Sleeper in the Valley

2.

Letter to Mrs. Nora V. Holland

Frank died. Grenade. Bled out in my arms.

May God damn whoever invented war to the deepest, darkest pits of Hell.

I am so sorry my love.

Tom

**

"Down!"

We all do as the Sergeant screams, ducking for cover as a bomb blasts overhead, sending a deluge of rocks and dirt tumbling into the trench, burying us alive.

"Come on lad, get up!". It's Frank, pulling me upright to lean against the lip of the trench. "Let's show these bastards what we've got!" he yells, jamming his gun into his shoulder and firing blindly into No-Man's land.

But I can't move. Hell, I can't breathe. The air is thick with smoke and dirt, my ears ringing. I blink as tears spring from my eyes, aggravated by the dirt that cakes my face. I can feel the heavy, cold weight of my gun in my hands but I lack the strength to lift it up, to pull the trigger. I turn to face No-Man's land and all I can do is gaze blankly at the mud and barbed wire that adorns the space between us and the enemy.

As I stare out across the void, desperately trying to fill my lungs with air, I see her. She's wearing nothing but a silk shift, the one she bought as a surprise for my birthday last year. The champagne coloured silk is clean, despite the Earth shattering bombs around her that send mud flying sky high as she walks through No-Man's land. I can see her form beneath the sheer silk and I lean further forward, watching in suspended horror as the bombs crash around her, casting her in an eerie orange glow.

Towards me she continues, a hand outstretched toward me, her mouth open to say my name, to call out to me.

"Nora!" I yell. "What are you doing? Get out of there!!"

I drop my gun and start to climb over the top of the trench, to bring her to safety, to protect her like I promised I always would.

"Tom!" she calls, her voice sweet and light. I am intoxicated by the sound of it, and I scrabble to get to her, to wrap her in my arms and lose myself in her.

"Tom! Tom! Tom..."

"Tom, what the hell are ye doing lad?!"

Frank has hold of my legs and he's trying to drag me back into the trench, back into hell.

She's so close, her hand outstretched towards mine, fingers reaching through the barbed wire...

"Nora!" I scream, struggling against Frank.

With a final heave, Frank drags me back into the trench. I collapse against the wall and begin to cry.

I don't care if the Sergeant or anyone else sees. It wasn't real. She's not here. She's far away, safe in London with Nicky. I just want to be home with my family, home where I belong.

"It's alright laddie, I understand, it's alright" Frank mutters, patting my back and sitting me upright. "Here, have a wee drink" he says, handing me his flask. With a shaky hand I sip from the flask, wincing as the whiskey burns its way down my throat.

Frank is standing again, shooting over the top of the trench. Dazed, I look at the words engraved on the flask. "To my darling husband, love your wife Elizabeth". I go to stand, to give him back his flask and the world skips a beat, moving in slow motion.

There's a yell down the line and Frank turns to see me beginning to stand, his eyes wide, face pale beneath his shaggy beard. Before I can fully stand he pushes me down deeper into the trench. I fall, tumbling into the dirt and muck below. I look up in time to see something explode at the edge of the trench, shrapnel flying everywhere as Frank lands on top of me, shielding me from the debris.

He's heavy, the impact of his weight sending the air whooshing out of my lungs. My face is pressed into the mud and I can't breathe. Frank makes no move to get off me, and I scrabble and slip desperately to free myself. When I finally wriggle free, gasping and sputtering, I see that Frank has shrapnel buried deep in his back, his uniform growing dark with his blood.

"Frank, my God, Frank!" I yell, turning him over and cradling him in my lap. Frank's eyes are skyward and there's a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. "Frank, hey, come on man, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be just fine, you're gonna make it" I say desperately, patting his face and holding him close as I look desperately for help.

"Dinna fret for me lad. Dying doesna hurt" Frank mumbles, voice low, his brogue gravelly. A moment later his eyes go glassy and he slumps in my arms.

"No, no, no!! Frank, no! Come on, goddamn you! Frank, come on! You can't die! Don't, please, come on...HELP! WE NEED HELP!"

**

I cling to Frank for hours, sitting in the cold mud with his weight numbing my legs until the bombs have stopped and the others begin to take stock of what we lost in the attack. It takes three of them to pry me from Frank, and even then I only let go after one of them whacks me over the head with the flask, leaving me lying dazed in the mud as they carry him away.

I stumble after them, tripping over myself. I wait for them to finish digging Frank's grave and when they're done I sit by the mound of earth that covers him and keep watch over him throughout the night.

Frank. The man who saved me. Who told jokes to keep up moral. Who did my sentry duty when I couldn't keep my eyes open. Who looked out for me this whole time. Who saved my life.

And all I want to do is die.