Fire Across the Veldt (16 page)

‘Staggering?’

‘Staggering, indeed.’

Fonthill put his pencil to his chin. ‘Perhaps he could have lost his balance on just emerging from his bedroll. It often happens, I would think. Wouldn’t you?’

‘What? No. Oh no. The man was drunk.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I ordered the sergeant of the guard, who was with me, to arrest the sergeant major for being drunk.’

‘Yes, but how do you know he was drunk?’

‘I could smell whisky on his breath.’

‘But from what you have said, you ordered his arrest
before
you had smelt his breath. I repeat: how did you know he was drunk?’

‘Ah, no, sir. My mistake. I recall now that I ordered the sergeant to smell his breath and when he confirmed the smell I ordered the arrest. We found an empty bottle of whisky in his bedroll.’

Simon made a note. ‘Did the sergeant major resist arrest?’

‘No, sir. He seemed … ah … unsteady and unsure about anything, in fact. He was, of course, quite drunk.’

‘I see. Where were you when this occurred?’

‘What? Oh, in camp.’

‘Yes, I know that. But where?’

‘Well, not far from here, actually. We had crossed the river at Zanddrift but followed the wrong tracks of the Boers and wasted much of the day before we turned back. We camped overnight at an unnamed place on the riverbank.’

‘And the enemy was where?’

‘Ahead of us, somewhere.’

‘How far ahead?’

Hammond looked annoyed at the obvious irrelevance of these questions. ‘Well, probably ten or fifteen miles or so. It took us quite some time to come up with their rearguard at the swamp.’

Fonthill made another ostentatious note and then looked up again at his second in command. ‘So, when you arrested Sergeant Major Jenkins it was not exactly “in the face of the enemy”, as you stated in the charge? The enemy was some fifteen miles away.’

‘What? Oh, well, I suppose so. But we were very definitely on active service.’

‘Quite so. But there is a difference, Major. The accused could go to a firing squad on that difference. All of us in South Africa are on active service, but not all are serving “in the face of the enemy”. However, let us leave that for the moment. Now, is there any evidence that Sergeant Major Jenkins has been under the influence of drink at any other time during his service here?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Very well.’ Fonthill turned to his captains. ‘Do you have any questions for the major, gentlemen?’

The two shook their heads negatively.

‘Anything further to add on this charge, Major?’

‘Er … No, sir. I think the evidence is clear-cut.’

‘Very well, thank you, Major Hammond. We won’t detain you from your duties further.’

His face set in a permanent scowl, Hammond saluted, turned smartly on his heel and strode away. Fonthill gestured to the senior sergeant. ‘Call Sergeant Wilkins.’

Fonthill smiled at the new witness. ‘Good morning, Sergeant. At ease, please. Now,’ he looked at his notes, ‘I understand that, on the morning when you arrested Sergeant Major Jenkins, you were making your rounds as sergeant of the guard with Major Hammond?’

The sergeant looked puzzled. ‘Yes, sir. Well, not exactly, sir.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I had ordered reveille and I had made my rounds when the major rode up and asked me to come with him.’

‘And where did you go?’

‘Directly to where the sergeant major had just got out of his bedroll, sir.’

Fonthill shot a quick glance at his companions at the table. ‘So the two of you were not making the rounds?’

‘Well, no sir. I’d just done mine, anyway.’

‘And when you arrived at where Mr Jenkins had been sleeping, what did you find?’

‘Well, sir, the sergeant major was just getting up from his bedroll and he was a bit unsure on his feet, like.’

‘Did he seem unfit?’

‘Unfit? Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly, but he was a bit wobbly.’

‘How wobbly? Did he look as though he was about to fall over?’

The sergeant looked uneasy at the precision of the questioning. ‘Well, sir, I wouldn’t say that exactly. He was a bit unsteady, like.’

‘And the major ordered you to smell his breath. How bad was it?’

The sergeant ventured a smile. ‘I’ve known worse, sir. But I would say that he had definitely been drinking.’

‘And the major ordered you to look in his bedroll and you found an empty bottle of whisky inside it. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very well. Now, while out on the veldt the rule is that only officers are allowed to carry alcoholic drink with them and that warrant officers, NCOs and other ranks will only drink such stuff when a general issue of rum is made. Is that not so?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Have you any idea, then, where the sergeant major obtained his whisky bottle?’

