Wig Betrayed (6 page)

“I was angry, sir, not just for myself but all the caddies. We'd never even been thanked for what we done for him much less given a tip. Injuring my leg and the General not taking me back was the last straw – that's why I went AWOL. I knew it was wrong but I thought they'd just kick me out an' that. Later, I was going to write to the General telling him he'd get his club back after he compensated the lot of us. I didn't really think about the amount I'd ask for, but enough to share with the other caddies.”

“You were expecting to see them again – even though you had left the army?”

“One of them's a mate from way back. His dad lives near my mum. I'd be in touch that way.”

“All right, now let's look at the allegation against you. I'll go through the specific ingredients of the offence. Firstly, you clearly accept, don't you, that as you took the club you must have appropriated it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you intend, however, to
permanently
deprive the owner of it?”

“No, sir, I would have returned it in due course.”

“So did you believe you were acting dishonestly?”

“No, certainly not, sir. I felt I had the right to keep the club until we got something back for our hard work.”

“So that was your reaction
then
but, with the benefit of hindsight, how do you feel about it
now
?”

“Pretty stupid, sir. I thought that by going AWOL they would just discharge me from the army but I should have known that it'd all catch up with me in the end. I didn't do nothing with the club though; it just stayed in the cupboard. Then I got nicked before I could write to the General.”

After Clibbery sat down, Rashleigh rose to cross-examine.

“
Like
golf do you, Private Merse?”

“Oh yes, sir, I've been playing since I was a kid. My dad and me used to go to the public courses around Manchester.”

“So you have your own set of clubs, no doubt?”

“Yeah, some I bought but others are hand-downs from me dad.”

“Now, the
General's
club was an unusual one – being a 2-iron silver-alloyed item – rather a
nice
acquisition to add to your collection, wasn't it?”

“Well, if you mean would I ever have played with it, the answer is no. It would be obvious that the club didn't belong to me.”

“Only if someone took the trouble to examine the base which they wouldn't normally do and I suggest that you
never
intended to return it at all. Anyway, even if that
had
been your intention, you were quite happy to blackmail the General, weren't you?”

“I wouldn't call it blackmail, sir. I just wanted some compensation for all the caddying we'd done.”

“What
really
happened here, Private Merse,” Rashleigh hissed, “was that you took the club out of spite! Moreover, you would have destroyed the identifying marks one way or another and sold it for profit!”

Clibbery was on his feet.

“I don't know
how
my friend can suggest that – Merse simply put the club in his cupboard. There's no evidence that he attempted to dispose of it in any way before he was arrested!”

“Don't interrupt my cross-examination,” Rashleigh said petulantly. “It's very
rude!
”

“
I
shall be the judge of that, Major Rashleigh – and I rule that the defence objection is a fair one. Surely you must agree that there is no evidence that Merse
actually
intended to sell the club at any time?”

“Well, it's all very
suspicious
...” Rashleigh began to simper, but was interrupted by a commotion in the back of the court.

A bulky figure, his uniform bearing the insignia of a full colonel, entered the court and strode over.

“If you'll excuse me for a moment.”

Rashleigh held a whispered conversation with the newcomer.

“This is...er...Colonel Kayward. He tells me that the General wishes me to drop the prosecution providing he gets his golf club back. He's playing in a tournament tomorrow.”

“It's
far
too late for that now, Major Rashleigh,” I snapped. “A criminal case can't be dropped on the whim of a witness, regardless of how important that witness thinks he is!”

“Well, if you
say
so, sir.” Rashleigh's hand flopped up and down in exasperation. “But can't he at least have his club back in the meantime?”

“No, he can't. Private Merse implicitly maintains in his evidence that he had a claim of right to it on the basis that he felt that he was owed some remuneration for all the caddying he and the others had done. If Merse is acquitted, the club should be returned to
him
until a civil action sorts out the final position!”

“Perhaps then, sir, you will give me a few minutes to explain this to the General?”

I agreed and adjourned the court for a while only to be halfway through a cup of coffee when the door was flung open and in charged General Hudibrass.

“Enough of these legal machinations, Mr Judge Advocate! Bearing in mind that I'm responsible for discipline in BAOR, I want this whole thing to stop now – provided I get my club back! My Chief of Staff tells me that, as the convening officer of this court martial, I can dissolve the proceeding anytime I like, so why
shouldn't
the club be returned to me, eh?”

