Fall of Giants

Da folded his hands, closed his eyes, and said: “Oh, Lord, help thy servant to be humble and meek as Jesus was.” Then he opened his eyes and said: “Why did you do it, Billy? Why did you join up?”

“Because we’re at war,” Billy said. “Like it or not, we have to fight.”

“But can’t you see-” Da stopped and held up his hands in a pacific gesture. “Let me start again. You don’t believe what you read in the newspapers about the Germans being evil men who rape nuns, do you?”

“No,” said Billy. “Everything the papers ever said about coal miners was lies, so I don’t suppose they’re telling the truth about the Germans.”

“The way I see it, this is a capitalist war that has got nothing to do with the workingman,” Da said. “But you may disagree.”

Billy was amazed by the effort his father was making to be conciliatory. Never before had he heard Da say you may disagree. He replied: “I don’t know much about capitalism, but I expect you’re right. All the same, the Germans have got to be stopped. They think they’re entitled to rule the world!”

Da said: “We’re British. Our empire holds sway over more than four hundred million people. Hardly any of them are entitled to vote. They have no control over their own countries. Ask the average British man why, and he’ll say it’s our destiny to govern inferior peoples.” Da spread both hands in a gesture that meant Isn’t it obvious? “Billy boy, it’s not the Germans who think they should rule the world-it’s us!”

Billy sighed. He agreed with all this. “But we’re under attack. The reasons for the war may be wrong, but we have to fight, regardless.”

“How many have died in the last two years?” Da said. “Millions!” His voice went up a notch, but he was not angry so much as sad. “It will go on as long as young men are willing to kill one another regardless, as you say.”

“It will go on until someone wins, I suppose.”

His mother said: “I expect you’re afraid people will think you’re scared.”

“No,” he said, but she was right. His rational explanations for joining up were not the whole story. As usual, Mam saw into his heart. For almost two years he had been hearing and reading that able-bodied young men such as himself were cowards if they did not fight. It was in the newspapers; people said it in shops and pubs; in Cardiff city center pretty girls handed out white feathers to any boy not in uniform, and recruiting sergeants jeered at young civilians on the streets. Billy knew it was propaganda, but it affected him just the same. He found it hard to bear the thought that people believed him to be a coward.

He fantasized explaining, to those girls with white feathers, that coal mining was more dangerous than being in the army. Apart from frontline troops, most soldiers were less likely to be killed or injured than miners. And Britain needed the coal. It fueled half the navy. The government had actually said it did not want miners to join up. None of this made any difference. Since he had put on the itchy khaki tunic and trousers, the new boots and the peaked cap, he had felt better.

Da said: “People think there’s a big push coming at the end of the month.”

Billy nodded. “The officers won’t say a word, but everyone else is talking about it. I expect that’s why there’s a sudden rush to get more men over there.”

“The newspapers say this could be the battle that turns the tide-the beginning of the end.”

“Let’s hope so, anyhow.”

“You should have enough ammunition now, thanks to Lloyd George.”

“Aye.” Last year there had been a shortage of shells. Newspaper agitation about the Shell Scandal had almost brought down Prime Minister Asquith. He had formed a coalition government, created the new post of minister of munitions, and given the job to the most popular man in the cabinet, David Lloyd George. Since then, production had soared.

“Try to take care of yourself,” Da said.

Mam said: “Don’t be a hero. Leave that to them that started the war-the upper classes, the Conservatives, the officers. Do as you’re told and no more.”

Gramper said: “War is war. There’s no safe way to do it.”

They were saying their good-byes. Billy felt an urge to cry, and repressed it harshly. “Right, then,” he said, standing up.

Gramper shook his hand. Mam kissed him. Da shook hands, then yielded to an impulse and hugged him. Billy could not remember the last time his father had done that.

“God bless you and keep you, Billy,” Da said. There were tears in his eyes.

Billy’s self-control almost broke. “So long, then,” he said. He picked up his kit bag. He heard his mother sob. Without looking back, he went out, closing the door behind him.

He took a deep breath and composed himself. Then he set off down the steep street toward the station.

{II}

The river Somme meandered from east to west across France on its way to the sea. The front line, running north to south, crossed the river not far from Amiens. South of there, the Allied line was held by French troops all the way to Switzerland. To its north most of the forces were British and Commonwealth.