Shell shock

Chapter 3 home

I listen closely to the sound of the train thrusting across the tracks. The sound puts my mind at ease. Almost at ease as I begin to drift off. My eyes close as my mind goes back to France. My body trapped in England. I'm back. In the trench. An ecstasy of panic floods my heart,as it begins to pick up more speed than a horse at the races. I look around and see no one but thin wooden walls that are slowly becoming mud ridden with time. Silence fills the air with its terrible sound. I stare intently at the wall as my ears begin to ring. Until, I hear a familiar voice.
"Owen? Your back." He struggles to catch his breath, breathing heavily. "From the charge. Where's Tony?"
"He, he did not make it, James." I hold my head down in shame.
"Will, there was nothing you could've done." He attempts to reassure me.
"No James I could've, it should've been me james!" I yell out of desperation.
"Look, Will we need to get a move on, come on." He says whilst walking off.
I continue to look down in shame until I feel a cold hand pull me into the wall which has now fully converted into its previous mud form. I fall into darkness. Drifting as if I were at sea. Floating like a pebble someone had skimmed in and forgotten about.
"William! William! It should've been you!"
I turn in my watery abyss to see a decayed corpse I once called my ally.
"Anthony?" I question.
"It's your fault!" He screams at me. "William! William!"
"Sir, sir, wake up, it's the last stop." Says the conductor gently.
"Oh sorry, which stop is this?" I ask grogally.
"Manchester City sir, the final stop."
"Oh thank you for informing me." I say awkwardly unboring the train.
I'm finally home. But it feels more like a morgue.
I walk to my old childhood home where I'd hope to see my sister and my mother once again. After I heard my father had past in late June of 1916 due to the Spanish flu, I had assumed my home would be a shell of its former self, missing the spark needed to ignite the flame. I approached the house. The door is now covered in a new coat of black paint. In fact most of the house looked new, far from the desolate description I had painted in my mind. I knock on the door and await and answer. The door opened and I see a man I do not recognise.
"You alright?" He asked me.
"Hello, who are you?" I ask back.
"Who are you, mate?" He then asked me.
After a short awkward state of silence, I hear the frantic stomping of feet rushing down stairs.
"Will! Your back!" My sister screams excitedly.
"Grace, it's good to see you." I reply.
"You know this guy?" The man questioned.
"Of course I do Arthur, this is my brother will, he fought in the Great War!" Grace was normally excited about anything, however i still had no idea who this Arthur character was.
"Come William, you must see mother." Grace gestures for me to go upstairs so I comply. As I walk upstairs I marvel at how prestigious the house looks now.
"How have you managed to afford this without father here to pay for it?" I ask Grace.
"Well, I got a job, as a clerk for a bank, it doesn't pay great but Arthur pays for most of the house."
"Grace, who is Arthur?" I question
"Oh we, we got married three years ago." She says
I chuckle to myself, "how did you marry him if he was in the trenches Grace?" I ask with a smile.
"Oh Will, Arthur wasn't in the trenches."
Before she has a chance to say anything else I immediately say.
"What! Why not!" Anger begins to build in my blood."
"I'll answer later, just don't be too loud, mother isn't well." She says while opening mothers bedroom door.
I look into the room to see my mother, bed bound. I go to hold her before Grace stops me.
"You mustn't go near her. She has what father had." She warns me.
"My boy." Mother says slowly. "My boy your back from the Great War, I'm so prou-" she begins coughing.
"Mother, mother you're going to be ok, I promise." As I say that Grace pulls me out of the room tears in her eyes and says.
"At best, mother has three days left."
"Grace, you-"
"Will, I am very serious,"
"I- I" I'm lost for words my mother will be gone soon. Another irreplaceable cog in the machine for me, just a name on a last for others.
"Arthur will make some food, come rest." Grace wants me to rest and the state I'm in now inclines me to do so.
She guided me to the guest room and I dropped to the bed.
"The food will be ready when you wake up, ok." She says whilst leaving.
I stare at the ceiling before closing my eyes, praying she was ok and it was just a dream.
"Owen, we need to move now!" I hear the faint calls of my name yet I do not have the energy to answer it. "Miller, Booker come with us!"
The last cry wakes me, I stand at the foot of the trench. Miller to me left and Turner on my right, my rifle firmly in hand.
"Prepare to charge!" Anthony screams, "charge!"
We rush up the trench hearing the sound of machine gun fire brushing past us.
"Anthony!" I shout whilst I fall into a giant pothole left by artillery.
"Anthony!" I shout again before looking down to see a corpse. I check his dog tag to see 'turner' etched into it.
"No Anthony!" I scream in shock and pain. "Anthony!"
I look down to see my wrist bent backwards like a door hinge.
"Ahhhhh!" I scream before crumbling to the ground.
"James!" In my mind I'm pray for anyone to hear my calls before I see him.
"Will, what- Anthony!" Understandably James rushes to Anthony's side before Booker comes down into the pothole.
"What happened here?" Thomas Booker asks.
"Anthony , Anthony is dead, Sargent." James replies.
"Fuck! Well James this one's ok, I want you to remain here with him until the machine guns quiet down." He commands.
"As you wish sir." He replies.
"Will, will wake up, the food is ready." The sound of Grace's voice wakes me up.
I go down stairs, the memory of my sleep still fresh, almost like I can still hear the disjointed song of war on repeat in my mind.
"Will, I've made you some canned vegetables and bread, almost like your back in the war eh." He says with a smirk.
"Do you even know what it's like to be at war?" I say calmly but with a deep tone.
"Ha, not really pal, I didn't fight." He says with the same smug smirk.
"Then I wouldn't act like it's a joke." I try to remain calm for Grace but I'm not sure I can.
Grace chimes in with "Arthur, we need to respect the troops, the ones that fought for our freedom."
"Well it doesn't look like he did much, he's got a 'cast' on how did you even manage that?"
I grip Arthur by his blazer and shove him to the wall.
"Did you receive a white feather at home? Because you should've, you coward!" I raise my voice but then immediately let go.
"Yeh that's what I thought. But no I didn't, because I paid to not fight and wore a cast on my leg to avoid the trenches." He says remaining smug.
"So you admit you are a coward?" I ask
"No, I admit I had to look after my business in the factory to help my country!" He shouts, until he notices a look of disapproval from Grace "look Will, I did my part in the war and you did yours, I'm sorry for poking fun at the war, it's over now."
"It's not over though, not for me." I say looking down.
"Will, Arthur said he is going to get you a job at his factory. And you can live with us until you're on your feet again." Grace says as calm as ever.
"Thanks Grace, I appreciate this."
"Your first shift is tomorrow, you will leave when I leave." Arthur sticks his hand out in order to make peace, after an awkward pause I reluctantly agree and shake it. "You will work on the floor, but if you work hard enough you can climb the ranks, it won't be hard as most of my employees are women or these inexperienced soldiers like yourself, except you will have my mentorship."
"Thanks Arthur." I sit down to eat, as I eat this rations I can't help but remember when I sat down to eat with my comrades, those times of peace are the only good memories I have now, except they're still corrupted by the immediate and sporadic gun fire or artillery that would follow.
Chapter 4 labour