Chapter 23 Part VII Sections 98-99

Every time Tom took his hands out of the car, they were covered with blood.Lottie tore off her scarf and handed it to Tom, who tied it around the leg he could reach to act as a tourniquet.Allen tried to tuck some clothing around his other leg, trying to stop the bleeding.The two cooperated tacitly, just like when they were children. Lottie looked at them, especially Tom.It was strange to meet this man she had heard so many times.It was strange and frightening to see him under such conditions.They finally did what they could. "Somebody's coming in a minute," said Tom, "and we'll get you out in no time."

"Well... is Lottie there?" "I'm here." "It's nothing serious, is it?" "Nothing at all." Lottie went to the other window of the car.The car door was dented so Lottie could reach in and put her hand in her husband's face.Allen grabbed her hand and held it tightly. "Pluto?" he asked. "Is everything normal?" Tom nodded, "Everything is ready." "very good." Again there was silence.Lottie wept, and her hands conveyed endless affection to her husband.Alan squirmed in his seat and turned his face to Tom.His mouth tried to get words out.

Tom felt a sudden chill.He knew that moment had finally come: the moment when they would have to face the past.Tom hung his head. "What is it? I know everything else. But I don't know what it is." Allen's voice was weak, and he had to stop to catch his breath after every sentence. "What's what?" Tom's suspicious anger returned.His head was thrown back. "What made you leave? We never knew." "You ask me? You ask me now?" Allen's question was a good way to break down Tom's desire to reconcile.Alan pretends he doesn't understand, it's an insult.His hand was originally on Allen's shoulder, but he drew it back, angrily preparing to counterattack.

Allen spoke again: "Come on, that fight...we always fight. I wasn't quite clear-headed. Shell shock. You should understand." His voice was so small it sounded far away, not just eighteen inches away.Tom could hear blood dripping on the grass by the side of the road.Tom's anger subsided.Allen was wounded, probably dying.What's the use of being angry with a dying man? "Not the brawl," he said, "it was the mission that night. You tried to kill me. You recommended me. Those machine guns, please! You know this mission is crazy, deadly crazy. I can't Forgive this."

Tom talked too long.Allen shook his head, trying to interrupt him. "not me." "I know it is you." "Not me. Guy." Tom's head went berserk.Over the years he had imagined a thousand times when they would meet.He never imagined such an answer.Allen is either a sleazy liar or... "A captain named Morgan told me. Lieutenant Montagu. I checked with him a dozen times. He's a regular and wouldn't confuse a major's uniform with a lieutenant's." Tom talked too long again. "Coat. He took my..." Allen's last words were muffled.

"He's wearing your coat? But Guy's hurt. I know it because I... I..." "Shot him." Allen nodded, indicating that he already knew. "Then why is he sitting with the General? That's not like Guy." "The general thinks he's making a fuss... tell him to sit down and shut up." Allen smiled weakly.How stupid.A lifetime of separation because of a foolish mistake of identity. "You...you didn't...God! It's not you? I can't believe it." said Tom blankly.His last words were not true: he believed Allen's words.He believed it long before Alan finished explaining it.It was hard for him to believe that all these years of anger had been meaningless.Tom didn't know whether to cry or laugh, only that he wanted to laugh and cry.

"It wasn't your fault," Allen whispered. Tom shook his head -- in vain, because Alan couldn't see. "It was my fault. I should have known, no matter how many Captain Morgans I ran into." He is telling the truth.For the past thirty years his entire life had revolved around one colossal mistake.Worse than he should have known.His brother couldn't have tried to kill him.Impossible, even with the testimony of two dozen captains from the Military Academy.Tom saw Ellen's love for the first time.Allen's love and his own idiotic self-esteem. Allen shrugged slightly to express his disapproval, "Never mind. It doesn't matter now."

Tom put his hand under the car door and found the blood still dripping.He tightened the tourniquet as tight as he could. "Just hold on, dear," said Lottie. "Here is Tom—your brother—" she stammered out the unfamiliar word—"he's sent half the village to the doctor and cutting equipment. You'll be fine soon." Allen squeezed her hand, "I have you. I'm fine now." Above their heads, the wind howled through the oak trees.Both Tom and Allen thought of the English Channel and the landing fleet that would cross it.The paratroops and glider should have entered France by now and taken the key bridges from the Germans, they just have to hold out until rescue arrives.Right now, when Allen is bleeding and most likely dying, both are thinking about "Pluto."

