into a bog that sucked everything into it. His feet were constantly
wet and bitterly cold. But today, the 10th of July, was different: the sun was up, the sky was blue and some of the ruts in the ground were beginning to crust over. He hoped it wasn’t an omen
that things were going to go badly; it had been like this on the first day of the Somme offensive and that had been a disastrous day.
Not used to the warm, humid atmosphere, Albert ran his finger around his collar to allow the air to circulate. As he did so, he noticed one or two of the boys fanning themselves. Some of them
he’d never seen before, as the faces around him changed daily and diminished in number. Frightened boys, too young to be here, came and died. He shuddered to think how many faces he’d
helped to cover with the death-wrap and had shoved dirt on, in the mass graves. But worse than that were the injured. He always helped to move them to the clearing stations, and sometimes, if he
could get permission, helped those that he knew would die get to the hospital, so that he could be with them when they took their last breath. Promising impossible things to them, then helping to
bury them.
Why? Why, in the course of the Earth’s history, were they the chosen ones to do this job? Through lack of food and being eaten alive by lice and rats, they were like corpses themselves;
they were not up to the job. But he would not show that.
Looking along the line of kids he would have to shove over to their almost certain death, he caught the eye of young Jimmy O’Flynn. Jimmy had only joined them this week, but already he had
found a place in Albert’s heart. A bright kid, he’d shown intelligence in the way he picked up new skills quickly, and his cheeky manner made for a bit of light-hearted banter. But that
was slowly diminishing, as the reality of war took hold. After trudging for nearly one hundred miles, Jimmy and his pals had arrived exhausted. One battle – their first – had halved
their number. That was a lot for a kid to take.
On his first trip up the ladder to the top of the trench and over into no-man’s-land, Jimmy had turned, just before disappearing, and had given a wink, saying, ‘I’ll show
them.’ The lad had come here with spirit in his belly, wanting to avenge the deaths of his brothers. His spirit was now in his socks. At this moment it seemed to have deserted him altogether,
as his huge eyes stared out of sunken sockets. Eyes that held despair.
All Albert could do was nod at Jimmy in a fatherly way, as no words would be heard over the barrage of explosions that made your ears sing and hurt your throat; not that he knew how a father
would react in any given situation. He’d been brought up in an orphanage – a prison for children whom no one loved. Shaking this thought from him, he hooked on to the hope they all had
for this attack.
The strategy had been to bombard the enemy line, and hope to make a hole in the Germans’ barbed-wire defences and take out some of their powerful guns, leaving the way clear for a final
assault that should result in wiping out the Germans and bring a swift end to the war, or at least create a defining moment towards that goal.
Forgetting Jimmy and the rest of the lads for a moment, Albert allowed himself to think of Edith. He couldn’t believe that he would ever meet someone like her. She was well above his
station in life and very beautiful, in a calm sort of a way, with a loveliness that shone from her. No, that was too soppy a way to describe her, as she had guts and a determination that he
hadn’t come across in many men, let alone in a woman.
To think, though, that there was a chance she returned his feelings! It was an impossible thought, but when he’d been at the hospital with a badly injured lad a couple of days ago,
they’d had a moment together. He’d used every ounce of his courage and told her, ‘I ’ope I’m not speaking out of turn, as I wouldn’t want to
wet and bitterly cold. But today, the 10th of July, was different: the sun was up, the sky was blue and some of the ruts in the ground were beginning to crust over. He hoped it wasn’t an omen
that things were going to go badly; it had been like this on the first day of the Somme offensive and that had been a disastrous day.
Not used to the warm, humid atmosphere, Albert ran his finger around his collar to allow the air to circulate. As he did so, he noticed one or two of the boys fanning themselves. Some of them
he’d never seen before, as the faces around him changed daily and diminished in number. Frightened boys, too young to be here, came and died. He shuddered to think how many faces he’d
helped to cover with the death-wrap and had shoved dirt on, in the mass graves. But worse than that were the injured. He always helped to move them to the clearing stations, and sometimes, if he
could get permission, helped those that he knew would die get to the hospital, so that he could be with them when they took their last breath. Promising impossible things to them, then helping to
bury them.
Why? Why, in the course of the Earth’s history, were they the chosen ones to do this job? Through lack of food and being eaten alive by lice and rats, they were like corpses themselves;
they were not up to the job. But he would not show that.
Looking along the line of kids he would have to shove over to their almost certain death, he caught the eye of young Jimmy O’Flynn. Jimmy had only joined them this week, but already he had
found a place in Albert’s heart. A bright kid, he’d shown intelligence in the way he picked up new skills quickly, and his cheeky manner made for a bit of light-hearted banter. But that
was slowly diminishing, as the reality of war took hold. After trudging for nearly one hundred miles, Jimmy and his pals had arrived exhausted. One battle – their first – had halved
their number. That was a lot for a kid to take.
On his first trip up the ladder to the top of the trench and over into no-man’s-land, Jimmy had turned, just before disappearing, and had given a wink, saying, ‘I’ll show
them.’ The lad had come here with spirit in his belly, wanting to avenge the deaths of his brothers. His spirit was now in his socks. At this moment it seemed to have deserted him altogether,
as his huge eyes stared out of sunken sockets. Eyes that held despair.
All Albert could do was nod at Jimmy in a fatherly way, as no words would be heard over the barrage of explosions that made your ears sing and hurt your throat; not that he knew how a father
would react in any given situation. He’d been brought up in an orphanage – a prison for children whom no one loved. Shaking this thought from him, he hooked on to the hope they all had
for this attack.
The strategy had been to bombard the enemy line, and hope to make a hole in the Germans’ barbed-wire defences and take out some of their powerful guns, leaving the way clear for a final
assault that should result in wiping out the Germans and bring a swift end to the war, or at least create a defining moment towards that goal.
Forgetting Jimmy and the rest of the lads for a moment, Albert allowed himself to think of Edith. He couldn’t believe that he would ever meet someone like her. She was well above his
station in life and very beautiful, in a calm sort of a way, with a loveliness that shone from her. No, that was too soppy a way to describe her, as she had guts and a determination that he
hadn’t come across in many men, let alone in a woman.
To think, though, that there was a chance she returned his feelings! It was an impossible thought, but when he’d been at the hospital with a badly injured lad a couple of days ago,
they’d had a moment together. He’d used every ounce of his courage and told her, ‘I ’ope I’m not speaking out of turn, as I wouldn’t want to
Similar Books
