Mary Dear - Redux Read online

  Major Frank S. Bright was a gorilla of a man and Joseph could easily understand why Dieter would fear him. Bright did not look like the sensitive type and he was sure the Major would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Joseph decided to wait till morning, let Dieter sweat it out in his cell a little longer and maybe he would tell him everything he knew; Joseph suspected he hadn’t heard the whole story yet.

  Early the following morning Joseph arrived at the guardroom where the prisoner was being held and found the place crawling with U.S. army medics and all sorts of brass. He shot an enquiring look at the guardroom Sergeant, wondering what the hell was going on. The Sergeant looked distinctly sick so when Joseph asked to see the prisoner he blurted out:

  ‘I’m very sorry sir but you can’t see him.’ The place was busier than Hyde Park on a hot summer day and the Sergeant’s eyes were darting from one side of the room to the other.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The prisoner’s dead sir, he hanged himself in his cell...with his belt sir.’

  For a moment Joseph could not believe what he’d just heard. Surely they would have removed belt and shoelaces.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘They found him this morning at 0800 sir. We raised the alarm and the doctor was called. He reckoned he’d been dead around four hour’s sir.’

  ‘Did he have any visitors last night?’

  ‘Just one sir, Major Bright saw him for twenty minutes or so but he was okay when he left him. I looked in on the prisoner at 2200 hours before I was relieved sir and he was just fine.’

  Joseph left wondering how Dieter had managed to build up the courage to take his own life. He’d not struck him as the type but then, a visit from Major Bright might have been all the motivation he needed. Or maybe the Major had got what he needed and got rid of him. After all, he only had the desk sergeant’s word for it that Dieter was okay at 2200, and they might be in it together. He would have to check if the sergeant had been relieved at 2200, as he’d said or been on duty all night. The thing was—what had Dieter told Bright and how long would it be before he came looking for him?

  As Joseph was leaving, the desk sergeant called out to him.

  ‘Excuse me Captain, Lieutenant Santini asked me who’d been the last persons to see the prisoner alive and, apart from Major Bright, and me you’re the only one who’s been near him. Lieutenant Santini told me to tell you if I saw you first that General Waynright has asked to see you but it will have to wait until tomorrow because he’s been called to a meeting at Division that will go on half the night, sir.’

  Joseph was glad of the stay of execution and thought he would telephone his friend Edward to talk things over, but on second thoughts, why telephone when they could meet? He decided he would drive over instead. He went to the carpool and was told by the sergeant that he didn’t have a jeep he could have right away but to give him an hour and he’d see what he could do. When Joseph went back to the carpool an hour later, there was one waiting. He signed for it and headed in the direction of Scharten where his friend was billeted with the rest of his unit.

  ‘Joseph, old chum what a nice surprise! Why didn’t you say you were coming, I could have laid something on?’ His friend was smiling and clearly delighted by the unexpected visit.

  ‘Spur of the moment thing, didn’t know myself till I was on the road heading your way’

  Joseph couldn’t wait to have a word with his friend but not with so many people around.

  ‘Is there somewhere more private we could go?’

  Edward said, ‘Sure, come to my room, it’s not much but at least it’s private. What’s this all this about?’

  But Joseph just said. ‘Lead the way then. I really need your opinion on something.’

  ‘Why the mystery?’ But when Joseph didn’t answer Edward gave up, figuring he’d know soon enough. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘it’s right this way,’ and led the way to his quarters.

  As soon as they were alone Joseph sat on a chair and Edward on the edge of his bed.

  ‘Well old chap, suppose you tell me now?’

  When Joseph finished telling him everything he knew Edward stayed quiet, thinking for a moment.

  ‘Have you told anyone else other than me about this?’

  ‘No. I wanted to hear what you thought before I went any further.’

  ‘That’s very flattering. I’m glad you haven’t though. I don’t think it would be a good idea, bad for your health if you know what I mean, and your prisoner’s suicide? I don’t buy it; too convenient if you ask me.’

