Soldier's Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

get a free ticket for his father and together with Hugh they sat in the centre of the main stand.
    The crowd buzzed with excitement. Hopes were high that season for winning the league. McCartney had fielded the strongest squad in years – evident from the first whistle. In minutes, forward Tom Gracie just missed going one up on a superb cross from winger Harry Wattie. Jack watched in wonder, trying to imagine how he could ever hope to play football in such company.
    Hugh shook his head in dismay as if reading Jack’s mind.
    Tom Jordan laughed.
    “Come on boys. Have some confidence.”
    Just before half-time Wattie drove in the first goal. The crowd jumped to its feet with a roar. A minute later the whistle blew and Jack went in search of three hot pies.
    Below the stand he passed a table of women taking a collection for soldiers in Europe. Eleven days before, the German army had invaded Belgium, and Britain had declared war. Jack found a kiosk and queued for the pies. Returning to his seat he lingered a moment passing the table in order to read the poster: “Duty Calls! Give to the Prince of Wales Relief Fund”.
    One of the women called out, “Young man! What are you doing here?”
    Jack turned to see if she was addressing someone else – a plump elderly lady in a starched white blouse, her white hair pulled back in a tight bun.
    “No. I mean you with the pies. Why are you here today?”
    Jack shrugged.
    “To watch football.”
    “Yes. I can see that,” she replied. “And do you think this a worthwhile thing to do?”
    A few of the ladies at the table looked away in mirth but the old woman was stern and unsmiling.Others in the passing crowd paused to listen. Jack was unsure how to reply.
    “I don’t…” But she cut him off.
    “Do you know there may be British soldiers dying as we speak? You should be occupying yourself with more serious matters than watching football. There is a greater game and it can be found on the fields of Belgium and France.”
    Jack turned and hurried away.
    “Wait,” she called. “I’m not finished…”
    ***
    Tom sensed Jack’s agitation when he returned with the pies.
    “Something wrong?” he asked.
    “No,” Jack replied.
    But he had been shaken by the old woman’s words. Similar statements had been published in the newspapers – even calls to postpone the football season. The Scottish Football Association had resisted. A swift end to the war was expected and the SFA felt such a move would only add to public panic. Jack had not thought of this as being his war. After all, he was only just out of school.
    Later that afternoon the trio shoved their way into Diggers along with over a hundred other fans crowding the pub in celebration of Hearts two-nil victory over Celtic. Gracie had scored the second goal from a long drive from outside the box. Beer sloshed from their pint glasses into the damp sawdust with barely elbowroom to take a sip. The air was hot and fumed with sweat.
    Tom Jordan shouted over the noise, “Looks like this could be Hearts’ year – barring any disaster.”
    But Jack was distracted. He could still hear the woman’s voice in his head – more serious matters, soldiers dying as we speak.
    “What about the war?” he asked.
    “War?” said Tom. “No need to worry about that now that Britain’s shown the Kaiser we won’t be pushed around. The politicians’ll sort it out.”
    “Newspapers are already talking about conscription,” said Hugh.
    Tom shook his head. “It’ll never happen. I wager our troops will be back home well before Christmas.”
    But Jack wasn’t convinced.
    ***
    Over the next weeks Jack carried on with his busy life – working days as a trainee clerk at the North British Rubber Company and then rushing off in the evenings for training at Gorgie Road. But almost everywhere he went a whiskered Lord Kitchener pointed out at him from leaflets and posters declaring:
    BRITONS
    YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS
    YOU
    Newspapers with bold headlines