My Name Is Naomi

Chapter Twelve

I really really didn't want to write today, to be honest. But I promised...so here you go Wattpadders! I stayed up late into the night getting this done for you so I hope you read it and enjoy it and you know, you could always tap that little button in to corner of your screen to vote on it as well *wink wink*

1918

Second Battle of the Somme, France

David paced the narrow spaces of the trenches, waiting anxiously for the return of his friend. They would be back soon, right? No one could make it out there by himself near the German lines. David, clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously. He had barely made it back behind the safety of the trenches without getting his head blown off himself and he hadn't even been near the front lines. The silence was deafening. There weren't any guns being fired and none of the tanks were grinding their way through no man's land. It was an eerie silence, and it made David feel uncomfortable.

Suddenly, shouts erupted up around him.

"Out of the way! Move, we have injured men!" They shouted.

David hurried up and out of the trench and over to one of the trucks. It would be his job to get the injured men back to camp were the nurses and doctors would care for them. He would have to think about Jeremiah another time. After they loaded the last man into the truck, they snapped the side up, closing the doors. The soldier slapped David's truck, "Be careful out there. You have injured men lying in the back that are defenseless."

"I will." David promised, starting the engine. It rumbled to life, breaking down the unbearable silence that was weighing on him.

He couldn't have been more happy to get off the battle field and back to camp. He had a safe ride back without any unexpected explosions or sightings of Germans hiding in the woods. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally parked the truck near the camp. Almost immediately, that breath was sucked out of him.

One of the men they were unloading out of the back was Jeremiah. He had a thick bandage around his head that didn't seem to be doing much to stop the bleeding. He hurried up to his friend, walking beside him as they carried him to the hospital tent. He clasped Jeremiah's hand, "Jeremiah, you're going to be okay."

He hated how unsure his voice sounded.  Jeremiah smiled at him, but there was only a dazed look in his eye. David joined his friend in the tent as they placed Jeremiah on a cot, readjusting him to make him comfortable. David hovered over him, making sure he was still breathing.

Jeremiah clasped his hand, "Don't...don't you have..w-work to do?"

"Not at the moment." David replied. "What happened out there buddy?"

Jeremiah fingered the bandage, "There was...it was a g-grenade. Hit my head on a r-rock. It's bad..."

David pulled his hand away from his head, "Don't touch it. Let it heal. You'll be better soon."

"David, tell...tell your daughter about her Uncle J-Jeremiah, alright? T-tell her-"

"Hush. Don't talk like that." David said stiffly. "You're going to live!"

Jeremiah's eyes rolled over slowly to look at David, "Fight for me. Don't l-let my death mean nothing."

David choked back against the sob in his throat. He didn't argue with his friend. He forced a nod, squeezing his fingers. Slowly, Jeremiah's hand became limp in his grip.

Copyright © 2017 by Rosanna Parker

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