Back In Action

Chapter Twenty-One

David was distracted by thoughts of the letter as he moved with the others to the dining room. He brought himself back to the present as he searched for his name card and took his designated seat. After they had settled, he said, "I've been wondering whether the daily rearrangement of seats is random, or by design."

"Probably random. I cannot think what purpose a design would serve," the man beside David chipped in.

From across the table came a voice, "Have you found much else here that makes sense?"

David allowed the conversation to wander among the others as he thought again of the letter. What's the Distinguished Service Order about? The citation? Can't be that mention in the battle report. I was a private then, and the DSO is for officers. His thoughts were interrupted by the call for Grace.

He bowed his head with the others as they listened to the spiritless monotone invocation, then he mumbled his Amen with them.

Those around him returned to their discussion on random versus design, and David resumed his pondering as he nodded at the faces emitting sounds. The date of approval of my commission probably pre-dates that machine gun thing at Saint-Julien. That's likely it. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his soup. He took a bread roll from the basket as it was passed along the table. Has to be it. Have to get back to here, to now.

Through the remainder of dinner, he maintained his focus on the people and events around him, but he was relieved when they were dismissed at eight. Turning down invitations to join others at the Crow and Gate, he went directly back to his quarters.

He changed into his dressing gown and slippers, then sat at his desk writing a letter to Maria:

Good evening, Gorgeous;

You near ripped the front out of my trousers with your exquisite perfume. I wonder if the post workers are affected by this. Surely others must also be doing this. Hopefully, the envelopes hide it. I'll check next time.

That's wonderful news about continuing your training in Bern. The university is so close to the Ambassador's residence, you'll have an easy walk. Much easier than the one into Freiburg.

I'm pleased support is broadening on the prisoner project. I cannot see how France and Germany would refuse it. They're overburdened with their own injured, and I'm sure they would welcome the opportunity to be relieved of their Convention obligations to care for enemy wounded.

I received a note this evening congratulating me on being awarded the Distinguished Service Order. This surprised me since it's awarded only to officers. I'm thinking my actions to take out the two machine gun pits were after my commission had been approved. That passage in the battle report from Saint-Julien, which the Ambassador read to us has likely been taken as a citation for the decoration. Whatever, I have no details yet on it, but I'm sure I'll soon receive the full story.

I've the aroma from your letter here distracting me, so I'll close now and take matters in hand. My God, Maria, I cannot believe how much I miss you.

Very stiffly,

David.

He peeled back his foreskin, ran his finger across his oozing and wiped it on the letter before folding it and inserting into an envelope. After he had sealed it, he put it to his nose. Very obvious, but that could be all from my finger. Maybe I also got some on the envelope.

After rinsing out the facecloth, he wrung it tightly and lay on his bed with Maria's letter.

A few minutes later, as he was cleaning himself, he heard a rustle at the door, and he watched an envelope being pushed into the room. He glanced at his watch. Three minutes past nine. I like their speed.

He finished cleaning, rinsed the cloth again and hung it on the rail, then went to the door to pick up the envelope. He blew out a loud breath as he sat in the armchair and opened it.

Thank you, David.
Your willingness to proceed pleases us, and we are eager to begin. Instruct your batman to bring lunch for two to your quarters for half past noon tomorrow.
G

David stared at the short note and nodded his head. Efficient. Good place to meet. I like the thinking. He tore the note and the earlier one into tiny pieces and flushed them away.

Thursday 8 July 1915

When Tompkins reported before breakfast, David asked him to bring lunch for two people at twelve thirty.

During a break between lectures, Lieutenant Condon took David aside and congratulated him on being awarded the Distinguished Service Order for his actions at Saint-Julien. "This is highly unusual, the Order is meant for senior officers, majors and above for their gallant actions while under enemy fire. The few occasions it has been awarded to junior officers have been regarded as acknowledgements of having just missed out on the award of the Victoria Cross. I read your citation and I wonder why they didn't go all the way."

"Thank you, Sir. Attacking the gun pits seemed the only option at the time."

"But doing it, Berry, not just realising that it needed to be done. That's what this is about. The King has commanded you to attend at Windsor Castle on the 24th for the presentation ceremony."

David blew out a loud breath. "It's going to be even more difficult to remain inconspicuous now."

"With your beard, your stature and your presence, you've been anything but inconspicuous since you arrived. And now with your uniform..." He paused and examined it. "Very finely done. Who built it?"

"Hawkes and Company, Sir. Of Savile Row in London."

"I'm not familiar with them."

"They've royal warrants going back to George the Third. Admiral Nelson and Field Marshall Wellington were among their clients."

"Good company to be among. Carry on to your class. And again, my congratulations."

"Thank you, Sir." David saluted and headed into the building.