  ‘I agree. I’m going to give you the notebook and my interrogation notes for safekeeping. No one knows I’m here and I want to keep it that way. They’ll be safer with you till I can figure out what to do.’

  Joseph left his friend promising to get back in touch soon and assuring him that he would be careful and as Edward watched Joseph drive off into the distance, a feeling of dread and foreboding came over him. They went back a long way and he hated the thought that his best friend could be in danger.

  Edward had met Joseph in Cambridge; in fact it was he who had introduced Rebecca Aubrey to him in July of 1926 at a Bop, in Becky’s college, Magdalene. Edward was so glad to have introduced them, and happy that Joe had liked her immediately. She was beautiful—the perfect English rose, Joe had thought.

  Joseph was 25 years old and studying for an MA in Fine Art at Trinity College. Becky, just a year younger than him, found Joseph impossibly good looking. He was a six-footer with light blond hair that fell over his forehead. She liked the way he would brush it away with the back of his hand, she liked his freckles that lent him a boyish look and his pale blue eyes. He had the habit of looking at her when they were talking without so much as blinking that she found flattering yet disconcerting; and when he smiled, his indecently perfect teeth made him look like a matinee idol.

  They chatted for hours forgetting the party going on around them and Becky told him she was doing a PhD in Classics but wasn’t sure what she was going to do once she left Cambridge. Joseph, on the other hand, had big plans and wanted to travel and see the world.

  In the beautiful summer of ’26, Becky and Joseph became inseparable. They studied together by the bank of the river Cam overlooking King’s College and, some Saturdays when the weather was good, they went to the Quayside to pick up a punt for the backs. Joe was the chauffeur standing at the stern holding the pole and Becky ate cucumber sandwiches and sipped her Pimm’s taken from a small hamper she’d prepared; ‘That’s the way it should be’, she said and laughed but she always made sure there would be plenty left for him.

  Though one sits perilously close to the water, the flatness of the punt ensures that you won’t fall in. That, at least, is the theory. When he tried to impress her she told him to be careful not to fall in the water but he always insisted punting was a breeze. It‘s just a question of pushing with the pole and, afterwards, using it like a rudder to steer the boat he’d say. He was quite adept and she really felt safe with him.

  In 1927 Joe proposed and Becky accepted joyfully. They got married in St Mary’s University Church, also known as St. Mary the Great, whose chimes are copied by Big Ben in Westminster. Their parents and friends were all present and it was the happiest day of their lives.

  Their honeymoon in Venice was a joint present from their parents, and they were thrilled to be staying in the Gritti Palace. During the 15th century, it had been the residence of the Doge of Venice, Andrea Gritti, and it had been lovingly restored to its former elegance and splendour. Their room looked onto the Grand Canal, giving them a grandstand view of the gondolas going to and fro, with the imposing Palazzi on the opposite side. Joseph was in his element dragging Becky to all the museums and acting as her guide, while she got her own back taking him on long shopping trips where he pretended to be bored. Afterwards they would order cakes and drink coffee while listening to the bands that played in St Mark’s Square.

  The honeymoon had to end someti
me and they returned to England and Cambridge where they found digs in a pretty house in Rose Crescent.

  When they finished their degrees in 1929 they went to live with Joseph’s mum and dad in West Harnham. In January 1934 their first child was born, and Jane brought untold happiness to the Keating household, but it was to be short lived. On April 1st 1934, Joseph’s parents died while holidaying in France.

  They had been travelling with their friends near Beauvais when the Air France Farman F300 they were flying in crashed, killing all passengers and crew. Joseph was devastated; he had always been very close to his parents.

  Becky was pregnant and Joseph felt so sorry that they had not lived to see their second grandchild—who would arrived on time in June 1935.

