James sits in the dug-out, mulling over a cup of tea that is flavoured with the most foul ingredients and water imaginable, but still feels like heaven in hell. A rat scurries by his feet, but he can’t catch him, and he’s not bothered to any more. He is reading a letter over and over again, gripping on to the only piece of sanity he has left.
He can imagine Blighty in his head, the lights of London, and Rose, standing on the train platform, waving goodbye, more beautiful that any princess, dressed in a dark gray coat. Those green eyes almost shine from the worn paper and the sharp black ink words, and he reads along, the same line, again and again, imagining Rose’s soft, lilting voice reading with him.
Bobby’s in heaven now and God must have had a reason.
Bobby’s in heaven now and God must have had a reason.
Bobby’s in heaven now and God must have had a reason.
Bobby’s in heaven now and God must-
“You all right, mate?” A familiar voice says, growing closer. A young lad his age with ash-coloured hair comes in, grinning.
“Jack? Is that really you?” James asks in wonder, watching his best friend draw up a stool.
“Alive and breathing.” James draws Jack into a hug, slapping him on the back.
“What are you doing here? Last time I heard you were down near Verdun.”
“Got transferred a week ago. Heard a couple of chaps talking about you, came to find you in a sorry state.” He leans against the makeshift wall, watching James.
“It’s nothing, Jack.” He mutters quickly, folding a letter away into his pocket just over his chest.
“Letter from Rose?”
“Yeah.”
“James, I saw almost my entire battalion die a week ago. I know what you’re thinking. It’s not your fault, mate.” And then James can see the darkness in Jack’s eyes, and he knows he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t know exactly how Jack saw his friends, his comrades, fall right in front of him, but every soldier understands each other.
Every soldier knows what it’s like to live in hell.
Later in the evening, shells start to fall, and Jack and James, once partners in crime at their primary school, become dirty, desperate soldiers, gripping hands and waiting for dawn to come.
YOU ARE READING
«letters to the somme»
General Fictiona patchwork of letters and telegrams and shorts telling the story of a girl and a boy who are caught in the crossfire of the first world war. all through the heartache and the pain and the blood comes a gleam of hope, of peace. commemorating the ce...
