Army Of Angels (A Glanny Fan Fiction)

Chapter Eight

Army Of Angels

Chapter Eight.

June 1990:

"What happened at the Divisional Depot then?" He asked after he had finished scribbling my words down.

"Mainly it was just routine marching drills and stuff to keep up general fitness and then we went to a rest camp where all the soldiers from the front line or reserve trenches went when they were entitled a rest," I answered.

October 1914:

'Dear my dear Ma,

I have finally found the time to write a letter to you. To say I haven't had the time is an understatement. I haven't been living properly. It's been drilling eating and sleep. Drilling eating and sleeping. Repeating day after day after day. Yet I have never been more alive.

What am I talking about? Not living yet feeling alive? If Mark was reading this he would ask what I had been drinking and how much. He likes his cider you see? I gave him my cider when we won a trench digging contest. Oh there is so much to tell you.

I shall start from the moment I left you. You had to go off to the textiles factory and I had to go off to the train station. When I entered the training camp I was ordered to do thirty press ups and I could only manage twenty five. Now this may seem like an accomplishment to you but here in Ètaples the French privates have competitions and most of them reach the eighty even one hundred in a row mark.

Not one single recruit could even reach the thirty mark on that day so guess where we spent the night? Outside. Under the stairs. The cold frosty air playing havoc with our valises and clothes.

I have two friends. Mark Sheehan was the first gentleman that I met at the training camp in London. He's not got any hair on his head but now I must say he has one heck of a ginger beard. I tell you. It's massive. Now I know you're probably sat here thinking that I wouldn't tell him that he has a massive ginger beard but you know what ... Here goes!'

I straightened in my seat and placed my pencil down. I looked at my letter and smiled slightly.

"You finished Glen?" Mark asked.

"Well I say, you've written an essay already!" Wilfred said.

"I wouldn't put it past him!" Collins said as he walked past.

Frank Collins was our funny man of the group. There's two comedians and two serious people. Frank and Mark are like a double act. They bounce off one another and make each others' jokes worse and dirtier if possible. Then there's Wilfred and I. The serious ones. The poker faces as we have been called. I don't care.

"Hey Mark. I'm just describing you to my mother. I've said you got a massive ginger beard is that okay?" I asked with a smirk.

"Well it's better than a white massive beard," he said.

"That'd make you Santa," I said.

"I'm too much fun for him," he said with a laugh.

'I told him oh yes I did. He said: that "it's better than a white massive beard." Well that would make him Santa wouldn't it my dear mother. We all know Santa isn't real. But maybe his spirit is.

Another recruit I have met is a chap called Wilfred Smith. He is a charming gentleman. You would like him for sure. He would draw your chair out for you and stand up when the leading lady came into the room. All the qualities you tried to install into me but failed. He would be your perfect son I am not afraid to say that fact.

There is so much I have learned. As you can imagine I have dealt with machine guns rifles and bayonets with bolsters. I hope to never have to shoot at a human being but I think we would both be naïve thinking that I could go through without having to kill. It's part of a soldier's nature. I'm just not sure it's part of mine.

I mentioned before that I have learnt how to dig trenches through a trench digging contest. That was the best way to do it I must say. It bribed us I guess you can say but it made us work especially hard after numerous weeks of nonstop parading, marching, drills and weapon practise. I have also learned hand to hand combat. Not really my strong point if I am honest with you but General O'Donoghue is helping me with that.

Which brings me on to my General. General O'Donoghue. He's ... I'd say different. He is strict but he seems a little relaxed when it comes to me. Oh worry not i am getting the same treatment as others are but he seems very praising of me whereas other C.Os can't particularly understand what's so special about me. I am in agreement with the Commanding Officers, I must say. What is so special about me that General O'Donoghue feels he must give me higher praise than anyone else. I do not possess any skills the others don't. I really don't. Not that I know of anyway.

I guess I am getting into the spirit of things. Speaking of spirit I do hope to join you for Christmas. They say it will all be over by Christmas. Let us hope so.

Love for eternity,

Glen'

I placed my pencil down with a resounding victorious thump.

"Wow. Finally. He has done it!" Mark said.

"Goodness chap. How long did that take you?" Wilfred asked.

"Had to be a good hour and a half minimum!" Frank teased.

"Forty four minutes twenty six seconds actually!" I said.

"Really?!" Mark asked.

"No you dimwit of course not!" Forty four minutes twenty seven seconds actually," I said clearly teasing.

That night I posted the letter. It would be my first and last letter that I would send from the safety of the rest camp. The majority of my time would now be spent in the trenches. The call came at two thirty in the morning. General O'Donoghue came bursting into our room with frenetic celerity.

"Soldiers get to your feet and pack as quickly as you can. This is not a drill we must head out. We need to aim for the reserve camps for midday tomorrow and if so we need to head off within the next half hour. Hop to it. Come on up and at em!" He yelled and stomped out.

"Guy needs to take a chill pill seriously!" Mark said.

"You don't say chap!" Wilfred said.

So we packed. I found a small parcel and looked at the label on it. 'To be opened when you get to camp. Love Mum xx' I had completely forgotten about that! I opened the parcel and found a box. Inside the box was a necklace. I guess it had belonged to my father as the box has his initials on it. I wrapped it around my neck and carried on packing.

That night was spent chanting ridiculous things. Mark instigating them all the time.

"We're all standing in a line, shoot the Germans and we'll be fine!" Mark shouted and we repeated it. It kept us awake and it kept us happy. Even General O'Donoghue joined in on the chanting.

With the necklace around my neck and friends around me. With the letter sent off. With the prospect of going into my new job fully prepared. I had never felt more alive in my life.

A/N tell me what you think. Vote an comment. Do as you please. Merry Christmas everyone.