In The Line Of Sight

The Truth In War

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. - Winston Churchill.

I have just arrived in the heart of England, London. I take three steps out of the tattered train station soaking in my surroundings like a sponge. Where houses once stood there was now only rubble. People talked in hushed tones and always moved in very fast paces. There were wardens littering the streets around me helping anyone they could. Smoke bellowed from a fresh target as the wardens hosed down the dying flames. The roads were dead, silent as the grave. I walked down the littered streets like a man with a purpose. Four men clutching a stretcher walked past me. I only had a moment to glance at the poor little girl crying in pain. So this was what war was like.

I crossed onto St Bernard’s Street and made my way towards a grocery store to ask for directions. One could spot the long queues from a mile off. Tens of people were lining up in the dying light of the day to cash in their ration tickets for food. I joined at the back, hoping to find a quick meal before darkness. Alas god had other plans for me as the deafening sound of an air raid bell went off, stimulating complete panic. I stood in frozen shock as the women began clutching their children and running to a near underground entrance. A young warden shook me to my senses screaming at me to take cover underground.

It was pure instinct and nerves that caused me to dive for cover as the explosion of a bomb propelled me forward. My clothes in tatters I managed to crawl into the underground opening. A bulky warden dragged me to safety as another explosion shook the earth surrounding us. I sat beside a young woman who was shaking uncontrollably and began to check if I had all my body in one piece.

My surroundings begin to sink in. It is a sad thought that children have to be a part of such a gruesome affair. Biting my lip I lean back and prepare to wait the raid out.

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Silence choked my muffled steps as I crept my way through the deserted streets, wandering like a man on a mission. The faded dirty banner of a recruitment centre caught my attention in the distance almost making me smile. The time had come for me to prove my worth and to avenge the fallen.

The man behind the desk looked shabby and battle torn in his pristine uniform. He greeted me with a stern smile while sizing me up. “I am here to join the army sir” I said quite blankly. The man’s smile progressed into a grin as he gave me some paperwork to fill in. He then explained how I must be examined in order to see if I am fit to fight.

As a farmer my physical physique was substantial. I do not suffer from any medical problems either so I expected to pass my tests with flying colours. I sat in a waiting room that smelled oddly of disinfectant. Everything was white, including the chairs. I tried to engage my mind with details of the other youths that sat around the room. One looked skinnier than a stick with wide white eyes and a long frame. I wondered if he would pass the scrutiny of the examiners. He was called before me into a room marked with the name Dr Skinner. After several painful minuets the man re-emerged with a flustered expression. He had failed.

I heard my name being called out by a croaky voice, making me stand and head towards the white door. Inside the room was a man with small round spectacles and a pointy nose. He had a moustache that looked as if it was swallowing his mouth whole. He measured by chest size and checked my teeth, nodding contently on both occasions. He then sifted through some paperwork raising his eyebrow to one of the sheets. “So Mr Adder, no family?” he puzzled me with his stern face. “No” I croaked through my guarded expression. After having tested my eyes, taken down my weight and height the doctor looked satisfied. His cheeks rippled into a forced smile smothered by his moustache, “Welcome to the army Private!”

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