In as level a voice as I could manage, I decided it was time to put the General in his place.

“Barging in like this and abusing the judge is a contempt of court. If you don't leave this instant, I'll have you arrested by the court orderly!”

For a few moments, neither of us spoke as we squared up to each other. At the same time, a flustered court orderly and Brigadier Drubb appeared at the door. It was the latter who broke the silence.

“Now, now
boys
. What a fuss! Scrapping around like a couple of 11-year-olds! It would never have been allowed on any of my wards! So pointless too, because we intend to acquit Private Merse immediately. Queens' Regulations state that we can do that at any time, if we so wish, before the case has concluded. From all we've heard, we don't really think he was dishonest and frankly General,” she wagged her finger at him, “you should have given him and the others a tip at
least
for all that caddying!”

After my bruising encounter with the General, somehow it didn't seem appropriate to attend the dinner dance and we returned to the garrison straight away. A few days later, I received an urgent summons from London. As I entered Peascod's room, his head was wobbling more frenetically than ever and that, coupled with the grim expression on his face, left me in no doubt that I was in serious trouble. As I sat down, he introduced me to a rat-faced, little man sitting by his desk.

“This is Mr Mengle, Courtley. He's a Minister of State attached to the Ministry of Defence. I'll ask him to explain the purpose of this meeting.”

The minister spoke with an estuary twang, his eyes levelled at an area above my head.

“Judge Advocate Courtley, General Hudibrass has put in a complaint about your conduct to the Chief of the Defence Staff, who in turn referred it to the Army Board. They have decided that no court martial can be convened with you officiating as judge advocate until that complaint has been fully investigated. The Secretary of State for Defence agrees, which is why I'm here to explain the position.”

Thunderstruck, I turned to Peascod.

“They can't just
do
that, surely? As judge advocates, we're not in the army chain of command and only you can suspend any of us from exercising our judicial function.”

“Well, yes and no,” Peascod said, acting true to form, “but the Army High Command
are
entitled
not
to make use of your services, which is what has happened here. I'm afraid I can't interfere with what is an executive decision, Courtley.”

He gestured haplessly towards the minister. I stood up, venting my fury on Peascod.

“You mean I'm
suspended
to all intents and purposes, yet you have to get a politician
to spell it out!”

Before Peascod could answer, the rat spoke up, “The Army Board are responsible to the defence secretary and had to refer your case to him, hence my presence in this office. That's why I came just to deliver the message. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due in the House of Commons shortly...”

I just stopped myself from shouting ‘good riddance' as he left, before turning on Peascod.

“He must have apprised you of this meeting in advance, so the very least you could have done is to have informed me of what the complaint is all about.”

“Well, the General alleges that you threatened to have him arrested. I can hardly believe that to be true, Courtley. One simply doesn't go around threatening to arrest generals when you're a mere judge advocate!”

“So that's what the General really thinks, is it? A judge advocate ranks beneath him in some way. Well, that's patently absurd, I'm just as much a judge as any of my civilian counterparts and he was in contempt of court!”

“Ah, that's the point, Courtley. The General believes that he can't
be
in contempt, in his position.”

“Which makes him all the more contemptible, therefore.”

“Don't be facetious, Courtley. The implications of this could be serious.”

This brought me up rather. Casting my mind back, I had assumed that the row had simply fizzled out. After Merse's acquittal, the club had been returned to the General without delay, and it was only afterwards that I discovered on the grapevine that Merse had signed a disclaimer on the basis that the prosecution wouldn't pursue the AWOL charge. Merse was more than happy to return to the army, provided he was not required to caddy ever again.

“The whole thing is a storm in a teacup anyway. The ruddy General's got his precious golf club back, hasn't he? What I want to know is how long this enquiry will last. And what am I going to do if I can't officiate at courts martial?”

“Ah well, there's certainly work to be done: a huge accumulation of final legal reviews, in fact. All the old cases which need to be signed off before being sent to the archives.”

“Surely that practice lapsed years ago, on the basis that every case is reviewed automatically anyway.”

