Naturally, all Merivale was deeply interested in the adventures of Mr.
Hutchings at the Front of the War. Of the three masters who had
instantly volunteered, only Hutchings had actually gone to the Front,
being a skilled territorial and holding a commission in the Devons; but
the other two, Manwaring and Meadows, had to be content with Kitchener's
Army, because they were ignorant of the subject of warfare and had to
begin at the beginning. Of course, Fortescue would have proudly gone,
as his splendid poems on the war and his general valiant feelings
showed, and we were very sorry we had misunderstood him; but his aorta
being a bit off quite prevented him doing anything except write splendid
poems urging everybody else to go; and no doubt many did go because of
them. As for Brown, he was five feet nothing, or thereabouts, and so he
wasn't wanted, and I believe in secret he thanked God for it, though in
public he said it was the bitterest blow of his life. And Rice, who
doesn't fear Brown, asked him why he didn't join a Ghurka regiment; and
Brown said nothing would have given him greater pleasure, only,
unfortunately, owing to caste, and religion, and one thing and another,
it was out of the question. He appeared to bar the bantam regiment
also, probably not so much as the bantam regiment would have barred him.
So you may say Merivale only had one man at the positive Front, though
Jenny Dunston, the Doctor's youngest daughter but two, was engaged to a
man in the Welsh Fusiliers, and he was there, and Abbott's father was
also there. They were, of course, nothing to us, though no doubt a good
deal to Jenny Dunston and Abbott's mother; but all our excitement
centred on Hutchings, who was a lieutenant, and was often believed to do
the work of a captain when actually under fire. He occasionally sent a
postcard to Fortescue, saying that all was well, and I believe Fortescue
also got a letter with pieces censored out of it; but he did not show it
to us, though he told Travers minor and Briggs that it was anxious work.
This was when the British Expedition was falling back, much to its
regret. But soon the time came when they got going forward again, and
then Fortescue bucked up and, I believe, wrote his best poetry. In
fact, Fortescue really was a sort of weather-glass of the War, if you
understand me, and chaps in his class said that, after a reverse, you
could do simply anything with him, and he didn't seem to have the
slightest interest in work, and didn't care if you were right or wrong.
And in a way it was equally all right for his class after a victory, for
then he was so hopeful and pleased that he never came down on anybody.
So we hadn't got to read the papers, because, after seeing Fortescue in
the morning, we always knew the general hang of the War. In fact,
Mitchell, who was a cunning student of other people's characters, though
his own was beastly, said that you had only got to look at Fortescue's
neck to know how it was going at the Front. If his head was hanging
over his chest, it was certain the Allies had had a nasty knock; and if
it was just about normal, you knew nothing had happened to matter either
way; and if it was thrown up and straight, and Fortescue's eyes were
bright behind his glasses, then you knew that we had scored, or else the
French or Russians had. Then a little child could lead Fortescue, as
Mitchell said.
And at last came Hill No. 60, and the fearfully sad news that Hutchings
was dead or wounded; and many of us would have given a week's
pocket-money to know which. Then came the good news under the Roll of
Honour that he was only wounded, and after that, many of us would have
given a week's pocket-money to know where. Presently we heard from Dr.
Dunston that he was in Paris; and then we heard that he was coming to
England and going to the private house of some very sporting rich people
who had turned their mansion into a hospital for wounded officers.
Then Fortescue heard from Hutchings, and most kindly gave us the
information that he had been wounded in two places--the shoulder and the
calf of the right leg. And we were thankful that it was no worse.
We were allowed to write to Hutchings, and Barrington, who was head boy
now that Travers major had left, composed a letter, and everybody signed
it. And I hope he liked it. But then came the great idea of a
presentation to Hutchings. I am Blades, and it was my idea, though
afterwards Sutherland and Thwaites claimed it. But I promise you it was
mine, and we had a meeting in chapel one night before prep., at which
Barrington proposed and I seconded the great thought that we should make
a collection of money for a memorial to Hutchings.
Barrington said:
"We are met together for a good object, namely, to collect money for a
valuable memorial of his bravery in the War for Mr. Hutchings, or I
should say Lieutenant Hutchings. Everybody here--even his own
class--likes him; and the new boys, who do not know him, would equally
like him if they did. No doubt there will be a very fine medal of Hill
No. 60 struck and presented to our troops who were in that terrific
battle, and no doubt Lieutenant Hutchings will get it; but it often
takes years and years before war medals are struck and presented to the
heroes of a battle, and I have heard that some of the medals from the
Battle of Waterloo are still hanging fire; and many ought to have had
them who died a natural death long before they were sent out. So I
propose that we make a collection for Mr. Hutchings and present him with
a valuable object before he goes back to the War, because, if we leave
it till afterwards, it may be too late."
And I said:
"I beg to second the excellent speech we have just heard, and if anybody
is of a different opinion, let him say so."
It was carried.
Then Barrington said we must have a committee of management, with a
secretary and treasurer, and it was done.
The committee consisted of me and Barrington and Sutherland and
Thwaites; and Rice, who would not have been on such an important thing
in the ordinary way, was proposed, because he was enormously popular and
would be able to persuade many to subscribe who would not otherwise do
so without great pressure. That only left the treasurer, and well
knowing Mitchell's financial skill and mastery of arithmetic in general,
I proposed him. Some chaps, who owed Mitchell money, were rather shy of
voting for him; but finally they decided it was better to have him for a
friend than an enemy, and so they voted in his favour. I myself owed
Mitchell three shillings, for which I was paying twopence a week, which
was a fair interest. And personally I always found him honourable,
though firm.
Anyway, he was made treasurer, and he said the subscription lists must
be posted in a public place, because in these cases people liked to see
their names where other people would also see them, and that publicity
was the backbone of philanthropy.
We left it with him, as he thoroughly understood that branch of the
testimonial, and meanwhile from time to time the committee met to
consider what ought to be bought. And we differed a good deal on the
subject. I thought, as Hutchings would certainly go back to the War
when he was well, we ought to buy him a complete outfit of comforts,
including blankets, tobacco--of which he was very fond--a Thermos flask,
a wool helmet, day socks, night socks, a mouth-guard to keep out German
stinks, and, in fact, everything to help him through the misery of
warfare, including a filter for drinking water. And Sutherland was
rather inclined to agree with me, but the others were not.
Thwaites said:
"My dear Blades, you talk as if you were his grandmother. No doubt he's
got women relations to look after paltry things like that; but a
testimonial rises to a much higher plane, in my opinion. It ought to be
something that will last for ever and not wear out and be forgotten."
And Rice said:
"Get the man a revolver."
And Barrington said:
"He's got one."
And Rice said:
"Of course he has. And if we get him another, then he'd have two, and
that means six less Germans some day, very likely."
But Barrington didn't approve.
"We want a testimonial that has nothing to do with actual battle," he
said. "The War won't last for ever, and we ought to buy something
useful, and also ornamental, that Hutchings will be able to employ in
everyday life when all is over. We want something that will catch his
eye a hundred times a day and pleasantly remind him and his family of
his heroic past--and us."
"An heirloom, in fact," said Thwaites.
But I argued that practical comforts at the critical moment would be far
better than an heirloom for future use, because if he didn't have the
mouth-guard and filter and so on, he might die; and where would the
heirloom come in then?