the war. You left England in 1919, and now, twenty years later, you’re here. What happened in the meantime?”
“Okay. I’ll give you a brief outline and if you have any questions, just ask.” Rory looked upwards and vigorously rubbed his chin as if he were about to make some kind of a decision. Instead, he said nothing for a few moments. “When I demobilized, I went back to Montreal. I suppose the biggest surprise to everybody was that I didn’t join my father’s firm. He was disappointed; still is. The last I talked to him, he still wanted me to quit the RCMP, go back, and help run the business for him. He’s getting on, and things are picking up for him now that there’s another war on. He runs several small- to mid-sized textile and manufacturing companies that have been quite successful. But it’s never had any interest for me.”
Rory paused, as if he didn’t really believe what he had just said. “So, to make a long story short, in 1919 I ran into a friend of a friend and I ended up in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They even let me in missing an eye and two fingers on my left hand. They made a number of exceptions for otherwise fit veterans in those days. I’ve been in the RCMP for nineteen years and served mostly in Western Canada. Spent a lot of time in the North and in isolated locations. I liked it. I liked the people. It was useful and challenging work.”
“I envy you,” Crossley said. “You sound like you’ve had a more interesting time of it than I have. Tell me more about your police work.”
“I’ve been reasonably successful as a police officer. Of course, I started as a constable, and that raised a few eyebrows. Some of the people I knew thought I was taking a step down from being a major, but I never looked at it that way. I’ve always figured that if you’re going to learn a new line of work, you learn it from the ground up. Besides, I was young and I had no other choice, and my fellow constables were top-quality people. Since then I’ve had a variety of very good jobs. Worked with some wonderful people in and out of uniform. Put some not so wonderful people away where they belong. I never specialized in anything. I preferred it that way. I’ve been a general investigative officer, initially running a beat in northern Manitoba; later on, I had several commands in rural and isolated areas, and in small cities, mostly in the Prairies and the North. I’ll probably not make the highest ranks. I don’t have the right instincts, and to tell the truth, I’m just not that interested in doing some of the administrative jobs that will get me there, although the war probably rescued me from a posting to Ottawa. Who knows? I might have liked that.” He shrugged. “I’m happy where I am, or where I was a month ago, anyway.”
Crossley smiled briefly. “I can see you being a police officer.”
“Yes, well, I’ve preferred to work in the field. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. How am I doing so far, Harold? Is this the kind of thing you were expecting to hear?”
“Pretty much. You know I’m going to have to ask you later to commit a brief summary of this to paper.” Harold had a wonderfully crisp, theatrical voice and a Liverpool accent that he made no attempt to conceal. “I’m sorry, but they also have psychologists vetting our new officers now. This is one of these new wartime efficiencies. I had to go through the same silliness when they brought me over from mi6. This interview is the first step in screening and everybody gets it.”
Crossley nodded. “Rory, tell us about your family life.”
“I don’t have one now, apart from my elderly parents. My dad is working himself into the ground and my mother does volunteer work in Montreal. I was married for nine years. We didn’t have any children. My wife died a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Thornton said. “Of course, I knew it. I am sorry just the same. I read it in your file. How are you getting on?”
“I’m all right. It was so fast but it was still a terrible thing watching her go the way she did. I miss her tremendously. But I suppose you need to know if I’m sufficiently recovered from my grief to be of any value in operations. I think so. In fact, I think doing something will focus my mind more than it has for a while. I’m physically fit and emotionally sound. Going through the normal grieving period, I guess. Not really out of it yet.”
“Are you angry at all?” asked Harris.
“Not now. I was, but I’m pretty much over that. There was a time when I thought, ‘Why her, why us?’ But I suppose that I’ve come to accept it. It seems there’s a randomness attached to suffering and death. I don’t understand it. I never have.” He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to.”
“How do you feel about the war?”
“When I was last over here, when I returned to Germany five years ago and had a good look at the Nazis, I thought it was inevitable. I had no doubt that we were headed for another major war, and felt we should have fought sooner rather than wait and fight it on Hitler’s terms. We didn’t have the moral courage to do it then. Now, God knows where this one will end. So far, it sounds as if we’re likely to lose – at least, we’ll probably lose Europe initially. Generally, I agree with what Harris has to say. I think he’s painting the worst case, but I agree, it’s also the most probable case.”
“Do you think we should make some kind of accommodation with the Nazis? A lot of people are suggesting that. Some say that’s what Prime Minister Chamberlain is secretly holding out for. They say war has become too dangerous. We’ve too much to lose, that sort of thing. What are your thoughts on that?”
“Absolutely not. You can’t come to terms with someone who has already made up his mind that he’s going to destroy you and knows he has the power to do it. I know a lot of people here feel that somehow we can avoid a fight. The Nazis are as much a scourge as the Mongols were. They have to be stopped. Unfortunately, those who don’t see it that way are mostly wishful thinkers, and refuse to believe the truth because it means something horribly unpleasant becomes a certainty. There are a few others opposed to the war, but they’re a minority we’ll have to deal with. A few days after we declared war, we locked up the mayor of Montreal as a fascist sympathizer. Lots of people are howling over that; but if we’re going to win against these people, we have to do it with all our efforts focused.”
Crossley nodded knowingly while Thornton made a face that could have indicated perplexity or lack of interest.
Rory went on. “I really am in favour of free speech, but this is a war for survival. The time for debating has long passed. We should have acted against Hitler a long time ago. Intellectually and morally, I’ve no problem with fighting if you have a just cause. I don’t want to fight, but I believe that now we have absolutely no choice. The issues have probably never been so black and white.”
Thornton interrupted. “Ewen tells me you served in a clandestine role in Germany in the last one. You’re part German. How has that affected you?”
“I don’t think my clandestine work or having a German parent made much difference to me. I was more affected by my time in the trenches. That was a nightmare, but those of us who survived got through it.”
Rory stopped walking and looked around him. They were across the street from a bus stop and a small crowd had gathered, patiently queued up on the sidewalk. “I’ve often thought about the killing and the deaths of good men. It haunts you. I don’t think I’m different than thousands of others. I was lucky. I guess I always have been. I often wonder why I survived and others didn’t; but in the end, I survived and I was fortunate enough to get on with my life. Now, it looks like we’re going to do it all again. I don’t want to do it, but when it’s over, we have to get it right this time. The thing that angers me is that we should never have fought the Great War.”
Thornton
