The Echo Of Youth

Chapter Forty Three

NOV 24th 1916
FRANCE: Day 238

Dear Art and all back home,
We all made it back to the trenches in the early days of October. All 7 of us are back defending our country, we're back reciting poetry and we're all back believing that maybe we'll actually make it out of here alive.

Dogger started taking a tally back when we first landed on Gallipoli of how many cigarette packets we go through. Mum, you won't be impressed and it is far from interesting information but since April 25th 1915 we've gone through 437 packets of cigarettes, including the ones that were lost and or blown up. Dogger is trying to prove a point; he reckons that every cigarette takes a day off your life and that apparently tobacco causes cancer. Spud does have a terrible cough, he's been smoking since he was 12 and has the most croaky voice Mum. He needs as much of your honey and lemon tea as we can give him.

I'll tell you something Art, the French are surprisingly good at cricket. They can hit the ball just as well as us Aussies can and we even got a few bowling some serious pace. We were all dancing around a French town claiming we'd finally been picked to play test cricket for Australia. I mean, we aren't technically lying.

It's been a tough few months out here but we're keeping our spirits high. I hear Alice has been taking dance classes. I can't wait to be her dance partner and twirl her around the Kununurra Hall. We all know how much Western Australian boys love to dance.

Hope all is well with you too Dad. I am missing you all immensely but don't worry, it'll all be over very soon.

All my love,
Your dearest and most infuriating,
Clancy.
-

"Morning Gents." Spud chirps making my eyes flutter open. I yawn, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Spud what's the time?" I ask realising it's still dark.

Spud looks down at his wrist, "About 4:34, now get up, Serg wants us out at the post by 4:50."

I hang my head and get to my feet, "Let me make myself a cuppa and we'll head off."

"Does he want me to go as well?" Dogger asks groggily.

"You can come if you want to." Spud shrugs.

"Righto," Dogger chuckles, securing his hat on his head.

I stir the tea leaves around in the lukewarm water we kept in the thermos from the night before. With no sugar and no fire, the tea was far from pleasant. I take a sip, dry reach before depositing the tea over the top of the trench.

"No good?" Tom laughs.

"Not good at all." I reply as the other boys laugh.

So we make our way down into a valley, not far from where the Germans had positioned themselves only a few days before. We find our selves above the German trench even though we descended from our trench.

"Well, here we go, Spud what are we supposed to be doing?" Blue questions, loading his rifle.

"Not really sure, Serg said he'd be up here in a couple of minutes. He shouldn't be too far away." Spud coughs. He had been crook for a couple of days, coughing his lungs up for a good part of the night before eventually becoming exhausted and falling into a deep slumber. Dogger is adamant it's the cigarettes but Spud tells him to "shut his gob or he'll shut it for him."

Quote-un-quote.

"We oughta do something about that cough of yours mate, or we'll lose you." Tom says, the tall red headed Scotsman, lowers himself to the ground. He lays his head back, positions his coat over his body like a blanket and pulls his hat over his eyes.

"You can't get rid of me that easy." Spud rasps.

Tom shrugs, "I'm knackered, wake me up if anything exciting happens and Clancy leave the brandy alone."

Dogger throws his hands in the air, before slapping his thighs, appalled at Tom's laziness.

"C'mon now Dog, cut him some slack." Blue sighs, "he's had a big couple of days."

"Yeah he was out in the snow yesterday-

"I know what he was doing Ned, thanks." Dogger cuts him off before pulling on his gloves.

"Speaking of snow, reckon we'll have a white Christmas?" Pete asks chirpily.

"Dunno," I reply, "imagine if you were home for Christmas!"

"Back in the Kununurra sand rather than the French slush, fair dinkum, I long for that." Tom chimes in from his spot on the ground.

I smile and join Tom on the ground. The 7 of us sit for hours on that mountain side, surviving the cold and battling the wind. Not one of us want to admit how chilling the wind is, so we just tighten our coats and keep very still in the hope our body heat would continue to keep our organs working.

"Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, That does not bite so nigh, As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp, As a friend remembered not. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly." I recite, huddling in a ball, beneath a tree.

"William Shakespeare, i know that literature anywhere." Pete says.

"Try living with him reciting that ." Ned states, I punch arm.

"That was a good one Clan," Dogger nods slowly.

"Why don't you write your own stuff?" Spud questions.

I prop myself up on my elbows, "I dunno, it's just not something I've thought about. I used to as a younger but since coming here I've stopped."

"Well I hope you tell our stories. Imagine the people 100 years from now reading about us sitting here in the cold." Pete laughs, it was a hard thought to comprehend.

"They would've forgotten about us mate." Dogger says.

"You never know," Ned mutters, "You never know."