Not since I left the 4th London, sir.’
‘That was in… April?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Balfour Graham looked at Rivers. Rivers looked at the ceiling.
‘Major Huntley?’
Major Huntley leaned forward. ‘Rivers tells us you’ve changed your mind about the war. Is that right?’
A startled glance. ‘No, sir.’
Balfour Graham and Huntley looked at each other.
‘You haven’t changed your views?’ Balfour Graham asked.
‘No, sir.’ Sassoon’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly on Rivers. ‘I believe exactly what I believed in July. Only if possible more strongly.’
A tense silence.
‘I see,’ Balfour Graham said.
‘Wasn’t there something in The Times?’ Huntley asked. ‘I seem to…’
He reached across for the file. Rivers leant forward, pinning it to the table with his elbow. ‘But you do now feel quite certain it’s your duty to go back?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you have no doubts about that?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Well,’ Balfour Graham said as the door closed behind Sassoon, ‘I suppose you are sure about this, Rivers? He’s not going to go back and foment rebellion in the ranks?’
‘No, he won’t do that. He won’t do anything to lower the morale of his men.’
‘I hope you’re right. He was lying about the nightmares, you know.’
‘Yes, I gathered that.’
‘I suppose he thinks that might be a reason for keeping him here. The point is do we see a reason for keeping him here? Huntley?’
Major Huntley seemed to return from a great distance. ‘Spanish Jews.’
Balfour Graham looked blank.
‘Father’s side. Spanish Jews.’
‘You know the family?’ Rivers asked.
‘Good lord, yes. Mother was a Thornycroft.’ He shook his head. ‘Ah well. Hybrid vigour.’
Rivers was across the rose garden several paces ahead of Balfour Graham. ‘So you think he’s fit?’
‘’Course he’s fit. Good God, man, how often do you see a physique like that, even in the so-called upper classes?’
They were back to eugenics again, but for once Rivers had no desire to interrupt.
After dinner Sassoon came to say goodbye. He’d been told the result of the Board and had spent the intervening time packing. Rivers hadn’t expected him to linger. Apart from Owen, he’d made no friends at Craiglockhart, not even Anderson, though they’d spent a large part of every day together. And he’d never bothered to disguise his hatred of the place.