  As soon as Joseph left, Edward studied the mysterious notebook and the interrogation notes left in his care. Taken at face value, it looked straightforward enough. The Field Marshall had got his hands on some loot and had arranged for it to be spirited away so he could recover it after the war. That in itself was not strange; Joseph had told him of the amount of looting that had taken place and the difficulties he had reuniting the rightful owners with their property.

  What was sinister was the part being played by Major Bright. He thought it might be a good idea to ask some discreet questions about him. He had an idea of whom he might ask without arousing suspicion, and then he would be in a better position to advise Joseph.

  The following morning Edward heard the terrible news. Joseph had died as a result of a tragic accident, while travelling in a jeep, just outside Scharten on the road to Werfen. Edward Hannah was not a man who believed in coincidences. He could not believe that Joseph was gone, how would poor Becky and the children take it? He couldn’t imagine.

  Edward lost no time going to Werfen to where Joseph had been stationed. He needed to see his friend’s body; not until then would he believe that he was dead, and he wanted to find out more about the accident, if that was indeed what it had been; Joseph’s CO would be able to provide that.

  Driving into Werfen he met a GI and asked him where the mortuary was. He presented himself to the medical orderly and explained who he was and the reason for his visit. The orderly, a quiet sympathetic young man, asked Edward to follow him and led him to a room where there were a range of ten large, cabinet-style drawers. Edward held back steeling himself for what he knew was coming and waited while the orderly opened a drawer and stood aside to give him a chance to see his friend. Any soldier in a war zone becomes hardened to the sight of a dead person and Edward was no exception—but when that person is your best friend, it is an entirely different matter. Edward gazed down on Joseph’s face; he seemed to be asleep and, though he was white and his lips had a purplish hue, he appeared to be unmarked. Edward stepped back unable to look any more and turned to the orderly.

  ‘Is there anything you can tell me about what happened?’

  ‘Very little sir, I’m afraid, but the CO will be able to tell you more. What I can tell you is that your friend was on his way back to camp and went off the road on a bend.’ the young man could see that the death of his friend had affected Edward badly, and wanted to comfort him: ‘The Captain must have been travelling quite fast because he lost control of the jeep, hit a tree and was thrown out; he must have died instantly. I don’t think he could have suffered.’

  Edward had been listening to the orderly and wondering how Joseph could have lost control of the jeep, he knew Joseph was a good driver and didn’t drive particularly fast. He thanked the orderly and left with a gut wrenching feeling at having to leave Joseph alone.

  As soon as Edward was outside he felt relieved. It occurred to him that he should see the jeep that Joseph had used and asked a passing soldier to be directed to the carpool. When he got there he found several mechanics working on a variety of vehicles and asked to speak to the person in charge. A Sergeant appeared and Edward introduced himself.

  ‘I’m truly sorry about your friend,’ the American said, ‘I was here when he picked up the jeep; he was a good man.’

  The Sergeant looked genuinely upset and suggested that Edward might like to see the vehicle. He took him to an area away from the main workshop floor where the jeep had been brought in for inspection.

  ‘Did you find anything wrong with the jeep? Anything that might have contributed to the accident?’

  The Sergeant seemed an honest man but looked apprehensive as he considered that Edward might be thinking some defect for which he and his men were responsible could have caused his friend’s death.

  ‘Sir I can’t think what could have caused it. In fact I happened to mention to Major Bright that I’d had a request from Captain Keating for a vehicle and told him I didn’t have one available. The Major said he had a jeep he wasn’t using and that he’d bring it over in half an hour or so, as he still needed to run some errands. Well I figure if the Major had been using it he would have spotted a problem if there had been one, don’t you think so sir?’

  At the mention of Major Bright, Edward’s ears had pricked up but he said nothing. He would have to investigate matters further before making any kind of an accusation.

  As he was coming out of the carpool, an American Lieutenant approached him, introduced himself as Jim McCarthy. McCarthy knew Joseph and had last seen him when he had taken him to speak to a German prisoner.

