Land Girls: The Promise: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga. Roland Moore
damp, old wood and a dark stain had spread over much of the ceiling. Gee, he could renovate this place given half a chance. It would be an opportunity to use his talents as a builder and restore something to its previous splendour and beauty. But no one had time for such frivolities as renovation now. There was a war on. Joe knew that his job for the duration of the war was to serve his country in the army. Joe reached the end of a small side ward, three iron beds crammed into a glorified corridor. In the last bed was a figure wearing a bandage that covered most of his head and one eye. He was half-sitting and half-lying in bed, a newspaper in front of him, his head lolling. But Joe guessed he wasn’t taking much notice of the text.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Joe asked, flashing a warm smile with pearly white teeth.
It took a moment for Chuck to recognise his visitor. Perhaps it took a moment for his single eye to focus away from the newspaper and onto the man in front of his bed. “Joe?” Chuck cleared his throat, sounding surprised. His voice had the tell-tale catch of a man who hadn’t spoken all day. “What are you doing here?”
“They’ve run out of surgeons so I said I’d have a go. I’m sure it’s as easy as knocking up a dovetail joint.”
Chuck laughed. He was a chubby, thickset man in his early twenties, with a red face. Most people would probably say he was ‘jolly’, but this was probably the first time there had been any hint of jollity since his accident four days ago. It had been a freak ricochet from another soldier’s gun on the firing range, one second of miscalculation that had cost Chuck Wellings his eye.
Joe pulled up a chair. He twirled it around so that he could rest his arms on the frame, and sat down. In the other beds the occupants were asleep. Bandages obscured the head of one man and the other patient looked in good health until you looked down the length of his bed and realised that the shape of his body under the covers ended below the knees. Chuck was in the minority - a soldier injured on the home front. Most of the other patients at Hoxley Manor were shipped in from overseas battle fronts. Joe’s smile faltered a little. War had always seemed scary to him, but the presence of his friends joining up at the same time as him made him feel they were an invincible little band, somehow immune to the cold, harsh realities around them. It was just as it had been when they had met on the first day of high school, just as it had been on the first day they had all got jobs in their home town. Chuck had been one such friend. They’d answered the call together, along with three other pals. They’d all gone to the recruiting office and enthusiastically signed their lives away together. They were determined to beat the Nazi menace in Europe, determined to help the allies that they had read about in the newspapers and seen on the newsreels. And now the invincible little band wasn’t quite so invincible. One man down. But Joe was always the light-hearted joker of the pack, adept at being funny and charming. He knew it was his job to cheer up Chuck, even in such depressing surroundings as these. He said the first thing that came into his head, taking no time to filter his comment. But that was how the pals spoke to each other. If he pulled his punches now, Chuck would worry that things were even worse than he feared.
“Have they talked about you getting a discount at the flicks?” Joe said.
“What?”
“You’re only seeing it with one eye, man. They’ve got to give you a discount!”
Luckily, Chuck was ready to laugh, even at such an off-colour joke. Joe knew it wasn’t his best, but at least it was something. Chuck’s laugh turned to a slight grimace as the reality of his situation hit him again. The friends chatted for a few minutes. Joe told him what was happening at their barracks. Chuck thought it was unlikely that he’d return to active service, but he hoped he could come back to perform some function or other. If not, his war would be over and he’d have to go home.
“You’ll have to keep everything ticking over until the rest of us get back,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Chuck replied.
Dr Richard Channing entered. A distinguished-looking, handsome man in his forties, he had been running the hospital since it opened. Joe knew there were rumours about him secretly courting the lady of the manor, but he didn’t know if they were true or not. She was a good-looking broad. Probably rich too. Channing checked the clipboard of statistics at the end of the bandaged man’s bed. He shot a quick, perfunctory smile over to Joe and Chuck, then busied himself as the men talked.
“When are you going back to Panmere Lake?” Chuck asked.
“Waiting for orders,” Joe replied.
“But I thought they wanted to get the stuff moved as quickly as they can,” Chuck said. “To somewhere more secure.” The operation to move munitions from a temporary location near Panmere Lake to more permanent surroundings had been a mission that both Joe and Chuck had been lined up for.
“Well, if you need a pair of hands. I’m so bored sitting here all day. Not even smart enough to do the crossword.” Chuck’s fingers scrunched the newspaper on his lap.
“You’ve got to concentrate on getting better. Anyway, you wouldn’t be here without a good reason.”
Dr Channing walked back over from the other side of the room. “Quite right. As soon as you’re able, we’ll have you out of here faster than you can say good old Uncle Sam.”
The soldiers smiled back. “Thanks, Doc,” Joe offered. “Got to get this guy pulling his considerable weight.”
Chuck cracked a grin and jokingly pushed his friend’s arm.
Channing replaced the patient clipboard at the end of Chuck’s bed and glided out of the room, his white coat billowing slightly behind him.
“So how’s your love life?” Chuck asked.
“You must be bored if you’re asking about that. I met a broad at a dance, a Land Girl …”
“Another one?”
“This one’s different,” Joe said, a slight edge of annoyance to his voice.
“What? Different ‘cos you haven’t had your way with her yet?”
Joe afforded himself a smile. It was probably true. Chuck knew him well. Chuck had been on enough double dates with his good-looking friend to know how skilled Joe was at chatting up women. It was unlikely that he’d ever think about settling down, especially with the war. There was a need to let off steam after all they were dealing with, a need to have fun. And if that meant courting a lot of British women, then that was fine, in Joe’s book. Chuck was different. He’d love to find the right woman and marry her straight away. But this was, Joe figured, because he didn’t have the effortless charm and good looks. Chuck’s lack of confidence meant that he would take love if it ever came his way, embracing it with grateful hands. Joe was happy to string women along, cheat and lie. It was all part of the game, as far as he was concerned. Chuck had heard Joe describe many women with the phrase ‘this one’s different’. It was baloney.
“I’ve not seen any other women since I met her at the dance, so that’s something,” Joe admitted.
“Losing your touch!” Chuck exclaimed.
“Been too busy, to be honest. But I might go and see her, get properly acquainted.”
“Heaven help her.” Although it was sometimes fun to watch Joe charm them, Chuck almost felt sorry for the women of Helmstead. They didn’t seem worldly enough or skilled in the detection of charming lotharios such as Joe Batch. He preyed on them like a wolf in a sheep enclosure. And sometimes that made Chuck feel uneasy, especially when he knew he would treat any one of those women like a queen, with respect and admiration.
Joe leaned back in his seat. He eyed a nurse who passed down the corridor. Old habits died hard. Chuck smiled at his brazen nature. When they were alone again, he returned to the conversation about Panmere Lake. The Americans had used some covered buildings near to the lake, on the other side of Helmstead, as a temporary ammunition store. Joe, a skilled carpenter, and other men in his unit, were building a new, secure storage building near to their base