"Been looking for you," Allen said after a pause, "and then Guy told me you shot... shot and wounded him... don't want to see people who do that... damn fool ...I, I mean. Should have found you anyway...but...but..." "Why did I hurt Guy? My God! Is that why you didn't come to me?" Allen didn't answer, but the pair's twin communication was now running full throttle. "Boy! Am I supposed to be glad I'm not the only one screwing things up? Guy never told you what happened?" Allen shook his head slightly, "His version."

Tom took a deep breath and threw his head back into the night sky, letting the wind blow across his face—the same wind that whipped the waves across the English Channel. "He's a good soldier, Guy," he said. "A top-notch staff officer. That kind of job suits him better. But as an infantryman? At the front?" Long pause.The two stared at each other.Lottie wondered, whatever Tom was going to say, why didn't he finish? Then: "Ah! I'm a goddamn fool," Allen whispers. "What?" said Lottie. "What are you talking about?" Tom looked at her, but it was Ellen who spoke.

"Heavy fighting...lots of gunfire, bullets...terrible." It all came to the surface.He should have known. "Of course he has to hurt him, the only way." "Please? I don't understand." It was Lottie who said this.Although she knew that Allen loved her with all his heart, she saw that the bond between him and Tom was unique and unusual.She tried to catch up with their telepathy. "There was a lot of fighting that day," Tom said. "The field telephones were blown to pieces. Most of the company's correspondents were killed or wounded. Guy was sent to look at the situation and then report to the staff. ...I don't think he's been on the front lines before. During combat." Allen nodded slightly in agreement, and Tom continued. "He was terrified. He was a good staff officer, but as far as guts... well, he never. Never. Not at all. He ran down the line like a frightened rabbit. A full-fledged pilot A British major running away from the enemy. I just came up the trench on the other side. Just around the corner, there's a group of senior officers, Colonel Jimmy, General, and a few others. Colonel Jimmy is a conservative soldier. He'll Shoot the deserter without mercy. Guy will run into him in no time. Anyone can tell Guy is running for his life. He's out of his mind, really scared the shit out of him...I yelled at him to make him Knowing the situation. I pushed him. I probably hit him. I know I swung the gun in his face. It's about the same." "So you wounded him?" Lottie said, feeling a wave of awe at the man standing on the other side of the car. "There was no other option. He probably wouldn't have been considered a deserter if he had been shot in the body. So I shot him. It looked bad, but it wasn't serious. That's what I thought anyway. .I don't know how it worked out. That's all. I ran back to the front, leaving Guy to himself." "You wounded him!" Lottie grew in awe of him.Tom coolly puts himself in a corner: the court-martial will order the firing squad to execute him, all in the name of protecting a man he loathes so much.Lottie didn't know which to admire in him more: his decisiveness, his courage, or his selflessness.This is a great move by a great guy. "Damn fool," Allen whispered, "I'm a goddamn fool." Then he got it too.Knowing that he should never doubt his brother.Yes, Tom was impulsive, aggressive, and a thousand other things.But when he was in crisis, his brave side always won over his small side.Alan failed to understand this, and his punishment was more than a decade of struggle and separation.He should have believed in himself.He should have believed Tom.He sighed deeply. "What a pair of fools," said Tom, "a damned pair of fools." The wind blows through the forest.There was a long silence.There were shouts and lights in the village below. "Why don't they come?" said Tom to himself. He looked up and saw Lottie looking down at the lights too. "If only we could get him out..." she said. Tom nodded.It is possible that rescuers had already obtained cutting equipment but were waiting for an ambulance.If so, they made a fatal mistake.The most important thing is to stop the bleeding.He looked at Lottie, and Lottie was thinking the same thing: that one of them should go to the village to see what was going on. "we should--" "most--" They spoke at the same time, and then both stopped.Tom was about to speak again, but Lottie held up his hand. "You stay," she said, "I'll go." Tom desperately wanted to stay, but he hesitated.This is Alan's wife after all. "No, you stay. I—" "Stop it!" Lottie said so severely that Tom jumped. