The Soldier's Art - Anthony Powell [21]
Widmerpool came forward with that serious, self-important air of his, which, always giving inadequate impression of his own capabilities, was often calculated to provoke irritation in people he dealt with, even if not angry already.
“Here I am, sir.”
Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson turned on Widmerpool as jf he were about to strike him.
“What the bloody hell do you think of yourself?” he asked, still speaking very loudly.
“Sir?”
Widmerpool was not in the least prepared at that moment for such an onslaught. Only a few minutes before he had been congratulating himself aloud on how successfully had gone his share of the exercise. Now he stood staring at Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson in a way that was bound to make matters worse rather than better.
“Traffic circuits!” shouted Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson. “What in God’s name have you done about them? Don’t you know that’s a D.A.A.G.’s job? I suppose you don’t. You’re not fit to organise an outing for a troop of Girl Guides in the vicarage garden. Divisional Headquarters has been ordered to move back to base forthwith. Are you aware of that?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“You’ve read the Movement Order? Have you got as far as that?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And made appropriate arrangements?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then why is the Medium Field Regiment coming in at right angles across our route? That’s not all. It has just been reported to me that Divisional Signals, and all their technical equipment, are being held up at another crossroads half a mile up the same road by the Motor Ambulance Convoy making a loop and entering the main traffic artery just ahead of them.”
“I talked with the D.A.P.M. about distributory roads, Sir” began Widmerpool.
“I don’t want to hear who you talked to,” said Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson, his voice rising quite high with fury. “I want an immediate explanation of the infernal muddle your incompetence has made.”
If Widmerpool were not allowed to mention recommendations put forward by Keef, Captain Commanding Military Police at Div. H.Q., also to some extent responsible for traffic control, it was obviously impossible for him to give a clear picture of what arrangements had been made for moving the column back. Brigadier Hawkins used to advocate two sovereign phrases for parrying dissatisfaction or awkward interrogation on the part of a superior: “I don’t know, sir, I’ll find out,” and its even more potent alternative : “the officer/man in question has been transferred to another unit.” On this occasion, neither of those great international army formulae of exorcism were applicable. Matters were in any case too urgent. For once, those powerful twin spells were ineffective. However, Widmerpool, as it turned out, could do far better than fall back on such indecisive rubric, however magical, to defend his own position. He possessed chapter and verse. Instead of answering at once, he allowed Colonel Hogbourne-Johnson to fume, while he himself drew from the breast pocket of his battle-dress blouse a fat little notebook. After glancing for a second or two at one of its pages, he looked up again, and immediately began to recite a detailed account of troop movements, unit by unit, throughout the immediate area of Divisional activities.
“… Medium Field Regiment proceeding from … on the move at … must have reached … in fact, sir, should already have passed that point on the road twenty minutes ago … Motor Ambulance Convoy