Army Of Angels (A Glanny Fan Fiction)

Chapter Sixteen

Army Of Angels:

Chapter Sixteen:

June 1990:

"For the purpose of the target audience could you explain what Dysentery was?" He asked putting pencil to notepad again.

" Dysentery is a disease involving the inflammation of the lining of the large intestines. The inflammation causes stomach pains and diarrhoea. Some cases involve vomiting and fever.

The bacteria enters the body through the mouth in food or water, and also by human feaces and contact with infected people. The diarrhoea causes people suffering from dysentery to lose important salts and fluids from the body. This can be fatal if the body dehydrates.

This disease struck the men in the trenches as there was no proper sanitation. Latrines in the trenches were pits four to five feet deep. When they were within one foot they were supposed to be filled in and the soldiers had the job of digging a new one. Sometimes there was not time for this and men used a nearby shell-hole.

Dysentery caused by contaminated water was especially a problem in the early stages of the war. The main reason for this was that it was some time before regular supplies of water to the trenches could be organised.

Soldiers were supplied with water bottles, that could be refilled when they returned to reserve lines. However, the water-bottle supply was rarely enough for their needs and soldiers in the trenches often depended on impure water collected from shell-holes or other cavities. Later, to purify it, chloride of lime was added to the water. This was not popular with the soldiers as they disliked the taste of the purified water.

Mark hated it. He absolutely hated it. At night I sat next to him and forced the purified water down his throat whether he liked it or not. The amount of times he regurgitated it I lost count," I explained.

January 1916:

Dusk fell but the sky was alight with shells and gun fire. Night was supposed to be like our own truce. That was when the trenches were a hive of activity. To tend to what needed to be tended to and to relax. Sleep. Eat. Drink. Get through to communications. Send troops down to reserve trenches or rest camps. Receive our cargo and our letters from home.

Not tonight though. Tonight was alive. Death buzzed through the air and if it caught you then you were a goner. Death is cunning and he will portray himself as the most innocent thing only to crush you once you get a hold of it. You think you have a hold of it but you're wrong. It is Death that has a hold over you and he will not be letting go once his iron grip is sealed.

Mark was so close to death reaching his soul I could just feel it. I was doing everything I could for him. I knew Dysentery could be fatal to anyone and everyone. Tom Smith got it. An Adjutant. The same one I believe that forced my punishment on me. I'd love to say that that was Karma but no one deserves the pain that Dysentery serves to you on a plate. No one.

Danny came up to me and as always when around other soldiers I straightened up and gave him a salute. He gave me a quick smile and bent down to have a look at Mark.

I bent down too and gave Mark a pitying glance. The look I had learned to reproduce properly by the amount of times Danny had given me that same look.

I felt an arm go around my waist and grip slightly at the hip. I gave Danny a sharp glance but he only gave me a smile in return. Then I realised that to any soldier passing by it would look like Danny was gripping onto me for support. Not ... An embrace of sorts.

"How's Sheehan doing, Power?" He asked stiffly.

For a moment I had forgotten that my last name was indeed Power. When you haven't heard a particular word or phrase come out of someone's mouth for such a long time you start to forget that when they do say it then it means that they are mentioning or including you.

Goodness he was so good at acting. He'd have me fooled if I didn't know any better. He's got everyone fooled. He perfects the art right down to the way he holds himself. His stance. His posture. This smile ... Or straight lips in this case. His frown. The way his eyes flick towards me slightly is the only sure giveaway sign.

"Not good General O'Donoghue, Sir. He's been turning this water even more brown with the fluids he's been excreting and I'm sorry to be so vulgar sir but it seems the only way to get through to people how bad he really is. He's running a fever and he's been vomiting a lot. Even more so when I try to make him drink that purified water, Sir," I informed him. I did my best to imitate the look on his face. I feel that I fail in every attempt.

"Keep his fluids up Power. No matter how much he detests it. This debacle needs ameliorating. It's becoming too a redundant situation. Some of us here are becoming inept. We really are. The paragon of clumsy and incompetent this battalion is!" Danny ranted.

"General O'Donoghue. Don't be so verbose please! I've got a headache!" Mark said weakly.

Danny stared at him for a bit but as soon as Mark placed his head against the sandbag and fell asleep he looked back at me and smiled. With no one else around he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and straightened up. I wasn't having that. The one time we are alone and all I get is that? No. I cast my lips on his for all of a second before he responded. Slowly and sweetly at first. Just like when were getting to know one another. Then that little bit fiercer. This was the only chance we'd ever get for quite a while by my watch. Our first kiss in over a month.

June 1990:

"January 1916 ... But then that means...?" The man said.

I could only nod. The next part of my story was the worst and hardest part to even think of let alone re tell.

"You remember when I told you of the fog in the distance. It was when I talked about training. I saw him walking away from me when I was enduring Field Punishment One. In the fog. The way his quiff bounced stood out for me. I saw that again. Only this time I saw him being dragged. Away. Dragged away from me. Away from this trench. Into the the German trench. I saw him get dragged away. I saw him enter mortal peril," I said.

"Glen ..." He said sadly.

"AND I COULDN'T STOP IT!" I shouted and hid my face from the world.

It was now or never. To tell the end of my story. I guess I shall have to choose now.