NOV 30th 1917
FRANCE: Day 578
Sergeant Williams stands tall as he emerges from his dugout, well rested and well fed.
"Good morning Gentlemen," he sighs as the winter wind sends chills down our arms.
"It's just gone afternoon Sir," Pete says through chatting teeth.
"Oh, well good afternoon," he coughs, "anyway, I have some new for you all."
Our ears prick up, we haven't had news for months. Apart from hearing how many casualties Australia suffered during Passchendaele.
"You lads have a weeks leave, none of you have had any since April of 1916, the army lost your records and you're owed a weeks leave." Sergeant Williams informs.
We're all quiet for a moment, registering what he just said. The rest we could get in a week, the food we could eat, the experiences we could have in a whole 7 days.
"A week?" Spud clarifies.
"Yes a week Private Palmer."
"What are we going to do in a week? We've never been to France, we don't know anyone." Dogger says.
"Make yourself acquainted with the country Private Lawson, every Australian is your mate, don't forget that, so you're not alone, and you have these boys with you." Sergeant Williams explains.
Dogger shakes his head as he pulls on his coat. Ned, Tom and I grin, excitement spreads across our faces.
Pete and Spud have already secured their hats on their heads, we are ready to get out of the hell we call the trenches.
"Let's go boys, c'mon I'm sick of it." Blue chants.
"No, Boys, we cant just leave." Dogger's voice hoults our movement.
"Dogger, what's going on mate? We have the opportunity to rest, to have a good feed and Clancy still has his tools, c'mon footy and cricket with the French is always fun." Ned shrugs persuasively.
Dogger growls, "you boys just don't get it. I can't just walk away from a job that needs doing."
"Seven blokes can't change the course of the war mate." Pete says.
"How do you know?" Dogger retaliates.
"Because no one can even change their socks when they're this tired, let alone the world." Spud says.
Dogger lets out a heavy breath, "find but 5 days, not 7."
We glare at him.
"Fine 7 but you blokes owe me." He sighs and we all cheer.
•••
France is very different to anywhere else I've ever been. The smells that waft through the air remind you of a country bakery and the endless fields of green and red captivates you, it's truly magnificent.
I kick the footy back to Ned who stands about 20 yards behind me, as I walk backwards down a cobblestone path. The boys walk beside me and laugh when Dogger and Ned launch into the air in attempt to mark it.
"Clancy remember that day we got the footy caught in the windmill blades?" Tom asks, gnawing on a bread roll.
"Uh, vaguely mate." I reply, markings the footy off the foot of my brother.
"We pushed Arthur, Ned and Clancy's little brother, up to the top. He's bawling but we made him grab it or we were going to make him sit in the entrance hall of the institute for the night with the dead rat." Tom laughs heartily.
"C'mon Tom, it was cruel." Ned says. "The blades were spinning."
"It was funny though, I'm not gonna lie." I chuckle as do our mates.
"How old would Art be now?" Tom asks.
I look at Ned for clarification, "18?" Ned replies.
"1899," I pause and gasp under my breath, "our little brother is 18 years old."
The footy drops in front of me, Ned's eyes fall to the dirt lodged in the cracks in the lane. Then he looks up at me with a slight smile on his lips, his eyes look heavy, like any second he would burst into tears.
"Our brothers not so little anymore Clan." He says softly.
"Yeah mate." I return the smile.
"Shit boys you'll have him here tomorrow, if you're not careful." Spud chimes in.
My heart skinks, I don't think anyone has ever moved as fast as Ned and I did.
We bolt down into the road, racing towards the CCS as fast as humanly possible.
We burst through the door of the telegram room, panting and gasping for breath.
"Boys, take it easy." The man behind the desk orders in shock.
"Sorry but we need to send an urgent telegram back to Australia." Ned informs.
"Sorry boys, unless you're registering a death I can't do anything." The man says.
"Please, it's urgent." I tell him. "Our little brother can not see this."
"Look, I've had three blokes come in before you and tell me that they're stopping their brothers from enlisting. The censor reads these telegrams, word like this is actually against the law. You boys have been on the front line, we lose boys every day, we need people like your brother so we have an army to fight with." The man seems to have an anger brewing in his voice. We stare at him in disbelief.
"Clancy, Ned, I knew it was you!" Elsie's voice shocks us back, she throws her arms around us and hauls is outside.
"I missed you so much." She kisses my cheek with a smile. "Who's the telegram for?"
"Art can't enlist Elsie, not in this war, not ever, I can't let that boy see the things we've seen." I breathe, on the verge of tears.
Why do tears come so easily?
Why do I cry so often?
How do I have tears left to cry?
Elsie's face falls, "Arthur's not going to enlist boys. Not in this war, not ever. I had to send Charlie home, back to Kununurra with one leg and one hand. He promised me that he wouldn't let another Kununurra boy step on war torn shores. Arthur's not coming boys, not after he sees how mangled and how heartbroken Charlie is."
"Charlie's gone home?" Tom gasps.
"Yeah, big fullback Charlie O'Dwyer has no left leg and no right hand, so we loaded him on the first boat back to Australia." Elsie sniffs and I pull her into my chest. "What's happened to this world Clancy?"
"I dunno Els, I just don't know."
YOU ARE READING
The Echo Of Youth
Historical Fiction"I didn't realise that I could miss something as much as I miss my innocence." It's 1914, the world is at war, and it's unlike anything anyone has seen before. The men of cities and country towns are leaving for a cause much bigger than they realis...
