Free A Future Arrived by Phillip Rock Page A

talking about. The average Englishman would much prefer to make love to a horse.”
    â€œDifficult.”
    â€œWhere there’s a will, and all that.” He took a sip of his beer. “I read your book, by the way. An End to Castles .”
    â€œHow did you manage? It’s not out yet.”
    â€œArnold Calthorpe sent Winnie a galley proof. Thick as thieves, those two. Winnie’s money helps keep his presses churning out pamphlets for No More War International.”
    Martin set his glass on the bench and took a leather cigar case from his coat pocket. “A pacifist wife. How does that go down with the brass hats?”
    He shrugged and accepted one of Martin’s cigars. “The eccentricities of military wives has been an accepted toleration since Marlborough’s day.” He passed the cigar under his nose. “Perfect. Cuba?”
    â€œTampa, Florida.”
    â€œAh, America. The best of all worlds under one roof. I must go there one day. Perhaps when I retire.”
    â€œNot thinking of doing that, are you?”
    â€œWell, I’m not, but one or two others have suggested it.” He lit his cigar and blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I liked your book, Martin … at least parts of it. You were bang on regarding the French fortress line. That defense minister … Maginot … allocating billions of francs for a bloody concrete trench! ‘Verdun with air-conditioning’ … as you so succinctly put it.”
    â€œHe was wounded at Verdun and swore that French soldiers would never have to endure that kind of slaughter again.”
    â€œHis motive was noble. It’s his tactics that are wrong. Dangerous, in fact. A lulling sense of security that paralyzes the initiative of the army to achieve mechanized mobility—but for God’s sake don’t let me get started on that subject.”
    Martin grinned at his old friend. “No shop talk in the mess—as you used to say.”
    â€œI still do, but I don’t mind exchanging a view or two with a chap in civvy street. Your motive is as noble as Monsieur Maginot’s, and just as wrong. For a man who has seen as much war as you have, I can understand your passionate hatred of it. But the solution for peace which you propose in your book rests on a dream.”
    â€œAn ideal. A goal worth seeking. No more than that.”
    â€œWe share the same goal, dear chap. We have different approaches to the problem. God knows I want peace eternal. If Maginot remembers Verdun, I remember the Somme and Passchendaele. No more massacres of poor bloody infantry for a few yards of stinking, bloody ground … ever! As most professional soldiers, I’m as belligerent as a nun, but I do want England to have the best army in the world. A small cadre of forces second to none … modern, innovative, daringly imaginative … so no nation would risk drawing a sword against her. Peace through power. How does that strike you painted across a banner?”
    â€œI prefer—the power of peace.”
    Fenton laughed and leaned back against the wall, tilting his face to the sun. “One might hear that phrase uttered at the League of Nations … in a speech expressing moral indignation at what the Italians are doing in North Africa. Do you think Mussolini gives a damn if some Swedish pastor is morally dismayed? He wants his new Roman empire and he’ll get it if he has to shoot every Arab in Libya. To believe otherwise is naïve, wishful thinking, and you’re hardly a naïve man.”
    â€œNo, but I am a hopeful one. Total world disarmament of heavy weapons and bombing planes is the only certain answer. And it’s possible to attain.”
    The brigadier scowled and took a reflective puff on his cigar. “Perhaps. But that disarmament commission at the League hasn’t come up with anything positive on the subject in four years.”
    â€œIt’s not for lack of