Wildflowers In The Ruins: A 1917 Story

Chapter Eleven. Meadowsweet

Saturday April 7th, 1917:

No-one appeared to be traveling forward, they all stood stationary.
Then I heard it.
"...attack called off!"
Not quite believing it, I spun around to locate who'd uttered those three remarkable words, those three words that changed my life and those of one thousand, six hundred men, but I couldn't see. A mass of khaki, steel helmets and silver polished bayonets, standing to attention like lethal blades of grass, crowded from every direction.

Feeling relief like a colossal tidal wave wash over me, my very being suddenly felt exhausted yet euphoric!
Will had got here!
He'd done it!
Not for the first or second wave, but...
he'd reached Coronel Mackenzie.
It meant my darling, my dearest William, was out here somewhere.

Straining my ears to decipher specific sentences picked out of the general carcophany of noise proved nigh on impossible but, persisting, I ventured further along the trench, attempting to tune my ears in:
"...Coronel Mackenzie is withholding our troops."
"...B. Company's gone over but we're safe for now..."
"...apparently it was a trap..."
Now it seemed each and every one of them had something to say.

Swaying on my heels as I urged forward yet still processing this incredible information, I knocked clean into a soldier: " oi, watch it mate!," he scowled. Then, realising I was I nurse, changed his tune, " Sorry, sweetheart."
Unfortunately this had now attracted attention. Several turned to stare at me as all the while I pursued forward:
"...'ere, nurses shouldn't be down in 'ere."
"Men only!"
"She's down here for ONE reason, lads!"
That one grabbed my kit bag, but soon freed his grip amongst the catcalling of his pals.

Then the requests for medical attention began, but they were minor compared to what I'd witnessed yesterday... Small cuts, bruises and bizarrely, a shortage of cigarettes. My only goal was to locate Will now.

Thankfully the trench had began to open up wider the further I pursued. Concerned I really wasn't permitted down here, I surreptitiously pulled my helmet further down slightly over my face. I had no Sergeant Campbell to hide behind this time or speak for me in his booming command.
Summoning all of my courage, as loudly as I could muster I repeated to anyone addressing me:
"Very sorry, urgent mission. There will be make orderlies along presently."

Remembering the time on Elsie's dainty silver pocketwatch stood at 6.18 when I departed, I needed to check now. A watch was one of the many things a V.A.D. nurse wasn't issued with, like the fully-trained ones, so I'd become reliant on others, which was something I'd had to become accustomed to out here. My eyes darting around, they settled on a Private loading his rifle whilst timing it avidly on his stopwatch. His companion gazed down at his left wrist, the beige leather strap complimenting his dark skin. He had a look of the Caribbean about him and I wondered how he'd come to be here from such a land of paradise I'd heard of.
"Sorry to interrupt," I stepped in, waiting for a break in their exercise,"what time is it please?"
The one with the stopwatch laughed,"time y'need a watch, love."
"Two minutes to seven," his friend told me helpfully.
Feeling the desperate need to know exactly what had happened, their friendly banter spurned me on:
"Is it true the attack's been called off?"
Stopwatch spoke cheerfully, "Yeah, dunno' how long for, but we'd been diggin' 'till four this mornin'. We're in the third wave anyway, 'int that right 'erbert?"
Herbert, the one who'd given me the time, grinned me a beautiful row of pearly white teeth.
"Fair lady," he smiled, before continuing in a lively Jamaican accent "today just get better by da minute. You bring me sunshine."
Not quite knowing how to react to his declaration, and feeling he spoke to most women like that, yet secretly slightly flattered, I asked: " please could you tell me whom I need to speak to... um, who would've called the attack off?"
Shrugging, Private Stopwatch pointed further into the trench.
"I reckon you'll need the Lieutenant for that, miss. Y'can't miss 'im. Lieutenant Hutton."
"Thanks boys," I nodded, "best of luck with your loading practice," I added, referring to their stopwatch and rifles.