Episode 19: An Unexpected Invitation (1)
Putting the disastrous defeat in France behind us, our company began reorganization.
All the proper soldiers that had been in Britain had died or been taken prisoner at Dunkirk, in France.
The numbers were bad enough, but the fact that they had been counted among the British Army's elite troops was the bigger problem.
Having lost its elite forces in France in an instant, the British Army implemented conscription nationwide to make up for the shortfall in numbers. However, considerable time would be needed to train these men into soldiers who could at least fight.
If only Germany would stay quiet until then.
To reconstitute the annihilated company, new officers, non-commissioned officers, and soldiers were transferred in large numbers.
The officers and NCOs fortunately had some measure of experience, but most of the soldiers were fresh recruits who had enlisted not long ago.
New tanks were issued as well, and a new company commander arrived.
The new company commander was Captain Ernest Moore, a man with a benevolent smile and an easygoing personality, unlike the previous Captain Harrison.
He had even less hair than Captain Harrison (tears).
"So, you were the acting company commander up until now? I'm Captain Ernest Moore. I'll be counting on you!"
"I'm Second Lieutenant Arthur Grey! I'm the one who should be asking for your guidance, sir!"
"Yes, yes. Good, you've got a loud voice."
I had been worried about what I'd do if a scary, strict person showed up, but someone much better than I'd expected had arrived.
Having been on pins and needles wondering what kind of superior I'd get, this was nothing short of a godsend.
The tanks that had newly arrived for the company were all Matilda II infantry tanks, brand-new pieces that had been loaded onto trains straight from the factory and sent here while still warm from production.
It wasn't just the tanks; all our supplies were turned in, old gear exchanged for new.
My canteen, which had been produced back in 1905 when the Russo-Japanese War was raging in the Far East, was replaced with a new one manufactured just a year ago in 1939. All my field equipment was swapped out for pristine new items. Even the crew helmets!
Thanks to this, the unit's morale was relatively high.
"By the way, it's strange. I can't figure out why they're suddenly dumping nothing but new equipment on us like this."
Even Sergeant Gates, who had been in the army for a long time, was bewildered, as this was a first in his life.
I didn't know the detailed reason either, so I could only guess.
I would learn of it later, but all of this had happened due to an "administrative error."
Incompetent and useless government employees existed in every era and every country, then and now.
The British Empire of 1940 was no exception in that regard.
The new supplies we received should have originally gone to the soldiers of a newly forming division.
However, because some necessary paperwork went missing along the way, we received the new supplies, while the soldiers of the new infantry division ended up receiving the old supplies we had been using.
Yet the units that received even the old equipment were the lucky ones.
Because they had abandoned all equipment and materiel at Dunkirk, many units were in a situation where they were training bare-handed, without even basic gear and supplies.
Since this situation, the exception among exceptions contrary to most cases, had occurred only in our unit, you could say this was also a kind of luck in its own way.
"Well, whatever the reason, it's a good thing we got new gear! Besides, morale in the army these days is no joke, so it might have been given to us to boost spirits."
"Come to think of it, I believe you're right, sir. It's none of our business, but I wonder what will become of the civilians."
As Sergeant Gates said, soldiers could raise morale through relatively "simple methods" like being issued new supplies or getting larger rations, but it was difficult to raise civilian morale through such simple means.
When the tragedy of Dunkirk became known, public opinion split to extremes.
Those who had lost their sons on the battlefields of France poured into the streets, wailing and holding protests condemning the incompetence of the government and military.
From military barracks far removed from civilian areas, one could still hear the protesters shouting.
"The government must bring my dead son back to life!"
"We will not support the war any longer!"
"Are you planning to drive us onto the battlefield next!"
"Warmonger Churchill must resign immediately!"
A force numbering as many as 200,000 had vanished into thin air; the shock was immeasurable.
The voices of these anti-war factions were growing louder by the day.
In the capital, London, police and protesters had already clashed, resulting in numerous casualties, so it was said.
Churchill himself had gone on a national broadcast to declare that under no circumstances would there be negotiations with Germany, but Churchill's broadcast had instead been like fanning flames in a burning house.
People enraged by the government's policy to continue the war instead of pursuing peace talks criticized the Churchill cabinet, asking how many more of Britain's sons had to die on the battlefield before they came to their senses. Even prominent newspapers like the Daily Mail, The Guardian, and The Times simultaneously poured out articles filled with sharp criticism of Churchill.
The public opinion that the war must continue, that surrender to Germany was impossible, was no small force either, but it could not suppress the screams and voices of those who had received notification of the deaths of their children, relatives, and lovers.
"What's going to happen from here on..."
Sergeant Gates deliberately trailed off.
He couldn't say it outright, but he seemed honestly afraid.
Of course, so was I.
To be honest, I felt like I would have no greater wish than for the government to sign an armistice with Germany.
