5 Months on the Western Front

Chapter 5

A full five months since I left home, that I've spent out on the Western Front. At first, it wasn't too bad; I had my four newest friends, who over time grew to be more like brothers as we struggled through our time in the trenches. But from then, it only grew worse.

First, we lost Stephen, a collapse in the tunnels after too much heavy rain and a foolish tactic that we had no choice but to repeat. His brother was left behind, hardly eating and speaking only to me. We were all so young, to begin with it had seemed like such an adventure, a whole new chapter in our lifetime just waiting for us to explore. It hadn't taken long for it to become a nightmare.

It was only two weeks later that it got so much worse. A wave of gas attacks had plagued our trenches, flying across No-Man's-Land in shells at any point in the night, whenever it could best take us by surprise. It did, left us fumbling in the dark as we desperately searched for our gas masks amid the haze of explosions and smog filled air. No one said a word, rushing this way and that in fear as it grew worse. Mine had been leant against the wall beside where I had been falling asleep, so it took only a few seconds to pull it on, sitting down and wrapping my arms around my knees.

I was terrified, watching men rush past as the air grew blurred around us. He came stumbling out of the poisonous fog, reaching towards me, his eyes wide in terror and pain. Michael had tears streaming down his face, choking on his own breath as his lungs flooded with the horrors of mustard gas. I was frozen, curled round myself and unable to do anything as he fell forwards, clutching at his throat as he writhed in the mud. He was dying right before my eyes, and I did nothing to help him. Michael looked me right in the eye, his gas mask clutched so tightly in his hand his knuckles were white, but he had just been too late. His brown eyes were wide in fear, he knew then he was beyond help. Two days later, he was removed from the Front line, stumbling and weak, a bandage wrapped tightly around his ruined eyes.

I woke with the image burned into my mind, breathing heavily with a thin sheen of sweat on my skin. George was sat before me, a weak smile on his face that reminded me so much of his brother.

"Good morning." He whispered, "You were shaking." It had become so rare for him to speak to anyone other than me that, for a moment, I was taken aback. I shook my head briefly, I had no intention of telling him of the image that still swam before my eyes.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, yawning slightly and rubbing my face.

"About five I think." Another, more brash voice answered me, and a moment later Eric's face appeared in front of mine, "The Captain got a call from General Haig, it's today."

"What is? What's so special about the 11th November? Not your birthday, is it?" I murmured, sitting up a little straighter and looking at the two dark haired boys sat in front of me. It vaguely occurred to me how pale they looked, but I thought nothing of it, we were all weak and hungry.

"Final Push." Eric said quietly, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with a weak smile, "They reckon it'll be the last one we need. November 11th, Mons, in lovely Belgium. All the rumours say this'll be over any day now. Anyway, it's in half an hour. We thought we'd let you rest a little more."

That was how I found myself, exactly twenty-five minutes later, standing in the trench, looking at the sandbags of the makeshift wall in front of me. A ladder was leant against it, waiting for us. My heart was out of control, my palms sweaty and I could feel the blood flow in my head threatening to burst its way out. I had been afraid before; when my father and brother had proudly announced that they were leaving, when I began the long, lonely journey towards the godforsaken place I had called home for months, when the tunnels collapsed beneath us, when the air filled with poison around us. I had been afraid then. But it was nothing like this. Pure terror was consuming me, in just a few short minutes I would be forced to leave the vague safety of this hole in the ground and go charging into an open space, ready to fight against loaded guns.