On a hectic morning towards what would prove to be the end of the military crisis, Lady Tarlton came looking for Naomi and found her directing the Australian nurses and the English Roses. As ever, when she arrived Lady Tarlton had an earnest demeanor. She had taken no more time since her consolatory drink with Naomi to lament Major Darlington. But without Mitchie—and in the light of their combined loss of their men—they spoke to each other like confidantes. Lady Tarlton was not immobilized by sadness and none of her fervors had stalled.
The name of the commander of the newly assembled Australian Corps, she told Sally, a huge one of five divisions, has just been announced. This general is planning to visit the general hospital in Boulogne on his way from a meeting in London back to the front.
I knew him in Melbourne, said Lady Tarlton airily. He’ll be tolerant if I raise the vexed matter of Lieutenant Kiernan’s imprisonment. And, Naomi, we should be strong in the matter—even to the point of offending our hosts at Boulogne.
After his trial Ian had been sent across the Channel and was serving his sentence in Millbank Prison in London with other Australian miscreants and supposed deserters. Millbank lay on the dank edge of the Thames. It sounded to Naomi a cage for pneumonia as well as harm dished out by guards whose natures had been changed by the place. It was always a solace therefore to be associated with Lady Tarlton’s determination. Sentiments such as “even to the point of offending our host” gave Naomi a sweet sense of alliance.
Can we spare the time?
Appoint the sister in charge of the English Roses. You and I are not indispensable, you know.
On the morning of the general’s visit, Lady Tarlton appeared in the front hallway of the château in a full-length fawn coat over her best cerise dress and her long, thin-ankled button-up boots. She looked superb—a true force—and there was no trace of the rejected woman about her. Naomi, of course, wore her dull go-to-town uniform. They traveled to Boulogne in the now faded, dented, imperfectly repainted but functional glory of Lady Tarlton’s vehicle and arrived in time to walk along the graveled paths and visit the grave of brave Matron Mitchie. Where was her son now? In England, they hoped. Or along the Somme or Ancre Rivers somewhere—engaged endlessly in repulsing the enemy, as all the Australian divisions were said to be.
Carling drove them along the familiar road—going slow in the sump where Mitchie had been killed—and to the outskirts of the huge general hospital. The administration building had put out all the flags and bunting for the arrival of the Australian commander. The large shape of a kangaroo done in white pebbles served as a centerpiece of a bed of gravel in the square. Beside this great white image of a marsupial the matron-in-chief welcomed Lady Tarlton—with an air which said she wished there had been some way of stopping her being there. The matron was torn between showing contempt for Lady Tarlton’s well-advertised insistence upon maintaining the vanity of her own private hospital, and the fact that this was British nobility and the wife of a former governor-general of that Commonwealth in whose name they were lined up today around the dominating kangaroo. As they aligned themselves with the honor guard at the main entrance, Lady Tarlton murmured to Naomi, He’s Jewish—you understand—and at the same time a child of Prussians. He was an engineer and very high in the militia and the university senate when my husband and I were in Melbourne. His name escapes me. Excuse me a second.
And she turned to the matron-in-chief who stood beside her and asked, Matron, could you refresh my memory? The general’s name again, please?
General John Monash, the woman declared coldly. Milady.
That’s it, said Lady Tarlton to Naomi, the matron listening in. That’s the name. Monash. Now at his command are more than one hundred and twenty thousand of the finest men on earth! Oh yes, some of them are rough-hewn or not hewn at all. But trees that stand. That’s it. Bravo, General Monash!
The general’s automobile entered the gates and orderlies with rifles presented arms. Young nurses saluted because here was their chief. Their chief and his men—it was said—would lead the armies of salvation and redeem the known world and avenge the sad retreat only now ending. Monash’s men—it was believed especially by Australians—could save the bacon, the beef, the kingdoms of the west. This was the man who had in the emergency driven back the Germans through Villers-Bretonneux. No maidenly yell of approbation could be too strident for him.
He dismounted his vehicle—a middle-aged man heavy in the hips and yet somehow youngish and crisp in movement. He introduced himself to the chief medical officer and then walked along the line of nurses attended by the matron-in-chief. Soon he reached Lady Tarlton. Lady Tarlton! he said with enthusiasm, as they wrung each other’s hands. You and your husband were so generous to me and my wife in Melbourne. I’ve heard of your Australian hospital. I’m afraid that like me it attracts its critics. But since I feel I know you, I say, good for you! Yes, good for you!
I might as well tell you, stated Lady Tarlton, my efforts seem to be an embarrassment to many. Enthusiasm is my great fault.
The general said, If that were a disease, I wish others would catch it. I wish it was of an epidemic scale. As for embarrassment, you know that I am a source of embarrassment too. A mere citizen soldier. And… well, the other thing. And on the other thing, I must again thank you for the invitations to Government House.
She introduced him to her matron—as she called Naomi. An interesting and complicated face, Naomi thought, an activity behind the eyes and an engagement in all around him—in her as well. None of the oafish oblivion of Lord Dudley.
If you have a moment, said Tarlton in a lowered voice, I must ask you about Miss Durance’s fiancé. A medical supply officer, he has been imprisoned for refusing to take up a rifle. And yet he is a Quaker and made his pacifism clear when he enlisted. I am sure you of all people could not stand by and see such religious persecution.
Naomi could see—from a visible jolt in the general’s eyes—that he was not too pleased to be distracted by such a reproach on a ceremonial visit.
Why do you say that I of all people… Are you referring to my Jewishness? If so…
No, no, not that. I mean you as a citizen and a progressive.
Naomi decided to care little for the embarrassment of generals.
My fiancé, General Monash, has been imprisoned in Millbank because he is a member of the Society of Friends and served the Medical Corps and has done so since Gallipoli. To be of service in that regard was his motive for enlisting. But the order that he take up a rifle… that was something he could not consent to.
There was a darkness about the general’s brow. You realize we can’t have people making choices, he told Lady Tarlton as if she were the relay point for Naomi. You must understand above all that our French and English brethren are outraged by our leniency towards our own men when they are so stern towards theirs. I have to say, Lady Tarlton, I wish this matter had been raised in another forum.
Lady Tarlton said, If I were sure, General, that we would share some other forum, then I would choose to raise it then rather than now.