up, coughing now that he could get his breath back.
Prentice glared at him. "You think I'm going to lie to protect you? There's military discipline for this sort of thing. You can't attack somebody and get away with it. He's a raving madman!"
"Really?" Joseph said, an exaggerated lift in his voice. "I saw nothing in particular. I was too busy thinking about a man shot half to pieces to worry about what was happening to a stupid journalist who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut in an operating theatre."
"I saw nothing," the orderly added, his face twisted with anger and pity. "Did you, Mrs. O'Day?"
"Not a thing," she replied. "Nor did Janet," she gestured to the girl now climbing up slowly from where she had been slumped against the wall. The whole episode had taken only minutes. She stared at the scene in front of her, at Wil and Joseph, at the operating table, and then at Prentice. Her face was filled with shame, but it was only Marie O'Day's opinion she cared about. What had happened between the men barely touched her consciousness.
"Take them away." Marie O'Day gestured to the blood-soaked swabs in one of the dishes. "Bring me some more quickly."
The girl moved to obey, grateful for a second chance, but still keeping her eyes averted from the operating table, in case her nerve betrayed her again.
"Out!" Joseph ordered Prentice. He pushed Wil in front of him also, and a moment later they were in the entrance, and then outside on the wooden walk. "You'd better get out of here," he said to Wil. "You're a volunteer, you can go wherever you like. If you've any sense, you'll go at least as far as Divisional Headquarters for a while. They'll find you something to do."
"What about Charlie?" Wil demanded. "I can't leave him!"
"You can't help," Joseph said gently. "You getting thrown out won't make it any better for him. Just lose yourself for a while. Go to Armentieres, or somewhere like that, and get a grip."
Wil's eyes were still sunken with shock and now, after the exertion, and his rage having cooled off and the horror returning, he started to shake. But reluctantly, stumbling and slipping on the boards, he made his way along the line of the huts and round the corner.
"Don't think I'll forget this!" Prentice snarled, blowing bubbles of blood through his bruised and rapidly swelling lips. One eye was already darkening with a huge bruise and the other cheek was blotched. His arm hung uselessly and obviously with pain.
"You can remember what you like," Joseph replied, 'but you'd be wise to say and do nothing. If anyone hears about what you said in front of Charlie Gee, you'll get no co-operation from any of the men. And you may find you have other "accidents" on dark nights. As you pointed out to Sergeant Watkins, friendship is about all we have here that, and loyalty to your unit and a belief that we're fighting for something that matters: honour, a way of life, people we love."
He looked at Prentice's face. The journalist was not used to physical pain, and he was obviously hurting pretty badly.
"You'd better go up to one of the forward first-aid stations," Joseph advised. "You're hardly a hospital case, but you could do with a little attention, a stitch or two, perhaps, and someone to put your shoulder back. It's quite a simple thing to do, but it'll hurt like hell." He said that with pleasure. "Wait your turn, and tell them anything you want. A shrapnel burst near you would probably be best. It looks as if you fell. There'll be lots hurt worse than you are, so you'll make a fool of yourself if you raise a fuss. People are hard on cowards." He gave a very small, tight smile. "And do it smartly, before I arrest you."
Prentice was furious. "That lunatic attacked me! I didn't even hit him back! Or are you going to lie about that too?"
"For getting in the way of treating the wounded, and wasting medical officers' time," Joseph replied without hesitation. "You didn't hit him back because he didn't give you a
Prentice glared at him. "You think I'm going to lie to protect you? There's military discipline for this sort of thing. You can't attack somebody and get away with it. He's a raving madman!"
"Really?" Joseph said, an exaggerated lift in his voice. "I saw nothing in particular. I was too busy thinking about a man shot half to pieces to worry about what was happening to a stupid journalist who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut in an operating theatre."
"I saw nothing," the orderly added, his face twisted with anger and pity. "Did you, Mrs. O'Day?"
"Not a thing," she replied. "Nor did Janet," she gestured to the girl now climbing up slowly from where she had been slumped against the wall. The whole episode had taken only minutes. She stared at the scene in front of her, at Wil and Joseph, at the operating table, and then at Prentice. Her face was filled with shame, but it was only Marie O'Day's opinion she cared about. What had happened between the men barely touched her consciousness.
"Take them away." Marie O'Day gestured to the blood-soaked swabs in one of the dishes. "Bring me some more quickly."
The girl moved to obey, grateful for a second chance, but still keeping her eyes averted from the operating table, in case her nerve betrayed her again.
"Out!" Joseph ordered Prentice. He pushed Wil in front of him also, and a moment later they were in the entrance, and then outside on the wooden walk. "You'd better get out of here," he said to Wil. "You're a volunteer, you can go wherever you like. If you've any sense, you'll go at least as far as Divisional Headquarters for a while. They'll find you something to do."
"What about Charlie?" Wil demanded. "I can't leave him!"
"You can't help," Joseph said gently. "You getting thrown out won't make it any better for him. Just lose yourself for a while. Go to Armentieres, or somewhere like that, and get a grip."
Wil's eyes were still sunken with shock and now, after the exertion, and his rage having cooled off and the horror returning, he started to shake. But reluctantly, stumbling and slipping on the boards, he made his way along the line of the huts and round the corner.
"Don't think I'll forget this!" Prentice snarled, blowing bubbles of blood through his bruised and rapidly swelling lips. One eye was already darkening with a huge bruise and the other cheek was blotched. His arm hung uselessly and obviously with pain.
"You can remember what you like," Joseph replied, 'but you'd be wise to say and do nothing. If anyone hears about what you said in front of Charlie Gee, you'll get no co-operation from any of the men. And you may find you have other "accidents" on dark nights. As you pointed out to Sergeant Watkins, friendship is about all we have here that, and loyalty to your unit and a belief that we're fighting for something that matters: honour, a way of life, people we love."
He looked at Prentice's face. The journalist was not used to physical pain, and he was obviously hurting pretty badly.
"You'd better go up to one of the forward first-aid stations," Joseph advised. "You're hardly a hospital case, but you could do with a little attention, a stitch or two, perhaps, and someone to put your shoulder back. It's quite a simple thing to do, but it'll hurt like hell." He said that with pleasure. "Wait your turn, and tell them anything you want. A shrapnel burst near you would probably be best. It looks as if you fell. There'll be lots hurt worse than you are, so you'll make a fool of yourself if you raise a fuss. People are hard on cowards." He gave a very small, tight smile. "And do it smartly, before I arrest you."
Prentice was furious. "That lunatic attacked me! I didn't even hit him back! Or are you going to lie about that too?"
"For getting in the way of treating the wounded, and wasting medical officers' time," Joseph replied without hesitation. "You didn't hit him back because he didn't give you a
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