Because it would mean no immediate trips to the battlefield to fight.
Japan remained in Asia, and there was no telling how much Germany might run rampant after an armistice with Britain, but even so, how fortunate would it be if I didn't have to die right away.
Looking at how the current situation was unfolding, it wasn't entirely impossible.
In British history, when had the anti-war voice ever been stronger than this?
Not that I knew of.
Besides, I wasn't even from this era to begin with!
Why did I have to fight and die in someone else's country, not even the nation I was born in?
Call me a coward or a chicken if you want. I don't care.
I wasn't a hero, nor did I intend to become one. I was just an ordinary citizen who wanted to live quietly and comfortably like everyone else.
But this damned world had no intention of leaving me alone.
***
As usual, after finishing training and returning to the barracks, a call came in from battalion headquarters.
At the news that the Battalion Commander was looking for me, it felt like all the hair on my body stood on end.
Why would the Battalion Commander be looking for me? Did I do something wrong again?
But no matter how much I racked my brain, I hadn't done anything particularly worth nitpicking recently.
...Probably.
Fortunately, judging by the atmosphere, it didn't seem he had called me in to reprimand me.
Then why was he calling me?
Even the soldier who had come to deliver this news to me seemed to have no clue.
Anyway, I ran after him to battalion headquarters. For now, I'd know what had happened once I got there.
"Second Lieutenant Arthur Grey, reporting as ordered!"
"You're here. Come in."
Lieutenant Colonel William Branson, the Battalion Commander, had been waiting for me with a solemn demeanor.
Before him sat two steaming cups of coffee.
One was his, and the other... surely not mine?
"Come and sit down. Care for some coffee?"
With coffee already placed in front of my seat, it would have been rude to refuse.
I nodded lightly.
"Thank you, sir."
"Haha, no need to thank me for something so small. Here, drink it before it gets cold."
Reflecting the recent rationing of supplies, the coffee tasted almost like plain water, but the aroma was good.
But why on earth was the Battalion Commander being so kind to a mere second lieutenant like me?
To me, who until just a few months ago had been the regiment's biggest deadweight officer?
But I was in no position to speak first, so for now I just had to drink my coffee.
When the bottom of the cup was slowly beginning to show, Lieutenant Colonel Branson, who had been quietly drinking his coffee, spoke up.
"I'll be frank with you. Try not to take it too badly."
"Sir? Ah, of course."
Without any flowery preliminaries, he cut straight to the chase.
"Until recently, you were the regiment's biggest headache, weren't you?"
At Lieutenant Colonel Branson's opening words, I nearly spit out the coffee I was drinking.
This man, hitting me straight with facts.
But then again, it was true.
"Hahaha... y-yes, sir."
"Which is why I was surprised to hear about your performance on the French front. Who would have thought that the regiment's worst officer would pull off such remarkable feats? When I first heard the news, I couldn't believe it and had to check multiple times. I thought it was about another officer with the same name as you. But it was indeed about you. Truly remarkable performance."
"Ah... thank you, sir."
Come to think of it, that had happened.
So did he call me here to praise me? To chat leisurely over coffee like this?
It wasn't extremely strange, but the atmosphere was somewhat too subtle for him to have called me just to exchange pleasantries.
How should I put it... it felt like he still hadn't said the most important thing.
I gauged Lieutenant Colonel Branson's expression, but he merely drank his coffee with a composed face.
"By the way, the men in your company were all saying you've changed beyond recognition. They said you used to cause accidents as naturally as breathing and were absolutely unbearable, but it's as if you've become a completely different person? They were more astonished than I was."
"You're exaggerating, sir."
Hmm... something felt off, but this was praise too, right?
Yes, let's take it as praise.
Anyway, it seemed some kind of investigation had taken place without my knowledge.
Had Sergeant Gates given a similar evaluation of me?
"And some high-ranking officials who heard of your exploits very much wish to meet you."
"Sir?"
Surprised by the unexpected words, a foolish sound slipped out of my mouth before I knew it.
Lieutenant Colonel Branson chuckled and waved his hand.
"Well, it's understandable that you'd be surprised. That personages of high standing would wish to meet a mere second lieutenant. It may sound like a joke, but it's the truth. So you'll be going to London for a few days to meet them. This is also a form of duty, so do your best. Someone will come to pick you up early tomorrow morning."
...This is reality, right?
Yeah, it is.
"B-Battalion Commander. I'm sorry, but may I ask a question?"
"Yes. Ask me anything."
"When you say high-ranking officials, roughly who...?"
Lieutenant Colonel Branson smiled a devilish smile and made my already anxious heart burst.
"Yes. You ought to know. Not a word to anyone. The Prime Minister wishes to see you. You'll be giving interviews in front of reporters and taking photos as well."
W-wait, who did you say?
The Prime Minister?!