The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
men deemed fit for enlistment in the army. The bill met enormous opposition, especially from the diehards and defenders of the old voluntary system of military duty. But on Monday, January 24, the bill passed its third reading by a majority of 347 votes, the opposition having fallen to a mere 36. And so the first Compulsory Service Act came into force on March 2.
Although this measure at first applied only to single men, Emma began to experience a feeling of rising alarm as the days passed. She read the newspapers carefully, analysing the developments in the war, aware that more soldiers were needed, and on a continuing daily basis, because of the toll of Britain’s manhood. And she recognized that it was only a question of weeks before married men were called. And she was right.
Reading The Times one morning at the beginning of May, she saw that her fears were indeed becoming realities. She quickly scanned the story which reported that the Prime Minister had asked leave to introduce into the House a new Military Service Bill.
‘Joe, I think married men are going to be forced to enlist,’ she said quietly.
He looked at her across the breakfast table, his eyes grave. ‘It was bound to come, Emma. Kitchener’s been shouting for more men for weeks.’
Emma nodded. ‘The new bill lays down the rule that every male British subject between eighteen and forty years of age is to be deemed duly enlisted in the regular forces for general service, unless he’s exempt for some reason.’ She proffered him a weak smile. ‘I don’t suppose you’re exempt, are you?’
‘No, love, I’m not.’
A few days later she read with gloomy resignation that although the House divided on the bill, the majority of Members were in favour. Finally, on May 27, the new Military Service Act received royal assent.
That evening Emma sat in the drawing room with Frank, who was staying with them again, discussing the news. ‘What exactly does that mean – royal assent?’ she asked.
‘It means that in the great crisis of its destiny the British nation has reverted to the method of Norman and Saxon times, when the King had the right to take in men, ships, and every available chattel in his dominion for the purpose of defending the nation,’ Frank told her solemnly.
She understood. But understanding did not necessarily ease her troubled thoughts.
Emma, having previously always complained, and in the most vociferous voice, of the procrastination and red tape of bureaucracy, now cursed its deadly efficiency. The three men most prominent in her life went with the hordes. First David, with the infantry, and then Joe and Blackie, who left together. At the end of May they had both joined the Seaforth Highlanders, her father’s old regiment, and one that was particularly favoured by Yorkshiremen.
‘Except that I’m not a Yorkshireman,’ Blackie had declared. ‘An Irishman living in England, married to a Sassenach, lapsed from the Church, serving in a Scottish regiment and wearing a skirt to boot. Unique, eh?’ Laura and Emma had joined in his laughter but their hearts were heavy.
Joe and Blackie had been immediately dispatched to Ripon for field training. This picturesque and ancient garrison town was a place of old memories for Emma. Two weeks later they came home on leave for twenty-four hours, en route to Tilbury for embarkation to France. On a damp June morning Emma accompanied them to the railway station. Laura, who was now pregnant, begged to go along, but Blackie was adamant.
‘Not in your condition, darlin’,’ he said gently, stroking her hair. ‘I don’t want you getting distraught and upsetting yourself and the baby.’
At the last minute Blackie almost had to forcibly restrain Laura, who clung to his arm fiercely, endeavouring to hold back the tears without success. But her strained white face was filled with immense courage as they took their leave of her. She stood at the window, a pale image against the glass, waving to the three of them as they walked down the garden path and disappeared from view.
It was a silent journey into Leeds. Emma was staggered when they arrived at City Station. Crowds of troops, from many other regiments as well as the Seaforth Highlanders, were filing through the gates. The gloomy grime-coated platforms were jammed with hundreds more, and women and girls of all ages and classes, wives and mothers and sweethearts saying farewell to their men. Blackie took their kit bags on to the train and Emma and Joe stood on the platform holding hands.
‘You’ll be fine, love,’ Joe said, tightening his grip on her fingers. ‘Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself and the children.’
Emma bit her lip, striving for composure. Joe had been surprisingly tender and considerate over the past few months, obviously realizing the time for separation was drawing near, and they had become much closer in many ways. ‘It’s you who must take care, Joe,’ she said softly.
Blackie rejoined them after a few seconds. Emma reached for his hand, pulling him to her. ‘And you, too, Blackie.’ She attempted to laugh. ‘Don’t either of you get into any scrapes—’ She stopped, her lips shaking.
Joe lifted her face to his gently. ‘Now, where’s that famous smile of yours, love?’
‘I’m sorry.’
The whistles began to hoot and clouds of steam and smoke enveloped them as the trains revved up to roll on their journey south. Blackie put his arm around her. ‘Goodbye, mavourneen. Stay well and look after me darlin’ Laura for me. See she takes it easy and don’t let her fret.’ He kissed her cheek, his eyes wet.
Emma swallowed, looking up at Blackie. ‘I will. I promise I won’t let anything happen to her or the baby.’
Blackie leaped on to the train steps and stood hanging on to the bar, turning away to give them a moment of privacy.
Joe took Emma in his arms. ‘You’ve been the best wife, sweetheart.’ Seeing the look of fear cross her face, he added hastily, ‘And that’s why you can be damned sure I’m coming back to you!’
‘I know you will, love. And you’ve been a good husband, Joe. Be careful over there.’
He nodded, choked and unable to reply. He kissed her again and she felt his tears mingling with her own on her cheeks. Joe released her abruptly and sprang on to the steps to join Blackie. The wheels started to grind with a high-pitched screech against the rails and the train began to pull out. It was moving so slowly Emma was able to walk alongside it, holding on to Joe’s hand.
Unexpectedly a lone soldier’s voice rang out, sweet yet melancholy. ‘Keep the home fires burning, though your hearts are yearning …’ Another voice joined in and another and another, until the immense station hall reverberated with the song as troops in other trains and many of the women picked up the refrain, and Blackie’s baritone rose above them all, as rich and magnificent as always.
The train gathered speed. Joe dropped Emma’s hand and she halted on the spot, waving to them. And her luminous valedictory smile was courageous despite her moist eyes. She watched the train until it was lost from sight and then she turned and left, jostled by the crowds, blinded by tears and wondering despairingly if she would ever see either of them again.
They marched through a curtain of shrapnel, ankle-deep in mud, their kilts swinging in the breeze, the skirl of the bagpipes a mournful dirge below the roar of the cannonade. The tornado blasts from the British guns now rose to a fearful and deafening crescendo and the pipes ceased abruptly.
Behind this moving barrage of gunfire came the 51st Division of the Seaforth Highlanders. They had slowly advanced from the Somme Canal, tramping across the sodden and bloody fields ripped apart by shelling, cut deep with trenches and intersected with wire entanglements. Hardecourt was behind them. To the right, Combles and Guillemont. To the left, Mametz. Ahead, Bazentin and Longueval. And the bull’s-eye centre of this triangle composed of the six towns was Trônes Wood – their objective.
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