‘No, sir. I suppose he brought it with him in his kit.’

Fonthill nodded and turned to the captains. ‘Any further questions, gentlemen?’

Again the negative shakes of the head.

‘Thank you, Sergeant. Return to your duties.’

Jenkins had been following the proceedings with an air of intense interest, occasionally opening his mouth to intervene but thinking better of it. Now his eyes widened with surprise as he heard Simon say, ‘I understand, Captain Cartwright, that you have a witness whom you think could shed a little light on this case?’

Cartwright nodded. ‘Yes, sir. As you know, Sergeant Major Jenkins bedded down with my C Squadron that night. I would like to call one of my troopers to give evidence.’ He looked up. ‘Sergeant, will you find Trooper Blackshaw at my squadron? He will be standing by, waiting for the call.’

Fonthill turned once again to his captains. ‘Gentlemen, I don’t wish to waste time, because we have a river crossing to make. So while we are waiting for this soldier, may I suggest that we hear Sergeant Major Jenkins’s own evidence.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Very well. Now, Sergeant Major, you have heard the charge against you and the evidence. What is your reply?’

Jenkins stepped forward and took a deep breath. As he spoke, a small trickle of perspiration crept down the side of his face and disappeared into his great moustache. But, as instructed, he spoke clearly. He had, indeed, drunk the bottle of whisky while in his bedroll during the night. But he was used to strong drink and it had not affected him. On leaving his bedroll, he had stumbled a little because the ground was uneven but he was not drunk, he had not staggered and he was not unable to carry out his duties. He did not deny that his breath probably smelt of strong liquor but he was definitely not drunk.

Fonthill regarded him steadily. ‘Did you bring the whisky with you from Johannesburg?’

‘No, sir. I had never seen it before when I found it tucked into my bedroll when I crept in at lights out.’

‘Why, then, did you drink it?’

‘Because, sir, I was freezin’ cold, see, an’ me legs was achin’. I didn’t stop to wonder where it’d come from, except to think that maybe a kind friend – perhaps one of the officers’ orderlies – ’ad slipped it into me bedroll. Anyway, I just drank it through the night when I woke up occasionally with the cold, look you … er … sir.’

‘So you have no idea how the whisky came to be in your bedroll?’

‘None at all, sir. On me mother’s deathbed, I swear that.’

The escorting sergeant cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, sir, but Trooper Blackshaw is here.’

‘Thank you, Sergeant. Bring him forward. Captain Cartwright, this is your witness, I believe. So please question him.’

Cartwright nodded and addressed the young trooper who now
stood, a little apprehensively, before them. ‘Blackshaw, you are in my C Squadron, are you not?’ Fonthill had to disguise a half smile at the magisterial tone adopted by the young captain.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Tell us what you saw on that night two weeks ago when we camped last on the banks of this river.’

‘Well, sir, I was layin’ out me bedroll when I saw the sergeant major doin’ the same about a coupla yards away from me. Then he went off and said he was goin’ for a pee.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I crawled into me own roll and tucked meself in well because it was a proper awful night, see, cold an’ drizzling.’

‘Was it dark?’

‘Sort of, sir. Gettin’ dark, anyway. Sort of very dusky.’

‘Go on.’

‘I was tucked in well an’ truly but then I saw someone come back to the sarn’t major’s bedroll. I thought it was him at first, but then I see it was a trooper. I couldn’t see his face but he had the flashes of A Squadron on his shoulder. He was carryin’ a bottle of something, I could see that. Then he put it in the sarn’t major’s bedroll and sort of slunk away. I thought it a bit strange but I was dog-tired and went to sleep more or less straight away. I saw nothing more until I was awoken at reveille and saw the sarn’t major bein’ arrested.’

A silence descended on the little court. Suddenly, a
sakabula
or widow bird, with a long, undulating tail, swept low over them and caused a start of surprise. Then Fonthill intervened.

‘Trooper, when Sergeant Major Jenkins was led away, was he staggering or in any way looking unstable?’

‘No, sir. He looked a bit … well … fed up, but that was all.’

‘Thank you. Get back to your duties.’ He looked at the senior escorting sergeant. ‘Take Mr Jenkins away, Sergeant, and wait with him, both of you, behind that tent over there. We shall call you back in a moment or two.’