  ‘I was very sorry to hear about Joseph’s death,’ he said, ‘he was a fine man.’ McCarthy had seen Edward with Joseph a few times and knew they were friends.

  ‘Thank you. Did you know him well?’

  ‘As well as anyone else here, you know. This isn’t the sort of place you make many friends, but I liked him.’

  ‘Yes I know...about making friends in the middle of a war I mean. Have you any idea about how he might have had an accident? He was not a reckless person.’

  ‘Well...I might have. Care for a coffee in the canteen?’ he said giving Edward the impression that this invitation was one he should accept.

  When they were seated and had a coffee in front of them and both had lit a cigarette, Jim leaned forward and looked Edward in the eyes.

  ‘Whatever I say to you stays between us. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Edward wondered what on earth he was about to hear.

  ‘I saw you coming out of the carpool so I guess you know about the jeep and who was last to drive it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes I do,’ he said wondering what Jim might know that he didn’t.

  ‘One of my duties here is to investigate any wrongdoing by American servicemen and women.’

  ‘I see,’ Edward said, thinking the conversation was turning out to be very interesting.

  ‘I’m glad to say that I am not kept very busy but there is a rumour going round about some pretty sharp practice and there’s someone I have been keeping an eye on for a while.’

  Edward wondered how far to venture but felt he owed it to Joseph and to himself.

  ‘A certain Major?’

  ‘Yes. Now of course at present this is conjecture but I have quite a lot of information that sure as hell points in that direction.’

  ‘I think perhaps we should not be shy about mentioning names,’ Edward said, ‘Am I right in thinking we are both talking about Major Frank Bright?’

  ‘Well, as I said, it is conjecture but, yes.’

  ‘Jim. May I call you Jim?’ and the American nodded and said of course, ‘I know I am biased and I know that you must be thorough and impartial...I know I already said so but let me repeat it, anything you tell me goes no further than me until you tell me otherwise.’

  ‘Edward, please leave this to me. I am close to reaching a conclusion and when I do, you will be the first to know. I promise you that.’

  Becky had been informed of the death of her dear husband and requested that he be repatriated as soon as possible. She had contacted Edward saying that she would be grateful if he could arrange it for her and, if possible, fly back with him.

  Naturally
Edward said yes. He applied for compassionate leave and asked to be permitted to take Joseph’s body back to England for burial. This was not usually granted during a war but, after all, the war was nearly over, everyone knew that, and Joseph was a decorated hero and holder of the VC.

  On 7 January 1945, Edward accompanied his friend on board an RAF Lancaster from Bomber Command. He was glad to be leaving Austria but sad for the loss of his dear friend.

  Joseph’s death was announced in the local paper; an article on the man and his achievements appeared in the obituary pages of the Sunday Times, with a footnote mentioning the date, place and time of the service

  The day awoke to a leaden sky and a cold northerly wind that found a way to get through your clothes and into your very bones. A steady fine drizzle clung to one’s face making it uncomfortable to breathe. It was as if the sky, too, was sad, and wanted to weep and mourn the way that Joseph’s family and friends now wept and mourned his passing.

  The Reverend Matthew Clegg stood by the door waiting for the funeral cortege as it wound its way round the narrow country lane leading to St. George’s Church. Joseph’s wife and her two children were in the lead car followed by a long line of shiny black cars that stopped behind hers in front of his church.

  Becky was helped from the back seat of the sombre Humber Hawk by her ten-year-old son Colin and his sister Jane. Together they held her tight as they walked slowly up the path, their feet crunching the gravel beneath their shoes.

  They walked past old tombstones, silent witnesses to the sad procession filing past them, before finally arriving at the entrance to the church to be greeted by their friend and pastor. Once through the door they walked up the aisle, their steps echoed in the empty church as they made their way to the special place at the front of the church reserved for family and their closest friends.