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I'm not going to do it. I've had Ellen for twenty-two years. Now it's your turn. I think you have a lot of work to make up for." Tom swallowed, meeting her gaze. "Thank you." She took the flashlight Tom handed her, and rushed out into the night.The two brothers who reunited were silent for a long time. Then, Allen said, "Guy." "Guy?" Tom asked, but Allen just nodded.Tom frowned for a moment, and then the old telepathy came back between them. "Guy," said Tom, "is he all right? He's not dead, is he?" "Dead, and an honorable death." "Guy died an honorable death, didn't he?" Tom couldn't help smiling.There was a tinge of irony in the fact that Guy died on the battlefield of the three of them.He wanted to find the anger against Guy that had been burning in his heart for so many years, but the anger was gone.Tom found himself free of any anger; not at Ellen, not at Guy, not at Sir Adam, not at anyone. "I'm glad he finally found his guts." "He wants to make it up. Wants me to tell Dad you're alive." "Guy? Guy wants you to do this?" Allen nodded, "But I didn't. Stupid pig. It's too late now." "Too late? Uncle...he?" "He died. Peacefully. Happy." "I am very depressed." Allen wanted to say something more, but his strength was losing bit by bit.Tom lowered his head and moved closer and closer until he could hear. "Whitcomb," said Alan, "Whitcomb, take care of it." Tom heard it.Or rather, he understood.Sir Adam is dead, Guy is dead, and Alan is probably going to die too, so Alan is asking him to look after Whitcomb Manor, at least until the next generation - Alan's children - are old enough to take over for themselves.One of the largest estates in Hampshire was entrusted to Tom, nearly fifty-one years after the motherless son of a lowly servant had struggled to come into the world.He was suddenly deeply moved.He shook his head. "Lazybones, you damn well take care of it yourself." Another pause.Tom spat quietly.A breeze blew through the forest.Tom put his hand under the car door.Blood still dripping.Allen is still getting weaker and weaker. "brother?" "Ok?" "I'm afraid the tourniquet wasn't tight enough. You're still bleeding." A moment of silence.The two looked at each other. "I can, as long as you can." Allen said. "Worth a try." Allen nodded, "Just pull, don't stop no matter what. I believe in you." "Okay dude, hold on." He put his arms under Allen's shoulders and began to pull them out.Allen's legs were crushed by the huge engine of the Bentley.Tom tugged.Even in the moonlight, he could still see his brother's face pale with pain. "Pull, just pull," Allen said hoarsely. Tom pulled harder and harder for ten seconds or so.Allen didn't make any sound.The pain he suffered must have been indescribable.Tom paused to adjust his posture when there was a slight change.Something twisted in the car, something came loose.Allen turned his head. "We made it," he said, "I think we made it." Tom pulled him again, and this time easily lifted Allen out of the shattered window.He put Allen on the grass. They looked at each other, their faces beaming with joy. Tom tore the shirt into strips and tied them into a tight tourniquet.The bleeding stopped.Allen's injury was no longer fatal.He seemed to be getting better, stronger. They lay side by side under the stars, like they did as babies, like they did as children, like they did when they were young, when they joined the army.Then they laughed.For no reason, they laughed.They put their heads on the buttercups and dandelions on the mound behind them and laughed. "Damn Bentleys," said Tom, "your fault for buying an English car." "None of the Bentley, the tree. It's stupid to plant a tree in there. It's too careless." "You better rest. We have all the time in the world right now." Allen lay back on the grass. "Yes. Yes, my legs hurt like hell." He grinned again, then closed his eyes.Tom put his hand gently on his brother's forehead. The heavy past has vanished.All those years of war, rage, mourning, searching and contesting - all of that is now meaningless.From the village below the mountain came the sound of an engine.Cars and crowds started pouring up the hillside. "Brother?" said Tom. "Ok?" "We're idiots, the two of us. A pair of goddamn idiots." Allen nodded. "Yeah, but we got oil, right? We're oil dummies." ＊＊ Just as they were lying on the grass, listening to the sound of the wind and the sound of cars, a landing fleet had already set sail on the south coast. The troops on those ships would free France first and then Germany from Hitler.All good things in the world depend on their success. After all the mines from the shipwreck had been cleared, an ugly ship some distance behind the main fleet would sail south to Normandy.The ship was an unassuming boat, but her cabin had been modified to carry a special cargo: more than a hundred thousand yards of coiled black pipe, three inches in diameter.The pipe dropped silently into the water from the back of the boat and disappeared.This is "Pluto" - the submarine pipeline - the world's first submarine pipeline, which is definitely a technical masterpiece.In a few hours, a pumping station will start working, pipes will harden, and on a sandy beach in northern France, a soldier or two will be drenched from the first gushes. This is the oil that fueled the landings. This is the oil that won the whole war.