But he got no mercy. The sentence was confirmed by the higher
authorities.
I cannot pretend to _know_ what happened, but from some experience of
the military hierarchy I can imagine. I can see those papers, wrapped up
in the blue form, with all the right information beautifully inscribed
in the right spaces, very neat and precise, carefully sealed in the long
envelopes, and sent wandering up through the rarefied atmosphere of the
Higher Formations. Very early they halt, at the Brigadier, or perhaps
the Divisional General, some one who thinks of himself as a man of
'blood and iron.' He looks upon the papers. He reads the evidence--very
carefully. At the end he sees 'Recommended to Mercy.'--'All very well,
but we must make an example sometimes. Where's that confidential memo.
we had the other day? That's it, yes. "Officer who fails in his duty
must be treated with the same severity as would be awarded to private in
the same circumstances." Quite right too. Shan't approve recommendation
to mercy. Just write on it, "See no reason why sentence should not be
carried out," and I'll sign it.'--Or, more simply perhaps: 'Mercy! mercy
be damned! must make an example. I won't have any cold feet in my
Command.' And so the blue form goes climbing on, burdened now with that
fatal endorsement, labouring over ridge after ridge, and on each
successive height the atmosphere becomes more rarefied (though the
population is more numerous). And at long last it comes to some Olympian
peak--I know not where--beyond which it may not go, where the air is so
chill and the population so dense, that it is almost impossible to
breathe. Yet here, I make no doubt, they look at the Blue Form very
carefully and gravely, as becomes the High Gods. But in the end they
shake their heads, a little sadly, maybe, and say, 'Ah, General
B---- does not approve recommendation to mercy. He's the man on the
spot, he ought to know. _Must_ support _him_. Sentence confirmed.'
Then the Blue Form climbs sadly down to the depths again, to the low
regions where men feel fear....
* * * * *
The thing was done seven mornings later, in a little orchard behind the
Casquettes' farm.
The Padre told me he stood up to them very bravely and quietly. Only he
whispered to him, 'For God's sake make them be quick.' That is the worst
torment of the soldier from beginning to end--the waiting....