‘Very good, sir. Sergeant Major, sir, cap on. Attenshun! Right wheel quick march, leff right, leff right, leff right.’ Then they were gone.

Simon removed his wide-brimmed hat. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Let us review the evidence. But first I must not sail under false colours in this case. You all know that Jenkins and I served together as scouts with various elements of the British army intermittently over the last twenty years and, in that time, he became my comrade. He received the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his service with me in the Sudan some years ago, and I must tell you that I have recommended him for a bar to that medal for the initiative he displayed several weeks ago in our engagement with de Wet’s commando at Bethulie, when he took over command of A Squadron after I was wounded and … ahem … after Major Hammond’s departure. General Kitchener himself requested that I bring Jenkins with me when I accepted this commission. This all says something, of course, about Jenkins’s character and ability as a soldier, but it also reveals my relationship with a man I call a friend. In fact, you could well say that I am not the most objective man to lead this tribunal.’

The two captains regarded him keenly but made no comment. So he continued.

‘Nevertheless, this is my command and it is my duty to hear this charge. But I have asked you to help me in this task because there are
unusual elements to it and I am anxious to ensure that I could not be accused later of being less than impartial in judging Jenkins in this matter.’

Captain Forbes, the older of the two squadron commanders, frowned. ‘I am not quite sure that I follow you, sir,’ he said. ‘Unusual features …?’

Fonthill nodded. ‘I am afraid so. Firstly, the charge has been brought by someone of senior rank in this column, Major Hammond, my second in command. Normally, his word would carry overriding weight to that of the accused. But there are conflicting elements here.

‘For instance, he said that he was making his rounds with the sergeant of the guard, but that was not true. The sergeant had already made his rounds. Major Hammond took the sergeant directly to where Jenkins was sleeping, as though he had some reason to do so.’

Forbes slowly nodded in agreement. ‘Then,’ Fonthill went on, ‘he said that he smelt Jenkins’s breath but he did not, he asked the sergeant to do so. These are details but details are important on such a serious charge. It goes on. He said that the sarn’t major was staggering drunkenly, but we have two witnesses, Sergeant Wilkins and Trooper Blackshaw, who disagree.’ He looked at his notes. ‘“Just a bit wobbly” were the sergeant’s words and “a bit fed up” were those of the trooper. The charge of being drunk in the face of the enemy certainly does not stand, for to face the enemy Jenkins would have had to travel something between ten and fifteen miles.

‘Now, Jenkins does not deny that he drank the whisky during the course of the night. The question arises, how did he get it? He denies carrying it with him and says that it was slipped into his sleeping roll.
We now have Trooper Blackshaw’s words that, indeed, he did see someone from A Squadron put the bottle into the sleeping bag.’

Forbes’s frown deepened. ‘Of course, sir, Jenkins could have bribed someone to steal a bottle – or indeed buy it – from one of the officers, and not necessarily from A Company.’

‘That is true, Colin. However, there is also the possibility that someone – someone with a grudge against the regimental sergeant major, someone who had heard of Jenkins’s occasional weakness for drink – could have arranged, or ordered, the bottle to be placed there.’ He sighed. ‘You see, gentlemen, what I meant when I said that there were unusual elements to this case.

‘I must tell you frankly that I cannot convict this man on this evidence. Please remember that being drunk in the face of the enemy is a capital charge and could lead to the firing squad. Normally, in a case of this severity, one would bring a character witness for the defendant. Today, I must be that witness, for no one – probably on earth – knows him better. I assure you that in twenty years, I have never known him tell a lie. I
have
known him to be drunk, but only after a consumption of alcohol that would kill a mule, not merely one bottle, and never,
never
, when on duty. He is a splendid soldier whom this column would miss terribly if we found him guilty.

‘Now, gentlemen, those are my concerns. What are your views?’

Cartwright spoke first, the earnestness of his expression echoed in the fact that he did not try now to hide his flat, Midlands accent. ‘I agree with you, sir,’ he said. ‘There are too many strange … what is the word … anomalies, I think it is, in the evidence to convict Jenkins. I also am impressed by your statement concerning his
character. Although I think the putting of the bottle in his bedroll is strange, if you say that you have never known him to tell a lie, I don’t see that we can suspect otherwise, given the other circumstances.’