Over The Top

Click. The tape recorder started up.

"It was dirty that's for sure. Rats ran amuck and the smell was horrible. We were always on edge, constantly in fear of 'going over the top.'"

Old man Ed paused and wiped a tear from his eye, staring right across the table at his grandson, who then asked the age-old question.

"What really happened back then Grandad?"

The grey sky hung close to 16-year-old Ed and the other soldiers as they stood, lined up in the trench. Rain poured heavily over the smooth of their helmets, draining into the mud. The French sun hid hazily in the smog-covered sky. THUD THUD THUD, cannons pounded shells through the air, towards the Germans. Ed dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a letter from home.

To my dear Edward,

I was shocked when I heard you had gone to France. Please, I beg you, return home to us. We are all missing you dearly. John's mother is begging for him to return as well. Please come back safe.

From your loving mother,

Anna

"Fix bayonets!" shouted the commander, bringing Ed out of his trance.

The men unanimously attached the blades to the end of their rifles.

Next to Ed, John checked over his gun.

"You ready Ed?" he whispered.

"Hope so."

The silence through the trench was deafening. Men muttered prayers as the noise from the cannons ceased. Nobody moved.

Suddenly, the sound of a piercing whistle echoed through the trench and men began shouting at the top of their lungs, charging up the ladders and over the lip of the trench. John ran with Ed close behind, the mud slopping beneath their feet. Bombs exploded metres away from them as bullets flung helter-skelter through the air like knives. Men went down, left, right and centre, screaming in agony. Ed and John dived behind a mound of dirt as a flurry of bullets zipped through the hazy air from an unseen enemy. Bombs exploded nearby, sending shrapnel spinning through the air. A man was swept off his feet as it struck him. Ed grimaced. From metres away from, them Ed could hear a wounded man call for help. His cries died as another bomb exploded nearby.

"Come on! We can't sit here forever, let's get a move on Ed!" John screamed over the chaos.

Ed poked his head around the corner and saw an enemy machine gunner behind some sandbags, firing at his comrades.

Without warning, John ran out of safety and, in a flash, he was pounded by a whirlwind of bullets. He stood up straight for a moment before coming crashing to the ground. Ed's eyes opened wide. His lifelong friend lay face down in the mud. Out of John's back pocket, he could see something flapping in the breeze. Ed crawled over and picked it up, staying low. It was a letter. "To mother, I hope you are well I look forward to seeing you", was scrawled on the paper. With a cry, Ed snatched it up and charged at the enemy. Up ahead he could see John's murderer taking aim at him. He stopped dead in his tracks and waited for the barrage of bullets that would end him to come. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his leg. He looked down and to his horror, saw that his leg was slashed open, blood mixing into the muddy dirt. He was caught in some barbed wire.

"The pain of it was agonising. I looked up and saw the German machine gunner, staring at me. I swear I heard him click the trigger and I thought I was finished. I think he saw this short brat with no facial hair and thought, hang on, I can't him."

Their eyes locked and the German began waving his hand in the direction of the British trenches.

"Go, run, schnell!" he shouted.

Confused, Ed glanced down, the wire clung to him like an angry snake. Time seemed to hang in the air as the battlefield became silent.

Ed began sawing through the wire with his bayonet, feeling the German's eyes burn into him.

It seemed like a century before he was free. He limped back towards the British line, expecting at any moment to feel the intense heat of a bullet rip through him. Then, out of the blue, a single shot rumbled across the dormant battlefield. Ed spun around just in time to see the German commander's pistol smoking. The machine gunner who had spared his life was slumped over, motionless.

"No sooner had that man been shot, the Jerry commander picked up his rifle and aimed at me. I dived headlong into the trench, and that's where I stayed for many hours, it may have even been days before they found me."

Moonlight flooded into the trench as the patrol officers found Ed curled up in a ball, weeping.

"What is your name son?"

"Ed Aarons, sir," he said, looking up.

"Yes sir, he's on the list," whispered a second man.

"I can't believe you're still alive! Your family is worried sick about you, back in England. You will be sent back immediately! This is an outrage! How did you get recruited? I'm very sorry, very sorry indeed."

Ed stepped off the boat and was greeted by his father with open arms.

"Good to see you son!" he exclaimed, and for once his breath didn't reek of beer. Ed cautiously embraced him.

"Good to see you dad, where's mum?"

Ed's father teared up. "She couldn't handle it, Ed. She passed last week. I'm sorry that you had to find out like this. She couldn't stand the fact that she might have influenced you into joining the army. I'm sorry Ed," he whimpered.

Ed's world seemed to fall apart around him. He fell to the ground, the pain felt worse than the barbed wire. It cut deep into his soul, and he could not escape it.