“Lapsed or not, final legal reviews still exist and in order to use up your time I expect you to undertake this task, Courtley.”

“But all the old files are lodged in London and I'm living in Germany. Short of commuting every week or returning to England, I can't do it.”

“Oh, that won't pose a problem. The staff here will send a pack of files off to Margery in Germany. I expect you to work a nine to five day, Courtley, just as if you were in the office in London.”

* * *

“How long is this business going to take?” Andrea asked after I returned to Germany the next day.

“Well, the enquiry shouldn't take that long. Meanwhile, I'll be busy with the reviews.”

“So why do we have to remain in Germany at all if you're not doing courts martial?”

“Because that's what I've been told. We'll have to stick it out. By the way, has anybody been talking about the row with the General at the Thrift Shop?”

Andrea had recently taken up voluntary employment in the Garrison charity shop (known in army language as the ‘Thrift Shop') and enjoyed the work, giving her the opportunity to meet a broader range of women than just the officers' wives.

“Oh, no problem at all. I did mention it to Norma, our manageress, that you'd had a dust-up with the General and she was very sympathetic. She can't stand Lady Hudibrass anyway who, needless to say as the General's wife, is the patroness of the shop. Apparently, she comes in once a month, perches herself on a chair for a couple of hours and watches what everybody does. Checking up on the staff, I suppose, although we all work there for nothing!”

* * *

The next day, when the post arrived in the office I received a personal letter from Colonel Kayward:

As I had no intention of attending the mess anyway, I was not unduly put out but I suspected Andrea might feel differently, which indeed turned out to be the case when I showed her the letter back at our quarters.

“They can't do this, surely? I'll speak to Norma this instance. She's in the shop this afternoon. Her husband is the senior civilian doctor on camp so
she
won't be swayed by this threat!”

When I returned home that evening, Andrea was gulping a glass of wine and looking thoroughly upset.

“Norma's reaction wasn't what I expected at all, Charlie. She told me that she'd been notified officially that I was no longer allowed to work in the shop and that there was nothing whatsoever that she could do. I countered by saying that I just couldn't understand how she was prepared to put up with being given orders in that way. After all, she isn't in the army nor is her husband but her reaction was there was no choice: the General's word is law in the garrison.

“I'm afraid I lost my temper then. I told her what I thought of the General and the way everybody seemed to worship him as some sort of god. I suppose I hoped to get a rise out of her but it had precisely the opposite effect. She simply looked at me in a sorrowful way and said the army took precedence over everything here in Germany as the rest of us were either support staff or dependents. Like it or not, I would just have to get used to it.

“Well, damn the army then, I said, and burst into tears. I was so embarrassed that I just fled and almost knocked a German customer over in the process! After I apologized to the customer, I realized who it was – Frau Gafford, no less.”

“The lady who sold us Boz, you mean?”

“Exactly, and do you know she was
so
kind, telling me that she couldn't help overhearing what I had said and moreover knew just how I felt!”

“Suddenly I recalled what you'd suspected all along, that her husband had been in the army and recalled the strange business over the medal. So I asked her straight out – did that have something to do with her husband? Well, she looked away at this point, obviously recalling a painful memory, and then suggested we have coffee in the garrison cafè. Then she told me the whole story. She hadn't set foot inside Brockendorf Garrison in all these years but today, when her curiosity finally got the better of her, she actually bumped into
me
!”

This was becoming intriguing. I recalled Gafford's reaction when I spoke to him on the phone.

“Did she tell you anything about her husband?”

“She did. In part, at least. Apparently, he'd been thrown out of the army by a court martial without any cause years ago and has never really got over it.”

“Did she go into any further details?”

“No, she didn't feel she could tell me more herself. However, when I told her what you do as a
job
, she had an idea. If you confronted her husband, he might just open up a bit and, at least, get the whole thing off his chest.”

I shook my head.

“Judging by his reaction when I spoke to him about the medal, I think that's unlikely. The chances are that he'll be furious at me for interfering.”

“That was my reaction too, Charlie, when you first told me. But I think we're both wrong. You see, Frau Gafford went quiet for a bit at first but then remembered one thing her husband had always maintained: that
had
there been a judge advocate present at his court martial, things could have been different. He might have received a fair trial.”